#and ya ya I can get an Uber I can leave if I choose but that’s still relying on someone yknow?

[tyrianlynch]

Sigh. You guys. I’m feeling rather trapped. Like a 16 year old girl stuck atop a mountain with no way of getting down.

[mooifyourecows]

I’m about to move cross country for college, what do you think helped you the most in your cross country move? I’m feeling really unsure about the college I’m going to but I want to go I just don’t feel like it’s good enough for ME ya know. Like I could go somewhere better but this school has everything I want, it’s just a lower level than I want ig. 🤷‍♀️ idk man

I dunno if you're looking for more practical information like "bring your social security card and other important documents you might need" or what but since you seem to be having tumultuous thoughts about the idea of the actual moving and leaving behind your old home, let's talk about that.

I think a super important thing to remember is that nothing is permanent. I feel like when we were younger, all the adults made everything seem so set in stone, right? Like you have to make every important decision about the rest of your life while you're a teenager and once you've locked that in, there's no going back. Even the idea of buying a home, getting married, etc was touted as this big uber vital step that you absolutely CANNOT fuck up or else next thing you know you're thirty and living in your mom's basement and a total deadbeat and nobody takes you seriously, womp womp

But the opportunity to change your mind and do something else never stops coming to you, no matter what you've done, no matter how old you are, no matter where you've gone. You always have the chance to do something different.

If you marry someone and realize you don't want to live the rest of your life with them, you can get divorced. It's not a shameful act. You shouldn't make a habit out of it, because yes, hardship can come hand in hand with something like that, but it is possible. It is available.

If you buy a house that you realize isn't good for you/you can no longer afford, you can sell it. You don't have to keep it forever. You're not given only the one chance to buy a house so you have to wait and be picky to make sure it's THE house. There's no such thing as your "forever home" unless that's the home you WANT and have the means to stay in forever. If you have the ability to buy a home, you can just do that. And then sell it and move somewhere else. It's a PROCESS, lemme tell ya, but it's doable.

If you choose one career path and later decide you hate it or it's not living up to your expectations you can just quit, and find a new path to follow. It might be difficult starting from the bottom again but you can do it. You don't have to choose just one job to do until retirement. Be an accountant for five years, then go into aviation, then mow lawns for a bit, babysit, write the next hit novel, become a pharmacist, then manage a Kohls. Do whatever. Whenever. Until you're ready to be done with it all.

If you go to this college for a bit and decide that it's not the right fit, you can just go to another college. You can move to another place. You can start over. Or start in the middle if you're able to carry over things from your last experience. It's never too late to do that kind of thing. Don't stress yourself out about whether or not you made the right decision because these decisions are so easily remade. Go to this school, do the base level and then if you think you need more, go do more. It's admirable to have degrees from multiple schools. It's impressive to have many accolades. There's no such thing as too much school. No future employer is going to look at your resume, see you did 8 years of school instead of 4 and think that it's a bad thing, like you're a flip-flopper who doesn't know what you want out of life.

Don't be scared to make big decisions. Five years ago, the thought of leaving my home state was unthinkable. When my brother would encourage me to consider moving somewhere new, I was adamant about how there was no way, no how i could/would do something like that. Then I made a spontaneous decision to buy a house i only saw online and move 1,600 miles away from my home town and everything i've ever known and I don't regret it. Not even a little bit. Even the things that i miss are overshadowed by how much better I feel here.

You can and should make big decisions about your life! And then make them again and again and again until you're finally in that place that you feel comfortable and happy to call your life. I know that it's expensive and wildly unfair how difficult it is for people who aren't insanely rich to be able to do those things but hey, I believe in you.

Don't let your doubt about "what if i did this instead" ruin the path you're on right now. Maybe in two years, you won't even want to pursue the career you're considering right now anyway. I haven't met a single person who stuck with their first plan right out of high school. They all changed their minds or fell into a newfound passion or opportunity.

It's not lost or wasted time. Cherish every moment. Even if you're going to change your mind in a year or two, there's still value in what you're doing right now. You're experiencing things that are unique to these choices you made. You're going to meet people you wouldn't meet if you went to that other school. Take advantage of that

And have fun!!!! You should always be having fun! Whatever your age or what you're doing in your life, find a way to have fun. Do something stupid and silly. You are going to a new place, with all new people. You can be whoever you want there! You can completely change your style or your personality. Go see new things! New nature, new architecture. Learn some stuff, not just from your school, but from the environment, the locals.

I believe in you and I hope you have an exciting and wonderful time in your new place in the world. Sorry if this answer is totally not the kind of information you were looking for, it's been like 3 years since I moved so I've mostly forgotten all the small details about that process lol. Get your address changed at the post office. Get a new ID soon after you move. If you don't have a car, look immediately into public transport and how you can access it. Learn to care about the weather because chances are, it's gonna be different and strange and suddenly relevant. Look up local plants/insects/animals so you know what you're dealing with in terms of irritants/pests/possible encounters. Get a new doctor and have a check up. Etc, etc

And good luck!

[audible--silence]

Sayu/GDL quotes / promises to self while drunk as shit

Que eres un baño?!

“Im so used to shit going wrong that it just doesnt phase me anymore”

“If i go into an office job id have to wake up in the morning, which i just don't wanna do”

A bar without a manager

Nothing feels better than going home but nothing feels better than leaving home too.

“Be a traveler not a tourist”

“I been keepin busy! No idea what with though. I just been smokin joints playing guitar and surfing”

One more bus

One more uber

One more hostel check in

One more round of storytelling how we got here

One more gig

A few more beers

Una mas cerveza

One more night

Una mas noche

No more waves

No more taco stands

No more in jokes

No more calling directions in spanish

No more setting up the tent in excitement

No more packing down the tent in a hurry

No more Duolingo sessions in a hammock

No more chess games

No more joints rolled at the last minute

No more joints smoked at all hours of the day

No more “you hungry?”

No more tracking down vegetables

No more long bus rides spent sharing snacks

No more movies on your shit tablet

No more pringles, principe and stoner snacks

No more reminding each other to get our shit together

No more jamming guitar

No dancing while doing simple tasks

No more of your tunes

No more guac n beer

No more two aussie dickheads

“Phone wallet shoes nothing on my head that im gonna lose”

“Adios Cabron”

“His drip dope, you gotta be 70% homeless, 20% gay to be fly”

“Whats the 10%?”

“Opium”

“Stoner! I choose you!!”

“Yeah well, fuck off” on cross cultural relatability

hope is a hell of a drug

The enemy was defeated, in a valiant battle with three little Mexican girls with long hair and cute gold glasses, not far from the stargazers, at midday, with ice cream. Or the youthful romantics, an archetype that seems to transcend every culture since society itself. Watched on in silence by the cute, erratic yet robotic, overly friendly squirrels. A picnic without snacks, soundtracked by Jeff Buckley in the shade of a well watered bush

Manifestation is gaslighting yourself

The heat of hell is ever so slightly warmer for you isnt it”

“You sound like a constitution”

“We need to rebrand politics but with much more sex”

“Dont smoke”

W dart in mouth

“A bar for a football team that never wins, for fans that never succeed”

“If you commit suicide you cant go to the pub”

a british guy

“Yeah but if you commit suicide, guess where we go? The fucking pub”

another british guy

A game of football can mean two very different things depending on who’s watching

A taco is only as a good as what you can put on it

Am i going to regret not going out? Enjoying it all? Being young n stupid in Mexico and everywhere else?

Will I regret not knowing what any of these drunk messages to self mean? Probably.

Booze is fuel for survival. I am a bartender who hates going out. A socialite who cannot stand socializing.

words from a drunk aus fuck in Mexico, solo, with a kiss on the cheek and a cuddle”

“Its fuxkin mexixo ya prick”- on uber eats, n walkin for street food

2.12 - the minute of the end of the phonecall w ya nan, the only pure soul left in ya life

Thanks for finding me phone - from a welsh cunt who likes flashing his dick

I love thinking while drunk because I don’t have to deal with the realizations

Chinga su madre but with a car horn

“We’ve literally sat down all day”

“Thats what traveling is about. Traveling halfway across the world just to sit down”

dive bars, tacos with drunks and adele on the roof till 4am

“I dont identify as American I identify as a marxist”

The more decrepit and dilapidated the restaurant looks, the better the food is.

Weathered hands make the food, not fresh paint on the walls

“Theres more to life than dating everyone you meet, i guess”

“I either need tequila or a sweater and im not sure which it is”

“The cartels comin” shoot ya drink

“You look good bro!”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, he’s just happy”

deja vu from a rooftop w some beautiful Mexicanos in GDL

“How dare you show so much grace so many time zones away”

feel like we gon spend the rest our lives searching for the thrill of skating to the ellenbrook hungry jacks at midnight for snacks while on a videogame bender

Lessons from seeing your favorite band in a new place: It’s better with your friends. In the place you came to love them, even if its less fun

“We have this saying in Mexico that says “Las bonitas tambien quiermbaila“ which means “the pretty woman also wants to dance”

[gojology]

Intoxicated. (18+)

The Request: 

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I’m so sorry anon, usually I finish the whole fic before adding the author’s note, and I’m now realizing that I read your request wrong. I think you meant to have Gojo and Reader as friends but uh... I kinda wrote this as the opposite? It’s more of a Popular Gojo x Loner Reader. I hope this still fits your tastes because otherwise I followed everything you asked for, you’re welcome to request more and I’ll write them PERFECTLY I swear. Also can ya’ll tell I’m bad at choosing titles LMFAO 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | College Student! Dom! Gojo x Drunk! Sub! (as per usual..) Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3808 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Suggestions of Rape (Nothing Happens Though, Also I’m Not Sure If That’s The Correct Choice of Wording...), Fluff, Oral (Male Receiving), Somewhat Public, Hair Pulling,  𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | After attending a party due to some persistent begging from a friend, hopeful for Gojo Satoru, your long-time crush to come, you turn back empty-handed. That’s what you thought, though. Eventually he comes around and helps you in more ways then one.

           The thumping of bass was all you could hear.      Loud drunken cheering, chatter amidst the scene. Poorly discarded red solo cups littered the floor and the tables, and at the corner of your eye you could see a heap of college students piled up on top of each other, snoring.     You impatiently tap your foot against the sticky floor, most likely due to the uncleaned spilt drinks. You weren’t exactly fond of college parties. Most of the time nothing occurred, and besides, you had your eyes set on a certain man, so you weren’t quite looking for a quick night. But you had come regardless, since your friend had begged and eventually convinced you to.     Scanning the crowd once more, hopeful, you curse under your breath as you come out of your search unsuccessful once more. Not even a glimpse of Gojo Satoru, someone that always attended crazy parties, and this party was high on the scale of crazy. This had to be the most depressingly boring party you’ve ever attended.     But if you weren’t here to shamelessly stalk Satoru, or socialize, you had to do a bit of drinking, or else what would be the point?    Walking towards the alcohol was the last thing you wanted to do. Hordes of intoxicated students were blatantly making out with each other, drinks left untouched and probably forgotten, not to mention just the overall anxiety you would get to be so caught up in the life of the party.     “Yooo... ‘S that you, (Y/N)?” you heard a familiar drunken voice even through the loud music, and you whip around, glad to have some form of escape from the awkwardness.    You were hesitant to approach your friend, you knew they were the friendly type, and that was only exemplified during drinking.    “Yup, that’s me!” you smile awkwardly, setting your empty cup down on the table.     “Agh. Fuck.” your friend groaned, stumbling onto you, sloppily catching themselves using your shoulders. “Sorry... Long night. Holy shit (Y/N), didn’t think you’d actually fucking come out and party. Nice to see you... Fuck-” brushing off a pair girls dancing wildly from their shoulder, your friend cleared their throat.    You try not to make a face, and instead direct your attention to the crowd on the opposite end of the room, hoping this was enough to tell your friend that you weren’t exactly looking for a conversation.    “...Fuck... What was I saying..? Oh yeahhhh, glad to see ya out here hermit. I’ll pour your drink~! How’s class going?”     Clumsily fumbling with your cup, you had subconsciously picked it back up, your fingers itching to fidget with it and pretend your friend wasn’t there at all. Turning to face your friend again, a grin playing at your lips, hoping you looked friendly. “No that’s fine! I’ll do it myself, I’m way less drunk then you are. Why don’t you go sit down?” You mentally facepalm. Of course they wouldn’t get your body language, they were literally drunk.     Your friend grinned boldly, “Hey, you said it, not me~ You can leave anytime though... Guy named Gojo Satoru coming soon... Makes all the parties go wild. Ladies love him. Probably not your style though, eh?”     You don’t reply, instead watching your friend nod at you, perhaps as a way of saying goodbye when they couldn’t do it normally. Taking sluggish strides to mix back in with the crowd of people, unintelligibly rambling about something you presumed was about Gojo Satoru. You wave at them as they blended into the blur of faces.    It takes a moment to register everything that was just said. Your heart pounding, you turn to face the variety of alcohol instead, finally settling on some cheap beer, since you had no idea what the rest was, yet you weren’t quite thinking about the quality of the alcohol you were drinking.    You were looking down at the selection of drinks, but your mind wasn’t thinking about that at all.     You had thought your luck really was shit, but that didn’t appear to be the case any longer.     Your brain was thinking quicker then your hands could catch up, spilling the canned liquid onto the table instead of your cup, but that wasn’t what you were thinking about right now.      Setting the can down without another thought, you take a long sip, enjoying the ice cold beverage, your mouth going numb with every swig. Usually you’d throw up at the slightest thought of the after taste of beer, but that didn’t matter. Right now, all that was in your world was your red solo cup, the cheep booze inside of it, and whenever the hell Gojo Satoru would arrive.      The likelihood of him noticing you was probably in the negatives, you were a wall flower, an average college student, but him? He probably had a part-time job as a super model, or perhaps a fitness trainer. Strong toned arms, always a smug smirk on his face, strikingly white hair, and those damned circular shades.      Shaking your head, you pour another can of beer into your cup, feeling yourself go numb and ignoring the thoughts going rampant in your head. The only thing to distance yourself from these thoughts were to drink yourself to sleep, seeing as everyone else was doing the same thing, or call an Uber.      Unfortunately, that probably had a lower probability of Gojo taking an interest in you. You were, of course, a broke college student living off of pre-packaged noodles and relatively cheap dishes. It would be more likely to crash at your friends place.      You weren’t quite the drinker, much less experienced with the booze. You felt your knees wobble, and a strong urge to throw up at the back of your throat. You shouldn’t have overdrank.      Leaving your cup on the table, you shrugged your way towards the exit, murmuring (or rather slurring) polite excuse me’s and sorry’s, Stumbling your way towards the door, you were just now realizing that people were even now still coming into the party. You desperately needed fresh air, the atmosphere in the party was too hectic, too crazy, too stuffy.      As soon as you stepped an inch away from the interior, you drew in a long much needed sigh, every breath coming out as a cloud of fog.      The night was quiet and still, and you finally felt like you could vomit your guts away in peace.      Walking over to the nearest trashcan you can find, you vomited as much as you could, feeling lighter as soon as it all left your system.      Turning back towards the house, you still found yourself stumbling and struggling to walk normally. Wiping your mouth with your sleeve, you refused to look this stupid returning back to the house, figuring you could take a few more breathers.       Taking another deep breath in, without even beginning to mention your surroundings, confidently taking long strides. You knocked into someone, headfirst into their chest.    Cursing under your breath, you squint your eyes, this person was incredibly tall, you noted. Remnants of expensive smelling cologne clouded your sense of smell.    “...Sorry.” you mumbled, still struggling to see who this was due to the darkness.      “Hey. No problem girly, you seem drunk, you okay?” yet another familiar voice, yet you hadn’t heard it quite as often as your friend.      “Huh...? Uh, yeah... I think.” giving him a dopey smile, you couldn’t remember who this guy was for some reason.      “Yo Gojo! Who’s this chick?”      Immediately swiveling your head towards the direction of the voice, it came to your attention that you had seen the guy on campus hanging out with Gojo quite often. Turning back up to the guy towering over you, beads of sweat formulated on your forehead, you gulp, the confidence you got while drinking evaporated into thin air. A toothy sly grin on his handsome facial features,  you don’t even know if your heart rate is dropping to the negatives or skyrocketing.      This was the actual real Gojo Satoru. The egotistical bastard.     Stifiling an eep, you try to respond, attempting to say you were in-fact not his affirmative, “chick”.      “Chill, Geto, just some drunk girl. Hey, you go ahead with the party, I think I’ll help her.” he said, waving at whoever Geto was.      “Gojo, again? You’ve done this shit like 4 times, you want pussy that bad... Yo!” he raised his arms up as soon as Gojo shot daggers at him. “Dude, come enjoy yourself when you can, okay? Was just a joke.” Geto mumbled, you heard a few goodbye’s and words of agreement, and then the atmosphere was still once again.       “You seem really drunk. I don’t think being alone is good.” his eyebrows knitted together. Placing a firm hand on your forehead. “which fucking sucks honestly. Here, let’s go back inside sweets. You’re heating up.”      Seemingly forgetting every language you’ve ever learned, you instead look back at him in awe.      He laughed, putting his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “Here, I’ll help you walk. If worse comes to worse, I’ll fucking carry you, yeah? Nothing to be worried about, who doesn’t wanna flex that they were carried by Gojo fucking Satoru? They don’t call me the greatest for nothing~!” he sang.      “You’re real?” you breathed, immediately covering your mouth following suit. Wishing you had the confidence like this sober.      He raised an eyebrow, looking down at you, taking long strides that you couldn’t quite catch up with. “Yeah, I’m real, don’t walk into that you’re gonna faceplant into a car.”

