#COLLEGE LACROSSE TEE SHIRTS

[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)

[mingyu-shorts]

Mingyu Short #30 - Victory

College, in many ways, was just like high school. Somehow it felt like everyone knew everyone, cliques still existed, and rumors spread like wildfire. It hadn’t even been two weeks before what seemed like the entirety of campus knew that you were at least sleeping with Mingyu.

You weren’t mad that everyone within a 50-mile radius knew because of your pride or anything, you were just upset that everyone felt the need to know your business. After all, how could you really be upset that people knew that Mingyu had taken a liking to you enough to rail you into next week? If anything this little fact was enough to have you holding your head a little higher and answering peoples questions about it with a subtle air of mystery.

Are you two sleeping together? Why does it concern you? So what, you and Mingyu are like, a thing now? Thing? I prefer to say we’re friends. Is he any good? Sure, he’s great at a lot of things.

All of your answers left people reeling and had Mingyu grateful. He wasn’t quite sure if he was ready to face the fear of commitment, so the fact that you answered everyone's questions so nonchalantly lifted a weight off his shoulders. That was the case until even you started to wonder what the two of you were doing.

“Gyu, are we dating?” You asked over coffee. The pair of you sitting in the back of the dimly lit cafe down the street from the college.

He avoided your gaze, taking a sip of his drink, sighing “Well, we are surely more than friends with benefits at this point,” he answered carefully.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, “You met my dad and practically spend every night at my place. We are surely more than friends with benefits unless by benefits you meant dating.”

He chuckled and took another drink, “C’mon we can talk about this later, you’re supposed to be helping me study for this English exam that we have tomorrow.”

“Yea, yea,” you groaned, half at the study materials in front of you and half at his dodging of your question.

“Oh,” he exclaimed, “are you coming to my game Friday night? It’s our homecoming game.”

“I mean, do I need to?”

“Well, who else am I going to point to when I score the winning point and take us to finals?”

He smiled widely at you and you sighed, “I’ll see what I can do Gyu, but I already made plans to go out with the boys.”

Mingyu pouted at you, “Fine~ But if I don’t see you in the stands you owe me pizza.”

“Deal.”

He holds out his pinkie and you wrap your own around it, before pressing your thumb to his.

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

There you were in the middle of the packed stands at the only lacrosse game you’d ever been to. Vernon and Dokyeom on one side of you, Seungkwan and Soonyoung on the other. You all wore eye black on your cheeks and your school colors, baby blue and pastel yellow. You had called in a favor from Minghao, who called in a favor from Jeonghan, in order to get the shirt you were wearing now. The cropped “baseball” tee had “Gyu’s Girl” written across the front and a large #17 on the back in the same style as the number on his jersey.

You were nervous to be wearing something that so publicly claimed Mingyu, mostly due to the fact that you weren’t sure if he’d claim you back, but all of the thoughts concerning that disappeared as you let the atmosphere of the game suck you and really get you involved. You and the boys cheered and chanted along with the rest of the student body as you watched Mingyu work towards the goal he’d made for himself and told you about, making the winning shot.

He hadn’t seen you before the game started and wasn’t even sure you were in the stands at first, but halfway through the fourth and final quarter, during their second timeout of the last half, he saw you. Even though both teams were tied and the boys were tired, seeing your face reminded him that he had a fucking game to win and that was all the motivation he needed. When the referee blew the whistle to signify the ending of the timeout duration, Mingyu was all but bouncing up and down, ready to make you proud. Normally he’d be wondering when and why he fell for a girl like you, a one night stand, a friend with benefits, but instead all he could think about is the smile that would cross your face when he led the team to victory.

Everyone screamed and cheered as they watched Mingyu bound down the field, 10 seconds left on the clock, the goalie ready to crush his dreams of victory, but Mingyu trained hours everyday for this kind of pressure. He thrived in this pressure. Without stopping he shot the ball, everyone in the stands tensed, trying to keep their eye on the speeding bullet and it seemed as though the goalie couldn’t keep his eyes on it either because just as fast as it had started, the ball was hitting the next, the game buzzer was sounding, and Mingyu was turning to you.

Mingyu turned immediately to the stands, his padded arm raising up, and his gloved hand pointing directly at you. You cheered wildly, the biggest smile spread across your face, your cheeks flushed, and your heart oozing with pride. Mingyu just won. Correction, your boyfriend Mingyu just won.

You had seen Mingyu lots of ways, but for some reason, sweaty mingyu on a rugby field pointing to you cheesily after scoring what was hands down the best-earned point of the entire game, muddy legs and shorts, matted hair pressed to his forehead. He had never been so handsome.

As the team finally tore him away and began bouncing around him screaming happily, you did your best to rush to the field. Vernon, Dokyeom, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung all cheering you on.

“Go get em, y/n” Vernon yelled.

Dokyeom jeering right along with him, “Give Gyu a big ole kiss for me.”

“Me too,” Seungkwan and Soonyoung yelled in unison before bursting into a fit of laughter.

“We’ll meet you back home! We’ll get the party set up and spread the word!” Vernon called after you.

When you finally made your way down to the field, you heard the boys clowning Mingyu for his dramatic way of pointing out to the entire student body that you two were dating.

“Yeah dude, what the fuck was that,” Dino teased.

“I thought it was kind of romantic,” Jihoon mumbled, causing Seungcheol to ruffle his hair, “Of course you would.”

“Thank you Hoonie,” Mingyu exclaimed.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Yea, don’t call Hoonie, Hoonie,” Jun said, scolding Mingyu playfully.

“Oh give me a fuckin brea- Baby girl!” Mingyu exclaimed as he noticed you standing beside him.

The two of you each grinned from ear to ear. Mingyu took you in and had to fight back the feeling of his blood rushing downwards. There you were in a tiny little crop top and the pair of leggings that he loved on you most, he always claimed they hugged your curves irresistibly, your hair in braids and the thing that got him the most were the block letters scrawled right across your breasts.

“Gyu’s girl,” he mumbled and your face flushed.

“Is it too much,” you asked worriedly as you reached up and fiddled with the hem of the shirt.

His gloved hands pressed against each side of your plus body, the roughness of the material felt stiff against your slightly exposed sides, “Not at all. I couldn’t have picked something better myself, kitten. Mingyu leaned down and pressed his lips against yours harshly. Normally you’d complain about the sweat or dirt coating his body, but on a night like this it didn’t matter.

“Oh for fucks sake,” Jun groaned.

“Not in front of the children!” Seungcheol cried out playfully as he reached up to cover Dino’s eyes.

Dino punched Seungcheol in the side, “Oh fuck off!”

“Respect your elders,” Jihoon quipped, wrapping his arm around Chan’s neck and pulling him into a choke hold.

Mingyu removed one hand from your waist and turned it towards the boys, flipping them off, as he continued to kiss you. You giggled and pulled away.

“Congratulations on winning you guys! I can’t wait to watch you at finals,” you say cheerfully.

“Don’t you mean watch Mingyu?” Jun questioned cheekily and you shrugged.

“Forget Mingyu, y/n, why don’t you watch me instead!” Chan said cockily.

“Well actually,” you began matter-of-factly, “I was going to watch Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s eyes widened as he looked at you, “W-watch me?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “Jihoonie, you were obviously the best midfielder out there!” Jihoon smiles softly and looks away from you, a blush creeping up his cheeks, “Thanks y/n.”

“Are you blushing right now?!” The boys all exclaim in unison.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

“Kitten, please don’t flirt with my teammates, or else I’ll have to break you out of that habit when we get home,” Mingyu’s words are cold, but his eyes are playful.

“Daddy, don’t threaten me with a good time,” you whisper as you lean into him.

“You can call me Daddy, y/n!”

“God Chan, you really don’t miss a beat do you?” you laugh.

“Of course not, I’m goalie for a reason!”

“Oh shit!” you exclaimed, “Hurry up and hit the showers, there is a party that should be starting right about now, at my apartment to celebrate your victory!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Jun exclaims, before running off to tell the rest of the team. The boys follow behind him, bidding you a farewell and a see-you-soon.

“Go, Gyu! I’ll be waiting in my car! Be quick!”

“Alright baby, I’ll move like the flash!” Mingyu kisses you chastely before running to catch up with the boys.

You can’t help but watch after them and try and soak up every ounce of happiness this moment is providing.

[oh-obrien]

Inscrutable {3}

Inscrutable: Impossible to Understand or Interpret 

Masterlist 

Relationships: Stiles Stilinski x Original Female Character

Word Count: 6,159 6,537

Warnings: Mentions of underaged drinking

Author’s Note: Part Three!!! Uhh some angst? Soft Stiles? I really like this part and I’m very excited for the next one!! Message me or send me an ask to be tagged!

THIS PART OF INSCRUTABLE HAS BEEN UPDATED WITH MORE CONTENT AND HAS ALSO BEEN EDITED MORE THROUGHLY!

Friday night rolled around, and Finley found herself bobbing her head along to the beat of her ‘Old Skool’ playlist, which was comprised of all the 80’s music her dad made them listen to growing up, while she Dutch braided her hair in the bathroom mirror. A knock came from the door that led into her suitemates’ room and she paused her music, “it’s open!”  She called loud enough that they could hear her. Bailey, a midfielder for the lacrosse team, slipped into the bathroom, her makeup bag in her hand.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come tonight?” She asked while she pulled out her foundation and a makeup sponge. “It’s going to be an absolute blast! Beach party is one of the most looked forward to parties of the year!” Finley finished her left braid, made sure it looked okay in the mirror, and tied it off with a rubber band.

She looked over to Bailey who had just applied way too much foundation to her face, her neck and face were going to be two different colors but that was not any of Finley’s business. “I’m totally fine. I told you I have a project to work on for my Intro to Law class,” she reminded her suitemate.

Bailey pulled out her mascara and applied a heavy coat to her eyelashes. “Oh, right I forgot you mentioned that,” she fanned her hands in front of her eyes to help the mascara dry faster. Finley continued to section her hair for her right braid and carefully watched her hands work in the mirror. “With that boy, right?” Bailey asked.

“Stiles,” Finley reminded Bailey of his name and continued to tightly braid her hair, “he’s on the men’s club team actually.” She had just remembered they had the lacrosse connection, and she also knew that meant they would soon be seeing each other outside of their class and project meetings thanks to the mixed morning workouts the two teams had agreed to participate in. 

“Oh right! We have a mixer with them two Saturdays from tomorrow.” Bailey told her. Finley hadn’t been much of the party type before she arrived at college. Mainly because she couldn’t get drunk, or even buzzed off of alcohol; a special strain of wolfsbane needed to be mixed in for her to feel anything other than sober at all. Being the designated driver had gotten old for both her and her brother very quickly. “Well, we have to call it a mixer,” Bailey pulled out white eye black and applied it to her nose, so it looked like sunscreen. “It’s a risky business party.”

Finley pulled her second rubber band off her wrist, “risky business?” She asked, slightly confused. “Like the movie?”

Bailey laughed after she finished coating her lips in ‘ruby red’ lipstick and smiled at herself in the mirror. “Yes! Like the movie!” She rolled her eyes and closed her make up bag. “It’s like you don’t know anything about college!” Finley rolled her own eyes in response before walking into the threshold of her room, grabbing the door handle with her hand. 

“Have fun tonight, let me know if you’re going to be hungover in the morning. I’ll go out and get you and Kenna coffee,” Finley told her suitemate before closing her door that led to the bathroom. She was immediately enveloped in the warmth and comfort of her room, the orange scent from her diffuser relaxing her when she breathed in. The warm glow of the lights she had hanging along the top of her wall had her even more relaxed, some of the tension seeping out of her body. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, basking in the silence for the first time in nearly three weeks. 

She had been working all summer before moving her brother in, traveling around the country, and to a few international locations with her dad. After an entire summer of traveling and trying to avoid getting killed, she wanted at least a few days to relax, but instead she had to move her brother and then herself into college. Taking a deep breath, Finley opened her eyes when she heard a knock on the bathroom door that led to her room.

“It’s open!” She groaned watching the handle twist before her other suitemate, Mckenna, walked in. She had on a pair of white, denim shorts, and a sunflower printed bikini top, a pair of sunglasses sitting on top of her head. “Please wear a coat or at least bring one,” Finley pinched the bridge of her nose.

Mckenna rolled her eyes and leaned on the frame of the door while Bailey pulled a pair of ‘lifeguard’ shorts over her red, ‘lifeguard’ one piece swimsuit. “It’s me you’re concerned about?” Mckenna laughed and motioned to Bailey who now had a hard lemonade can in her hand. “That’s her third, and it’s only seven.” 

“I don’t want to be up early tomorrow because she’s throwing up,” Finley groaned and Mckenna stepped into her room closing the bathroom door behind her. Bailey and Mckenna thought that Finley was only a light sleeper, they didn’t know that when one of them was throwing up in the bathroom, Finley could both hear and smell everything.

“You say that like she won’t go home with a soccer or men’s player,” Mckenna laughed while she sat on top of one of the two desks in Finley’s room. “So, I wouldn’t be too worried about her waking up you or the boy you’re having over. Speaking of,” she swung her legs a little bit. “When’s he coming over?”

Finely looked at her watch, “ten minutes. If even,” she shrugged. “And he’s not staying over he has a girlfriend,” she added after the fact. She knew Stiles would most likely hang around as long as she let him, but she didn’t plan on trying anything with him. She didn’t know him well enough to pursue anything yet anyways. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Mckenna waved her off while sliding off the desk. “We’ll be gone by eight at the latest, we’re going over to one of the senior’s apartments before heading over to the soccer house.” Mckenna opened the bathroom door and they both noticed that Bailey was trying, and failing, to braid her hair. “Let’s go Bails,” Mckenna threw a wink over her shoulder at Finley before leading Bailey back into their room, both doors separating the three closing behind the pair. 

Finley let out a loud groan as she got up and locked the bathroom door from her side, making sure a drunk Bailey wouldn’t be able to barge in any time soon. She walked over to her dresser and untied her sweatpants, letting them fall to the floor while she dug around her in a drawer for a pair of shorts. 

She couldn’t figure out why she felt so on edge, she wanted to rip someone’s head off and cry at the same time, a feeling she hadn’t felt since the last big blow up with her grandmother months prior. Sure, the full moon was that night, but she had been able to more than control herself for the event since she was six years old. That couldn’t be why her emotions were so volatile. She grabbed her phone and unlocked it, looking for when she was due for her next heat, and it wasn’t supposed to occur for another two months. 

Stepping out of her sweats she pulled the black Nike pros up her legs and flattened the band across her stomach. Tucking the extra fabric from her long sleeve shirt into them before pulling a pair of cabin socks on her feet. Her room often got warm at night, even with the air on as cold as she could make it she would get too hot to wear sweatpants for more than a couple hours at a time. Walking over to her body length mirror she turned to the side and looked over herself for a few moments. 

She had always been on both the taller and ‘curvier’ side, even when she had been younger. The body type ran in her family, even Cian was on the larger side of D1 quarterbacks. Since she had been running around the country, quite literally, most of the summer and began intense conditioning for lacrosse soon after, she had lost around fifteen pounds and started to gain more defined muscles. She wasn’t uncomfortable with how her body had been changing, but it had come as a shock when she weighed in at media day and noticed the drop in her weight. She did enjoy how her legs were becoming even more defined than they already were and her ass looked amazing.

She jumped when a knock sounded from her room door and walked over to open it. Stiles stood on the other side, his legs clad in a pair of maroon sweats that read ‘Beacon Hills Lacrosse’ and his top half covered in just a while tee shirt. “Hey!” She smiled opening the door wider so he could walk in. 

“Hey,” he winced, in what looked like pain, while he dropped his backpack on her floor, “I am so sore.” He groaned, stretching his neck out. Finley watched as he bent down slowly to pull his water bottle out of his bag, holding his back while he did.

“Oh, right men’s started a couple days ago,” she laughed watching as he sat down on the edge of her bed. “We were watching you guys run suicides earlier between shotting drills,” she felt a smirk pull across her face when she saw Stiles look at her with his eyes narrowed. “Looked awful if you want my opinion, but I went through that at the beginning of the season, so I don’t feel bad per say. I just feel sympathetic.”

Finley considered taking some of his pain away, but she wasn’t sure how he would react if she did, or if he already knew about that aspect of being a werewolf. Instead, she pulled a chair over to her closet to stand on while she looked around her top shelf for her heating pad. She usually used it before her heats when she would start feeling the symptoms of it onsetting, but she also discovered it worked magic on humans when their muscles were tense or tight.

“Here, hang on,” Finley plugged it into her extension cord and turned it on to the high setting. “Sit back on the wall with this on your back.” She told him after handing him the heating pad. She watched Stiles give her an ‘I don’t believe you’ look while he settled himself against the wall, the heating pad on his lower back. She stood across the room, her arms crossed over her chest while she watched some of the tension wash out of his body, his shoulders dropping and his face relaxing. 

Stiles opened his eyes to look at Finley, a smug smirk on her face. “It worked,” he smiled while he rested his head against the wall, still watching her. Finley walked across the room and sat down on her bed on the opposite send from stiles, her legs crossed while she unlocked her phone. 

“I’m right sometimes,” she laughed while she pulled up a takeout menu. “So how does grilled cheese sound for dinner?” She held up the menu on her phone while Stiles turned his head to the side to watch her. That was when he noticed she had on glasses, he had never seen her wear them before. The frames complementing the shape of her face and their tortoiseshell print making her blue eyes pop. 

“Grilled cheese?” He asked in slight amusement, “doesn’t sound much like take out, we could make that here if we wanted.” He spoke. Finley watched as his body relaxed even more and he sat up a little bit straighter, pulling his legs in so they crossed. 

“It’s a place called GCDC and it’s a grilled cheese restaurant,” she handed him her phone that had the menu pulled up on it. “If nothing catches your eye, we can try somewhere else, but I am the one from around here y’know?” Watching Finley skeptically out of the corner of his eye Stiles took the menu and began looking it over. 

A few minutes later Stiles handed her back her phone. “Okay so, maybe I was wrong,” he mumbled. “This place actually looks really good, and this heating pad is fucking magical,” he moved it further up his back. Finley noticed how much more his face had relaxed and smiled lightly, he looked cozy and warm. Mixed with the subtle scent of orange filling her room and the warm glow of her lights she found herself wanting to curl up next to him and take a nap. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Finley realized she would have to actually go see her dad in the morning and sit down and talk to him about her feelings, the last thing she wanted to do. However, she could not let her emotions get the best of her in this situation and understood that her dad tended to give good advice in the area of ‘werewolf dating and romance’, as much as she hated to admit it.

“Yeah, I know,” Finley mumbled not wanting to open her eyes and have to look at Stiles again, “and that was to both of your statements,” she added. “If you tell me what you want, I’ll call and order it,” Finley reached over to the desk that had been placed at the end of her bed and grabbed a post it and pencil.

Stiles reached out for her phone that still sat unlocked on her bed and pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he scanned the menu again. “Would you recommend a grilled cheese or mac and cheese?” Stiles looked at Finley over the phone, his brows knit together trying to make the tough decision between the two. 

“So how about this,” she bounced the pencil on her leg, “we each get a grilled cheese and then we can split a mac and cheese?” Finley suggested. “Because both are amazing and I’m actually pretty hungry tonight.” She shrugged, she had lost weight, she could eat a little more crap than she usually would. “So, four cheese mac and cheese,” she wrote it down. 

Stiles looked back and forth between a couple options before settling on one. “And-” he dragged out the word while he tried to make up his mind. “I’ll get the Young American I guess,” he shrugged while he handed Finley’s phone back to her. “Which do you usually get?” He asked while she wrote his order down.

“I usually get the French Onion,” she also wrote down her order. “Uhh, I have soda and iced tea and shit in the fridge unless you want something else to drink.” She tried to think of what else they could possibly order from the restaurant. “Anything else you could think of that you would want from there?” Finley asked. Stiles shook his head, his hair that still looked slightly damp from his shower, flopping on his forehead. It was a cute look, especially with how relaxed he seemed, but Finley knew she needed to reign it in before she accidently said something she regretted. She had never been known to have the best brain to mouth filter and did not need it getting her in trouble with Stiles.

Stiles tried to settle more into the feeling of the heating pad relaxing the tense and sore muscles in his back while Finley finished writing down their orders. She set her pencil back down on her desk and held the post it between her teeth while she crawled off her bed, jumping down to the floor before padding over to her other desk.    

Stiles knew it was wrong, and he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he found his eyes following her movements while she walked around her room. Her figure was illuminated by the warm glow of her lights and the two braids in her hair flowed down her back almost perfectly. He watched the muscles in her legs flex while she leaned up on her toes to put the post it of their orders up on the wall. The way her shorts fit left absolutely nothing to his imagination and Stiles found himself observing how they hugged her hips and ass perfectly. 

Stiles rolled his back against the wall and tried to focus on something else while he listened to Finley call in their orders. He tried to will his mind to think about something other than walking up behind her and slipping his arms around her waist while she spoke, tracing his lips down the side of her neck. He tried to remember what Lydia’s lips felt like on his, what her arms around him felt like, but he just couldn’t. Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath in through his nose before letting it out slowly through his lips; he was with Lydia, he loved Lydia.

On Monday after he had spoken to Lydia, for far too long in his opinion, Stiles found himself on the phone with Scott on the verge of an anxiety attack. He loved Lydia, he truly did, but some pieces just weren’t fitting together right anymore. Scott had managed to talk Stiles off a ledge and told him that if he waited two weeks until he and Lydia were traveling to D.C. to see one of Stiles’ first lacrosse games, he would help Stiles decide if breaking up with Lydia would be the best decision for him. He had hung up his phone after the conversation and found himself flopping back into his bed with an over exaggerated sigh that had his roommate asking if he felt okay. 

“Stiles?” He opened his eyes to see Finley standing in front of him, concern and confusion written on her face. “It’ll be here in like fifteen minutes, but are you sure you’re okay?” She asked.

Stiles sat up a little bit and groaned when he felt his muscles tense up again, a sickening crack traveling down his back when he stretched it out. “I’m okay just, I need to get used to it again,” he sighed. “I’m sure you’d understand it.” He laughed and moved the heating pad down lower again.

Finley bit her lip while she looked at Stiles, of course she didn’t fully understand it, her muscles would heal almost immediately after she strained them at practice. She could clearly see how the soreness had affected Stiles though, and she wanted to help but didn’t want to risk exposing herself. “We could have rescheduled y’know?” She asked him. 

“I’m perfectly fine. I just needed a few minutes to sit down,” he waved her off before standing up and going to pick up his backpack. “I’ve been looking at the case stuff and I have a couple ideas on who the suspect is, but I think we need the rest of the case information he’s giving us Monday to finish it.” 

Finley stopped him from bending down with a hand on his shoulder and offered a soft smile. “It’s good I was thinking the same thing because you need physical rest and I need a mental break,” she spoke. “We can look at it again at lunch on Monday, okay?” She pushed Stiles’ bag next to hers with her foot. 

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles walked back over to her bed and pushed himself up on the mattress, settling the heating pad on his back again. Finley offered him a sympathetic smile before she grabbed her wallet and ID.

She slipped on her Crocs before grabbing the handle of the door. “I’m gonna go grab the food, you just don’t hurt yourself,” she laughed lightly. Stiles went to push off the mattress and she reached a hand out to stop him. “Didn’t I say to like, stay there?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, a playful smirk pulling at her lips.

“I need to-”

“It’s on me this time,” she waved him off when Stiles gave her a look that said he wanted to protest, and she opened her door and started to step outside before he could say anything else. “I said it’s on me,” she repeated.

Stiles leaned his head back against the wall and watched Finley leave, her door shutting quietly behind her. Being left alone in Finley’s room felt slightly wrong, and his curiosity had him eager to look around, but he wasn’t sure if it would be rude. He closed his eyes again, trying to focus on the warmth spreading throughout his body, but he got too curious to stay focused on the pain that spread throughout his body. Stiles opened his eyes and looked around the room, he noticed that the wall her window was on had been covered in pictures and slowly pushed himself off the bed with a groan.

Slowly he shuffled across her soft rug, not wanting to lift his legs too much and hurt himself even more and paused in front of the wall of photos. He quickly scanned over the wall and noticed that most of them seemed to feature Finley and her friends at various sports games or school dances, even sleepovers and vacations.

He realized he had quite a few similar photos hanging up in his room and smiled a little bit, he could be a normal teenager sometimes apparently. Between fighting the supernatural, trying to actually finish high school and making sure no on in his pack actually died, Stiles hadn’t had much time to be a ‘normal’ teenager the last few years. He had hoped he would change that at college and be able to let go a little bit, so far that had proved to be true, but he just hoped the trend would continue.

Stiles found himself looking past most of the pictures from lacrosse games or prom and his eyes settled on one that hung right next to the window on its molding. A little girl posed in front of a tiger cage in the pictures, a boy who looks quite similar next to her, they both had Mickey Mouse ears on, and their faces were painted to look like tigers. Behind the two kids stood a man who Stiles noticed in a number of other photos, Finley’s dad he assumed, and a woman who seemed to be almost a splitting image of Finley. 

“That was our last family vacation,” Finley held a paper bag in her hand and closed her bedroom door. Stiles jumped when he heard her voice and gasped, putting a hand over his heart and groaning in pain. “Sorry,” Finley laughed and sat the food down on her desk along with her wallet and ID, “couldn’t help it. I wanted to see if you would actually jump.”

She walked over to where Stiles stood and ran her fingers over the picture, smiling sadly while she did. “That was two weeks before she passed actually,” Finley mumbled, “at the Animal Kingdom,” she pointed to another photo. Her and her brother, along with their father, stood in the same location for the photo and still wore Mickey ears, but they looked significantly older. “And that one is from when we were sixteen, there’s others somewhere on here.” She motioned around the wall. “We go the same week every year.”

Finley turned and walked back to her desk where the food sat. “Sorry I was snooping around,” he spoke while walking over towards her. He hadn’t meant to look creepy while looking at her photos, he just wanted to get to know her better and his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

“Oh, I don’t care,” she ripped the staples out of the paper bag with her nails and dumped them into the garbage bag. “I don’t really have anything to hide, and besides they’re hanging up so it’s just asking people to look at them. If I did have something to hide,” she slid the three containers out of the bag along with some plastic forks and napkins, “I wouldn’t leave it out in the open.” 

Finley bit her lip while sitting down on the floor and opening her mini fridge, of course she had things to hide, but nothing in her room. “Uhh,” she bent down to look in the fridge, “alcohol or non-alcohol for the drink?” Just because Finley couldn’t get drunk off normal alcohol didn’t mean she didn’t enjoy it. Also knowing that his kids couldn’t feel the effects alcohol provided to others, Maxwell often had no problems with providing his kids drinks. 

“You have alcohol in here?” Stiles asked in slight disbelief. Finley turned around and looked up at him, slightly shocked that had been his reaction. 

“Yeah, and my suitemates have a shit ton more,” she laughed pushing a few bottles and cans around in the fridge. “So?” she asked Stiles waiting for an answer. 

She saw stiles sit down in her desk chair next to where she sat on the floor. “I mean if you’re offering, I’ll take one of whatever you’re having,” he shrugged. Finley smirked and pulled out a can and handed it to him. 

“I don’t know if you’re a fan of hard coffee like I am,” she pushed a few more bottles and cans around. “If not, I have a couple different beers and uhh- a few different hard lemonades.” She looked up to Stiles who had set her coffee can on the desk. 

“Uhh I guess whatever beer you have then,” Finley sighed and pulled two bottles out, a Corona and a Bud Light, shaking both bottles slightly to tell Stiles to pick. “Corona,” he said firmly, and Finley smirked, holding the bottle out towards him. 

She slid the other back into the fridge and pulled a magnetic bottle opener off the side of her fridge and handed it to him. “My dad and brother drink Corona,” she said, “I actually don’t like beer honestly.”

Finley watched Stiles open the bottle and he set the cap on her desk before putting the bottle opener back where it belonged. She handed him his grilled cheese and the container of mac and cheese, “go get comfortable again,” she nodded towards the bed, “I can tell you’re still in pain and I want to pick a movie to watch.” 

Finley watched Stiles walk back towards the bed and set both containers down before pushing himself up on to the mattress, his brows furrowing in pain while he did. Maybe when he wasn’t paying attention she could try and take away at least a little bit of his pain. “What kind of movies do you have?” She heard Stiles ask while she pulled a chair over to her closet. She stepped on to the chair and pulled a blue, plastic bin off the top shelf, stepping down with it in her hands. 

“Umm it’s a lot of old movies really,” she thumbed through the DVD boxes. “All the Jurassic Park movies, that are out at least, The Godfather movies, The Notebook,” she snorted while she flipped past it, “oh all the Star Wars ones, Harry Potter, Scooby-Doo!” She pulled out the last box and flipped it over seeing it contained many of the classic seasons in the box set. “It’s up to you though,” she walked over to the bed and placed the box down, “you’re the guest.”

She watched Stiles flip through the movies she had before he paused on Star Wars, “I mean,” he held the box up, “it’s my favorite movie.” She saw him look closely at the box, “but I’ve also seen it like a million times,” he mumbled to himself. 

Finley crossed her arms over her chest, “like I said. You’re the guest. You want to watch Star Wars,” she shrugged, “we watch Star Wars.” The Star Wars series had also been one of her favorites growing up. Cian claimed when he had been younger that one day, he would be a Jedi, eventually that dream shifted to working in law enforcement though. 

“Yeah,” Stiles slid the box back into the same place he had pulled it out from. “But you looked really excited when you saw this,” he pulled out the Scooby-Doo box. Finley bit her bottom lip while he held it out to her with a wide smile. “They’re detectives, I mean with my FBI experience, I’m half a detective. So, it should be enjoyable.” Finley let her bottom lip fall from between her teeth and smiled as she grabbed the box from Stiles, going to put the DVD into the player.

Stiles smiled and watched Finley while she walked over to where her television and DVD player were placed on top of her dresser. As much as he had wanted to watch Star Wars, he saw how happy she had been when she found the Scooby-Doo box and figured it was the least he could do, especially when she had gotten dinner and invited him to her room. He took a sip of the beer that he held while watching Finley bend down to plug in the DVD player.

He quickly averted his eyes from her ass as she bent down and focused on the thin layer of white foam that had settled on top of his beer. He had to wait to make a move until he had broken up with Lydia, he couldn’t cheat on her, even if he knew he would be breaking up with her two weeks later. Instead, he opted to pull his phone out and text Scott while Finley fiddled with the DVD player. 

“Scotty Boy, I don’t know how much longer I can take this,” he typed out the first message and sent it. “You know that wolfy thing where at first you can’t control when you turn? Yeah, that’s my hormones right now.” Stiles watched Finley tuck the DVD remote into the waistband of her shorts, if they could even be called that, before she picked up her own grilled cheese and hard coffee can.

Stiles felt his phone vibrate next to him while Finley set her food and can down on the bed. She pulled the DVD remote out of her shorts along with her phone from the other side, which she also set down on the bed. He looked over when he saw the screen on her phone light up and noticed that a notification for ‘Full Moon’ had popped up on her screen.

“You have two weeks man, and you just met her, can you really feel that drawn to her?” Scott had replied to his message. Stiles let out a loud sigh and Finley turned to look at him while she climbed into her bed, sitting down on the end opposite from Stiles. 

“Well, someone sounds upset,” she laughed picking up the DVD remote and pressing play. Stiles didn’t answer for a moment and instead pulled his grilled cheese box closer to himself, opening it up before looking over to Finley who was still watching him.

He looked into her eyes and shrugged, “just Scott being Scott,” he quickly made up an excuse, “he’s actually with my ex-girlfriend and it’s a whole long story,” that should be a good enough cover. 

“Oh damn,” Finley bit into her grilled cheese. “I’m sorry that must be rough,” she finished her thought. Stiles shrugged and took a bite of his own grilled cheese before trying to think of a proper response.

He swallowed the food in his mouth before continuing to speak, “actually it happened like naturally I guess, I can’t really be mad about it,” Stiles shrugged. “Besides, then I started dating Lydia and just life had gotten crazy, so I didn’t really have the time to complain about it and by the time I did I had already gotten over it.” Stiles picked up his phone and flipped it over again. 

“Isn’t there guy code?” Finley asked. “Like whatever girl code is?” Stiles leaned over the end of the bed to set his beer down on the dresser next to it. 

He shrugged, he wasn’t quite sure about guy code, and he hadn’t had the most conventional high school years to speak on it. “I mean, I’m sure there is,” he replied, “but me and Scott never really worried about I guess, petty stuff like that.” He watched Finley nod before she turned to look at the television. “Good luck with the full moon, by the way,” he sent Scott. 

“I don’t know much about girl code either,” she looked back to Stiles, “so I don’t even really know why I asked,” he watched her look down at her lap, like she wanted to say something else but wasn’t sure if she should. 

Stiles sighed before trying to think of something to continue the topic with, hoping to make her more comfortable around him. “I can also tell you that Scott made out with my current girlfriend once, well she kissed him,” he took another bite of his grilled cheese. “Now that I think about it,” he swallowed his food, “we have some weird little incestuous pit going on,” he laughed lightly. 

“The football players and lacrosse girls at my school were like that,” Finley turned to face Stiles better and crossed her legs. “I can like make a whole confusing web of who dated who, and who cheated on who with someone else, and who hooked up with whoever and then started dating but had previously dated someone else. It’s confusing really,” she took a long sip of her drink. 