    “I think I’ve seen you before in one of my classes, humanities maybe?” he added, turning you back into the party, you heard the loud thumping music once again.      It was in fact humanities, but you couldn’t quite tell him you always marveled at him every lecture, so instead you flutter your eyelashes. “...Uh yeah... I think I remember you too.”     Before he could say anything back, you hear the steadily increase of a deafening combination of party music and loud screams and chatter.      “Yo Gojo! Got a new girl? Thought you were dating some chick named Utahime?”      “Yo! Nah, just helpin’ this girl, and no I am not dating Utahime-”      “Is that fucking Gojo Satoru? Yo! Over here, shots? Geto’s here too!”      This guy was popular, obviously. These were also top-notch names within the small college’s community, yet here you were under his arm, and not one person knew your name. Everyone just referred to you as just a girl. This probably wasn’t new to Gojo then, so you weren’t special.     You felt your heart drop.      Once again, you were in your own world, and you never felt like a burden more then now.      “Hey, where are the rooms?”      You look up from furiously studying the floor, and you realize he’s talking to your friend, tapping at their shoulder.       “Huh? Oh my god... Gojo, I thought you didn’t make it~! Want a drink?” they lifted up their red solo cup to Gojo’s lips, an easygoing smile plastered onto their face.      “Nah. Where are the rooms?” Gojo asked with a slightly impatient tone, now rhythmically drumming his fingers against your shoulder with one hand, the other shoving the cup away from his face.       “Damn, my guy.” your friend wiped their lips before speaking, their arm slack. “You’re intent... Yeah down the hallway, left, there’s some spare condoms somewhere...”       “(Y/N)? I didn’t even realize... You’re gonna fuck my boy Satoru over here?” they slapped a hand on his shoulder.      “Wha? No of course not.. Uh... He’s...” everything came out as unintelligible babble, you felt your cheeks go warm.       “She’s probably not an experienced drinker, just looking out for her to be honest. No fucking, just want to make sure she’s safe for the time being. I’ll join you later, yeah?” Gojo chirped, reassuringly patting your friend’s shoulder back.     “Shit, say less Satoru. See ya~”  your friend waved before turning their back on the two of you, striking up a random conversation with the people who just so happened to be nearby.      As you both walked down the hallway in quiet, you look up at him, grateful for the not as noisy room.      “U-Uh.. Thank you..” you murmured, “I can speak though, you know..”      He chuckled, “As fucking if, I just have experience with drunk people, I can usually tell what they’re saying when others can’t. You sounded like a crackhead back there.” fidgeting with the bedroom’s doorknob, he finally unlocked it.      “You’re mean! How do I know you’re not gonna... You know!” you retorted, collapsing on the bed without another thought, relishing the plush mattress.       “Thanks babe, if it makes you feel any better I can pull any chick within a 500 mile radius. I don’t need to resort to such cowardly and criminal shit.” he yawned, grunting before placing his shades on the nightstand, laying down next to you. “I’ll even leave the door wide open if it makes you feel safe.”       Reassured, you relaxed your body, staring at the blank ceiling. Your body felt numb and you couldn’t quite think straight.      “How’d you know I was in humanities?” you slurred, still staring at the ceiling.      “I see you all the time, you sit near me and have some cute stationary.” putting both of his hands at the back of his head, his eyes turned to look at yours, his neck twisting as he did so.      Immediately, the first thought you think of even in your intoxicated state was how beautiful his eyes were. Like rare diamonds mined from the deepest caves, placed delicately into someone’s eyes by some divine being. A strikingly vivid bright blue. It was a little on the lighter shade, but so, so beautiful.      “Pretty..” you struggle to restrain yourself, but you can’t help it, instead staring at him, eye-to-eye.       “Yeah? Just like you, sweets. I thought we were talking about cute stationary?” you couldn’t quite tell if what he just said was a joke or not, but you really didn’t want to find out. You felt your heart burst.       “...Really?” you breathed, ignoring his previous statement, lifting your legs upwards to wrap your arm around them.       “You’re pretty. Why else do you think I’d notice you in lectures?” he paused, and even you can tell he seemed slightly nervous, a slight quiver to his lips. “honestly, whenever I’m bored I just kinda look at you. You’re cute, what can I say?” Gojo added.      Unable to respond, you instead looked up at him, you felt like a blood vessel was going to pop, or your heart, whichever one was first.      Scooching closer to you, he placed a hand on your neck, breathing heavily. “Hey, I’m not lying. You’re genuinely pretty, sugar, you know? Yeah we haven’t talked to each other often, but I’ve always thought you were cute and I’ve heard things about you.”     “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?” that was all you could pathetically muster. “Is that the joke?”       “When a cute chick is on the line, I don’t lie.” he assured you, pursing his lips.      Seeing him so up close was nerve-wrecking, so perfect, he looked like was sculpted with marble. A part of you wished you weren’t drunk, so you wouldn’t look as stupid. “I think you’re cute too.” you whispered.      For a moment, it went quiet. So quiet that you could hear the loud music and the wild party once again, but you don’t dare interrupt. It takes everything inside of you to not break eye contact, your stomach a butterfly exhibit.      “I like you.” he finally said, you couldn’t sense a damn sarcastic tone. “Bet you’re gonna doubt that too.” snickering, he ran his hand through his hair, but you swear you see him bite his lip. Sexual or something he did subconsciously, you weren’t quite sure.     Time stopped. This was way too far to be a troll, but what if it still was? You didn’t know, the stupid small thought never went away, you looked at him dumbfounded instead. Snapping out of your daze, you ask, “...But we haven’t talked a whole bunch.”      “I know that. I don’t know, I guess I liked the idea of the competition. You don’t throw yourself at me, and sure other girls don’t do that as well-” he trailed off, before finishing his sentence, “but I think there’s a lot of positive traits that I like in you, and you’re just.. Really pretty. I guess I don’t want to throw you away like what I do with other girls?”      Before you could speak, he cuts you off again, this time a tad frantic. “But you know- Listen, I know it seems like I fuck around with girls a lot, but I’m looking to change that. I know I don’t seem very genuine now, but I think I’d like to try something with you specifically. You don’t even have to say anything back, just leave if you don’t want to, and if you do I’m sorry for disturbing your night-”      Maybe it was how intoxicated you are, or how you suddenly felt a burst of confidence, but you kiss him, and you kiss him hard. His breath hitched while you rolled on top of his chest. You’re desperate to have contact between your skin and his. He kissed you back, shyly at first, soft and delicate, but that didn’t last for long.      Heat rose to your cheeks, you were rusty with your kissing, but he wasn’t. The smell of his cologne was tantalizing, he kissed you like he wasn’t ever shy to begin with. One hand under your neck, propping you up towards him, the other groping your breast. Parting your lips, feeling him explore you just briefly before slipping back out as soon as it started.      You felt him unhook your bra with relative ease, and you can’t control the flutter within. Still kissing you sloppily, Gojo shuddered and you could tell there was a sound at the back of the throat. Moan, grunt, growl, you couldn’t tell. Slipping his hand away from your breast momentarily, he hastily yanked your top off your body.      Pulling away from the kiss not too long afterwards, he licked his lips, panting, you find yourself catching your breath too.       “Sit up.” he ordered, and you did as you were told, looking up at him with eyes that practically said, “What’s next?”      “Look at you. So cute.” cupping your breasts with his hands, you gasp at how hot they are, sweating just a bit, his thumbs brushed briefly against your nipples, giving them slight twirls before finally kissing both of your mounds.      “Let’s be nice and light today, okay pumpkin? Nothing too serious.” you gaze up at him, now standing and unbuckling his designer belt, unbuttoning his jeans which dropped to the floor afterwards, an obvious bulge in his boxers.      “...The door’s still open. Close it.” you suggest, your eyes still intent on his bulge, you don’t try to hide licking your lips.      “The world needs to know who’s mine tonight. Fuck that.” he smirked devilishly before also tugging his boxers down, exposing his dick.      Now, you weren’t quite expecting that he was packing this much, but he was. You easily estimated 7 inches, maybe more, you didn’t know. A pale flush pink at the very tip, veins adorned his length. Fairly girthy, and you loved it.      “Off the bed, on your knees.”      Scrambling off of the bed, you immediately look upwards and kiss the tip. He hummed, looking down at you with watchful eyes. You didn’t care if someone saw the two of you like this, in fact you’d love it.       You instantly put your hands to work, pumping his length, making sure that you were making eye-contact. Giving playful licks along the sides whilst doing so, you note his panting is getting heavier, so you must be doing something right. Your tongue quickly darted out of your mouth to lick your lips, before suckling the tip, just as a tease.      He growled, yanking at your hair so that you were looking directly up at him once again. “Don’t tease me, sweetheart. Or you’ll see what happens.”       Letting go of your locks, with one last look at his face you engulfed his rock hard cock, slightly drooling. Once in a while, you took a risky peek at Gojo’s face, predatory and lustful eyes staring back directly at you. Grunting, he twitched in your mouth, and you brace yourself.       “Fuck, (Y/N). You’re so good with your mouth.” he breathed. You groaned in an attempt to communicate, since your mouth was so stuffed full. Precum leaked from his dick, and you bobbed up and down once more. Taking another breath in, tears began to form at the corner of your eyes. You choked a little, but you were doing well for someone who didn’t suck dick very often.      Bracing yourself for a flashflood of cum from him, your mouth worked up and down on his length before you heard a loud groan, signaling that he had came, his eyes squeezed shut, the orgasm completely wracked his body. You found yourself with a mouthful of cum, and you struggle to swallow, before doing it successfully.      You look up to him, panting, some cum had escaped your mouth, splattering onto the floor. He looked you up and down, before opening his arms out for you, beckoning for you to come forth.      “Come here, you looked so pretty doing all that. Such a good girl.” pulling you in closer to his chest, he laid down with a huff, hugging you now. Gojo’s hand rubbed up and down your bare, sweaty back, in a state of euphoria, you don’t do much other then giggle.      “I’m so glad I can call you mine now, pumpkin.” he smiles, before giving you a quick kiss on the forehead.      “Wait... We’re dating now?’ your head shot up, in shock.      “Yes. Dummy. Fuck it, let’s just crash here tonight, your friend won’t mind.” he tousled your hair, taking another deep breath in. “Let’s sleep together.”       “Again?”       “I mean it in a literal sense.” he rolled his eyes.       “.....You guys can fuck here.” a familiar voice rang out from the hallway, you hear a murmur of thanks as the voice became closer and closer, but you’re too tired to move.      “We never closed the door.” you say hazily, digging your face closer into his chest.      He grumbles in response, and you can’t tell what he’s saying.      “..Ah nope- Looks like that room is occupied by Gojo and...” your friend’s eyes looked down, before looking back up in terror. “(Y/N)?”     They looked back down at the ground, their eyes lighting up as soon as they realized what was on it: cum splatters and clothes.     You’re too intoxicated to care, though.     

[nhinxsworld]

I said I'd write darker themes about gojo cause he is a fuckboy i said it like a LIAR its just me writing angsty shit with a rather happy ending to cope

Gojo x reader

my list

warning: just overall angsty vibe? Gojos insecurities, some mature content and yeh

part one - part two

How long has it been since he valued someone? It must have been somewhere in his teen years, he knows exactly who and when, though he'd rather not think about it.

He's been ignoring it, pushing such bonds away on purpose. It's okay, if people look at him and think of an arrogant asshole who believes he is too good for everyone else.

No one would want a friend like him, no one would want a partner like him. If no one gets close to him, he can't lose anyone close to him. He can't lose something he values again, if he doesn't value anything and no one values him for who he is and not just his title.

It's been alright like that, Gojo tells himself. Being the strongest, being the best, being on top means being lonely and that's okay.

He has accepted that a long time ago, he only sees the shallow worth of a person now. Are you a sorcerer who can come handy in the future? Are you just any civilian that would make no difference if you existed or not?

Do you benefit him enough to stay in his life? Do you hold value to the strongest?

That's how he has been living, that's what he decided on. Filling the empty spot in his bed with just anyone to keep it warm has worked great so far, so it will continue to work right?

Everyone needs some release now and then, and pretty women who are so easily swooned by his looks worked out great. He can even close his eyes after a session and sleep for a while before his mind wakes him up early in the morning, reminding him to leave.

He used to write quick notes with some money before he leaves, but at this point he just puts down a stack of money before he walks out. Gojo doesn't have the sentimental to stay longer, take care of them or to drive them home.

On the rare occasions where he wakes up later than whoever is in bed with him, it just result in another round before he dips.

"Sorry work is calling, call an Uber or so. See ya or something."

During bad times he isn't opposed to taking home some hooker, he pays well, fucks well and probably is respectful enough.

He does have long term flings now and then, but once he notices them forming some kind of attachment, he immediately cuts them off. Even when it comes to long term flings he has multiple at the same time and he makes it very clear that he has multiple to them, that him sticking around a bit longer doesn't mean shit to him.

Gojo is a strange man to the outside world, but there isn't anyone else in his world to understand him, not anymore at least.

All those walls he built up living in his own infinity separated from everyone. Picking and choosing who gets to touch him and who doesn't.

He allowed you in his personal space, just as the role to keep his bed warm, so he can sleep at night. Cold nights where he'd wake up and lay there wide awake alone, with only his thoughts to plague him.

Now kept warm and comfortable, a little less lonely something else to occupy his mind. What is he going to do with you the next morning, what about you is similar or different to the last girl in his bed? Just anything to distance him from other thoughts, and lull him back to sleep.

If his thoughts are loud he just might wake you up too "Fancy another round? Can't seem to sleep with you in bed."

Gojo knows how to sweet-talk, he knows how to keep someone hooked, if needed. He knew just how to get what he wants and needs.

He isn't sure when or where it started, but he is sure it starts of when you genuinely knew him and his work. Usually he doesn't go for other sorcerer or any people that know about the jujutsu world. It's just too stressful to avoid you if anything goes wrong, specially since you work in the same school as him.

Maybe him taking you on one too many outings, disguised as lunch during work hours, the way he'd genuinely talk about subjects or work and not just some small talk chitchat he does with random women, should have been the first sign of attachment.

It's incredibly much easier to narrow down the reasons why you're approaching him, if you weren't a sorcerer at the school he teaches.

Perhaps he should have cut it off immediately when he suddenly laid in bed longer than necessary. When he suddenly ran his hand over your shoulder giggling when you stirred in your sleep begging you to make him breakfast in the morning.

He has never done that before, but he just didn't have a good enough excuse to leave. You know his schedule, you know he doesn't have work today. You knew him too well that he could be meeting and friends or important people. If he wanted to leave you'd tell him to keep it quiet, telling him it's too early for anything and he'd lay back down.

Gojo has tried to make it clear right  at the beginning that he isn't interested in a relationship, and you told him not to worry. How many times has heard those words by women telling him they aren't the type to fall in love with him, just to fall in love with him.

You told him, you wouldn't take it personally, if he decided to cut it off, you wouldn't bring that mentally to work. You weren't mad at him when he called you over and another one left his house.

The sorcerer should have known he's the one starting to get personal, the moment he got mad, when it wasn't you that answered your phone telling him you're busy.

When the next time you laid in his bed you had one too many marks that weren't by him. He didn't let it show, he just got rougher biting and licking over it possessively until you told him to stop.

"Gojo stop, I don't like being marked. I've got things to do and places to be."

He narrowed his eyes "Where else you gonna undressed like this?" he was marking up your thighs, and you laughed "Dunno someone else's bed?"

A playful huff escapes his lips "Just stay in mine. You said I'm the best you've had in a while."

"Yeah, you still are. Do we really have to talk about this?" you ask him, he hums. You're laying stripped down in his bed and he only had his boxers left too. He had his face between your legs, trying to ignore the marks on your thighs as much as possible, until he couldn't.

"I mean yes~" he put on that playful demeanor smiling up at you "I'd like to be the best at everything I do. So tell me what you're looking for, so I can give it to you." he says as his finger traces over the new marks he left. It's easy for him to play pretend, he'll just put it all on his ego, his eagerness to know everything. You don't question him.

Blue eyes staring at you, and you averted your gaze for a moment "It's kind of embarrassing, but just like how you want someone to keep your bed warm...I like to feel needed and loved, and I don't feel that with you Gojo."

Before he could protest or say anything "Don't get me wrong, I enjoy our time together. I'm having fun, I like playing around, but sometimes I'm just looking for something else. Something I guess more passionate or loving, someone to kiss and hold." you confessed "That's just not what we do."

To your surprise he presses his lips against yours in a slow, soft kiss, no licking, no biting. Just lips, on lips, moving slow and sensually. His hand cupping your face while the other traces over your waist his body pressed against yours, his eyes closed.

When he pulls away he stares at you "Is that what you want?" His question answers itself as he sees the flushed expression on your face the way you're just begging him for more in a different way than usually.

So he gives you what you wished for slow, sensual sex, both your bodies close as possible unlike when he'd just do whatever he wants. Holding you, kissing you whenever you needed him too. Soft praise and rewarding kisses, even softer moans that are right by your ear "you're so pretty."

"Want me to hold your hand? Come here, closer darling." as he presses the loveliest kisses to your hair and face his hand interlocked with yours.

He can't comprehend it, when you feel just so much warmer around him crying genuine tears. The prettiest tears he'd seen in a while, your eyes trained on his as they spilled with the sweetest smile on your lips.

Oh, fuck you're so beautiful.

"What's the matter?" he'd wipe those tears for your bringing them to his lips not taste them but to kiss them "Your precious tears my love."

"Hmm...overwhelming..." you told him as you wrapped your arms pulling him closer for another sweet kiss.

"Please wanna cum, with you. Please Satoru." you asked him, and he doesn't question the use of his first name, he just complies "of course dear."

He can feel more tears trickling into his palm when he holds you, while his hips rolled into yours just a bit faster to get you both to the edge.

You're holding onto him so thigh wanting to feel him so badly, lips on each other, eyes shut tight. Your sweet moans in between kisses really did something to him, that he couldn't explain, your cries sounded different, desperate, but in such a sweet way, begging him to fill you.

Both cumming with a last kiss damping down your cries he looks at you again and you smiled pulling him down next to you. Gojo pulls you into his chest holding you "Is that what you needed?"

It was so diffrent from the rough fucks, you two would usually participate in. The dirty skin slapping, hair pulling, ass smacking, cum smearing and who knows what.

"Yes, thank you...Gojo."

"You know you can call me by my first time." he says, and you nod "Satoru."

"Do you need anything?" he asks you as his fingers go through the back of your hair "Can you just hold me for the rest of the night?"

"Sure, I can do that." he pulls you closer to him, your legs tangling up.

Playing with your hair he looks down at you "anything else you want? You can't be comfortable going to sleep like this, can you? I'll clean you up, we can go grab something to drink and I promise you I'll hold you again once we are in bed."

"Oh...yeah that sounds lovely." originally you didn't want to bother him more than you already did. Asking him to take things completely different, he wasn't a man to take these caring steps. The most he'd do was grab you drink, when he has gotten himself one while you cleaned yourself up.

So it's surprising when he cleans you up in the bathroom with a warm towel asking if you want to wear some of his clothes, dressing you in them, going as far as carrying you around like a princess.

More kisses planted on your skin and tender touches while you were in kitchen "You want  a tea instead maybe?"

Getting your drinks you sat on his kitchen counter while he stood right next to you his hand on yours as he lets you lean on him, until you finished "sleepy?"

A little yawn escapes your lips, allowing him to carry you back to bed. Tugging on his shirt he nods and takes it off again, allowing you to lay on his bare chest.

As promised he had held you the entire night till the morning, where you woke up in his embrace still "Thank you Satoru...but if this isn't your thing you really don't have to force yourself. I enjoyed our time before too."

The white haired sorcerer shakes his head "It's fine now and then. Yeah, not super my thing, but I don't mind. Just tell me when you need it."

Another mistake by his as he started to repeat these things, Gojo isn't able to fake this sentiment on the long run either. When he suddenly starts to absently kiss you, on the purest spots, when you suddenly started to tell him you like him during sex, he'll return any words.

Calling you precious names, holding you like you're fragile, when he knows you're not.

Maybe all these things lead him to where he is.

When holding you, after what was supposed to be a quick and easy fuck, suddenly feels natural. It's when getting up to leave didn't feel necessary anymore, he didn't feel like getting up anymore, you are warm, his bed is warm, he isn't lonely.

For all he knew this place feels warm and welcome.

Looking through his phone log he finds no other name than yours anymore. All messages left unopened and unread except for yours.

All those major tells, Gojo decided to actively ignore them.

Your value is to hold his bed warm, so he can  sleep, that's it. Your value is it to fill the empty cold spot next to him.

Best believe you're doing a good job, he doesn't feel cold or lonely at night anymore.

It's what he tells himself, because he doesn't want to face it.

Deep down Gojo knows better, he knows.

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Book I - Part 7

The Lunch - Small Thank You’s

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: You and Chris get to know each other better over a flirty friendly lunch.

Warnings: Fluff, spinkle of Angst, Profanity, phonetic spelling of words said in a Boston accent because I needed a laugh

Notes: Hey loves! Hope you all are well! It’s been a while— praying I didn’t forget how to write too bad and y’all enjoy this installment lol. Little FYI: I’m basing the reader’s music off of that of Banks and SZA. Before you dive in, set the mood with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Read the previous part here.

The GPS said the drive from the museum to the restaurant would be… well, you were distracted from that bit of information. Not that it would matter. Chris keeps making turns against the suggested route, citing that this was “his city” and that he’s a “real Boston boy”.

What you do know is that the talking and laughing with Chris made the car ride seem all too short. Pointing out familiar streets and landmarks, he lit up telling you his childhood stories laced within the city. Pardon, his city. The glint in his eyes and excitement in his voice sent tiny sparks up your spine, but you did your best to ignore it.

Chris tried to guess where you had the two of you going for lunch. You, however, wouldn’t give in to his guesses. Eventually, you arrive at a market of sorts, a culture clash of small businesses and patrons. It’s in an area Chris is familiar with, but he never thought much of coming to.

“I thought we were going to a restaurant?” Chris inquires, not seeing a food establishment from his spot in the driver’s seat.

You puff out your jaw, squint your eyes, and proceed with your best ‘Godfather’-like impersonation as you tell Chris,“I thought you would’ve learned to stop asking me questions by now, hm.”

“That... was horrible.” Chris’ deadpan causes you to giggle in response.

“I know! Now c’mon; I’m starved!” You draw out as you reach to let yourself out of the car.

“Woah, woah, hold on,” Chris stops you with a gentle hand on your arm. You questioningly look over your shoulder at him. He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. Settling back into your seat with a huff of delighted shock, you realize what he’s doing.

Chris jogs to your door, the returning drizzle giving him a sense of urgency. He opens the door for you then offers his upturned, open hand for you to choose to take. You hesitate for a millisecond before obliging, delicately placing your smaller hand in his large palm.

You’re unsure of the last time anyone was this... chivalrous to you. Trying not to dwell on it too long, you give him a soft-spoken ‘thank you’. Chris responds with an equally soft ‘of course’. You both find it difficult to meet each other's eyes, missing the shy smile the other is sporting.

“Lead the way,” Chris gently prompts with a hand extended in the market's direction.

Mildly busy, the market is livened by business people, college students, housewives and househusbands alike. Store fronts of small businesses ranging from sustainable fashion to high-end housewares line the long cobble stone path, accented by fairy lights for added whimsy. Chris curiously takes in the sights from beneath a low baseball cap and hoodie. He’s sure to not let his eyes linger too long for fear of locking with anyone.

Meanwhile, you’re walking with purpose, leaving a distracted Chris behind. He catches up when he notices you turn a corner in his periphery. When he follows the path you took, he finds you by a green, white, and red beaded archway.