Stiles shoved the last bite of his first half of grilled cheese into his mouth, “how’d you fit into that web?” He asked around his mouth full of food, wiping his hands on one of the napkins. 

Finley rolled her eyes while sighing, “do you really want to know?” She asked him.

“I mean-” Stiles shrugged with a small smile, “I’m intrigued now. This seems like an absolute mess.” He hadn’t realized Scott had texted him until his phone vibrated against his leg, and he flipped it over to see a string of texts from Scott. Stiles, however, chose to ignore it; flipping the ringer on his phone off so it wouldn’t vibrate anymore. 

Turning his attention back to Finley he watched as she fiddled nervously with the can in her hands, pressing indents into it where her fingers sat. “Uhh, well for starters I guess I have never dated anyone, never hooked up with anyone, never anything romantic with anyone,” he watched as a blush came over her face, traveling down her neck and past the collar of her shirt.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Stiles mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. Here he was, talking about all the girls he’d been with, which isn’t many, but still. He didn’t want Finley’s lack of experience to make her feel bad about herself. 

Finley shrugged while she wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her knees. “I had been really interested in one of the guys in our friend group, he played on the line for the football team,” she let out a long sigh. “But then he started dating this other girl, they broke up, he asked me to prom-”

“Oh, so that’s good!” Stiles interrupted. Finley gave him a tiny smile, but he noticed how her lips dropped back down into half a frown.

“Yeah, but then on the night of prom,” she balanced the coffee can on her sock covered feet, avoiding eye contact with Stiles. “He wound up getting back with his ex and prom sucked,” she sighed. She looked up to see Stiles pulling at the napkin in his hands. “And I just made it awkward,” she mumbled.

Stiles’ head shot up at her words. “No!” He cleared his throat. “No, you didn’t! I just-” he tried to find the right words. “I just feel bad, you seem so, kind and genuine, and- and you deserve to be happy,” he offered her a sad smile in return. 

“I’ll find it eventually,” she mumbled, picking at the crust of her grilled cheese. She smelled the sympathy coming off Stiles, and she hated it. He felt bad for her, he just felt bad for her, he wasn’t actually interested in her, someone like him couldn’t be. She was also a supernatural freak, she bit the inside of her bottom lip, who would want to deal with that. She knew Stiles had before, but he and his were-ex hadn’t worked out.

After that a silence fell between the two of them, Finley picking at her grilled cheese while Stiles finished his. “I’m not really hungry anymore,” she pushed the mac and cheese container closer to him, “you can have it.” She saw that Stiles wanted to say something, but he hesitated. Instead, he slid their containers out of the way and set them on the dresser with his beer along with the napkins and forks.

“You really do deserve to be happy,” he said quietly, moving closer to Finley. She continued to chew on the inside of her lip to avoid crying and let out a long stream of air through her nose. “I’m serious,” he added. Finley set her drink on the desk and looked over to Stiles, her cheek resting on her knees while she did. His whiskey-colored eyes softened and he sighed, moving ever closer. 

Finley felt his warmth from where she sat and wanted to move closer, it was like his natural body temperature was trying to pull her even closer. That and his scent had mellowed out, it turned sweeter, relaxing even, like cinnamon and freshly dried clothes. “Like I said,” she let her lip fall from between her teeth, “eventually.” 

Stiles reached out and Finley didn’t protest, his arm wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her into him. She immediately felt most of the tension seep out of her boy when he pulled her into his side, her head resting on his shoulder. With the tension leaving her body and Stiles’ warm scent wrapping around her she couldn’t control her emotions and felt a few tears slip out of her eyes, dripping off the tip of her nose. “Hey,” Stiles said quietly, “I promise eventually it’ll all work out.”

“It’s fine,” Finley sat up and wiped her eyes, “I just- I let my emotions get the best of me and I just, don’t usually do that,” she stumbled over her words. Stiles leaned back against the headboard of her bed before grabbing her by the shoulder again and pulling her into him. This was wrong, so, so, wrong, Finley thought to herself, but she gave in. Resting her head against his bicep Finley sighed and felt her eyes slip closed, she couldn’t fight it and wasn’t quite sure why.

“You’ll be happy soon,” she heard Stiles mumble, “I promise.”

[clarketomylexa]

that’s what best friends do, chapter two

“Boys suck,” she decides.

Lexa blinks at her, blank faced.

“I’m gay,” she says, just like that. It’s as simple as if boiled down to a definition, poetic as Gatsby’s ending and Clarke opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. She doesn’t know what she is supposed to say other than what they are told in health class but all of that seems too wrong when faced with Lexa looking at her like this.

“Okay,” she says, because there’s really nothing more than that.

Lexa has always been hers.

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At Clarke’s behest, Lexa details her in all the things she forgot to tell her about camp; the color war, ‘swim the lake’ which Lexa finished in record time in the seventh week of her session after training every day with a group of twenty other girls, and Costia who lives in Connecticut and writes Lexa every week of the school term, hoping she will come back to camp next summer.

She reads one of the letters aloud one day after school as they sit on Clarke’s bed. Clarke is cross-legged with the back end of her pen in her mouth as she noodles through a workbook and Lexa hangs halfway off the narrow mattress with her wet hair in a drooping top knot, laughing at sentences Clarke thinks must be inside jokes. She has taken up swimming three days a week this year and Clarke won’t admit it but she loves going to the pool on Saturday mornings to watch her train.

A picture printed on glossy photo paper falls out of the bottom of the envelope when she looks. It’s of Lexa in a tie-dyed tee and tiny denim shorts, clinging to the back of a wiry redhead with the bandana Lexa now keeps pinned to her bedroom wall, tied around her head. Both girls are soaked and covered in what looks like colourful powder, set against the backdrop of a picturesque lake complete with an intricate dock system and sailboats anchored at the bank, the girls around them armed with plastic water pistols.

Clarke tries not to be too happy when Lexa announces one day in late May that she won’t be going back to camp this summer. She comes to the lake instead but wears her camp tee instead of her piñata socks and because of swimming, when they go to put on their usual life vests to go boating, Lexa’s doesn’t close properly and Jake teases her about ‘bulking up for the season’. She goes bright red and apologises profusely but Jake laughs it off, hanging it back on the hook and Clarke is antsy the entire way into town to buy a new one.

She blames it on the syrupy heat and the fact that on their second day they still haven’t gotten onto the water.

It’s neither of those things.

When Clarke is fifteen their double-bed shrinks.

It doesn’t literally shrink of course; Clarke is fully aware she is the one doing the growing. Aware of it too much maybe because the growth spurt may have been the start of it, it certainly wasn’t all that puberty had to offer and ending Freshman year in a C-cup was an uncomfortable experience to say the least.

Lexa has grown too—even more than she had when she returned home from camp two summers ago with the beginnings of abs beneath the skin of her midriff—as Abby prophesied she has well and truly grown into her lankiness and the extra inch or so she has on Clarke when they stand side-by-side.

The discovery that she doesn’t have to make a conscious effort to be touching Lexa when they sleep isn’t exactly an unpleasant one, but neither of them wear novelty pyjamas now or pug socks. It’s all Clarke’s middle school track t-shirt and foraged sleep shorts and sometimes Lexa doesn’t even wear pants at all, lamenting that the heat is stifling and sliding into bed in her camp tee and Calvin's that forces Clarke to banish blush-worthy thoughts from her head. In fact, she almost hates herself for thinking them in the first place.

Having both started at the same high school at the beginning of the last school year, it became easier and easier for Clarke to shove the unbidden feelings into the back of the proverbial closet and shut the door tight as they settled into the routine of pop quizzes and high school hierarchy. Lexa had swimming, Clarke had lacrosse. They tried to find each other in the cafeteria but with different lunch hours any sort of midday reunions had been hard to find. Other than Mr. Ramon’s fifth period math class, it was almost as if they were still at schools half a county away.

Summer had come as a breathless reprieve.

She lies next to Lexa in a bed that seems to be growing narrower by the day—wincing at the way Lexa’s toes brush the bottom of the mattress—and hates the way the world is encroaching on their little Eden.

They have a bonfire down at the lakefront, three houses down where the bank gives way to a patch of grainy sand. Abby has begrudgingly decided that at fifteen they are old enough and by the time Clarke and Lexa wander down after dinner

The flames are four feet tall and paint what they can see of the lake in the dusk in a hazy purple that looks syrupy and thick.

Clarke raided both of their suitcases to find an outfit, landing on a skimpy jean skirt that made Jake’s eyes bulge and Lexa’s ACDC t-shirt to make up for it—she takes a handful of the fabric and ties it into a knot above her belly button as soon as they get out of eyeshot of the house and she catches Lexa eyeing her fingers as she does it but doesn’t say anything. Lexa on the other hand is wearing her jean shorts and a baggy striped long-sleeve that she has tucked into her waist band. She is altogether different from the Lexa that Clarke met that Sunday morning but the string friendship bracelet that Clarke gave her after spending the better half of a month weaving it out of thread from Abby’s sewing kit sits faded and worn against the tan of her wrist like a reminder of how much they have grown.

When they arrive a bottle of cheap wine has already been cracked open and is being passed around, and open cans of beer sit wedged in the sand. Couples sit clinched together, lazy and drunk on one another in the way that the couples at school seem to be as they pin each other to the metal of the lockers or duck into empty classrooms when they think they are being inconspicuous and music is being wired in from somewhere, the generic kind from the radio that will leave Clarke humming for days.

They are greeted where they stand, fingers locked on the lip of the bank, by the flannel-wearing junior and Lexa drops her hand so quickly, it’s as if she has been scalded. Clarke shoots her a frown but doesn’t manage to catch her downcast eyes and tries not to let the sinking feeling that she has been plagued with for a while now pull her under.

Whenever she brings the sense of impending doom Abby assures her that people change as they grow but Clarke is never satisfied with that answer. Lexa isn’t supposed to change. They’re supposed to live next door to each other, and have summers together and visit each other at college and buy houses in the same town and still be here come July twenty-second when they are eighty years old and their children’s children have grown up, it’s a truth that has kept Clarke afloat since the moment she met her best friend. The sudden realisation that her mom is right is not one she signed up for at seven-years-old, but she can’t stop the thought that maybe it’s true.

Because, try as she might, she can’t seem to fathom living out the plans that they have made like they planned them anymore.

They sit side-by-side on the sand as the wine bottle is drained to play spin the bottle—Lexa passes diligently on her sip but when it reaches her, Clarke grasps the bottle by the neck and takes a swig of what tastes like a cheap version of what she had at her cousin’s twenty-first and backwash and winces.

“Don’t let Abby see you,” Lexa nudges her with an elbow, “you’ll get a lecture on liver health.”

Clarke laughs but can’t bring herself to reply.

The bottle is laid down and a junior with dirty-blonde hair and hard, angular features leans forwards to spin it—she has a scuffed leather jacket on over a tight-fitting tank that makes Clarke irrationally angry because in the heat of summer, there is no way she has put it on because of the cold.

The jacket is a calculated move.

She lets the bottle go with an inelegant flick of her wrist, shucking her sleeves up to where they hang against her forearms and Clarke watches it spin—the bottle-green blur like a harbinger of certain doom, panic flashing white hot down her spine as it lands on Lexa where she sits cross legged in the sand, leaning back onto her hands so that she exudes an aura of confidence Clarke knows it an act. She can read Lexa better than anyone. Even despite the way she has refused to look at Clarke almost since they sat down, Clarke can see the tension in the cords of her neck.

A boy lets out a low whistle and Lexa’s cheek go red. Leather-jacket grins cockily and crawls across the awkward circle they have made, planting her hands on either side of Lexa’s thighs so that she hovers over her, brow piqued as if to dare Lexa to say no.

When they kiss, Clarke looks away. Something ugly knocks on the underside of her skull and she has to pretend to find interest in the knotted hem of her shirt to stop herself from acting on it until a sharp cheer goes up and leather-jacket is pulling away to retreat back to her seat, wiping a thumb over her mouth as she does and Clarke tries not to think of the fact that her lip gloss now shines in the dip above Lexa’s top lip where the line of her scar sits.

When Clarke gets banished to a game of seven minutes in heaven an hour later, as immature as it is she has all the intentions of asking to sit it out. The boy she has been paired with is in her grade, with hair just on this side of too long and an oil-stained flannel on over dark wash jeans. He rubs his hand over the nape of his neck in what Clarke thinks must be a nervous tick and she is sure if she asked he would say yes without question but a desperate, restless thing grips her as they round a thatch of trees so that they are out of sight of the bonfire and when he does ask what she wants to do she pulls him by the collar of his flannel in a move that is supposed to be somewhat sexy but just ends up clumsy and awfully amateur. His eyebrows shoot to his hairline in what she hopes is pleasant surprise.

She’s kissed two boys before. The first, Octavia argues, hardly counts because in the sixth grade Miller went around kissing every girl in their class on a bet after Murphy started spreading the rumour that he saw him and Nate kissing in the boys bathroom. It’s a thought that seizes so terribly in her chest every time she thinks of it and she refuses think that it’s for any other reason than Miller is her friend and he took so much shit for those rumours that he didn’t come to advisory for a week. But it  puts Clarke on par with Octavia though so she includes the rushed half-peck in her tally whenever asked.

This, however, is altogether different.

She lets him prop her against the nearest tree, his hands sure on her waist as she sighs into the hesitant brush of lips on lips, their noses bumping as Clarke flushes, head spinning at the taste of what she thinks is cheap beer on his lips and she plants her hands atop of his to ground herself. He asks her if she’s ‘okay to do this’ and she nods eagerly and leans in again. She loves the way his steady frame feels beneath her hands when she curls her finger into the shoulders of his flannel. His hair comes untucked from around his ears and they tickle her forehead where their shallow breaths rally it between them. Every so often they stop to breathe, laughing softly into the stagnant night air—tinged with a cool wind off the lake and flushed cheeks from the heat of the fire—and Clarke lets the simplicity of it soothe away the confusion she feels when she thinks about Lexa. She doesn’t know this boy. She doesn’t know his name or where he lives. There aren’t any expectations that will come out of a stupid game of seven minutes in heaven other than maybe a smile at the end of the night and she feels exhilarated.

It’s easy.

She likes easy.

By the time they make it back to the bonfire it has been decidedly longer than seven minutes but Clarke feels ascended nonetheless. She ducks her head against the raised brows they receive as she eases herself back onto the sand—next to Lexa who keeps her eyes on the tips of her shoes like Clarke knows she does when something is bothering her—but at this stage in the night, couples have mostly paired off anyway so she takes their knowing looks with a grain of salt.  

Across the circle, leather-jacket smiles lazily at Lexa and on impulse, Clarke grabs flannel-shirt’s hand.

The rest of the bonfire is passed in restless silence on both of their behalves and when Abby texts to warn them of their curfew drawing ever near, flannel-shirt puts his number in Clarke’s phone under ‘Finn’ with the flame emoji next to it. She laughs at it when he does and waggles her eyebrows, but Finn insists that it’s nothing more than to remind her he is the boy she met at the bonfire so she takes his word for it because she’s sure he’s too sweet to think of it any other way.

He texts her a short ‘hi’ when they are halfway back to the house and, hands tucked into her armpits, Lexa scoffs at the burgeoning smile that tugs at her lips.

“What?” Clarke snaps, face turning stony. Aside from the gentle lap-lap of the lake on the bank, the cicadas and the occasional bird call, the lakefront is silent as they traverse the lengths of the two or three properties that lie between them and the Griffin’s house. The night air is thick with the heavy scent of smoke and all the way around the lake, lights sit in the windows of houses like tiny flames. She plants her feet into the grass and watches Lexa’s face contort into a horribly unaffected pout that is contrived at best, genuine at worst.

She can’t decide which is better.

She thinks the answer might be neither of them.

Lexa swallows hard. “Nothing,” she grumbles, finding a dip in the soil with the toe of her sneaker and digging into it. The rubber connects with something hard, making a low thunk every time she hits it. The sound grates on Clarke.

“It’s not—will you stop that!” Annoyed, she grabs Lexa by the forearm. Lexa blinks in shock, yanking her arm away and tucking it back into herself as they stare at each other hard, chests heaving. “It’s not nothing,” Clarke repeats, softer this time. “You haven’t looked at me all night.”

“Good that Finn couldn’t take his eyes off you then,” Lexa fires back.

Clarke frowns, willing the hot, rattling thing in her chest to stay where it is. “Is that what this is about? You’re mad because I kissed him?” When Lexa won’t answer, she takes it as a confirmation. “It’s not like you were such a saint either,” she retorts hotly, “you kissed that seventeen-year-old no problem!”

“Kissed, Clarke!” Lexa all but yells. “I kissed her! I didn’t suck face with her for half an hour!”

“Why do you care, Lexa!”