You pause and look up at Chris, a playful grin on your lips that makes his heart skip a beat. He’s looking down at you, brows raised with utter anticipation. You think this might be your favorite expression on him. You pull back and step through the beaded entrance, Chris following suit closely behind you.

“Woah…” It was almost as if that small act of stepping over the threshold transported you both to Sicily. The faint notes of Italian standards play in the background as Chris gawks at the charming restaurant.

The mostly occupied dining area is quaint, housing about 10 tables max, including a couple of booths. The walls are decorated with floor-to-ceiling built-in shelves of libations from Italy. The alcohol display is interrupted by creeping vert vines that add that little bit of spice to the space.

As a waiter walked by, Chris breathed in deeply, the warm aroma of marinara sauce, freshly baked bread and Italian spices filled his nose and lungs.

“How’d you manage to find the one Italian restaurant in the greater Boston area I’ve never been to, much less heard of?”

“Hmmm… must not be as much of a Boston boy as you think,” you say with a wink, and Chris scoffs through his lopsided smirk.

“There she is!” a bellowing voice familiar to you draws yours and Chris’ attention away from each other. Chris looks on as the short, husky man pulls you in for a cheek-to-cheek kiss. “It’s been too long! Mi sei mancata la faccia!”

“Charlie, you know I have no idea what you’re saying, but I like the way you say it!” You share a laugh with your Uber driver-turned-friend. “And what do you mean ‘it’s been too long’! I was just here last week.”

“5 days ago to be exact. 5 days since you, ya castmates… most importantly ya directah,” Charlie stresses lustfully in his strong Boston accent, “have swarmed Ma’s restaurant. Whassup with that, huh?”

“The real question here is what’s up with your crush on Sonya, huh?” you tease him. Charlie’s smitteness with your director has not gone unnoticed.You can practically see the hearts forming in his eyes at this moment.

“I doan know what ya tawkin about.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

“Enough abowut it! Let’s get ya seated and you can tell me who’s ya new friend,” Charlie says, motioning to Chris.

When you’re seated in a corner booth by a rainy window, you introduce the two men.“ This is Chris, my, uh…um…” You hadn’t really thought about what to call your relationship with Chris. It’s been… rocky up until this point, and while you’ve been friendly, you’re certainly not friends. Not yet, at least.

Chris notices and understands your hesitance, a small part of him hoping it’s because you don’t want to friend-zone him. “It’s alright, don’t worry your pretty, little head about it,” he teases you, earning him an eye roll. “We’re… acquaintances, right?”

“Right! Acquaintances… I guess?” It didn’t feel right, a little too impersonal, but you’ll roll with it for now.

“‘Acquaintances’?” Charlie sizes Chris up, a comical sight considering the dramatically different statues of the two men. He tilts his head and squints at Chris’ face, his expression melting from intimidation to inquisition. Chris tenses, knowing the look he’s being given all to well. “Been here before, Chris? You look mighty familiah…”

“Umm… no... I don’t… don’t believe so,” Chris answers almost timidly. The avoidant gaze into the plastic covered menu, the heated cheeks that shone the same color as a tomato— you know that look all too well. You decide to do what you hoped someone would do for you.

“He’s just got one of those faces! But um, I’m ready to order if you are?” you try to deflect. Charlie doesn’t think much of it and takes down your meal decisions, but that small act means the world to Chris. He mouths ‘thank you’ from across the booth, and you smile and tip your head in a slight nod, sure he would’ve done the same for you.

You order your usual, spaghetti with vegan meatballs, and a glass of the house white wine. Chris has what you’re having except he’s ordered a “tonic”, which you learned the hard way the other night is Bostonian for soda. Charlie is back promptly with your drinks and breadsticks and ensures that your food will arrive shortly with a small smirk on his face that you don’t think too much of.

It’s quiet at your table for quite some time. Both you and Chris take small sips from your glasses, nibble at the garlic-y bread, look out the window and around the restaurant. As you do so, you run through a list of conversation starters in your head but you’ve deemed them all too dumb, too boring or too invasive. Why the hell do I care so much? You glance up at Chris and wonder if he’s going through the same irrational inner turmoil you are. Maybe he’s not, or maybe he’s overcome his when he finally breaks the silence.

“So, um… how long have you been a vegan?”

“Um… how long have we been shooting this movie? My character— she’s very, uh… power to the people— and plants,” You chuckle out. “Figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a try myself. Go a little method,” you say with a shrug.

Chris waves his breadstick at you as he asks, “You believe in all that method stuff?”

“I don’t know… I’m really new to this whole acting thing, but I guess I just like the idea of really connecting with this character in every way I can. She reminds me so much of myself at that age.”

“How so?” Chris presses on.

“She’s… sure. She’s sure of herself… of her judgements and decisions. She’s sure of her hand in her own success. And that breeds this really un-fuck-with-able confidence in her that if I had an ounce of, it’d be over for you hoes,” you end with a slow nod and look off into the distance.

Chris laughs at your dramatics, but it dawns on him what you’ve shared. “Wait… you’re telling me that’s not you now? I mean, I know I’ve only known you a short time, but you seem pretty un-fuck-with-ably confident to me.”

“Ha! Guess I’m a better actress than I thought,” you mutter. Chris knows it’s meant to be a joke, but watching as you fiddled with the rings on your finger, his chest tightened. A look of sympathy must’ve shown on his face, because you start to wish you hadn’t said anything at all. Did I just overshare? God, I thought I outgrew that.

To save you from your minor embarrassment is Charlie with the same smirk from earlier. He gently places the order in the center of your table, and you finally understand what his face was trying to give away earlier.

“We’re, uh… runnin’ low on plates...” is Charlie’s half-baked explanation. “Buon appetito!” he offers before hastily leaving.

Sat between you and Chris was the meal you ordered, yes, but on the single largest plate you think you’ve ever seen. One plate of spaghetti for two people— two practical strangers— to share. The embarrassment just won’t stop, will it?

Elbow perched on the table, your hand acts as a visor of sorts on your forehead as you massage away the headache forming at your temple. You can’t see Chris, just hear him chuckling and breathing out an “oh man…” under his breath. His fork comes into view as he twirls the pasta onto it. You peek under your hand up at him.

“What? Not gonna just look at it!” Chris insists. “Now, let’s see what this vegan meatball is about… DAMN! That tastes legit!” You giggled at his enthusiasm and felt your tension melt away.

You began to dig in as well. It was fine, normal even, for a few moments. You could almost forget you’re sharing one big ass plate of pasta with one of Hollywood’s most sought after stars at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant. Yep, very normal. As long as I keep from oversharing the rest of this afternoon, everything should be fine… you thought to yourself.

“Tell me… how are you liking Boston?” Chris asks.

“It’s fine.”

“‘Fine’?! Just fine.”

“It’s great Chris, no need to get your panties in a twist. But, ya know… It’s just not…”

“Home? Yeah, I get that. Where’s home for you?”

“Um… well I guess home has never been a single place for me. It’s with people I love, as cheesy as that sounds. Home is where my heart is…” you trail off as you remember you shouldn’t share too much.

“And your heart is with family, friends… a boyfriend…?” Chris slips in.

“What is this? 20 questions?” You quip as you sip on your white wine.

“Maybe... if you want. You can ask me something.”

“Hmm… Ok…” You ponder over what to ask him as you twirl your pasta around your fork. “What is… mm no. How about… nah, wait.” Chris huffs impatiently as he awaits your first question. “Ok! I got it!”

“Alright, lay it on me.” Your breath hitches at his word choice and you hope doesn’t notice. Why’d he have to say it like that?! You clear your throat and ask your question.

“What’s your favorite song of mine?”

“Really? That’s your question? So conceited…”

You giggle before explaining, “Well, I only ask ‘cos a little Scottie told me he saw you, and I quote, ‘full on rocking out’ to one of my songs. I’m just curious which one it was.” You sip on your straw and peer up at Chris, watching for his reaction.

Chris groans, covering his face while sinking down the booth seat. You can’t hear too much of what he's saying behind his hands and over your laughter, but it sounds like he’s cursing Scott’s name. When he finally restores some gumption, he places his hands on his napkin, eyes fixated on his fingertips picking at the dampened corners. Teeth sunk into your bottom lip, you try your best to bite back your amusement to not further Chris’s obvious embarrassment.

“Ok…” Chris sighs out, “ I’ll admit it! I’m man enough to own up to it,” he shrugs. “Yes, I was ‘full on rocking out’ to your music. You’re amazing at what you do.”

Your face heats up, not expecting the compliment. You don’t know what to say. It’s not like you’ve never heard it before. In fact you’ve heard it a lot the past couple of years, you’d thought you’d become numb to it. Yet, for some reason, sitting across from Chris, his eyes looking tenderly into yours, the compliment you’ve heard a million times before just… hits different. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

You clear your throat and break eye contact with Chris. “You still haven’t answered my question, though...”

“Right! Hold on…” Chris says as he fishes his phone from his front pocket. He scrolls through his music app to find the playlist he’s made of his favorite songs of yours. Your cheeks burn even more intensely as you watch. “‘Gemini Feed’ is my favorite to dance to; hands down! But I also really love ‘Drew Barrymore’; it’s fun… but sad, ya know? What am I saying; of course you know; it’s your song!”

You giggle in somewhat disbelief of watching Chris motherfucking Evans geek out over your songs!

“Well… this is a rare opportunity I have, to talk to the artist herself, that is. So, I have to ask, how did that song come about? From personal experience, I suppose?”

“Yeah… um, gosh. You want the full or abridged version of the story?”

“Full! Are you kidding me?!”

“Ok, ok! Well, it was right before my album was set to come out, and my boyfriend-at-the-time dumped me,” you laugh lightly at the now-funny memory. “After weeks of heated arguments and projecting his career insecurities on to me, he picked his final fight with me about how I was “acting too famous for him” and just ended things.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah... It completely caught me off guard. I couldn’t think straight in the studio that day, so I ended the session earlier and went to a party, per my best friend-slash-manager’s coercion. She’s a bad influence.”

“I like her style! Did the party help?” Chris asked.

“Well, it was on the higher-end of house parties, and I just wasn’t used to being around such an expensive lifestyle yet. But guess who was there because why wouldn’t he be?,” you exhale and roll your eyes as you reminisce.

Chris leaned in with intrigue. “The Ex?”

“Mm-hm. In my standard walk-in-the-party-scan of the room, I spot him. I should've known because that party was very much his scene, but what I wouldn't have guessed is that he'd be there with some other woman.”

“What?!”

You nod your head as you proceed to spill the tea to Chris. “This dude is there with another woman, after being out of a relationship for all of 8 hours. I think the worst part is that she looked nothing like me. Like, imagine the complete opposite of me to the hottest power, that was who was hanging all over that idiot.”

“He is a total idiot for letting you go.” You don’t know what to say to Chris’ statement and quite honestly forgot where you were, what you were talking about… “What happened next?”

“Right! We locked eyes for a moment and there wasn’t anything from him. No emotion at all. Like, he didn’t care that our relationship just ended. But then I had the thought that maybe we’d been over for a while and I had just been too distracted to realize and accept the party was over.”

“Jimi peeped what was up and got me out of there. I hoped that we could go home so that I could cry on her shoulder all night. Instead, she dragged me to a real house party. I so badly wanted to pity myself, but the energy there was too infectious to not enjoy; it felt like a 90s movie!”

“The next day, I went through my crazy ass camera roll, and I couldn’t help but... smile… and laugh! Then I thought about him, and how stupid he made me feel, and I don’t know… I kinda put all these weird, conflicting emotions into this one song, and felt better afterwards. Like I was turning a page.”

Chris didn’t immediately say anything, taking in the very personal story you shared. The somewhat unfortunate event that fueled his favorite lyrics. He looked at you carefully and quietly. However kind he looked in this moment, it didn't matter much to the creeping thoughts in your mind.

The silence made you self-conscious. You took inventory of your physical, how your face was hot, how your chest felt tight. Your left hand had somehow migrated into Chris’ right hand in the middle of the table. “I, uh— my bad…” you start as you take back your hand.

Chris quickly grabs your hand before it gets too far. “Thank you for sharing that story with me... and your music with the world. Your confidence in your vulnerability is really fucking inspiring. Thank you. Seriously, thank you,” he gives your hand a gentle squeeze for emphasis. He’s looking at you with a boyish smile and tilted head that makes you break down and smile at him, too.

“Thank you,” you return, just barely above a whisper.

——————————————————————————

You and Chris spent the rest of your time at L'amore Della Madre exchanging stories of love lost and life wins, sharing loud laughs and silent signs of admiration. To anyone on the outside looking in, it may have seemed like two had known each other longer than you actually have.

“I gotta say, I don’t like this,” Charlie whispers to you. He pulled you aside for a moment to say your goodbyes, while Chris waited for you outside. “Mostly becahse it was supposed to be my jahb to set you up with a nice Italian boy, but you’ve brought your own,” he says with a smirk.

“Oh, no! It’s not like that! Chris and I aren’t— wait… how’d you know he’s part Italian?“

“I have my sources… which may be the wait staff who are big fans of the guy. Here this is from them,” Charlie hands you a to-go box.”It’s tiramisu… for two,” he winks.

“Oh my god! I told you, we--”

“Will thank me at your wedding!” Charlie says as he waves you out of the door to the sidewalk where Chris is waiting.

“Wedding? Who’s getting married?” Chris asks.

You let out a sigh and shake your head. “Nobody. Want dessert?”

You and Chris small talk and walk and eat tiramisu on your way to the car. It was nice. It was normal. It felt… real. You didn’t realize how much you needed and missed small, yet meaningful moments like this until right now.

The pair of you stop in front of a pet shop window and watch the puppies play together for a moment. You pointed out a pair of snuggled up puppies to Chris. “Hey, they kinda look like us!”

Chris chuckles when he looks, “They do!” A chocolate brown puppy and a tannish-white one lie peacefully in one another’s presence without a care for the world on the other side of the glass. The tannish-white one starts to lick and nudge at the chocolate brown one, eliciting what you made out to be a sleepy smile from the brown pup. You don’t know why, but witnessing such intimacy causes you and Chris to straighten, fidgeting and giggling nervously.

“I had fun today.”

“As did I. You’re better company than I thought you’d be,” you joke.

“Uh… thanks?” He answers reluctantly, causing you to giggle. “Maybe we could… hang out again sometime…?”

“Maybe we could.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.” There’s a beat of silence as you and Chris hold each other’s gaze. “So… you wanna take my number down?” you prompt him.

“Right! Right. Yeah, I should probably do that…” Chris stammers as he pulls out his phone. You take it from him, replacing it with your phone. You put in your number along with taking a silly picture for your contact, and he does the same.

Chris laughs at your shared child-like humor, and you revel in the moment. It was nice. It was normal. It was the first time you’d felt unmistakably connected with someone without feeling anxious of their motives or what the world thought of it in a very long time.

Time moved slowly when you were with Chris, it seemed to good to real life. But just like that, a flash snaps you and Chris out of your daze and back to reality.

You both look in the direction of the camera flash to find a young woman trying to pretend she didn’t just take a picture of the two of you. Chris turns back to you but doesn’t meet your eyes. Instead his head is hung low as he says “I really… hate that shit.”

“Preaching to the choir.” Chris looks up to your face, your gaze steady in the general direction of the perpetrator. “Makes me feel like an animal in a cage.” You say.

This is why Chris doesn’t mind celebrity companionship. You get it. You understand this strange aspect of his life that not many other people truly do. You also get the value of normalcy and privacy… and leaving when the party’s over.

“Let’s get out of here.” You say coldly and walk in the direction of the car.

Chris was baffled, to say the least. This was usually the part where you talk about how “fans” will cross invisible boundaries just because they know your face and name. However, you seemed uninterested in trauma bonding.

You were already buckled in when Chris caught up to you in the car. The energy the entire drive to your sister’s brownstone was… off. Nothing like it was earlier in the day. A simple flash changed your mood, and Chris was aching for it to go back to before. But no joke, or crank of the radio volume seemed to work.

When Chris pulls up to the curb, you immediately hop out, mumbling a final thank you to him.

“Hey,” Chris grabs your wrist gently, halting you, “You get kinda used to it. Ya know... after a while,” he says hoping you’d find comfort in his words.

You look down at where his hand was wrapped around your wrist. “Yeah… that’s what I'm afraid of... but thanks anyway.” Taking back your wrist from Chris, you turn to walk to the front door.

Chris is calling after you. He doesn't want to be emotionally intrusive, but he hopes you'll give him a chance to understand you. Help you. Comfort you. If only she'd turn around. You can't bear to look back at Chris. It will only remind you of everything good today, and why you can't have it.

Part 8 coming soon! What’d you think?

[bestiesenpai]

drunk headcanons pt2

Can I get that 'tron, can I get that remy, can I get that coke, can I get that Henny? Bottoms up, bottoms up! These are headcanons for Itadori, Fushiguro, Yuta, Inumaki and Aoi Todo, and of course they’re all aged up 18+ because even though I did it you shouldn’t drink underage!

Inumaki

Hates the taste of liquor with a vengeance, his drink has to be mixed really really well because he doesn’t want to taste it at all lol

Shots with Inumaki are immediately followed with a chaser, most of the time pineapple juice and he always pulls a face at the taste

A few notches above a lightweight, I’d say four decently strong drinks and he’s hammered

Drunk Inumaki just wants to have fun with the girls and gays, take him to a gay club he will dance his fucking ass off to some Lady Gaga

He’s also pretty good at acting like he’s sober if he needs to, but don’t expect it to last long lol

I think his favorite drink would be an AMF with lots of ice and lemon

Fushiguro(I have already done little mini headcanons so excuse some repeats lol)

He drinks only dark liquor, light liquor has to be mixed for him to drink it and even then he won’t immediately fall for it. But he will not!!! Drink beer.

Is good about sticking to one drink for the whole night, if he’s having rum that’s his choice for the night

Gets sleepy when he drinks, if he’s properly smashed he’ll be lightly dozing off in the corner, if he’s at a house party you’ll definitely find him passed out in the bathtub

Is also brutally honest when he drinks, if he doesn’t like someone or something he’s not afraid to say it with no tact

Rambles on and on about some topic he has no idea about but the words just keep coming out like vomit

Speaking of vomit his stomach is strong so don’t expect to see him hunched over the toilet after a night out, he will lay in complete darkness and silence though

Yuta

He also hates the taste of liquor but is fond of light beer, can drink a case of light beer by himself if you let him

Yuta has two moods with liquor: oh no I’m sober tonight, you have fun! vs I’m going to drink so much I not only blackout but I will transcend to another plane of existence entirely, one where I am an alcohol wielding god that is worshipped and feared by the mortals beneath my feet. Choose your fighter!

If he’s at a house party or a rowdy function he can and will crush beer cans with his forehead and ride a shopping cart down a steep hill into a busy intersection with traffic

If it’s just a few friends together or if the two of you are drinking at home, he’ll follow you around like a puppy with a drunken dopey smile, he won’t speak to you but he wants to be close ‘just in case you need anything’

Surprisingly doesn’t get massive headaches or anything after drinking, his stomach is upset but as long as he takes a few hours after he wakes up to settle in then he’s relatively fine - but he won’t pass up on some hangover soup!

He insists on kissing the homies goodnight after a night out lol everyone gets a smooch from Yuta before leaving

Todo

The perfect himbo loves beer of all kind, but prefers when its in a glass bottle or one of them big ass beer mugs as opposed to a can

Knows quite a lot about different liquor, he’s totally the kind to try and make his own too!

Is not shy to order a super fruity cocktail or a margarita special at a bar and ya know what you can drink whatever you want when no one can kick your ass lol

Is it possible for his monkey brain to revert even further back? He’s a lizard brain when he drinks all he knows is drinking fun do more drinking

His party trick is being able to balance an obscene amount of martini glasses on his forehead

Verrryyyy cuddly after a night of drinking! Will literally start sobbing if you leave the bed after he’s come home from drinking even if you tell him you just have to pee!

Itadori

He is the KING of pregaming before the club, he always has the best playlists, mixes the drinks well and gets everyone hype asf for the club!

Mixes his liquor and has no problem with it, as long as it’s got a high enough percentage he’s drinking it

Has a decent alcohol tolerance, might have a slight intolerance though so at the end of the night his nose is stuffed and he’s out of breath just from walking to his front door from the uber

He and Todo are a dangerous combination when drunk, you never know what they’ll do next! Itadori might have to be on a leash when he drinks lol

Is also cuddly asf but his intentions aren’t pure, if he’s cuddling you on his lap he’s definitely trying to grind you on his cock even if he’s got fucking whisky dick. And even if he’s blackout stumbling drunk he’ll try to initiate sex as he passes out on the bed

Drunk texts! It’s mostly long keyboard smashes or voice notes of him grumbling and babbling like an idiot like he thinks he’s actually saying something that makes sense

[dadsbongos]

I see you are seeking Shinsou asks :3

Can I get some angst with fluff at the end? Like really hurt me... but then kiss my boo boo after kinda shit.

😗😗😗

sorry if the angst is lackluster :( i just got very into the idea of shinso hating a todo girl

Request for: Hitoshi Shinso Warnings: mentions of child abuse(?) it’s endeavor being awful but it isn’t vivid physical abuse, female pronouns are used ~~~

Shoto sighed quietly, peeking over the heads he could at the gala, “I thought Midoriya would be here.”

“It’s family strictly, Sho, Deku wouldn’t be allowed in,” (Y/n) murmured, swirling her beverage - nonalcoholic on strict order - of the night within her flute, “He’s not All Might’s son.”

“Nephew then.”

“No, Sho,” (Y/n) sighed, shaking her head, staring down at her drink glumly, “It’s so boring since Fuyumi and Nat stopped coming.”

“And Touya- “

“How’s the hero course going?” she interrupted, still not looking up from her glass, “Dad talks about you and those two boys a lot. A lot, a lot.”

Enji never spoke of anything else, especially when his daughter - his weak daughter in the general education department of U.A - was listening.

“It’s fine,” the heterochromatic boy shrugged, “What about general studies? Any hard projects coming up?”

“Nothing like having to go out with proheroes and stop a mega-villain, no,” (Y/n) swallowed down the lump in her throat, “I am tutoring a few kids though. Nothing major, but my teacher said I was doing a good job.”

“Sounds fun,” Shoto awkwardly bit.

It was bad enough you didn’t know how to talk to your twin sister let alone when you two had none of the same interests.

“Thanks.”

“For?”

“Sticking by me…” she gestured vaguely around the room, to all the heroes, to all the fancy tables, “During these parties. You don’t have to, and now that you actually know some of these people you have even less reason to.”

To be honest, he’d never thought of leaving (y/n) at their father’s parties. It simply never occurred to him to leave her standing at one of the walls by herself.

“Sure.”

Silence festered between the twins once again, neither part particularly sure of how to carry a dead conversation.

The doors opened, oddly quiet - as if the person behind them was intentionally trying to be silent. In walked class 1-A’s teacher, famous for nothing and even more infamous for hating the spotlight, which included the number one hero’s lavish ‘gatherings’.

Behind him was a boy with heavy eye bags and wild hair, recognizable as the one who almost took out Midoriya, Izuku, from the sports festival.

“He’s trying to get into the hero course,” Shoto nudged his sister, “You two share a class, correct?”

“Yeah, Shinso. He’s…” she pursed her lips, “okay.”

“Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a little standoffish,” (y/n) continued, refraining from adding on ‘kinda like you’, “Can’t really get to know him.”

Hitoshi caught eyes with his classmate, brows furrowing at her presence. As if he didn’t know who her father was.

But he did.

And to be quite frank, that was the entire problem.

His fists clenched, eyes narrowing, disdain thrumming through his veins. 

Hitoshi hated her, he was sure of it. He hated her power. Her wealth. Her Quirk. Her family. Her name.

She had everything at her fingertips and used none of it.

“He’s staring at you.”

“He does that a lot.”

“Want me to make him stop?”

“Fight your teacher’s son? Yeah, smart.”

“I never said I’d fight him,” Shoto shook his head, frowning at his sister.

“Shinso’s someone who makes it hard to not fight him.”

“Unlucky.”

“Yeah.”

Another beat of silence rang between the siblings, both willing themselves to ignore the heated glare beating off of Hitoshi at (y/n).

“I- “ Shoto paused, hesitance burning at his tongue, “I have something to discuss with Aizawa.”

Nodding slightly, (y/n) watched as her brother left for his teacher. Her eyes drifted once Shoto was no longer in sight, flitting to the large man of the hour. Her father.

Enji had a thing for bragging. It was why he was a hero. It was why he bought a large house. It was why he threw large parties. It was why he had a powerful son. It was what he wished for his youngest daughter. He must’ve known, somehow, that (y/n) didn’t have a plan for high school let alone the rest of her life.

It must be why he taunts her with Shoto’s accomplishments. With Shoto’s greatness.

“Your father’s the number one hero and you’re in the general studies class,” a new presence sidled up to (y/n). Hitoshi gently pressed the back of his head to the wall, “Is that not embarrassing?”

“I just like general studies more than I’d like the hero course,” (y/n) muttered, taking a sip of her drink, “I don’t want to be a hero.”

“It’s so easy for you to say, isn’t it?” he hissed, shaking his head, “You have your father’s power, a great Quirk, money - and you just get to decide whether you want to be a hero or not.”

“Everyone does, Shinso. You’re leaving the class, you chose to be a hero. It’s not that deep.”

It was.

“I didn’t get to choose my class. I have to work my ass off just for a chance to be where I want, you got put in there,” Hitoshi grit his teeth.

“Well I’m sorry, but it’s not my fault,” (y/n) huffed, “You’re the one picking a fight, I’m just trying to suffer through a party.”

“Suffer, this party is literally being thrown by the number one hero - your dad - who’s incredibly rich- “

“You don’t know anything about my dad,” (y/n) snapped, turning her head to finally look Hitoshi in the eyes, “You don’t know me. You don’t know my brother. You don’t know my dad. I’m not looking to spill my guts but hey, maybe shut the fuck up before you assume someone’s childhood is peachy because their dad’s rich.”

Hitoshi shook his head, “Just saying. You’re the daughter of Endeavor and willingly put yourself in a bullshit class.”

“Fuck off.”

“Gladly.”

~~

It wasn’t two days later when Shinso, Hitoshi, said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Hitoshi rolled his eyes, shaking his head, “That shit I said at the party. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, why?” (Y/n) quirked a brow, “You seemed pretty confident then.”

Denki hissed through his teeth, “Yeah… Endeavor’s an ass. Apparently, he was like… uber harsh during training with Todoroki. I didn’t get the whole story but turns out he’s got major anger issues. I wouldn’t be surprised if he… you know. Was abusive. It’s awful, I wish I was closer with Todoroki so I could talk to him about it. He looks like he needs some support. I hope his sister’s okay too. Couldn’t have been easy in that house, ya know?”

“Just thought it over,” Hitoshi shrugged, hands jammed in his uniform pants’ pockets, “Was pretty dickish of me to say.”

“Yeah,” (Y/n) nodded before releasing a heavy sigh, “Well, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

Enji glared down at the young girl, “The general studies course? You think you’ll accomplish anything there? Look at your brother, Shoto!” he twisted a hand in her hair, forcefully turning her head to look at her twin, “He’ll be a better hero than you could ever be, don’t you have aspirations? Don’t you want to do something good?”

She’d heard worse anyway.

Hitoshi bit his lip nervously, looking at his shoes before tossing his pride to the side, “Want to meet up sometime? For studying. This exam’s gonna kick my ass and you have high marks.”