For a moment it looks like Lexa is going to yell again and Clarke braces herself for an impact that never comes. Instead, Lexa leans forwards and presses her lips to her and Clarke feels herself burning over and over again until she is sure there is nothing left to her, to the lake or the house or the town beyond it, other than ash. She can taste the syrupy-sweet strawberry lip gloss and roasted marshmallows and Lexa’s lips tremble when Clarke stills enough to feel it.

It’s over as quickly as it started and Lexa is staring at her—eyes red and bottom lip trapped between her teeth, fists wound so tightly in the hem of her shirt her knuckles are white like it will keep her from doing it again. She looks at Clarke like she’s imploring her to understand but Clarke is dizzy and she thinks the wine and cheap beer has gone to her head. She tries so hard her eyes water and her throat burns but all that she can see is the minute quiver of Lexa’s lip and the haze of the lake and it builds up in her chest until she’s gasping for breath and looking away.

When she looks up, Lexa has shoved her hands into the depths of the pockets of her jean-shorts and is retreating, leaving Clarke oddly on edge, like she’s riding a rollercoaster and waiting for the stomach-flipping drop that isn’t coming.

It’s off putting and a little bit nauseating and Clarke thinks she may just explode, or implode—she can’t remember the difference. She’s sure that if she were to ask, Lexa would give her the textbook definition and then some, but as they enter the house through the open French doors, Abby asks them if they had a good night and Clarke can’t bring herself to reply so she doesn’t. Instead she lets Lexa shower first and stands under the hot stream when it’s her turn determined to scrub the scent of burnt-wood and Finn’s cologne off of her.

She lays next to Lexa in painful silence, toes tucked into the end of the bed, hating the thought that they are outgrowing themselves.

It rains the next day and Clarke can’t explain the inherent restlessness that she feels.

It’s all encompassing, leaving an awful, sickly film on her tongue and she wishes so badly she can reclaim the things she said to Lexa and shove them back into the depths of her chest where she keeps her other ugly feelings but it’s too late now.

She feels like all of her dirty laundry has been aired out to dry and it’s in bright neon orange so that it’s impossible people haven’t seen it.

Abby tuts at the weather over serving them waffles pried out of the iron and sliding the syrup across the counter and Jake emerges from the bunk room with a stack of board games in tow. He doesn’t see the way Clarke’s stomach positively flips at the sight. She wants to spring away from the breakfast nook and burrow into her bed until she suffocates herself but Lexa is staring at her and something about it screws her to her stool.

They play monopoly until Clarke’s brain bleeds. She’s so eager to do something that she drowns herself in properties and in turn, debts that she can’t pay off and bankrupts herself almost immediately and they listen to the old CD’s Jake fishes out from the dusty bookcase in the hall until she is sure the thing growing inside her will crawl up her throat and spray itself across the walls. She stands up from where she sits on the wooden floors, staring dumbly at her Clue cards like—the knife, the ballroom, the reverend—like they could be a tarot deck, legs screaming in protest. Her parents stare at her, a collective frown hidden beneath obvious concern, but Lexa just cocks her head and peers at her from the ground.

The rain beats at the windows, hard and sharp and with no intention of stopping considering the thickness of the heavy clouds that hem in the lake and the syrupy heat clogs up her lungs until she can’t breathe. She crosses the room with sure-footed intent, flinging open the doors, all trembling hands and pent up anger until she can feel the cold needles of rain on her face and her tee sags, waterlogged under the weight of it.  

Lexa’s fingers find the hem of her shirt, begging her back inside but she garbles something childish like ‘last one in’s the loser’ and takes off, across the deck, down the stairs and over the grass at terrifying speed, rain in her eyes and mud underfoot. Her hair is soaked and it hangs thickly off her lashes and somewhere beyond the loud thump-thump of her heart in her ears she thinks she can hear Lexa behind her, heavy big breathes and screaming at her to stop.

The hard wooden planks of the jetty come as a shock and they jar something loose in her chest. All of the terrible feelings come spilling out and she can barely see past the opaque sheets of rain but she launches herself off the end and this time, the ice-cold impact of the water does come.

She sinks like a stone fully clothed, water roaring in her ears and when her bare feet brush the silt at the bottom of the lake, she kicks off and surfaces a second later, blinking water out of her eyes to find Lexa standing at the edge of the jetty staring at her.

Suddenly, the memory of being in this exact position eight years ago hits her hard enough to knock the breath out of her—Lexa’s striped swimsuit, the tire-swing and the high-on-life feeling of elation when she surfaced to see Lexa cheering for her.

“Come on!” Clarke hollers over the rain, shielding her eyes with her hand as her legs fight to keep her afloat.

Lexa scoffs and shakes her head but unlike last night, Clarke thinks it’s a smile hiding beneath the curve of her lip. “You’re crazy!” she laughs in disbelief but she has this look—this lopsided, word-splitting look—on her face and Clarke knows she has her.

When she jumps in, the world somehow rights itself and Clarke is sure that the sun will come out again with the sheer force of Lexa’s smile.    

They go from Juniors to Seniors and, despite Clarke’s valiant effort to make it fit, they grow out of their double bed.

Jake offers to make up the bunk room but Lexa respectfully declines, electing to sleep in their usual room on the trundle bed and Clarke is not-so-silently grateful. She laments mournfully that Lexa needs to stop growing, poking her in all the soft places that make her squirm as they lie upside down on the too-small bed, as if wishful thinking will make them seven-years-old again.

Lexa is already thinking about college—she has her sights set on UPenn or even Harvard and while Clarke knows without a doubt she will get in, the thought of Lexa being hours away makes her chest uncomfortably tight.

“I won’t be any more than a couple of hours away,” Lexa hums, catching Clarke’s offending fingers in her hot hands. “Even if I get in to Berkeley it’s only a five hour flight.”

Clarke peers at her in faux-concern. Berkeley was a late comer on Lexa’s college radar but when the guidance counsellor suggested it might be a good idea to apply on the West Coast, she had taken it on board. Clarke is thinking more liberal like NYU or BU. She hasn’t told Lexa yet that her mom has a contact at CalArts and that—after surveying the portfolio she put together for an school exhibition—they said she was a shoe in for early admissions. If Lexa doesn’t get into Berkeley she isn’t sure she could make the five hour journey and leave her best friend a whole country away.

“You and I have a very different idea of what ‘only five hours’ means,” she groans, laying back on her back and tucking her head into her best friends shoulder. They still have senior year left to decide. Her mom tells her that that’s what it’s for but Clarke can hardly stand all of this not knowing and ‘end of an era’ bullshit that their principal had starting spouting in the last week of Junior year. As if they needed a reminder that next year might as well be the most important of their life. The opposite of invigorating her for her future, all it has done is make the hot ache inside her chest grow stronger; it’s almost over and Clarke can’t help but feel like she has less than nothing figured out.

“Will it really be that bad?”

It seems Lexa has a bad memory.

“Do you remember summer camp?” Clarke asks pointedly and when Lexa nods, she grins, “case and point. And college is longer than an eight-week summer session.” She settles when Lexa taps at her own shoulder again with her pointer finger; a wordless invitation that Clarke takes up eagerly. They haven’t talked about the kiss since the bonfire two years ago.

In fact they haven’t talked about it hard enough—almost made a point not to bring it up—that Clarke has managed to convince herself it didn’t happen.  

She plays with the soft hem of Lexa’s tee and closes her eyes against the smell of washing detergent and summer and roots far enough into Lexa’s shoulder that she is sure she can stay that way. Lexa laughs and she can feet the vibrations against her cheek, then even stronger when Lexa, in the midst of a soft chuckle says, “I love you.”

Clarke cocks her head at the odd cadence of her voice. “I love you too, dork,” she says because ‘that’s what best friends do’, “even if you are leaving me for a better climate.”

Lexa grumbles absently that ‘nothing is set in stone’ and ‘applications haven’t even come out yet’ but settles beneath Clarke regardless. They eke as much as they can out of the evening before Lexa has to retreat to her trundle bed and Clarke turns the light out, feeling aloof and untethered without the warm mass of Lexa’s body next to her.

Usually she longs for the quiet moments—the nights she spends with Lexa in their Eden of floral sheets and patterned wallpaper but instead, she finds herself restless and searching for something she isn’t quite sure how to find.

She wants to go to into senior year on solid ground, not feeling like she is wading through molasses but the truth is, as the summer wanes on, she isn’t any closer to finding her feet. They swim and sunbathe and eat sticky marshmallow straight from their sticks—Lexa gets it stuck above her lip and Clarke leans over to wipe it off with her thumb.

Jake takes them out on the boat and Abby comes with them into the dinky little eatery in town that has outdoor picnic tables and Lexa spams her phone with pictures of Clarke in a summer dress and a straw hat, hair in a single, twisted braid. It’s all wonderful and quintessentially summer but it isn’t what she wants.

While Lexa spreads herself out on a blue and white blanket with next year’s reading—it’s not like she didn’t read ‘The Great Gatsby’ in the eighth grade on a whim because Clarke liked the cover art depicting the ‘eyes of God’—Clarke finds Finn. They stand in the woods, not far from where they kissed the first night at the bonfire, with fervent hands on each other and weird energy rattling in her chest. Her heart isn’t in it when he places hot mouthed kisses along the column of her neck and she lets him ruck her shirt up over her chest just because he looks so earnest when he asks her. She knows it’s not at all a good reason to—as mortifying as it was her mom had been thorough when she sat Clarke down at the beginning of sophomore year to give her the talk and although it was more clinical than touchy feely she did make sure to instil a sense of its importance in her. It wasn’t that she shouldn’t be in charge of her own body, it was just that she should be careful who she is in charge of it with.

But all that feels so utterly faraway right now, like a picture just out of focus.

He smells like Axe body spray and even though she’s sure neither of them are wearing it, the sticky scent of sunscreen hangs in the air. She wrinkles her nose against it as he sucks down her collarbones and frowns at the hard, scrape of teeth, tugging him away by the hair at the nape of his neck with a sharp hiss.

“Ow,” she breathes.

“Sorry,” he huffs, flashing her a brilliant smile. He roots his hands back under her shirt. “I almost ignored your text when I got it this morning,” he hums against her, “I nearly deleted your number after the bonfire. Atom said you were too good for me and that you’d never text me back.” He raises his brows as if to say ‘let’s show him’ and Clarke is immediately repulsed.

“Finn,” she whines, high pitched and breathless as she tries to pull his hands off her. His fingers catch on her belt loop and she unhooks his thumb before giving his chest a light shove. “I need to go.”

He frowns. “But—”

“I have to get back,” she shakes her head decisively. “Bye Finn.”

There’s no other way to describe what she feels as she hikes back up the back to the house than ‘icky’. She has enough sense in her head to know for sure that she is anything but a summer conquest and, she thinks, if Finn wants to impress Atom so badly maybe he should feel him up instead.

Lexa is where she left her in her short-sleeved linen shirt and denim shorts, hair in its topknot and glasses perched on her head as she skims Gatsby’s tragic death and laments over Daisy’s poor character choices. She quells the itchy dizziness within Clarke immediately and as soon as she makes it over, she collapses down on the grass, rolling easily onto her back and landing her hands on her stomach with a heavy sigh.

“Boys suck,” she decides.

Lexa blinks at her, blank faced.

“I’m gay,” she says, just like that. It’s as simple as if boiled down to a definition, poetic as Gatsby’s ending and Clarke opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again. She doesn’t know what she is supposed to say other than what they are told in health class but all of that seems too wrong when faced with Lexa looking at her like this.

“Okay,” she says, because there’s really nothing more than that.

Lexa has always been hers. A three letter word isn’t going to change that—she hopes against hope that Lexa didn’t believe it would—but there are tears clinging to Lexa’s lashes like dew on the spiderwebs they used to find under the picnic table when they were seven and the sight sticks in Clarke’s chest, so painfully it’s all she can do to pull her into a hug. She hooks her arm over Lexa’s shoulder and pulls her into her chest, letting Lexa root into her shoulder until she thinks nothing could separate them. “Oh, Lex,” she coos, “you’re okay,” and more than that, “we’re okay.”

When Lexa pulls back she’s trembling. The breeze is hot today but Lexa looks as if she is in the middle of a tundra in a swimsuit because her shoulders shake and her chin quivers and is it bad of her to think that right now she is the prettiest that Clarke has ever seen her?

“Thank you for telling me,” she whispers.

Lexa nods, her chin wobbles.

“How long have you known?”

Clarke doesn’t know why she asks other than that it seems of the utmost importance. It’s awfully dramatic but she feels like her entire life will rest on this moment, like she will look back at it through the lense of experience to either wallow or regret or point to it as the thing that changed everything. She only hopes it’s the latter. Lexa’s eyes are seven different colours through the prism of the tears held captive at her lash line and it’s all Clarke can do not to let it take her breath away.

“Two years.”

Clarke feels the air evacuate her chest. She feels like she is on fire, her body tingles and she is relatively sure she isn’t a whole person—not yet at least, not with Lexa looking at her the way she is—but half of one, made of nothing but open nerve endings and raw want. It all knots inside of her and swells until it is impossible to ignore.

Clarke kisses her.

She grasps Lexa by the shoulder, the linen of her shirt crushed against the heat of her palm, and leans in with her mouth open and a fervent kind of desperation she hasn’t kissed anyone with in her life. It’s heavy and bold and oh so desperate. Lexa’s brows shoot to her hairline before coming back down as her fingers find the hem of Clarke’s tee and fist in it like she needs something to keep her from inevitably floating off into space.

Clarke knows the feeling.

It feels like every single moment of her life has led to this point, and now that she’s here, she is sure she isn’t. Her hand comes up to rest on Lexa’s jaw and she takes stock of what she knows: the colour of Lexa’s eyes; the shape of the scar above her lip; how she scrunches her eyes when she is happy and throws her head back when she laughs, and when she is troubled by something, she gets a look on her face that is both devastating and beautiful.

It’s there now, caught in the place between her eyebrows.

It makes Clarke nervous.

She feels clumsy and inelegant but Lexa tangles their fingers together. She tastes like summer and everything good, Clarke feels drunk on it.

“I love you,” she whispers because that’s not what best friends do.

“I love you,” Lexa says.

The entire world feels encapsulated into a heartbeat Clarke thinks it might just be her last.

Maybe she doesn’t like easy after all.

[blueiceindustry-blog]

Lacrosse Jerseys | Custom Lacrosse Youth Jerseys

Lacrosse Jerseys | Custom Lacrosse Youth Jerseys

Custom Lacrosse Jerseys: Blue Ice's custom lacrosse uniforms are cut and sewn from good quality fabrics in our manufacturing facility. This allows you to design your lacrosse jersey or lacrosse shorts anyway you would love. No other lacrosse uniform producer can supply the extent of customization and guaranteed on-time shipping like Blue Ice Industries. Blue ice Industries has the Custom lacrosse…

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

248 of 2022

Bold Survey | Reblog | Bold what applies;

I’m currently listening to music that isn’t streaming from my computer. I just got out of the shower less than an hour ago. I’ve done the dishes today. I’ve vacuumed today, as well. My room is really clean and organized right now. I’m laying/sitting on my bed at the moment. I’ve not eaten yet today. ^I’m super hungry, just don’t feel like making something yet. The song I’m listening to right now is from the 90s! I’ve recently applied at some possible job places. I’m a high school graduate. ^My class was the class of 2009! A lot of my friends from high school moved away to go to college. I did laundry yesterday. I’m currently wearing a Victoria’s Secret body lotion. ^“Pure Seduction.” I know all the dialog to at least five different movies. I have at least three movies I could watch on a regular basis and not get tired of. My boyfriend is at work right now. ^But he’s coming over once he gets off. // as usual, we live together I’m currently in my first serious relationship. My longest relationship is over a year and still counting. I’ve never been swimming in the ocean. I love waterparks and fairs. Fireworks are amazingly beautiful here on the 4th of July. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I have a huge family. (extended family) I like random bolding surveys better than themed ones. I could care less what others think of me unless it’s someone I care about. I don’t smoke or do drugs. I rarely drink alcohol. So far, this year has been really good to me. I had to take a pill of some sort this morning. // three different ones, epilepsy medication, you know I’m guilty of liking ‘Barney’ as a child. I wear jeans more often than sweats. I wear dressy shirts more often than tees. I love watching hockey live. I dislike watching sports over the television. My boyfriend plays on a sports team. I like most genres of music. // I mean, they don’t bother me ^Except screamo, metal and opera get on my nerves. I babysit a lot. I hate when people ask to use my phone. I could sit there and listen to music all day, and I’ve done it. I wish I had a good singing voice. The last movie I watched was in the “Horror” genre. I haven’t had a birthday party since I was fourteen. I love the American Idol auditions. I have dimples on my lower back. I complain about stuff a lot. The last time I drank alcohol was a week ago. I’m guilty of sleep walking. I’m painfully shy. ^I never used to be like this either. I always think I have some sort of health problem. // I know I do I’ve had a UTI before, and they suck. The only place I ever get pimples is my chin. If you don’t like the movie The Hangover then you have no sense of humor. My days are pretty repetitive. // but I don’t mind it When I graduated high school I didn’t have a party. Something on my body hurts so fucking bad right now. I’d definitely name my dog Marley if I had one. When I drink alcohol, I don’t stop. My hands always feel like icicles. My music is blasting right now. I feel like shit today. ^And yesterday. I have Disney songs on my iTunes. I’m going to get off the computer now. I am freaking hottttttt. My pet is sleeping right now. I am in the living room. I have a picture of my pet as the background on my computer. I plan to watch TV on DVD tonight. ^Probably one or two episodes. There is a professional lacrosse team in my city. I need to take a shower. I REALLY need new glasses. My sister dyed her hair recently. I’ve had braces. I have a green laptop bag. I don’t really email anyone. ^I use Facebook messaging. ^Or text messaging. My pet has more toys than I did as a kid. ^He’s spoiled. I love old songs. I have NSYNC on my iTunes. ^Backstreet Boys too. I tend to yell at the TV when I’m pissed. I follow at least one sports team. I have more followers on Twitter than I follow. I am wearing something plaid. There are a couple magazines near me.