“Sure,” (Y/n) smiled slightly, she knows she should’ve held the grudge longer - but it was hard to hold something against Hitoshi when he never knew her, “There’s a cafe nearby, I can show you the way?”

“That sounds good.”

“Good.”

“Sorry, again.”

“Seriously, Shinso,” (Y/n) shook her head, “You’re fine.”

Hitoshi hesitantly nodded, giving the girl a soft smile in return, “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

[cudan2]

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol. 

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.  

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying – over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.  

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

[firelord-frowny]

pretty sure my brother has covid 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

i mean he’s fine i guess, just coughing a lot, like, the kind of coughing that wouldn’t be of great concern if not for the fact that THERE’S A PLAGUE, and like, he’s otherwise alright i guess, not all achy and sickly and laid up helplessly in bed or anything like that. 

but i’m still so 

bc his dummy ass has been all staunchly refusing to get vaccinated because apparently he’s smarter than all the literal actual geniuses who have studied medicine and virology and biochemistry for decades, and aaaaallllll of us people who’ve gotten vaccinated and have enjoyed a covid-free life with 0 side effects are just Dumb Sheeple.

and throughout this whole fucking time, from the beginning of lockdown until now, he’s BASICALLY been just going around living his life and socializing and blah blah and like, ok, as far as i know he at least has bothered to consistently wear a mask when he’s out and about, but when you have a fucking pathogen that, thanks to a country full of malicious anti-maskers and anti-vaxxers and anti-do-anything-at-all-to-stem-the-spread-of-covid-ers, has basically become endemic and ubiquitous, exactly how fucking long do you expect to last before YOU come in contact with the virus, too?? 

like omfg it makes sense for somebody to choose not to get the rabies vaccine because rabies is Rare. Your chances of catching rabies in an uber are hella close to 0. Like, your uber driver would have to have a rabid racoon IN THE CAR. You’re not gonna go to school and catch rabies. You’re not gonna catch rabies at the bowling alley. You could, if you were a fucking weirdo, have 500 strangers spit directly into your mouth and still be virtually certain you won’t catch rabies. The only reason why you might actually benefit from a rabies vaccine is if your job puts you in close and frequent contact with wild animals. Regular people do not need a rabies vaccine. 

BUT COVID IS LITERALLY FUCKING EVERYWHERE OH MY GOD IT’S IN THE ELEVATOR IT’S IN THE UBER IT’S IN YOUR NEIGHBOR’S HOUSE IT’S AT SCHOOL IT’S IN THE GROCERY STORE IT’S AT THE BANK IT’S IN THE 6 FOOT RADIUS AROUND THAT LADY YOU JUST WALKED BY IT’S IN YOUR GRANDMA’S NURSING HOME IT’S IN THE COUNTY JAIL IT’S AT THE VET’S OFFICE IT’S AT THE AIRPORT IT’S ON THE TRAIN omfg the only place it’s probably NOT is on the International Space Station! 

THERE IS LITERALLY NOOWHHHHEEEEERRRREEEEE YOU CAN GO AND BE VIRTUALLY CERTAIN THAT YOU WILL NOT BE EXPOSED TO COVID!!!! 

and now me and my mom and my dad and my grandma are frolicking around in perfect health while he chokes on his own esophagus. and i have to just cross my goddamn fingers that none of us become one of these ~breakthrough infections~ and that if we DO, it will be mild and/or asymptomatic. 

And ya know what else is Fucked Up?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

WE HAVE SEVERAL AT-HOME COVID TEST KITS AND HE REFUSES TO TAKE ONE EVEN THOUGH HE’S STILL BEEN LEAVING THE HOUSE AND GOING PLACES!!!!!! 

hate.

[whumpforthewin]

The Answer - 5

Jack looked up at the huge building. He felt too underdressed to even be outside the building. But he was here for a reason. He wasn’t going to chicken out now. He had the card in his hand. The doorman looked like he was going to say something but Jack held up the card and the doorman just nodded and opened the door for him. No one else tried to stop him. Apparently if he got through the doorman people considered he needed to be here. 

He went up to the elevator and got in. Of course this prick was in the penthouse suite of the apartments. He rode up feeling more and more rage build up. He hoped it was Mark he saw first because he was going to deck him.

Apparently luck was on his side. The doors opened and there was a much more casual, but still well dressed Mark. 

Jack didn’t stop to think. He just stalked over to Mark and drilled him in the nose with all his might. He felt it crack beneath his hand. 

Mark stumbled back. “Yes, ow, Amy said she spoke with you.” Mark didn’t seem surprised and that honestly pissed Jack off more. He went for another blow but it seemed Mark was having none of it. He stopped Jack’s hand mid punch as if it were nothing. 

“Let’s have a chat before you hit me again, okay? Can I offer you a drink perhaps?” Jack didn’t say anything as he wrenched his hand out of Dark’s. “Alright, no drinks then.” He turned and led Jack into the suite. 

“I sent the others away for the next few days so we have this all to ourselves. Meaning you can speak freely and so can I.” Mark explained. 

“You were fucking there.” Jack was barely keeping it together as it was. 

“Right to the point then.” Mark started making himself a drink. “You are, mostly right. I found you that night. But that’s all. I didn’t know about you or the operations until about a week before we attacked.”

“That’s not what Amy said.”

Mark’s lip curled into almost a snarl. “I had heard rumors, nothing more. Nothing concrete.” 

“Then you kept tabs on me. You dropped me off to Amy.” Jack hissed.

“Amy is one of my top generals. I trusted her to look after you. You were free to leave-“

“I was sixteen where the fuck was I gonna go?” Jack roared. 

Mark set down the drink. “I looked for your family.” Jack scoffed but Mark continued. “And I found them.”

“Then you just know all about me don’t you?” Jack demanded. Mark was lucky he’d put the island in between them or Jack would’ve hit him again. 

“I know enough.” 

“Well fuck off!” Jack snarled. He gripped the edge of the island to stop himself from launching over it. 

“No.” Mark went back to making his drink, seemingly unconcerned. 

“You have done nothing but manipulate me the entire time I’ve known you,” Jack scoffed. 

“I have not. I nudged you in the direction, but you were free to choose what you wanted to do. We’ve had no direct contact until last year when Amy called me in to rescue you from that john with the spreader bar.” Mark finished making his drink and finally looked at him. 

“I have to know, did you know what happened to me?” 

“I had a hunch. You are not the first I’ve looked into. But you are the first in a while I was able to get out alive,” Mark said as he took a sip from his drink. “That group is large and dangerous and we make it a habit of keeping tabs on those that survive.”

“Why? Did you want to use me for your own gain? Cause I hate to break it to you it didn’t fucking work. I’m no use to you.” Jack didn’t know why a smile crept onto his face. Maybe it was the fact that all of Mark’s planning and manipulations had come to nothing. Sure Mark had fucked him, but that was definitely mutual so he didn’t feel like Mark was getting more out of it. 

Now it was Mark’s turn to laugh. It was deep and emotionless. It seemed to reverberate throughout the apartment. Jack was suddenly very unsure of himself. More unsure than he’d ever been in Mark’s presence. 

“Mark?” He whispered the name and his breath came out in a puff. It was suddenly freezing in there. “Wha-“ he was cut off by his own shivers. 

“No, call me Dark. Like I told you to. And You aren’t the only one to have gone through that process,” Dark said calmly. 

“What are you talking about?” Jack was shaking and he wasn’t sure if it was from the cold or fear. 

“The little tests.” Dark twitched. “The torture.” He put his hand on the table as if to steady himself. “I recommend you leave and we will continue this another time.” He let out another laugh though this one sounded a bit more pained. 

The lights started to dim and Jack searched the room, he realized shadows were growing to cover the windows. 

“What tests? Those, those weren’t tests?” Jack no longer felt confident about the two worst years of his life. “They were just torture.”

“Believe what you want. But they were, and it worked.” Dark straightened and something was very wrong. “If it didn’t work, you wouldn’t still be alive.”

Jack shrunk on himself. What the fuck was he in for. The shadows seemed to be coming from Mark, or Dark. But, that, that wasn’t possible.  

“It’s possible your powers haven’t manifested. Yet. Amy’s had to be triggered. Ethan can’t control his.” The weight of Dark’s gaze fell on him. It was like the void looking at him, soulless black eyes that held no pity. 

“If you couldn’t tell, I control shadows. Some other more in depth things than that as well but it’s the basics. It’s  clear you didn’t know the extent of their goals. You were taken by a fairly small faction. It makes sense you wouldn’t know all the details that came along with it.” Dark made a move and suddenly he was right next to Jack. 

Jack yelped and jerked away from him, falling to the floor in his haste. 

“There are drawbacks to using these powers of course.” Dark took a step towards him and Jack scrambled away from him. The shadows seemed to grip and claw at him. “My drawback is the darkness is difficult to control and makes it a bit more all consuming. Makes it very hard to stop.” His voice was almost a pur. 

“Dark, I think you should come back to yourself now,” Jack said shakily, scooting away from him. 

“Hmm, no.” Dark had what Jack could only describe as a sadistic smile on his face. “You see I’ve been nice, I’ve been kind, I’ve been patient with you Jack. But you have done nothing but turn around and ignore me, insult me, and all over piss me off.”

Jack scrambled out of the way as a shadow tried to grab his leg. 

“Tell me more about these experiments!” Jack yelped. His heart was pounding in his chest as he tried to maneuver the unfamiliar space. 

He saw and heard Dark crack his neck. “You don’t want to know about them, you experienced them. You want to know about how they affect you. Right?” 

He wasn’t really wrong. But Jack was too busy dodging a shadow to respond. 

“They affect all people differently. The ones that survive at least. You seemed like a fighter. I had to let them finish one last one before I stepped in.” Dark said casually. 

“What!” Jack stopped short. And there was the opportunity Dark must’ve been waiting for. Shadows clung to his legs holding him in place. When he realized and tried to pull at them his arms were locked as well. He was trapped. 

“The final week is the most important.” Dark slowly made his way over to Jack. “It’s the week you may die but it’s the week that unlocks your powers. Amy was confident you would survive. But it was my call to wait on the rescue.” He stopped directly in front of Jack. 

“You son of a bitch!” Jack growled. 

“Now, now, calm down. Aren’t you glad it all meant something. Imagine going through that and it meaning nothing more than the suffering of others for nothing. This gave you something. We just have to unlock it now.” Dark raised his hand and a tentacle-like shadow wrapped around his throat. 

There was a bang on the door that caused Jack to jump and Dark to pause. 

“I thought it would take them longer,” Dark muttered. 

The door burst open with Tyler crashing through it. Dark sighed and put his hands up before stepping back. Tyler didn’t appear to care that Dark was in a “non-threatening” position. He stormed over to Dark and forced his hands behind him and kept them there with enough force to make Dark wince. 

“Jack, close your eyes, Ethan, could really use some light about now,” Tyler said in a harsh tone. 

“Working on it!” Ethan snapped. 

Jack didn’t need to be told twice. He squeezed his eyes shut and not a moment too soon. He felt more than saw a giant ball light up the room.

The shadows melted away and he heard Dark hiss. 

“It’s okay to open your eyes,” Ethan said, much closer than he had been a moment before. “Tyler, deal with Dark, I’ll be right there.” Jack opened his eyes to see Ethan glance over at Tyler as he forced a very resistant Dark out of the room. 

“Sorry, we got back as soon as my alerts went off that someone was using their powers in the house. And since Dark was the only one here, we figured it wasn’t good,” Ethan explained. 

“I can manipulate light, usually to make illusions. Tyler basically becomes a god, he’s super strong and can’t feel pain. We also think there’s a healing factor but we can’t know for sure.” Ethan continued when Jack just looked at him. “Amy can manipulate emotions. Her own and others. Usually she’s the one to deal with him like this but she’s too far out to deal with this so we’ll bring him back. You should probably go though. It can get pretty hard to watch.” 

Jack nodded somewhat numbly. 

“Talk to Amy, I’m calling you a cab. It’ll take you back,” Ethan said pulling up the Uber app. 

“I’ll see ya later Jack.” Ethan pressed a kiss to his cheek and Jack had to wonder what it meant. They’d all done it before. 

Tagging:

@whumper-in-training

[puckinghell]

All Over You | Elias Pettersson

Summary: Elias had his chance with you, and he messed it up. But the idea that you might be over him? That’s more than he can handle.  Words: 3.8k Note: I wrote this in a drunken haze of sleep deprived creativity brought on by a country song. Please ignore any errors, I couldn’t be bothered to proofread. 

---

Elias’ eyes are following you across the room. 

The beer in his hands is still full and lukewarm, by now. He hadn’t really even wanted it, but Brock had pressed it into his hands.

“Get that scowl off your face, bud,” he’d grinned, and then scurried off. Maybe he’d noticed that his typical, happy go lucky Brock demeanor was too much for Elias to deal with tonight. 

This bar, the bar that his teammates dragged him to, is the same place you and him used to go all the time. He likes the lowkey vibe, the fact that there rarely seemed to be any hockey fans there - or at least none that would disturb him - and you like the music that gets played there and the fact that they have your favorite cider brand. 

You were never much of a beer fan, and Elias watches with heavy eyes as you take a sip of your cider, now, and laugh at something the guy says. 

Something ugly curls in the pit of his stomach.

The thing is, Elias knows he has no right to be jealous right now, but as he watches you laugh and talk to this random guy, jealousy is definitely what he’s feeling. 

He spotted you the moment he walked in. You were already at the bar, and Elias made sure to stick himself in a corner, not going anywhere near you.

He thinks it worked; it doesn’t seem like you’ve seen him, yet, and he’s planning on keeping it that way. 

He lost the right to your attention. 

It’s Bo, unsurprisingly, that sits down next to Elias. He puts a glass of coke on the table. 