[itakesurveys]

Survey 224

Bold Survey | Reblog | Bold what applies; 

I’m currently listening to music that isn’t streaming from my computer. I just got out of the shower less than an hour ago. I’ve done the dishes today. I’ve vacuumed today, as well. My room is really clean and organized right now. I’m laying/sitting on my bed at the moment. I’ve not eaten yet today. ^I’m super hungry, just don’t feel like making something yet. The song I’m listening to right now is from the 90s! I’ve recently applied at some possible job places. I’m a high school graduate. ^My class was the class of 2009! A lot of my friends from high school moved away to go to college. I did laundry yesterday. I’m currently wearing a Victoria’s Secret body lotion. ^“Pure Seduction.” I know all the dialog to at least five different movies. I have at least three movies I could watch on a regular basis and not get tired of. My boyfriend is at work right now. ^But he’s coming over once he gets off. I’m currently in my first serious relationship. My longest relationship is over a year and still counting. I’ve never been swimming in the ocean. I love waterparks and fairs. Fireworks are amazingly beautiful here on the 4th of July. Christmas is my favorite holiday. I have a huge family. (extended family) I like random bolding surveys better than themed ones. I could care less what others think of me unless it’s someone I care about. I don’t smoke or do drugs. I rarely drink alcohol. So far, this year has been really good to me. I had to take a pill of some sort this morning. I’m guilty of liking ‘Barney’ as a child. I wear jeans more often than sweats. I wear dressy shirts more often than tees. I love watching hockey live. I dislike watching sports over the television. My boyfriend plays on a sports team. I like most genres of music. ^Except screamo, metal and opera get on my nerves. I babysit a lot. I hate when people ask to use my phone. I could sit there and listen to music all day, and I’ve done it. I wish I had a good singing voice. The last movie I watched was in the “Horror” genre. I haven’t had a birthday party since I was fourteen. I love the American Idol auditions. I have dimples on my lower back. I complain about stuff a lot. The last time I drank alcohol was a week ago. I’m guilty of sleep walking. I’m painfully shy. ^I never used to be like this either. I always think I have some sort of health problem. I’ve had a UTI before, and they suck. The only place I ever get pimples is my chin. If you don’t like the movie The Hangover then you have no sense of humor. My days are pretty repetitive. When I graduated high school I didn’t have a party. Something on my body hurts so fucking bad right now. I’d definitely name my dog Marley if I had one. When I drink alcohol, I don’t stop. My hands always feel like icicles. My music is blasting right now. I feel like shit today. ^And yesterday. I have Disney songs on my iTunes. I’m going to get off the computer now. I am freaking hottttttt. My pet is sleeping right now. I am in the living room. I have a picture of my pet as the background on my computer. I plan to watch TV on DVD tonight. ^Probably one or two episodes. There is a professional lacrosse team in my city. I need to take a shower. I REALLY need new glasses. My sister dyed her hair recently. I’ve had braces. I have a green laptop bag. I don’t really email anyone. ^I use Facebook messaging. ^Or text messaging. My pet has more toys than I did as a kid. ^He’s spoiled. I love old songs. I have NSYNC on my iTunes. ^Backstreet Boys too. I tend to yell at the TV when I’m pissed. I follow at least one sports team. I have more followers on Twitter than I follow. I am wearing something plaid. There are a couple magazines near me.

[carey-pricemas]

You Found Me- Auston Matthews (By Anon)

Ok guys so I got this submitted to me by a new anon! See so 4 days in a row! I’m working on more too so everyone should be excited! Lol! So enjoy guys! Also... Auston looks good in this GIF?

Warning: drinking, vomiting

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

You waved as you watched your friends stumble into the building across the small road, giggling loudly as they disappeared into the residence hall across the street from yours. 

You breathed in the cool Toronto air, your heels held in one hand as you walked across the cold concrete bare foot. It was a Friday night in Toronto, and twofers night at one of the bars had hit your friends hard. You were only buzzed.

You saw a figure leaning against the tall brick building, you could tell it was a guy but the shadows from the streetlights covered his face. You didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t unusual for underagers to sit outside their dorms, either waiting until their RA to go to sleep or to throw up outside. So you walked past, keeping your head down as you let your hair cover the side of your face. But he knew it was you.

“Y/N?” Your head snapped up at your name. You squinted through the dark, your angle now able to decipher the guy’s face. Your stomach sank as you looked at his features, those all-too-familiar eyes and jawline, covered with a bit of scruff now, and the overgrown hair. Auston.

Ignore him. Keep walking.

But your legs were frozen, your brain unable to force them to move as everything from the past that you’d pushed down came flooding back to you. He was struggling to get up, trying to use one hand to push himself up while the other had a firm grip on a bottle of something.

“Y/N! I knew this was the right place,” he slurred his words, you were barely able to interpret them, the average person wouldn’t. But you’d seen enough of Drunk Auston to know that he was at a 10 right now on the meter, the fact that he was drunk anyway surprised you, let alone that he was here.

“What’re you doing here, Auston?” He grinned as you said his name.

“I missed you.” He saw your disgust and gave you his puppy dog eyes. “Did you miss me?” You rolled your eyes.

“I couldn’t give less of a shit about you.” He grinned that childish smile again.

“That’s a yes.” You sighed.

“Seriously. Why are you here?” His smirk dropped and he became serious.

“We lost. My girl stood me up for someone else.” You crossed your arms. How ironic this situation was.

“You’re kidding, right?” He shook his head, and you pulled out your phone, opening the Uber app.

“What’s your address?” He shook his head again.

“Not telling.” You grunted as you shoved your phone away, pissed that your memory sucked and you couldn’t remember where his apartment was. Two months was a long time.

“Please help me, Y/N. You’re the only one who cares.” He held his arms up like a baby, reaching for you. You rolled your eyes again.

“That’s just it, Auston. I don’t care. Not anymore.” He looked at you dead in the eyes.

“You know you do, Firecracker.” Your lip quivered as the last word left his lips. Even drunk, he still remembered your nickname.

He’d given it to you himself. It was some Canadian pride day, you were at one of Auston’s teammate’s houses and they were throwing the explosive things everywhere on the street. Fireworks were going off in the distance, and you’d said something about how you’d always loved firecrackers more than sparklers. And then he had said that you reminded him one.

“Fireworks explode and sparklers fizzle out. But firecrackers, they’re relentless. And they leave damage behind, unfixable damage. They’re crazy and unpredictable. But they’re beautiful and amazing and people still love them. Like you.” In the six months you’d dated him, it was one of the two things he said you’d never forget.

You could feel your insides soften a little. 

“Please,” he whined, and you saw the desperation and relentlessness in his dark eyes.

You weighed your options. If you left him here, he’d no doubt get some freshman to let him in or start screaming outside your window. You could call Mitch or Willy. You checked the time. It was almost 3. You still liked them, you wouldn’t do that to them. Your roommate was gone for the weekend. You took a deep and stepped forward, pissed that you’d gotten roped into this. Auston grinned as you approached him.

“You can come in for tonight, and tonight only. That’s not coming with you.” You held your hand out for the bottle, which Auston placed in your hand with a grin. There was less than three inches left in it.

“Did you drink this whole thing?” He grinned again, and you shook your head and threw the bottle in the nearby trash can. “Get up.” He struggled even with both hands, his reflexes nonexistent and his movements clumsy. You sighed again as you helped him up, coughing at the strong smell of alcohol on him. He leaned almost entirely on you as you scanned your student ID and unlocked the door.

“We’re going inside now. And if you make any noise, I’ll have E News and TMZ all over this in a heartbeat. Got it?” He smirked at you. As much as you hated Auston, you’d never ruin his career like that. And he knew it.

“Yes ma'am.” You grunted as you hauled him into the elevator, tapping your foot as the doors opened. You peered down the hallway, pulling Auston when you didn’t see anyone and heard music in the floor above. Everyone was probably at a party. You shoved your key into your door and yanked Auston inside, sighing in relief as you locked the door behind you. He was sitting on your bed when you turned around. You crossed your arms.

“You’re not sleeping there. I hope you know that.” He pouted.

“You don’t wanna snuggle? I know you miss that, Y/N/N-”

“Don’t call me that.” You snapped. Another nickname only he called you. He grinned, clearly liking how flustered you got. You pulled a pillow from your bed, throwing it on the floor along with a blanket.

“You can sleep on the floor.” He sighed, clearly defeated by your stubbornness.

“Okay.” He can’t even reach his shoes. You huff and drop to your knees, untying his sneakers and avoiding his gaze above you.

“Am I the only one getting dejà vu?” You narrow your eyes at the sex joke, throwing his shoes to the side as you stand up, kicking him in the shin before you turn around. “Ow!”

You open your drawers, searching through your drawers for a shirt that’ll fit him. You finally find a faded U of Toronto Mens Lacrosse tee and tossing it at him.

“Here.” He examines it, reading the large print of your college’s name on the front.

“Lacrosse? You said you hated boys who play lacrosse. You like hockey boys better.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He looks at the shirt again.

“Boyfriend.” You bite your lip.

“Just put the shirt on, jackass.” He shrugs out of his jacket and shirt, and you revert your eyes from his toned abs you used to love running your hands over. He noticed the second of you watching him.

“You can watch, I don’t mind.” You roll your eyes as you throw his discarded clothes by his sneakers and pull him off the bed, steering him towards the makeshift one on the floor.

“I don’t have any pants that’ll fit you, and you’re not sleeping in your boxers. Here.” You hand him the trash bin with a fresh plastic bag in it for if he has to throw up.

“I don’t want my room smelling like puke the rest of the year.” He grins gratefully, watching as you hang up your jacket on the wall, leaving you in your skin-tight, short dress. You glare at him, grabbing a pair of old sweatpants and a tshirt from the corner of the room.

“I’m going to change in the bathroom. Don’t get any ideas.” He giggled as you walked out, taking your toothbrush with you.

You returned five minutes later, your hair in a ponytail and the makeup washed off your face. Auston was throwing up in the bin when you entered, groaning as he puked up the strong alcohol he’d drank too much of. You sighed, seeing him shaking as he pulled away for a second, only to dip his head back in as more came up. You grunted as you grabbed the mouth wash.

You opened your mini fridge and poured a cup of water, regretting it as you kneeled beside him on the floor with a towel in the other hand. You thanked god you didn’t have a gag reflex as he threw up again, convulsing and groaning. You didn’t touch him, and he seemed to have finished ten minutes later, there couldn’t have been anything more left in him. You held out the towel for him to wipe his mouth.

“It’s safe to swallow.” You handed him the Dixie cup of mouthwash and then the water, watching his relief as the coolness hit his mouth.

“Thank you.” You sighed at his words, throwing out the cups and turning off the lights.

“Whatever. You gotta be out early tomorrow, you hear me?” You heard him chuckle hoarsely as you crawled into bed.

“Yes, firecracker.” You shuddered again as he said it. You hated that you were doing this, hated that you still found yourself being sympathetic and helping out the boy who broke your heart two months ago, the boy who you found all over another model after he’d managed to open you up and get you to say you loved him. You hated that he still got to you, and you let him. But most of all, you hated that you still loved him, and that you’d never really stopped in the first place.

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

WAIT… IS THERE MORE TO THIS WTF YOU CAN’T LEAVE IT!!!!! Up next: Um... If I can finish it Adrian Kempe part two if not the Auston one I have written XD

[klovenhooves]

Do You Feel Like A Young God, a Benwash Fanfiction, Chapter One

George loved playing golf in when September turned to October, when the leaves turned red and orange around the country club, and when the breeze was enough to make you shiver in the early morning and late evening. There was a moment, about mid-afternoon, when the sun would shine, the sky would be blue, and the weather was perfect.

 He had been a member of the Culper Country Club his whole life, a legacy with automatic admission, and though he had sneered at the idea of a country club when he was a teenager who only cared about playing lacrosse, he was now much older than that. And he happened to like playing golf and squash and having brunch on the terrace.

 It was all very opulent, and unnecessary, but he was bored, so terribly bored, and this was one of the only things that helped his boredom.

“Mr. Washington, two p.m. tee time?” Philomena’s voice was soft in the quiet lobby, but she caught his attention all the same. He nodded at her, enough that she could turn on the toe of her pure white sneakers and flounce back to the counter, her plaid golf skirt just a little too high to be coincidental.

 “I love the girls they have working here,” George didn’t have to turn to know Benedict Arnold was sitting beside him, his eyes on Philomena as she typed something into the computer. “They’re all leggy, blonde, beautiful.”

 “Probably specifically for your reaction,” George pointed out, trying to breathe past the faint smell of bourbon on Arnold’s breath. “Are you ready? Our tee time is in five minutes.”

 “Oh, I’m always ready,” Arnold said, puffing out his chest, clad in a slightly too tight green sweater vest. “Ready to lose again, George?”

 “How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a competition?” George chuckled, waving one hand at Philomena, who perked up immediately. “It’s just for fun.” Philomena glided into his orbit, sliding him the key to a golf cart. “Thank you, ‘Mena,” he said kindly, sliding a twenty to her. “Put that toward your grad school applications, promise.”

 “Of course, Mr. Washington,” she smiled a bright grin that told George she thought he’d forgotten that she mentioned going to graduate school. He loved those moments. Arnold narrowed his eyes at him.

 “What the hell was that?” he asked under his breath as Philomena passed him another set of keys for his own golf cart, sans smile. “You trying to get with her?”

 “Get with?” George repeated sardonically. “No. I was just…making conversation.”

 “Well, when we get on the course, perhaps you can tell me what you know about her so I can also…make conversation,” Arnold nudged him with his elbow, the entendre crystal clear.

 “I – I don’t mean to – I don’t think she’s interested in you,” George said gently as they pushed open the clubhouse door to the crisp fall air. “I mean…”

 “What?” Arnold asked, casting his eyes about for his usual caddy. “Why wouldn’t she be interested in me?”

 George ducked his head. “Well, she’s…she has a girlfriend.”

 “Excuse me, sir, are you George Washington?”

 A young man with an impressively enchanting pair of blue eyes was standing just behind him, squinting in the sun. He wore the same uniform as all employees of the country club, a pair of khakis and a pale blue polo shirt, brown shoes.

 “I am,” George said, as Arnold continued to splutter in disbelief behind him. “And who might you be?”

 “Benjamin Tallmadge sir, filling in for your usual caddy, Gilbert, if that’s okay,” he averted his gaze, but whether it was from the sun or he was waiting approval, George couldn’t tell. Either way, he found it much easier to think when Benjamin’s blue eyes weren’t fixed on him.

 He extended his hand for the caddy to shake. “It is perfectly fine with me. Have you ever caddied before?” he asked, seeing the way the young man surveyed the bag of clubs with a cautious eye.

 “You’re sure she’s a lesbian?” Arnold said behind him.

 “Benedict, yes, I’m positive, please,” George waved him off as Ben’s eyes moved over to Arnold in alarm.

 “I’ve actually never been…on a golf course before,” Ben said, his gaze coming back to George.

 “Never seen…well, I guess I have a lot to teach you, don’t I?” George asked. Ben, who looked horrified at the beginning of George’s sentence, relaxed and released a smile that George returned.

 ***

 “Benjamin, can you pass me the nine iron?” George asked. Ben, holding the golf bag, went wide-eyed for a moment before scrambling for the clubs. “It should be right beside the putter.”

 “Come on, Tallmadge, it’s not like you’ve never touched a rod before,” Arnold’s caddy, a man known to George as only Bradford, sneered. Ben, in the act of pulling the nine iron out of the bag, flushed dark red. Arnold snickered.

 George gently took the club from his caddy, searching his visage for any sign of distress. Aside from the blush, he looked unmoved. George suppressed an approving smirk.

 “Do you know this…Bradford fellow?” he asked as Ben trudged after him, his nerves clearly ruining the experience. Ben glanced up at George for a moment, surprised to hear him speaking. He gave him a single nod. “From…school?”

 “We went to college together,” Ben said quietly, trying not to be overheard.

 “Oh? What did you study?”

 “History.”

 George took a moment to look the boy up and down. In his uniform, he didn’t look like a history student, but George could see it. A cardigan, a brown leather bag, and a cup of coffee in his other hand, and Benjamin was on his way to being a young Indiana Jones.

 Indiana Jones didn’t study history, but that was irrelevant.

 To give himself a moment to think, George turned away from Ben and lined up his next shot. Arnold had a killer slice that always knocked at least one drive out of bounds, but he had distance on George. But George was accurate, strategic.

 He swung, satisfied that the ball was going the way he wanted. He turned back to Ben, and caught his eyes staring just a little too low to be looking at where the ball went. He smirked to himself and said nothing instead.

 Let the boy stew.

 By the time George and Arnold finished with their nine holes, George had shaved two strokes off his last score, and Arnold was satisfied that he won. George could hear him bragging about it in his cart to Bradford as they drove off to the club for lunch.

 “Are you going to tell Mr. Arnold that you purposely knocked your ball into the little lake thing?” Ben asked sheepishly, scribbling the final scores on the little card with the tiny pencil.

 George raised an eyebrow. “My dear boy, what makes you think I would endure a stoke penalty on purpose?”

 “Because Mr. Arnold seems like a sore loser,” Ben said truthfully, shrugging.

 “You are correct,” George replied. “But, unfortunately, he works with me, so I am forced to regularly endure his company.”

 “I can see how that would be tiring,” Ben said ruefully. George had to turn away to hide his smirk. Once he relaxed, Benjamin was truly one of the wittiest and most entertaining caddies on the course. Most of them mumbled a lot and tripped when spoken to. Others, like Bradford, liked to take on the persona of the golfer they worked for.

 George could see his opening now, as clearly as an easy put. He only needed to line up the shot –

 “Speaking of tiring, I’m supposed to have lunch with him and his delightful caddy,” George began, leaning just slightly toward Benjamin as he spoke. “I’m sure I can’t convince you to join us, correct, Benjamin?”

 “Of course,” Ben replied instantly. “Wait, no? You can convince me? Your question was posed in a very confusing manner, sir.”

 “But you will come to lunch with us?” George pressed, holding his smile at bay for confirmation.

 “Yes, sir,” Ben said, grinning when George finally smiled.

 “You know you don’t have to call me sir all the time, right?” George asked as he turned on the golf cart.

 “Of course, sir, but I like it,” Ben replied, studiously keeping his eyes on the path.

 “Do you?” George asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road. “Well…duly noted.”

 ***

 Approximately ten minutes into lunch (that was more like dinner at six in the afternoon), George was convinced he’d made a terrible mistake. Ben and Bradford didn’t just know each other from college, they hated each other. And Bradford was the type of man to make any snide comment whenever the opportunity presented itself.

 And it was constantly presenting itself.

 “So, Mr. Bradford –”

 “Please, call me William –”

 “William, rather,” George amended himself. “What did you say you studied in school?”

 “Political science,” Bradford supplied helpfully. “I had no interest in the past, just the future, isn’t that right, Benny boy?”

 “Do not call me that,” Ben said firmly from his side of the table. “Only my friends call me that.”

 “Come on, Benny boy, we’re friends, right?” Bradford asked. “I mean, we’ve known each other for years, went to the same school, played on the same squash team. That would make us friends.”

 “That would make us acquaintances, Braford. If anything, all of this prolonged contact has only given me more reason to dislike you.”

 George turned, surprised to Ben, who was gripping his fork with white-knuckled fury. Arnold, sitting beside Braford, took a hearty swig of what George assumed was more bourbon, and chuckled.

 “Bradford told me that you two got into a brawl in the middle of the front lawn at Yale,” he said, lifting his glass as if toasting what was probably a drunken disorderly arrest. “Boys will be boys, right George?”

 “Certainly,” he replied flatly, his gaze still on Ben. “So, Benjamin –” he said his name sharply enough to pull the boy’s eyes back to him. “Are you going to graduate school for a master’s degree?”

 “Yes, sir, that’s why I got a job here,” Ben admitted. “My classmate, Philomena, she was my reference.”

 “Oh, Philomena,” Arnold said suddenly, with a lurching movement that told George that he was getting drunk. “Tell me, Benjamin, is your friend –”

 “I’m sure now is not the time to discuss this, Arnold –”

 “George, it’s just a question – now, Benjamin, can you tell me if Philomena is…you know…”

 “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” George heard the omitted “sir” where it should have been said and had to hide his smirk behind his hand. “Could you explain?”

 “You know what I mean, you little upstart,” Arnold was suddenly angry, as he usually was when he started drinking. “Is she a lesbo? A damn queer?”

 George searched the younger man’s face for a sign that he was offended, but he gave away nothing in his face. If anything, he straightened up a little at the words.

 “You mean, is Philomena gay?” he asked. “Yes, she is. Her girlfriend is actually a member here. You might know her…Margaret Shippen?”

 “Peggy Shippen?” Arnold crowed, just loud enough to invite a hush over the room.

 “Okay, I think that’s enough,” George said sternly, fixing his gaze on Arnold so sharply that the man lowered in his seat. “I have allowed too much without saying anything. Benjamin, I apologize for his behavior,” he turned to Ben, who was still staring at Arnold, his eyes occasionally darting to Bradford, daring him to say something. “Why don’t you allow me to take you home?”

 “That’s not necessary,” Ben said, dropping his napkin onto his plate as he stood, the food completely untouched.

 “I insist,” George said, following suit. Ben regarded him for a moment sternly before nodding. He allowed George to lead him to the front of the club restaurant, the onlookers finally going back to their meals. “Why don’t you go get your things, I need to speak with Philomena.”

 “Of course, sir.”

 Philomena had changed from her clubhouse outfit into a sensible black evening dress in her shift from clubhouse cashier to hostess. She grinned when she saw George approaching.

 “Mr. Washington,” she said graciously. “What can I do for you?”

 He was suddenly irrationally angry at Arnold’s behavior all over again now that he was seeing her kind face. “My caddy, Benjamin Tallmadge, said you were his friend.”

 “We are friends, sir, yes,” she said.

 “Well, he’s had a rather unsettling afternoon, so I’m going to drive him home,” George explained. “Is there any way you can get one of the chefs to make my usual and box it up for him?”

 Philomena nodded. “I’m sure that won’t be a problem, sir.”

 “Thank you, ‘Mena,” he replied.

 By the time Ben returned, changed into his normal clothes and carrying a bag over his shoulder, George was holding a bag of food in his hand and his keys in the other. He was only slightly disappointed to find that his fantasy of Ben dressed like a young Harrison Ford was slightly incorrect. He did still carry the brown bag over his shoulder, but he was dressed in dark wash denim jeans and a faded and worn Antiques Roadshow shirt.

 George passed him the bag of food wordlessly and led the way to his car, waiting for Ben to speak. Ben had to deal with the more trying night, so he deserved silence or conversation if he sought it.

 Finally, when the doors closed, George could no longer help himself.

 “Antiques Roadshow?” he asked.

 “Did you buy me food?” Ben shot back, and George was, for a moment, hard pressed to identify his tone. Was he angry? Was he surprised? He couldn’t tell.

 “Well, you were so upset you didn’t get to eat,” George explained. “It’s nothing special, just a grilled cheese with truffle oil and some fries. It’s what I eat when I’m upset.”

 Ben peeked into the bag experimentally and stuck his hand in, pulling out a fry. He chewed pensively, George still waiting to see if he was upset or not. Finally, after a prolonged silence that made George feel increasingly insecure, he passed the bag over. “Want a fry?”

 “Want to tell me about Antiques Roadshow?” George asked instead, pulling out a fry and chewing.

 “My grandmother had tons of antiques,” Ben said as George put the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot. “I liked to just go up into her attic and read where my brothers wouldn’t bother me, and so I kind of just got used to seeing them. Antiques Roadshow has some cool stuff on it.”

 There was a challenging tone to his voice that George should have expected. He spent all day being teased by an old rival, and here he was, asking him questions about something he liked with a grin on his face like he was looking for an opening.

 “Okay, since you’re telling me things about yourself, how about I tell you one about me?” he offered as Ben pointed to the right, indicating he needed to turn.

 “I love reading James Patterson mystery novels,” he said in a rush. “I mean, not even just Patterson. Whichever trashy, cliché, predictable mystery novel there is, I read it. I have shelves full of them.”

 Ben chuckled, another fry sticking halfway out of his mouth. “Not embarrassing enough.”

 “Fine,” he said with a huff. “I have the bartenders pour apple juice into my glasses instead of scotch because I hate it but everyone I know drinks it,” he said. “How’s that?”

 Ben was already laughing so hard he couldn’t answer the question. In his laughter, his free hand that wasn’t holding the bag of food landed on George’s arm, resting between them. He left it there, and George decided he was going to have to say far more embarrassing things if this was how he could get Benjamin to touch him.

 “That is both embarrassing and kind of adorable,” Ben finally acknowledged. “Far more embarrassing than I asked for.”

 “Looks like you’re going to have to make up the difference,” George pointed out. “Go ahead, embarrass yourself.”

 They had pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex near the university. Ben squinted out the window toward the second floor.

 “How’s this,” he said, his hand on George’s arm tightening for just a moment. “How about I thank you for this food and your patience with my terrible caddy skills –”

 “You weren’t terrible –”

 “Yes I was,” Ben insisted. “And you stood up for me at dinner. Why don’t I repay you by inviting you upstairs?”

 George was about to say no, about to tell Ben that he was an old man, far too old for spontaneous one night stands with young men he’d just met, far too old and traditional for something like this, but Ben’s hand was on his arm again, sliding up to his bicep, to his shoulder, to his neck, where he traced the smooth edge of George’s jaw, his eyes that perfect shade of blue that mesmerized George the moment he saw him.

 “Now, are you doing this because you think I need to be repaid, or because you want to?” George asked, swallowing thickly around the tantalizing feel of Ben’s fingers as they traced the column of his throat.

 “The repayment was just a ruse, sir,” Ben said like it was a secret. “Come upstairs and help me forget that disastrous dinner ever happened.”

 “Your wish is my command, my dear boy.”

[just-jordie-things]

Like She’s Mine (part six) - Stiles Stilinski

I’m sorry this is late guys but here she is!  warnings: mentions of sex as always, and swearing, as always

part one part two part three part four part five

“Stiles” I said, blinking my eyes quickly as though testing to see if he was real.

“You-you’re- you’re here” I said, a slow smile spreading on my face.  He was already grinning.

“Hey y/n” In seconds his arms were wrapped around my waist and I was hugging him so tightly I couldn’t breathe for a few moments.

“Wow, you’re here, you’re here early!” I said when we pulled away.  He nodded a little sheepishly, and I stepped aside.  “Come in, I’ll show you around the new apartment” I said.  He closed the door behind him, and I peeked around the corner to make sure Madi’s room was shut.  Thankfully it was, I would just tell him that’s Allison’s room and she liked her privacy.

“I got here last night, I just went back home and was at Scott’s for a bit this morning but uh, he said Allison was coming over for the day and I should go hang out with you”

“Wow, glad to hear you were so thrilled to see me” I said, and he rolled his eyes, hitting my arm gently.

“No, that was just his way getting me out of the house so him and Allison could bang” he said bluntly, making me snort.  He wandered into the kitchen, looking around a bit before sitting at the table.  Instantly I went to the sink and began to do the dishes.

“Sorry the place is a mess, I’m a mess, if I’d known you were coming-”

“No no, it’s cool” Stiles chuckled.  “I always knew you were the one to steal that sweatshirt” I looked down to see that I, in fact, was wearing his old lacrosse sweatshirt.

“Wow, that felt so long ago” I said smiling slightly before picking up a plate and scrubbing vigorously.

“It sort of was I guess” He shrugged.  “You finished all your online courses right?”

“Yep, I’m officially on summer vacation.  Did you ditch the last week?”

“No actually, I took my exams early so I could come surprise you, talked to Scott on the phone the other day and thought it was a good idea” You nodded, drying the plate and setting it on the counter.

“Well I’m glad you did.  I’ve missed you being around here” He let out a soft laugh and a barely there smile.  “You like DC right?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s nice.  Lots of new places to eat.  I’ll have to take you some time there’s a cafe there I think you’d like a lot” I nodded and grinned at him.  

“Yeah that would be cool” I told him.

“So does breastfeeding hurt?” My heart stopped.  I was sure I was going to go into cardiac arrest.  Did he just say what I think he said? I set down the bowl I was holding, and turned slowly.  I stared at Stiles, his eyes glued to the floor.  “Cause I was surprised that Scott told me that’s what you chose to do” Tears welled in my eyes, but he still wasn’t looking up.

“Stiles I-” I froze again when his head just shot up, hard eyes meeting mine.  But there were tears in there too, I could see.

“Let me guess.  You ‘were going to tell me’? ‘You didn’t have the right moment’? Is that it?” I swallowed painfully, unable to find the right thing to say.  “Because if I do the math right, you knew while I was here.  You knew and you didn’t tell me, while I was still here” He sounded so hurt it killed me inside.

“Stiles, I really was going to tell you… some day”

“Oh.  I’m sorry.  Some day.  When your kid’s twenty two and I get an invite to a wedding.  But I threw away the invitation because I didn’t think a Madison Rose l/n existed! I didn’t go to your girl’s wedding because I never knew you had a baby!” I let out a choked sound as tears spilled over.

“Stiles you’re being crazy-”

“No y/n, I’m being realistic.  How could you not tell me? We were best friends-”

“Were?” You emphasized the use of his past tense.  He tensed up, and his mouth stopped moving, just hung open.  “Stiles, that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you!”

“Oh, but Allison knew-”

“ALLISON WAS STAYING HERE TELLING HER DIDN’T THREATEN HER FUTURE LIKE IT WOULD’VE THREATENED YOURS!” I screamed, I just didn’t care anymore.  I didn’t care if the neighbors heard, I didn’t care if he began to cry, I was pissed.  “Don’t you get it Stiles!? I couldn’t tell you, because tell me what you would’ve done if I had” I groaned out the words.

“y/n I would’ve stayed in an instant I wouldn’t have been mad-”

“No, you weren’t allowed to stay.  You had such a bright life ahead of you and I wasn’t going to let you throw it away because I made a mistake!”

“But that’s what best friends do isn’t it!?” He shot up from the chair, waving his hands frantically.  “They help each other! I wasn’t here- I- I didn’t help you at all! Because I didn’t know-”

“Maybe I’d dealt with enough disappointment in my life! Did you ever think of that Stiles!?” I rubbed my hand over my forehead, and he sighed.  It was quiet for a few moments.

I could not believe this was happening.

Stiles took a few deep breaths in a row, until he walked over closer to me.

“Come here” He said softly, and I closed the distance, falling into his arms and letting him hold me tightly.  “I wouldn’t have been disappointed in you, y/n.  I’m not disappointed in you.  I think you’re brave, and made a good decision” I sniffled, trying not to cry into his shirt.

“But I lied to you” I whispered.  He thought for a moment, then ran his fingers through my hair with one hand and rubbed my back with the other.

“And I wish you didn’t” He said slowly, and I wrapped my arms under his, my hands resting on his back and I pushed myself closer.  “But I forgive you”

“You do?” He nodded, pulling back slightly and pressing his lips to my forehead.  My eyes fluttered shut as I relished in that moment.  It was quiet again as we just stood there holding onto each other for a few more minutes.  It was our silent apologies and the solid message of it was “you’re still my friend and I still care about you no matter what” I held on as long as I could.

“y/n” Stiles put his chin on top of my head, and I hummed.  “You were right” I pulled back, furrowing my brow slightly.  “I would’ve stayed…  here for the year” He said slowly.

“I know” I replied quietly.

“I also would’ve beat the living shit out of Theo” I smiled a little as his hands pushed m hair behind my ears, still stroking through it.

“Well you’d be in line behind Allison Lydia and Scott” Stiles tsked, shaking his head.

“I’d get out that old baseball bat and everything-” I pulled away from him, heading back to my room.  “Hey- where’re you-”

“I’m going to get dressed so we can hang out today, we’ve got a lot to talk about”

“The cutest is when- oh no that’s- wait! Ugh I can’t pick one” I groaned, putting my elbows on the table and resting my head in my hands as I thought.  Stiles chuckled from across me, taking a drink of his coffee.  He’d asked me what Madi’s cutest quality is, but I just couldn’t pick one.