“Go home,” he says softly. There’s a tinge of worry in his voice, and Elias hates it, because he knows he doesn’t deserve to be worried about. But Bo has grown into his captain role beautifully, so Elias should’ve expected him to notice. 

“I’m fine here,” he says, but his voice sounds flat. He tries again. “It’s just, you know...”

“Y/N is here,” Bo finishes for him. “And you don’t want her to see you.” Elias supposes he’s easier to read than he thought. That, or Bo knows him better than he thought.

“I don’t want to see her, with him, either.” Elias grits his teeth. It’s not the kind of truth he would normally blurt out like that; normally it’s only Brock and Quinn that he confides in like that.

Brock because he makes everything seem less catastrophic with his everlasting optimism and his easy grin, and Quinn because he usually doesn’t really say anything at all, except maybe “sucks, bro” and sometimes that’s nice to hear, because some things really do suck. 

But Bo is here, and Elias is not in the best place, so the words just kinda tumble out. 

“It’s funny, how these things happen,” he says. “Joke’s on me, I guess.”

“Nobody is laughing, Petey.” Bo gives him a sympathetic look. “You look like you want to punch something, and it’s scaring Tuna.”

Elias dares to look away from your figure, for one second, to find Jake. Jake is staring back at him with big eyes, but averts his gaze when Elias catches him looking.

He sighs. “I don’t hate her, you know.” 

“I didn’t think you did.” Bo’s statement is bland but full of all the things he’s not saying. Elias has a distinct feeling Bo knows exactly what Elias hates.

Hates that he’s basically a stranger to you, now, that he can’t go up to you and wrap his arms around your waist, that he can’t say something to make you laugh. He hates that you’re dancing with him, with that guy, and not with Elias. 

He never liked dancing, but he usually let you drag him along anyway, just to see the way your face would light up when he did. 

“You could go over there,” Bo tries, carefully. “Say hi.” 

I wouldn’t survive the look of disdain in her eyes, is what Elias thinks. 

“I don’t wanna make it weird for her,” is what he says. 

“Why would it be weird?” 

Elias laughs, but it’s bitter, with not even a hint of humor in his eyes. He takes a swig of the coke, then slams it down on the table hard enough that a little bit slushes over the edge. The bubbles pop once they hit the wood. 

“Because I might say something I regret.” 

“Like?” Bo prompts.

Like I miss you. I’m sorry. I wish I’d never left. 

“I’m gonna go home,” Elias says, and he doesn’t wait to see the look of pity on Bo’s face before storming out of the bar and ordering an Uber.

He also doesn’t see you watching him leave.

--

6 weeks earlier, you’d been sitting on a chair on Elias’ balcony, a blanket over your legs and a glass of wine in your hands.

It was late enough at night that the streets of Vancouver had gone quiet, and Elias’ eyes were half closed as he leaned his head against the wall.

It was peaceful, everything about it. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable; you’d just spent the night with Jake and his girlfriend, so you both needed some quiet. 

It wasn’t warm, per se, not this time of year, but you always loved the fresh air and it wasn’t too cold either. 

Elias’ cheeks were red from the fresh outside air, and he seemed perfectly content, like that.

It wasn’t the first time you looked at your best friend a different way, but you couldn’t remember it ever being this intense before. Like, you looked at him sometimes and thought; wow, he’s really hot, or, wow, he always makes me laugh, or even wow, I want to kiss him right now.

But up until that night, you’d never thought: wow, I love him. 

Strangely enough, the thought didn’t scare you as much as it, in hindsight, definitely should’ve. Maybe because you’d known Elias for almost a year, and you liked to believe you knew him quite well.

There had been moments, you thought, where you could’ve sworn he felt it too. That undeniable, invisible cord between you, pulling you towards each other. The way the air got charged with something, when your eyes met. 

It sounded cliche, you knew that, but in some ways you thought you’d always known it would end up like this. 

Which is why it was such a shock that it ended the way it did.

You can barely remember, now, how exactly it happened. You think your mind blocked out the memory, somewhere between crying your eyes out into your pillow and crying your eyes out on the phone to your sister. Some kind of protective mechanism, probably.

You remember something, though. You don’t think you’re ever going to be able to forget the look on Elias’ face, when you told him you loved him as more than a friend. 

No neurologic protective power big enough in the world to get that memory out of your mind.

He’d looked... Shocked, kinda. Like he’d never thought of you that way. But there had been something else there. Something that hit you way harder, hurt so much more. 

Disbelief.

How could you dare to love him. 

Not to get you wrong; you know Elias isn’t arrogant. He doesn’t think he’s the Canucks’ savior, he doesn’t belief he’s better than anyone. You’ve not been able to put your finger on why he looked like that, although not for lack of trying - you’ve lost nights and nights of sleep over it, but still, you don’t understand.

He looked shocked, upset, and he looked unhappy.

And that’s something you don’t think you’re ever going to get over. 

He left, after that, ran away from the balcony like the devil himself was chasing him, hid in his bedroom, and then you never heard from him again.

No texts, no calls, no house visits. Not even an Instagram DM saying, “hey there, it was fun to be friends until you decided to be a creep, see ya never".

Nothing. 

And you’d been too ashamed to reach out, so that meant there had just been silence. 

Before this, you never thought silence could be quite this loud. 

--

Elias can’t sleep.

That shouldn’t be surprising, after tonight. His body is still reeled up with adrenaline.

He would never fight the guy you were with, cause he could see that he made you happy, and there’s not a scenario in which he would choose to ruin that for you.

But God, would he have loved to just. Do something. Make him disappear, and preferably, put his own body in that place.

The place of the guy that makes you happy. 

Tonight just really drove the point home that you’re over him. Elias had his chance, messed it up, and you moved on. He can’t blame you for that, he just wishes he could do the same.

He doesn’t think he’s ever going to be over you. 

The thing is, when you told Elias you loved him, he was mostly just in shock. You’d been one of his closest friends, and he would trust you with his life. He told you everything and he knew you did the same.

He knew he loved making you laugh, he loved being there for you when you needed something, he loved talking to you so much he stayed up all night even after a game, he loved seeing you in his jersey, he loved...

He loved being around you. 

He just hadn’t really noticed he had started to love you. 

When you said it, he hadn’t known what to say. A thousand words had entered his brain and then left within a split second. None of them seemed to make it to his mouth; not in English, not in Swedish, not in any language. 

He remembers the way your face fell, and you turned your gaze to the ground. How you’d looked so uncomfortable, so upset. 

He thought the best thing to do would be to leave, until he got himself together enough to speak to you, to make actual words and force them out of his throat. 

He hid in his bedroom, paced around in circles for ten minutes; all that time, it was like he was looking through a kaleidoscope of memories, of you and him.

He knew, when he left that room, that he loved you too, and he was planning on telling you that.

But you were gone.

He didn’t know, and doesn’t know, still, whether you left because he reacted like a jerk and didn’t say anything, or because you changed your mind. 

He waited, for you to call, or text him. To call him out or to act like nothing ever happened. 

You didn’t call.

And he didn’t call, either, figured it wasn’t welcome. Still wasn’t even really sure what to say, maybe. He didn’t call, but every time he didn’t, he almost did, and now he’s sitting on his couch staring at his phone and wondering if that guy that made you smile and laugh in the bar calls you every day.

He feels sick to his stomach, and he didn’t even drink anything.

--

At 3am at night, Elias really isn’t expecting a knock on his door, but when there is one, he figures it’s Brock, or Jake, maybe even Quinn, who got drunk and got lost.

It wouldn’t be the first time Brock showed up at his door drunk because he was lonely and wanted to cuddle. 

At 3am at night - and really any time - Elias would not expect a knock on his door and upon opening it, to be faced with you. 

“How dare you,” you snarl, pushing past him without giving him a chance to say anything. 

Elias raises an eyebrow; he would ask you what you’re doing here, but that feels too normal; like the type of thing he would ask before you were no longer friends.

“I saw you, you know,” you continue. You’re not yelling, but it’s a close thing; Elias hears the anger in your voice, can’t quite decide whether he’s happy you’re talking to him or unhappy because you’re looking at him the same way one might look at a dead snail. 

“Saw me?” he repeats, a little dumbly.

“At the bar, Elias!” You step away from him, throw your hands up in the air. “I fucking saw you at the bar! And if I hadn’t seen you, I would’ve seen all of your other teammates! 10 hockey players don’t walk into a bar unnoticed, you idiot. So what am I supposed to do?” 

A silence falls, like you’re actually expecting Elias to answer that. 

He would, he would do anything you wanted him to, but he has no idea what you’re wanting to hear.

“What are you doing with what?” he tries, carefully.

You laugh, but it’s clear that you don’t find anything funny. “What am I supposed to do when we see each other in public? Am I ignoring you? Saying hi and moving on? Running away?” You pause. “Or is running away something only you are allowed to do?” 

“That’s not fair,” Elias says, a little quietly. It probably is fair, but it still stings. “I left to make it better for you. I didn’t want to ruin your night. Besides,” he adds, and now he sounds a little resentful, “you were all over that guy, and I didn’t wanna watch.” 

“All over that guy?” you repeat incredulous. “I wasn’t all over anything, Elias, I’m not even over you!” 

The words that Elias was meaning to say die on his lips, and suddenly there’s a distinct ringing sound in his ears, like he just took a puck to the head. 

Did you just say...

“All over... me?” he says softly, and something in your demeanor shifts at the quietness of his voice; the tension leaves your body and all your willingness to fight is just gone, sucked out of you like someone switched a light switch.

You sink down onto his couch and put your head in your hands.

“Fuck,” you breathe out. “I didn’t come here to say that.” 

I’m not usually this pathetic, is what you mean, but you don’t say that, because the truth is, you usually are this pathetic, at least when it comes to Elias. 

“What did you come here for?” Elias asks. The words could sound harsh, but they don’t. It’s only genuine curiosity that you hear in his voice.

Maybe, if you were being honest to yourself, you would even hear something like hope. But you wouldn’t dare believe that. 

“I don’t even know,” you tell him, and it’s the truth. “I just, my friend took me to that bar because she said I had to get over you at some point, and that guy was kinda nice and he reminded me of you because he has the same dry humor, and then I saw you and I thought...” You pause. “I thought I was dreaming.” 

You feel the couch dip under Elias’ weight as he sits down. He’s not sitting close enough that you can feel him, but somehow you can still feel his presence.

Something settles, within your stomach. Something that hasn’t been settled since that night on his balcony.

“But then you ran away like you couldn’t stand the sight of me, and it hurts, Elias, it hurts to know you feel like that, and suddenly I got so mad and...”

You cut yourself off. 

This is not the time, or the place, to put yourself through this, to lay it all out in the open like this. After all, Elias has made it clear he doesn’t want this from you, and you should accept that.

If you want even an ounce of dignity intact, you need to leave now, lick your wounds in peace, and get the fuck over it.

All over it. 

You stand up.

“Nevermind,” you tell him. “I’m sorry for coming here.” 

But before you can take a step towards the front door, to leave and never come back, Elias’ hand catches your wrist, slender fingers wrapped around you so tightly it nearly hurts.

It doesn’t, really. Not in comparison to how much your soul is hurting. 

“Elias,” you say, and you’re pleading, now, “please don’t.” 

It’s not a full sentence, but you think it covers the bases: please don’t make me say it, please don’t let me embarrass myself like this, please don’t break my heart again. 

Please don’t let me go.

“I’m sorry,” Elias says, and his voice is a little gruff, like it’s hard for him to speak. “I’m so sorry I left. Today, and last time. I know I don’t deserve it, but please... don’t leave.” 

You inhale sharply; these are words you hoped, but never expected to hear, and now that you’re hearing them, you don’t really know what to do with them. 

“Let me just say some things,” Elias continues, soft and careful, like he’s trying not to spook you. “Just sit, listen to me, and then if you want, you can leave and I’ll never bother you again.”

That’s, like, kinda the opposite of what you want, but you suppose you never really had a chance. Because you look back at Elias and his blue eyes are honest and pleading, so you nod curtly and sit back down on the couch.

You sit on the opposite end to Elias, and his hand falls away from your wrist, ends up on his own knee. 

Elias is looking at you intently, his blue eyes bright and focused. Under his gaze, it seems a little harder to breathe. 

You don’t know what you’re expecting him to say, but it’s not what comes out of his mouth next.

“You’re my best friend.” 

His voice is quiet, but firm. 

You frown. “Brock is your best friend.” 

Elias smiles a little sadly. He twists the string of his hoodie around his finger, then lets it fall again. 

It’s a sure tell that he’s nervous, which really sucks to notice, because you don’t think Elias has ever been nervous around you before.

“Maybe,” he says, “but so are you. In a different way, I think.” He pauses. “I didn’t realize that before. That it’s different with you.” 

“Elias, you’re not making a lot of sense right now,” you tell him, confused, and the sigh that escapes his lips is heavy. 

“I know,” he says, frustration lacing his voice, “I’m not good at talking. I don’t know... what to say, how to say. That’s why I didn’t say anything, that night.”

He doesn’t have to explain which night he’s talking about. 

You feel your cheeks flush at the mention of that night, and avert your gaze to stare at your hands, that are linked together laying limply in your lap. 

“Y/N,” Elias says softly, and there’s something vulnerable in his voice, “our friendship is different because yes, you’re one of my best friends, but that isn’t all I feel for you.” 

You risk it; you look up at him, and his eyes are big and sad when they lock with yours. 

“I didn’t realize it, when you said...” He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t have to. You know what he means. “I didn’t realize it until I thought about it and suddenly it all made so much sense, it was all so clear... But then I came out and you were gone and I worried you changed your mind.” 

He inhales, then very slowly, oh so carefully, reaches out and puts one hand on yours, his hand warm and soft. 

You don’t really know what to say; you think Elias is trying to tell you he has feelings for you too, but after last time, you’re too scared to make any assumptions without him literally spelling it out for you. 

There’s something circling in your mind, one thought that means nothing else really matters.