“When do I get to meet her?” He asked, a big smile on his face that made me melt and my heart swell.  “What?”

“Hm?”

“You gave me a funny look” He said, and I glanced down at the mug in my hands for a moment.  Then looked around me, at the other people at our favorite cafe.  I wondered if they were regulars.  If they’d often seen Stiles and I here together.  I figured we’d be memorable, we weren’t very quiet.  I wondered though, if they remembered us, if they thought we were a couple.

“I was just thinking” I said, shrugging my shoulders, then lowered my voice.  “Do you think these people come here often too?” I asked him, and he looked over the other tables just as I had earlier.

“Perhaps” Stiles responded, pursing his lips.  “Do you think they’d remember us?” I chuckled linking my fingers together round my cup.

“Oh definitely” I said with a giggle.  We talked about meaningless things again, high school memories seeing that we were college students now.  It made me feel old, realizing I was a mom and had a somewhat steady job.

I told him that tonight Scott Allison and Lydia were coming back over to the apartment with Madi.  I told him he should come, and he made a pft sound, assuring that he’d be there.  I grinned as we walked aimlessly around town.  Somehow, his arm wound up being hung loosely around my shoulder, and it was like we just slipped right back to where we were.  Happy, loud, and outgoing teenagers that could walk around and talk about everything and nothing at once.

He dropped me off back at the apartment, and we shared a quick and right hug before saying we’d see each other later.  He told me he was very excited to meet Madi.  When he left, I did a little happy dance in the living room.

After a long shower and bath, like I had previously scheduled, I was painting my fingernails a nice deep blue color.  I was sat on the couch, towel on my head, and wearing denim shorts and an old band tee shirt.  I was happily flicking the brush across my nail as my show played, and it was such a content mood I almost forgot I had one teensy, weensy problem left.

You were still in love with Stiles.

An hour later, there was knocking on the door.  “It’s open!” You called, too busy tossing the salad in the kitchen.

“We’re here!” Alison sing songed, and I heard the happy gurgling of Madi.  I squealed, tossing in a few extra tomatoes before rushing over to the door.  You grinned big as Allison pushed in the stroller, Scott and Lydia behind.

“Hi Madi! Hi sweetpea!” I said sweetly, and stooped over to lift her up. “Oohh, were you good for Allison?” I said, holding her at my hip as I looked to the others for an answer.

“She was! She was very good” Allison said, kicking off her shoes and walking into the kitchen with Scott on her tail.  Lydia went into the living room, sitting on the couch and crossed her legs.

“Hold on Scott” I said, and I must’ve given him a borderline death glare, because Allison caught my telepathic message to take Madison.

“Oh man” Scott said under his breath.

“We’ll be right back Alli” I said in a sickeningly sweet tone.  “Walk with me to the hall, Scott?” He nodded, following me out of the apartment.  I made sure the door was unlocked when I closed it.

“Look, y/n I want you to know I’m so sorry and I swear to god I didn’t do it on purpose-”

“Scott… will you just tell me what happened? Because I was sort of humiliated this morning” I said quietly and slowly.

“He came over and we were just talking and he said how excited he was to surprise you and I was too happy for him being back and all of us hanging out again and I sorta just slipped up and said that he’d love Madi and how she’s such a special girl” I sighed a little, wrapping my arms around myself.  “It was a total accident y/n I swear”

“I know, I know you wouldn’t do it on purpose”

“Right, we’re friends I care about you-”

“Because Allison would’ve whipped your ass” I retorted with a chuckle, and it was uplifting to hear his small laugh as well.

“Yeah that too, but seriously, any way I can make it up to you, just let me know” I chuckled and shook my head.

“No no, it’s fine, really I just.. I don’t know curiosity got the better of me” I said with a nervous laugh.

“Hey, it’s cool” Scott shrugged, and held his arms out.

“What’re you doing…?”

“Come on, bring it in” He moved his hands, beckoning.  I laughed again, eventually closing th distance and letting him hug me.  Scott ended up picking me up which made me laugh more before he set me back down.

“Uh, hey guys” I turned to see an awkward Stiles standing in front of us.

“You came!” I said releasing Scott to wrap my arms around Stiles’ neck, but quickly realized he was holding a bag.  A birthday one, pastel pink with darker pink circles on it.  He put tissue paper in it and everything.

“Yeah of course I did” He said sheepishly.  Scott excused himself back inside.  I gestured to the bag in his hands.  “Oh” He grinned wide.  “It’s for Madi” He said.  I thought for a moment I was a puddle on the floor, but nope, still solid.  It was only my heart that has melted.

“Awe come on inside” I said softly, and he came in next to me.

“Stiles!” Everyone sorta cheered, and he awkwardly raised his hands.

“Where’s Madi?” You asked.  Lydia, who was sitting on the floor, back to the rest of the group, leaned over slightly.  Giving us perfect view of my little girl.  She had a block in one hand, the letter R painted on it in red, and in the other she held the small blue wolf that she’d grown so attached to.  She was sucking audibly on the pacifier in her mouth, and she was sat happily on a light green blanket Lydia had spread out.  I grinned happily and walked over to her.  When she looked up at me she smiled and her pacifier fell out.  I chuckled as I plopped myself next to Lydia in front of her.

“She’s just been sitting here, hitting this block on the floor and on my foot” Lydia said, laughing loud enough to get Madi to look at her.  I picked up the pacifier by the handle, and held it to her, silently asking if she wanted.  Her response was hitting it gently with her hand.  I rolled my eyes a little.

“She’s adapting your sass Lyds” I said, standing up.  Stiles was still standing near the doorway, eyes soft and smile caring as he watched her.  “Well come on, let her get to know you” I urged with a sweet smile.  He nodded rapidly, crossing the room and setting the gift bag on the table as he took my previous spot on the floor.  I walked to the kitchen to wash the pacifier, but secretly watched them from behind the wall.  In seconds he had her giggling and wrapping her hands around his long fingers.  I smiled to myself as Madison seemed to study his hands.  Stiles was looking to Lydia and Allison, confused as to why the girl was just staring at his arm.  Until she raised her arm and high fived the back of his hand.  She smiled and giggled in reaction to his chuckle.

I did eventually go clean off the pacifier, setting it on the counter when I finished before going back to the living room.  Dinner was still cooking in the oven, and the timer had said five more minutes.

I watched Stiles interact happily with Madison from my spot curled up on the end of the sofa.  Allison and I were chatting here and there, but my entire focus was practically on my daughter and best friend.  I think she realized this, because mid sentence she stopped, and just gently laid her head on the side of my shoulder.

“They’re the cutest aren’t they?” She whispered to me, and for a moment I thought that he’d heard, but he was too wrapped up in Madi.

“Yeah they are” I hummed back.

We ate dinner while Madison continued to play in the living room.  We were going to just sit around the table in talk, but Allison and Stiles got too excited and rushed out of the kitchen to go play with Madison, who seemed content to have people around her again.  Lydia nudged me as she stood.

“Good for her to have a male figure in her life, yeah?” A blush creeped up my cheeks at her subtle implication, and I looked to Scott for a moment, who was grinning like an fool.  I didn’t say anything, deciding to just quickly follow Lydia into the living room.

“y/n, y/n look!” Stiles called, and I walked over to where he sat on the floor in front of Madi.  He scooched himself back a little and beckoned his hands.  She crawled over to him

“Oh, Madi!” I clapped my hands together as I scooped her into my arms and pulled her into my lap.  “I’m so proud of you!” I tickled under her chin and she giggled.  I looked up to Stiles, who was watching out interaction.  “That was her first time crawling” I said, and his features lit up.

“Really?” I nodded.

“You got her to crawl” I told him, tearing up at the slightest.  He leaned over, just enough to wrap his arm around me in half a hug.

“Well you’re very welcome” He told me as I attacked her with tickles.  Splutters of giggles coming from her lips as she squealed.

“Dynamic duo” Allison commented, making Lydia chuckle and Scott mumble something else.  I didn’t hear it right, but it made the three of them burst into laughter again.  I looked to Stiles.

“What’d he say?” but he just flushed and shrugged his shoulders.  I pursed my lips, but shook my head and discarding the curiosity from my train of thought.

“Hey, can I crash on your couch tonight?” Stiles asked as Madison began to curl up in my arms.  I fully cradled her.

“Yeah I’m going to Scott’s for the night” Allison answered before I could.  “Couch is all yours”

“And I’m staying with my mom tonight in the old house” Lydia said.  “No nail polish fumes” She added with a chuckle.

‘Yeah sure I guess you can stay in my apartment that my friends just offered to you” I said with a small giggle.

“If it’s trouble I don’t-”

“No no” I cut off Stiles, smiling kindly at him.  “It’s fine, I was just messing with you” I told him and he smiled in relief.  “I’m gonna take Madison to bed, I think she just used up all her energy on you” I said, standing up still with her tucked safely in my arms.

“Au revoir” Allison called, laying across Scott’s lap on the couch.  Lydia squirmed as the brunette’s legs came into contact with the her stomach.  I watched her leap off of the sofa and walk to sit on the floor instead.  I turned the corner, opening the door to Madi’s room.

“Alrighty” I said softly as I laid her down in her crib.  “Night night Madi” I carefully tucked her blankie around her and watched her eyes heavily slide shut.  “Love you” I hummed, leaning over to give her her goodnight kiss on the head.

“Is she always this angelic?” I jumped and turned, not knowing that Stiles had come in.  He was leaning against the doorframe.

“Jesus I didn’t hear you” I said laughing slightly before looking back at Madi.

“I’ll take that as a yes.  You got lucky with a perfect child” I chuckled bitterly and shook my head.

“Perfect yes… but angel… ha” I rolled my eyes and tucked Madi again, desperate for something to do.  “She likes to wake up at two am screaming and bawling for no reason” He cringed and I shrugged.  “Also she went through a phase of puking every day, at least twice.  And it didn’t look of smell like it came from a human” He laughed but made a long grossed out sound.  “Come on over” I said, waving my hand in towards the room.  He hesitated for a moment before stepping inside.  He crossed the room to stand next to me, looking down at my sleeping daughter.

“She’s so peaceful” He commented quietly and I nodded in agreement, giving a small hum.  We stood there for a few more moments in silence before walking back out of the room, the monitor in my hand.  Allison was now sleeping, big surprise, and Lydia was casually going through her social media.  Scott just sat silently, petting Allison’s hair here and there.  He seemed to be thinking deeply, but maybe he was just zoned out.  You can never really tell with him…

“She fell asleep the second you left” Lydia said with a quiet laugh.  “Just crashed” I smiled good heartedly.  “Scott here’s like  rock.  Just sitting silently for the past five minutes. Quite awkward might I say.  I tried making conversation but he’d only nod or shake his head.  Not even in the right places” I chuckled again.  “I think I’m gonna head out anyways” Lydia said, standing up and yawning.

“What?” Scott perked up at Lydia’s announcement.

“I’m exhausted, and it’s already ten.  I told my mother I’d come over more around an hour ago…” I chuckled softly.

“You’ve never been at home at the times your mom wants to be.  Wasn’t your curfew nine all through high school?” I asked.  Scott snorted.

“Lydia Martin doesn’t do curfews” He mimicked in a feminine tone.  I had my giggle, not wanting the strawberry blonde to glare at me the way she was at Scott.

“Ha ha.  But seriously” Lydia stood, smiling softly to me as she held her arms open.  I accepted the hug and she rubbed my back for a short moment before pulling away.  “I’ll see you tomorrow probably” She said with a soft and tired giggle.  I nodded.

“Thanks for coming over Lyd” She nodded back before heading to the door.  I watched as she slipped her shoes back on, and waved as she walked out.

“Bye guys!” She called before closing it behind her.  I sat against the couch, butt on the floor and my back pressed against it.

“You look exhausted” I looked up to see Allison looking down at me from where she laid in Scott’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were sleeping” I said.

“I’ve been in and out of it.  I think it’s been a long day for all of us” She responded.  

“Definitely” I mumbled.  But caught the look on Stiles’ face out of the corner of my eyes.  Maybe it was guilt, I couldn’t really tell.  Just that he acknowledged my comment.  I didn’t say anything else, just sat thinking to myself as Allison uncurled herself from Scott.

“You wanting to go?” Scott asked, and she just nodded.  I was glad when she leaned over to hug me rather than make me stand.

“Bye Alli” I said, and she squeezed me tight for a moment.  “What was that for?” I whispered under my breath, only for her to hear.

“You know” She murmured back.  “Don’t let him slip away again” She added in the same secretive tone before pulling away from me and standing again.  I just stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips.  “See you later y/n”

“Bye Al” My voice was a whisper.  “Bye Scott” I hadn’t even realized her boyfriend was already waiting at the door for her.  They waved at us and I waved limply back.  WHen the door shut, Stiles sat down next to me on the floor.

“You okay?” He asked me quietly, and pulled his legs up, arms wrapped over the top of his knees.  The same as me, though I was tightly holding my legs to my chest.  I didn’t say anything, just kept on staring at the same spot on the floor where the carpet’s color was ruined.  Allison attacked me in a tickle fight and I spilled nail polish remover there.  I wondered if whoever moved in next would notice it.  If they’d wonder what the stain was from.  If they’d come up with some crazy story as to why that part of the carpet looks more white than beige.  Or if maybe they wouldn’t notice at all.

I hoped they’d be the ones to make up stories about it.

He caught m memo of just wanting to stay quiet to myself, so he stayed silent as well.  Which I appreciated as I continued to think about that spot on the floor.  Why it was so important for me to think so deeply about, I don’t know.  I just wondered if the story was going to stay or not.  If it was truly a permanent spot.  When he wrapped an arm around my shoulders, I looked over at him, our eyes meeting for a moment as I sank into his side.  He was warm, and smelled of vanilla.  After a little more thinking of that stain, I let my head fall on his shoulder, and thoughts of him invade my mind.

“Yeah I’ll be fine” I mumbled out long after he’d asked the question.

“Okay” Was all he responded with.  I released my legs, letting my knees fall slightly against his thighs.

I couldn’t tell you how long we sat there like this.  His arm around my shoulders, my head now lying on his collarbone, legs pressed together.

It was really nice.

part 7 out in a bit loves!

tagged: @morganschiebel @bunnyboo10154 @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday and @johnsonxstilinski

also madi @celestial-writing bc she’s such a sweetheart and meh baby (literally)

stay gold xoxo ~ Jordie

[picturestees]

Elena Delle Donne Every Damn Day shirt

In his childhood, Elena Delle Donne was a special talent. Elena Delle Donne shirt Leading the Ursuline Academy team to the state titles. This amazing journey began with a 50-point winning streak at the state championship in the second academic year and ended with all the prizes imaginable as the number one nationwide and potential player. greatest of all time. Today, the 28-year-old has filled that potential. The Washington Mystics striker has won the Rookie of the Year award, the All-WNBA First Team, a record-breaking title, a kickboxing title, and an MVP award. She is now a WNBA superstar at the moment when her career is at the peak of glory. But when you look at your childhood dominance with WNBA feats, you’ll find a story of love, courage, and perseverance.

After high school, Elena Delle Donne received a scholarship to play for UConn’s premier women’s basketball program. Still, instead of playing for the Huskies, Delle Donne with a 6-foot-5 (1.96 m) height was eliminated in just two days. It turns out that the Huskies chief Geno Auriemma discovered that because Elena Delle Donne was too homesick, she could not accept the idea of leaving her sister Lizzie. Lizzie has cerebral palsy and Elena Delle Donne wants to take care of her sister. To achieve this wish, Elena Delle Donne enrolled in the University of Delaware, just 15 minutes from home. After enrolling, Delle Donne made another drastic decision: to give up playing basketball and instead play volleyball.

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Turns out, she plays volleyball no less but finally can not give up her first love. And return to the basketball career for Delaware Blue Hens. With her talents, she continues her journey and brings the young team into the Sweet Sixteen round. So wins the college level record. After being selected by Chicago Sky in the second round in 2013. Elena Delle Donne is a bit of a challenge to meet his initial expectations. Recently, when she moved to Mystics, Washington fans are looking forward to the new chapter in the exciting story of Elena Delle Donne. Sometimes, a winding journey is too sweet, and a loop is a destination. She actually doesn’t criticise Adam Silver as the title suggested. She just wants to help popularise the WNBA through the same level of marketing techniques of the NBA. Like creating a player to fan connections.

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I don’t know why it wouldn’t be right, people want to see the best usually Elena Delle Donne shirt. And want to see feats of athleticism. The best women’s player in the world couldn’t play in the G-league. The only way to make women’s sports as popular as men’s is to significantly change the rules. I think college lacrosse actually does a really good job of this. Prefer the women’s game to the men’s because it’s more of a game of skill and finesse. I think that’s the WNBA’s only path to success, change the rules to emphasize a different aspect of the sport. Maybe lower the shot clock to something like 15 seconds. And make it a run and gun game. But you’re never going to gain the same success playing the same sport with worse athletes.

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[blueiceindustry-blog]

Lacrosse shorts | Lacrosse Uniform

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[lindyloowho]

Hey there! I hate to bug you but awhile back I asked for advice about learning to Lindy. I am actually going to the Beantown Camp this summer and was wondering if you had any tips, pointers or advice for an event like that

Hi! I actually saw that you said you were going but didn’t want to seem too overeager! I’m very glad you asked. 

I’ve been to Beantown twice, and it was a wonderful, phenomenal experience both times. So much learning! So much dancing!

I don’t know how much dancing you’ve done. If you have some experience under your belt, you may want to audition (and they base this on what you’ve said your dance history and habits are). If you don’t want to audition, you don’t have to, and it means you’ll be in a beginner track. (This isn’t bad! The beginner tracks are super great.)

Beantown has classes every day. They generally come in three types. Some of them will be with your track (made up of dancers that should be on the same or similar level as you are). Every track gets a chance to take a class with every teacher, so you won’t miss out on anything.

One of your classes every day (or almost every day) will be learning a routine. At the end of camp you’ll get to perform that routine!

The next type of class is a one-off elective, which are noted as “beginner, int, int/adv, advanced” or something similar on the schedule. These can be really great, but you don’t have to take any of them. None of them are cumulative (generally), so you can take one here and one there as you like. 

There’s also a type of performance track class based around learning a routine. These are generally for people who want to challenge themselves to learn more things. I’ve personally never done any of those. 

At the end of camp, all of the tracks and all of the performance track classes have a performance. Pretty much everybody in camp performs, but you don’t need to if you don’t want to (you’re an adult!). You may want to make that decision in the first couple days, because generally you end up choosing partners for the performance, and it’s always bad for a person who wants to perform have their partner drop out (though sometimes it’s unavoidable!). 

Everybody is super supportive, and it’s definitely a learning atmosphere. 

In the evenings, there are evening dances, usually with live bands. It’s super great! The dances can last really late into the night. 

There’s a beach nearby (like, across a street and down a hill), and if you’re feeling pooped you can go hang out in the water or on the beach.

Without further ado, here are my tips for having a real good time:

1. Take care of yourself, body and mind. 

This is honestly the most important thing. I don’t know how much of an active lifestyle you lead, but my body isn’t used to dancing all day, standing that much, and walking from end-to-end of campus. Plus, my brain isn’t used to cramming as much fresh information in all at once. I needed to pay attention to myself, and when my ankles were like, “please stop” and when my brain was like “if you try one more new thing today, I’m going to cry.” 

Also, the dancing and music is so great, and I love to do all the things. But if I want to be up in time for breakfast/morning classes, I do need to sleep.

Oh, and I do recommend eating a lot -- at least your normal amount, probably a little more -- just to keep your energy levels up. 

Don’t injure yourself! Some things are unavoidable, but if you can keep from pushing yourself to the absolute limit, you will be less likely to get hurt. (Stretch! Massage your muscles!)

2. You don’t have to go to every class.

The world won’t end if you don’t make it. Your mental health is more important than some of these classes, and sometimes making friends is more fun. Depending on the size of the class, generally, nobody will even know you’re not there.

3. Performing is different from social dancing is different from learning in a class

All three of these skills will get a workout! Understand that you’re asking a lot of yourself, and that if you need to take a step back from one or the other, that’s okay. But also, challenge yourself! This is a very cool place to level up, learn new skills, and try new things in a very supportive atmosphere (literally every performance gets a very heartfelt standing ovation).

4. Attending the evening activities isn’t required, but it is cool and fun

There are often educational talks or fun evening activities. There’s a talent show and a teacher’s showcase, and all of them are a ton of fun to get to.

5. Do you remember your first few weeks of college where you didn’t know anybody? Welcome back!

Yeah, unless you come with a pre-made dance community or group of friends, you’ll have to make them new. Good news is, everybody’s super nice, generally willing to hang out at mealtimes, and you already have something in common to talk about (dancing!). Not everyone’s going to be super into making new friends, but there are a ton of people who are there who will be. 

That’s it! It’s a super great experience, and I can’t wait to hear how it went for you. Also, I might go this year (haven’t quiiiiite decided yet), and if I do, I’ll let you know so you’ll have a mealtime buddy sometimes!

Oh, and a few (many?) last minute thoughts: the dorm bathrooms have no soap/shampoo in them, so bring it. Bedding is provided (sheets and a blanket) but not towels (I don’t think). The weather can be really warm or really cool, so be sure to bring comfortable clothing for a variety of temperatures. People generally dress up a little for the evening dances with bands -- dresses or nice shirts/blouses and slacks or a skirt -- but for classes it’s fine to wear whatever you’re most comfortable in. Depending on what color track you’re in, you will be encouraged to wear that color to the performance -- here’s blue track from last year -- or white or black. Bring sunscreen, and beach things. During weekdays the campus bookstore will be open. You’ll need to have a deposit (cash or check) for some amount (I think it’s $35? $20? I forget.) for your dorm room key that you’ll get back when you check out at the end of camp. Bring dance shoes that are comfortable, and maybe bring a couple pairs (but I usually end up just wearing the one pair). My favorites are the ked knock-offs from Target with suede glued to the bottom and insoles inserted. After dinner the only food available to buy is at a cash-only concessions stand at the evening dance, so bring a few bucks of cash with you (or there’s a Bank of America ATM on campus). Generally, there’s another camp going on at the same time, but you’ll likely never interact with them. There was a lacrosse camp the other year, full of teens who ate breakfast at 6pm and occupied the big track field. My favorite non-dance elective was tai chi. You’ll need a bag to carry around your dance shoes (it’s bad form to wear your dance shoes to walk from class to class, even if they’re just street shoes -- you don’t want to muddy up the dance floor!), maybe an extra tee shirt, a water bottle, and your schedule (a print-out). Everybody gets a name tag, and most people wear it all week long. There is a grocery store and a CVS nearby, but in this case, “nearby” means a couple miles away -- unless you have a car they’re a nuisance to get to. There are a bunch of retired people who have been coming to the camp for years and years. There are competitions some nights, and entering those is entirely optional. (The “novice” usually means “I’ve been dancing very seriously for a year. “Intermediate” means “I’ve been dancing for three to eight years” and “Advanced” means “I’ve been dancing for a decade and I teach people how to dance.”) 

Hmmmmm that’s all I can think of right now! Let me know if you have any more questions.

[bitchywheeler]

It’s Over Now || Stilinski x Reader

Okay so this is a lot different from what I usually do but I wanted to experiment a little bit and this is the end result of that, make sure you listen to this while reading (it’ll make it so much better I promise)

Pairing: Stiles x Reader

Request: No but I’m tagging @dylansdreamboat bc Stiles

Warnings: Death, Mild Language

Word Count:1222

Part Two

I wish that life had a calendar so that way you knew when the big things were coming, like first dates, big tests, traffic jams, and maybe even death. People say that if they knew the day that they were supposed to die they’d go out of their damn minds, me on the other hand, I’d probably just hold my loved ones tighter and tell them that I loved them. Because if I knew that I was going to die today maybe I would’ve stayed home instead of fighting these ghost riders, maybe I would’ve made sure that I kissed him at least seven times today and told him that I loved him, or that I told my mom that I love her and that she’s the best mom I could’ve ever asked for, or even tell Scott that he makes me proud and I wish I would amount to half of what he is one day. But I didn’t know that today was going to be the day that I die so, I didn’t. Instead I started every day like usual, eat two waffles straight out of the toaster while Scott rolls his eyes at me, brush my teeth, throw on a tee shirt and skinny jeans, finger comb hair and smile at myself in the mirror, grab my backpack, skip down the steps and into Scott’s car. School drags, as usual, Biology sucks and I forgot to do my homework earning me a dirty look from the teacher and Stiles. The bell rings and I’m headed to lunch walking down the hall hand and hand with him, if I knew I was supposed to die in four hours I probably wouldn’t be as giddy as I am but, to me life is great and I have a lot of it left to live. I walk to the jeep ready to go home and prepare for a battle, Scott is finally allowing me to join them simply because he fears me disappearing in the midst of this all. 

He smiles at me pushing my door open from the driver’s seat. “How was your day?” He says turning the key and putting the jeep in gear. If I knew that I was going to die today I would’ve teased him when he stalled out at the stop sign. “Pretty blah, I’m just ready for tonight” I replied crossing my legs 

“I wish you’d just stay home,” he said with a sigh.

“I’m a big girl, my twin brother’s an alpha. I think I’ll be fine.” I rolled my eyes. If I knew today was the day I was going to die, I wouldn’t have argued with him. 

It was dark and a bit cold, I shivered, something felt off. If I knew I was going to die, I would’ve at least brought a jacket. 

“When are they coming?” I asked Scott looking up at him, for being twins he sure as hell was a lot bigger than me. 

“Soon” a loud roar of thunder followed his voice. Stiles was at my side gripping my hand tighter than before. If I knew I was going to die, I would’ve told them how scared I was even though they already knew they smelt the fear radiating off my body the moment I got out of the jeep. The thunder got louder and so did my fear, something was wrong. Something bad was about to happen and I knew I couldn’t stop it. The next ten minutes felt like I was drowning, the horses shook the lacrosse field and he pulled the whip quicker than I could even think to move. The burning, lots of burning, I thought this wasn’t supposed to hurt? I heard Stiles stifle a laugh through his tears I didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

“You’re not dying on me (Y/N), not now) he held me in his arms as Scott grabbed my hand I watched as his veins turned black, he looked at me with a small smile and pressed a kiss on my temple with teary eyes. 

“We’re going to see mom” he brushed the hair out of my face, he knew I was scared, he knew I was dying and so did I. The sound of my mom’s voice steadied my heart beat as I was carried through the emergency room. Stiles struggled to hold me steadily but refused to give me to Scott, he sat me gently on the hospital bed as my mom ripped my shirt back to expose my wound.

 “I’m gonna take care of you baby girl, I promise” she kissed my temple and grabbed my hand. She and Scott went to the hall while Stiles stayed and drew little circles on your hand to try and distract you from the pain.

I didn’t need werewolf hearing to hear their panicked voice, they didn’t know what to do. I frowned at Stiles, “I’m going to die aren’t I?” I didn’t want my voice to be shaky but I couldn’t control Stiles’s head snapped up, giving me a glum look, he didn’t need to answer me I knew. This was it, this is how I die. I didn’t want to start crying but the sob ripped through my body causing me more pain. Stiles climbed into the bed trying to comfort me. 

“This isn’t how this is supposed to be (Y/N), you’re supposed to live, I’m supposed to grow old with you and we’re supposed to have the perfect wedding with the double chocolate cake, we’re supposed to go to college. I felt his tears as he muffled a sob with my hair, 

“I know Stiles, this isn’t how this is supposed to be but you’ll be alright baby. You have to be you don’t have a choice”

As the night dragged on my condition worsened Stiles never left the bed, while Scott held my hand constantly trying to take whatever pain he could, and mom paced around the room nervously biting her nails. I wish I had the energy to sit the hell down, I could feel my breaths getting shallower. It felt like someone had stuffed my mouth with cotton. I guess this is it. I remember the day that I found out that Scott was a werewolf and holding it over his head and threating to tell mom whenever he upset me, I remember mom curling my hair for the winter formal this year she had taken off work just to get me ready, the thing I remember most is Stiles, every little detail. Jesus Christ am I going to miss those moles, and his laugh, the way he looked at me when I was talking. The way he looked at me all the time like I was the only thing in the world. How nervous he was trying to tell me that he liked me, I wonder if he’ll ever move on. I hope he does. He deserves to. I thought death was some momentous thing, but it wasn’t. The room looked gray, I saw my mom and gave her a half smile causing her to choke out a sob. Scott looked like he was losing his other half, I guess he was, though. Stiles stayed quiet holding me tightly. And then just like that, it was over.  

[flowsociety]

Tips To Buy The Ultimate Lacrosse Gear

Lacrosse is an athletic game that provides good exercise and competitiveness. It involves a lot of running so speed and endurance are considered very great assets for a lacrosse player. This game has gained a lot of popularity in high schools, colleges and also somewhat professionally. This game is also called “the fastest game on two feet”.

There is an indoor version of this game called Box Lacrosse which is very popular in Canada. It has only six players n the team and the field is smaller as compared to the original Lacrosse game.

We have put together a perfect guide that will help you know what youth sports apparel you need to buy, especially if you are or have a young athlete.

Since it is a team game, logos and uniforms are extremely important to show unity and courtesy in the field. To face their opponents with strength and unity, the players will need the following required gear.

Helmet Lacrosse helmets are designed with several components like shell, face mask, chin bar, chin strap, etc to help you keep safe. These helmets come with a four-point buckling system that helps to customize the fit for each player. Most of the lacrosse helmets are similar to that of football helmets. Whenever you go to buy a helmet for lacrosse, make sure that it is approved by the National Operating Committee on Standards for Athletic Equipment (NOCSAE), and fits you appropriately.

Gloves Gloves are also very important for playing the game of lacrosse. They allow the players to hold the stick with maximum comfort. They protect the fingers and hands of the player from collisions with other players and also from the ball. The players do not have to worry about anything if they are wearing gloves. They can focus on the game and move freely.

Goggles Lacrosse players are required to wear goggles in order to protect their eyes. Thee goggles can be made of steel cages or plastics. These lacrosse goggles also have had eye shields and a strap that wraps around the back of the player’s head and prevents them from falling.

Elbow pads Elbow pads are worn on the elbows to protect from getting injured if a player falls.

Shoulder pads To avoid collision with other players, shoulder pads are necessary to wear. You can find the youth sports apparel online.

Cleats Cleats are the most important gear in almost every sport. They provide safety during physical activities and enhance the performance by allowing the player’s body to move around or hurl a ball into the net. Cleats improve the overall performance of the team in a lacrosse match.

Apart from the above gears, you can also buy lacrosse tee shirts and other youth sports apparel online.

[lizegan13]

A New Discovery: The “in” to the Athlete Style Tribe

Valerie Steele’s article regarding the history of fashion throughout the 20th an 21st centuries, also makes valuable points regarding the disappearance of fashion, and the emergence of style tribes. Style tribes, as explained by Ted Polhemus, are when different groups adhere to specific looks and styles. Polhemus mentions groups such as goths, punks, and rappers, using these very different groups to show that people with similar interests tend to dress alike. Style tribes amongst freshman at the Catholic University of America also emerge from the different interests of the students. Through living on campus at Catholic University, I am able to witness how us freshman have assembled into groups, despite the fact that we have only known each other for 30 days. These groups, although some are mixed, usually correspond with what Polhemus would call a style tribe, and the students aren’t even aware.

Through attending the first day of classes at Catholic University, I noticed that in every class, I was looking at the male student’s shoes. After my final class of the day, I began to wonder to myself, why, when I see a freshman boy, am I so concerned with the shoes he is wearing and how he wears them? After reading Steele’s article it dawned on me: the style tribe. I noticed that freshman boys who are on sports teams, have a tendency of wearing athletic sneakers such as Nikes, or Adidas, with crew socks. These boys also are usually wearing shorts and some sort of relaxed tee, but that was common amongst most of the boys. As I began to meet more of my classmates, I realized that every boy wearing athletic sneakers with, particularly, Nike crew socks, was a member of a sports team here at Catholic. As I thought about this common trait, I realized that it is not just a trend here at Catholic, but also a trend at neighboring universities and in my home state, New York. Spending a day near Georgetown University showed me that even more male college students would be wearing an athletic shoe with a crew sock. Just as I began to wonder if they played a sport, I would notice that they would be wearing a sweatshirt or tee that said “Georgetown Lacrosse” or “Georgetown Baseball.” Thinking about friends of mine from home, I had come to the conclusion that many if I knew a boy who played a sport, he usually wore athletic shoes with crew socks, even when he didn’t have practice.  

The athlete style tribe is not simply people who wear athletic apparel daily. Although I commonly wear active leggings and basic tee shirts, I am certainly not in the “athlete style tribe.” I have related the athlete style tribe here, at Catholic University, specifically to the shoes they wear, because I believe it says more about the members of the style tribe than the clothes that they wear. Although shoes may seem insignificant, the athletic sneakers complete the true “Athlete Style.” While I may wear active leggings or Nike shorts made for running, I tend to pair them with sandals or a casual, day sneaker. Other freshman girls on sports teams, will wear athletic apparel with an athletic shoe. In a way, you can say that matching your athletic apparel with an athletic or “work-out” sneaker, could be an “in” to the athlete style tribe.