“You left.” 

The silence is almost deafening, but you don’t fill it. You can see the wheels turning in Elias’ head, can see the shame on his face. 

“I’m really, really sorry,” he says, finally. “I think I freaked out. Like I said, I didn’t really realize what we had... Until I didn’t have you any more.” He sighs again. His fingers have tightened around yours, but you don’t know if he means to do it, or if it’s something subconscious, trying to keep you close to him. 

“These past weeks have really sucked,” he continues. “I thought you were over me, and I didn’t know what to do.” He smiles a bit wryly. “Words are not my strong point.” 

Your heart is beating in your chest, so loudly you can almost feel it in your ears. You think if Elias is quiet for a while, he might be able to hear it, too. 

There’s really no way you could misinterpret this, probably. But you’re not gonna be the one to make the first move.

That didn’t work out so well for you last time. 

Instead, you ask; “Show me?” 

Something flashes across Elias’ face, something heated and determined, and then suddenly he’s close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off him. 

His lips are soft at first, almost hesitant, but when he notices you’re not pulling away, Elias’ kisses you more intently, swipes his tongue across your bottom lip and moves his hands to your hips, tugging softly.

You let him pull you against him. You don’t think you really ever had a chance to say no. 

The kiss makes you dizzy, but there’s still a voice nagging at you, somewhere in the back of your brain. And when Elias pulls back from you long enough to breathe, the thought somehow makes its way out of your mouth.

“Please don’t do this if you’re gonna run away again.” Your intake of breath is a little shaky. “I’m never going to get over you after this.” 

Elias laughs, and for the first time, it’s a genuine laugh, one that lights up something inside of you.

“I don’t want you to get over me,” he mumbles against your lips. “I was an idiot for giving you the chance to do that once. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His hands move to your back, caressing the skin there.

“I love you,” he says, easily as ever. “I love you, and I’m never going to run away anywhere except if it’s after you.” 

You don’t think you could smile any wider if you tried. 

“I love you, too,” you say. The words feel a bit foreign on your lips, after six weeks of telling yourself to not think them. 

“Thank God,” Elias breathes, and then he’s kissing you again, and his hands seem to be everywhere at once, touching your skin and your face and your hair. 

His hands are all over you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[vindicatedvirgil]

what are you, a middle school librarian?

me: actually studying to be a librarian roman: accuses janus of being a middle school librarian me: i can fix this just gimme a blank document and some lofi and a cup of warm tea and a few hours

anyways in a discord server i’m in we were coming up with kahoot questions and i see the words middle school librarian and janus and i thought: i could make a fic out of this.

...so here ya go. a roceit fic. uber romantic. enjoy. also a very small mention of intrulogical (so small that you might miss it tbh). 

TW: mentions of chronic illness (i think that’s it)

[masterlist]

---

Being a middle school librarian was, frankly, exhausting. Janus shooed the final kid out the door and locked it behind them, wanting to slump against the door and shut off all of the lights so that his migraine had a chance of escaping. Except he had to meet with the English faculty soon. He swore there wasn’t enough tea in the world for dealing with Roman Prince, the cockiest of the bunch.

It wasn’t that Roman was a bad teacher. Janus actually held him in the highest regards in that manner; he was excellent at promoting diverse, new materials and he kept his students engaged through acting exercises and relevant references. No, it was just that Roman was insufferably handsome and was absolutely aware of it. And Roman knew that Janus felt this way and preyed upon the librarian every single time they were in the same room.

The other faculty were none the wiser as Roman slid his hand along Janus’ bicep, the cardigan doing nothing to hide the grip of the English teacher. Janus wanted to smack him or kiss him (or maybe both), but instead he opted to sit at the head of the table, chin in his hand as he eyed the packet of materials he wanted to share with the faculty about new books and research strategies.

As far as meetings go, it was a short one, and the other teachers filed out quickly as it was, indeed, a Friday afternoon and they likely all had better things to do. Janus packed up his things quickly, ready to go home and make a fresh pot of tea and curl up with the mystery he had started at lunch time, his cat at his feet. When he looked up from one of his many book bags, Roman prince was leaning over the counter, a smirk on his face.

“Mr. Prince, if you don’t mind, I need to get going now,” he said, trying not to seem too frazzled about the fact that they were alone together in an empty library. Roman pursed his lips in thought and reached his hand out to take one of Janus’, before pressing his lips to the knuckles.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me tonight, Janus?” His voice was smooth and it reverberated throughout Janus’ whole body, and he tried to not appear flustered or blush at the interaction but it had been so long since anyone had openly flirted with the librarian that he was definitely aching for attention. “No strings. I just want to get to know you a bit better. Outside of the library and school, that is.”

“Roman,” Janus tried to keep the tone of his voice level as he pulled his hand away from Roman’s lips, instantly missing the feeling of having them on his skin. “You know the rules as well as I do, that the faculty of this school are not meant to have… extraneous relationships.”

“Relationships, no. But a friendship, yes. That is not frowned upon,” Roman said thoughtfully, as though he had refreshed his memory by reading the employee handbook earlier that day (he definitely had). “Unless you’re concerned that we wouldn't be able to remain just friends.”

Janus stammered over his thoughts. “I- No, that’s…” he trailed off, then finally nodded in agreement. “Alright, Roman. One dinner. And then I’ll decide if we can be friends.”

-

Janus was thankful that Roman didn’t choose some fancy, expensive restaurant for their night out. Not that two men who worked for a middle school could afford it anyways, but he didn’t think that his yellow cardigan, black button-up, and black slacks would cut it in a fancy setting. Except Roman… Janus’ eyes swept over the man. The teacher somehow always looked elegant, even in white jeans and a red shirt. Maybe it was the way that his curly hair swept over his forehead or the thin veneer of makeup that was always perfectly present on his face, but… Roman was always extra. And it was aggravating.

The librarian leaned his hand on his chin once he had settled into the booth. The diner was near the school and was a favorite stop of many students and faculty, and given that it was a Friday evening, it was rather busy. Several students that Janus recognized stared at the pair when they walked in, and Roman waved them off fancifully (leaving Janus to wonder if Roman ever did anything without that hint of theatricality). 

An awkward silence had settled over the pair as they pored over their menus. Janus ran a hand through his hair almost fitfully before deciding it would be in his way and he threw it into a messy bun off the back of his head. When he glanced up, Roman’s eyes were fixed upon his hair, his face, and Janus wanted to run. He was always self-conscious working around kids who were brutally honest; but he could accept their blatancy when they pointed out the scars on the left side of his body. Adults were more sneaky about their glances, and he could always tell that they were feeling sympathy for him.

“Please do not stare at me,” Janus mumbled, meeting Roman’s eyes. The teacher stammered, looking back down at his menu, but not before Janus noticed a faint blush covering his counterpart’s cheeks. 

“Sorry, I just… you put your hair up in that bun so effortlessly and it turned out beautiful,” Roman explained, and now Janus was the one who had to hide his blush. He said nothing though, and soon the waiter came over to take their drink orders.

“Can I get a cup of coffee, please? Bring over some milk and sugar with it, please,” Roman said, flashing a dazzling smile at them. “And a glass of water, if you don’t mind.” The waiter nodded at this, then looked over at Janus, who was thrown off by how polite Roman was to them.

“Uh, just water with lemon, please. Thank you,” Janus said, and the waiter walked off, leaving the two in quiet again. Janus glanced up at Roman, though, then decided to start up a conversation. “What did you do before you were an English teacher?”

“Well…” Roman set down his menu, resting his chin on his hand. “I went to school for theater, and did a lot of community theater while working in diners and at coffee shops. It was great, but… I couldn’t bear the hours of those jobs anymore. So… I went back to school to become a teacher. And during the summer I run a theater camp. Sometimes I’ll still do community shows.” Janus nodded at this, pursing his lips in thought. 

“I was a theater major for my undergraduate,” he said, and Roman raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Yeah, I know. Surprising, right?” He sighed, “I was really focused on musical theory and directing. And then… I realized it wouldn’t be enough to support me. So I started working in a local library to help pay the bills, and from there I decided to go on to get a degree in library science so I could become a librarian. I shadowed a librarian at a middle school in my old town for a bit and decided that was my path forward,” he explained, and Roman nodded. “I miss theater, though. I miss the nerves before a show and the costumes. I miss a lot of it.”

“You could help out with theater camp next summer,” Roman suggested. Janus wanted to shake his head but he nodded instead, smiling faintly. It wasn’t a commitment, anyways. It was just a nod. “I wanted to be on Broadway someday, you know? See my name in the lights. Instead, I just see my name under students’ names on their properly formatted papers.”

“It’s not too late for you,” Janus’ words fell out before he could stop them, and he resisted the urge to reach out and take Roman’s hand in comfort. “What’s stopping you from flying off to New York right this second?”

“I…” Roman started, but faded away as the waiter brought back their drinks. The waiter asked for their meal orders. “Can I get the chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and green beans? Thanks.” Janus watched as Roman’s demeanor shifted from open and kind to more closed off, and tried to fight off the frown that he knew was trying to press through to his lips.

“I’ll have the soup and salad combo, with the broccoli cheddar soup and a cobb salad. Thank you,” he said, and the pair handed their menus off, then sat in silence once again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“I was about to leave for New York, once,” Roman said quietly, and Janus watched him intently. “I had a flight booked and a place to stay. But then… my brother got sick. He needed someone to take care of him so I… dropped everything. Picked up a second job so he didn’t need to work and I resigned myself to community theater.” Roman sighed, carding a hand through his curls. “He got better, thankfully, and now he’s married to this astronomer and they’re about to adopt a kid, and I’m so happy for him, but…”

“But you skipped out on your dreams for him,” Janus finished the sentence, knowing that Roman couldn’t, and the teacher nodded. “You deserve to have your dreams come true, Roman. I see you with those kids, you instill hope and passion in them. More than anyone else, you deserve to see your name in the lights.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Roman said thoughtfully, glancing out the window at the setting sun. “But I don’t know if that’s my dream anymore. I think… I would rather see one of those kids’ names up there and know that I’m the one that pushed them to reach for the sky.”

“That’s… incredibly selfless of you, Roman,” Janus said, and he was surprised at the truth of that sentence. Roman was a selfless man, risking his potential career as a Broadway star to take care of his brother, giving his all to make sure his students understand and are successful. It startled Janus, the depth that was behind Roman’s brown eyes, and he felt bad for resigning the man to his appearances.

The rest of the evening passed without much excitement, and as Janus drove away from the diner and towards his small apartment filled with books and cat hair and tea, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would be unable to simply maintain a friendship with Roman Prince.

-

“So I was thinking brunch,” Roman had stepped into the library soon after the final child had left for the day, startling Janus out of his alphabetization of books to reshelve. He glanced up at the teacher, a bewildered look probably masking his joy at seeing Roman.

“What?” He asked incredulously, not understanding what the other was getting at.

“For our next friendship outing. I know this great place that serves delicious crepes and they have a plethora of tea options, you’d love it,” Roman was babbling and Janus couldn’t help but stare at his glossed lips. He shook his head, trying to regain his sense of reality.

“Uh, Roman, I don’t know…” It wasn’t that Janus didn’t want to spend more time with Roman. He did. Desperately. It was all he could think about at night, in the shower, on his drive to work. Roman filled his every available moment of peace and it was too much because Janus couldn’t bear to just be friends with him.

“Not a fan of crepes? They have other stuff, too,” Roman started, not realizing what Janus was unsure of. “Or we could go to see a movie—”

“It’s not that. I just…” Janus took a deep breath, lifting his eyes to meet Roman’s. “I don’t know if I can be friends with you, Roman.” He watched as the teacher visibly deflated, as if all of the oxygen from his lungs had been forced out by that one sentence. “I like you a lot. Too much, I think. And I don’t think I could bear to just be coworkers and friends. I’d always… want more.”

“Oh,” Roman didn’t look up from staring at his hands. He appeared physically upset, and Janus just wanted to get up and hug him and comfort him but… it would be too much and not enough all at once. “You’re right. I just… you’re the first person I’ve known in a long time that I’ve connected with on a level this magnitude and… it sucks that we can’t explore that more.”

Janus glanced at the sentence he had just written down on a sticky note in front of him as he was going through his emails. A job opening at the public library. It paid better, had better benefits, and he was considering it greatly. He brushed his fingers against the bright yellow paper and then smiled, looking up at Roman.

“We may not be coworkers for much longer, though,” he said, watching as Roman’s eyes snapped up again to meet his. “There’s a job opening at the public library and I’ve been thinking about applying for it.”

“You should,” Roman breathed out, and Janus worried that he had instilled hope in the other; what if he didn’t get the job, and they would remain coworkers and remain unable to move forward from this? It was worth a shot, though, if they wanted to see what happiness could lay ahead of them. 

-

Janus was pacing in front of the checkout counter. The last kid had left for the day and tomorrow was the last day before summer vacation. It had been a few weeks since his interview, and he just heard back.

Roman came in, his messenger bag in tow. The two had been avoiding each other in person so as to not risk anything but were texting constantly, and Janus had messaged him to come into the library after he had finished in his classroom for the day. Janus wanted to fling himself into Roman’s arms but he held himself back, instead waiting to watch as he sat on top of one of the tables.

“What’s up, Janus?” He asked calmly, though Janus noticed the twitch in the teacher’s fingers as he sat there. “Did you hear back from the job?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” he responded, not meeting Roman’s eyes. “They offered me the job.” 

And then it was as if the world froze in time, Roman’s face was lit up with joy and admiration as he scooped Janus up into a warm hug, their embrace filling almost every need they’d both had for the past few weeks. 

“I need to put in my notice, but… after that, um, do you want to go on a date with me, Roman?” Janus asked, stepping back because the touch was too much and if they stood that close any longer he’d be unable to resist the urge to connect their lips. And not that he didn’t think the middle school library wasn’t romantic, but… he wanted their first kiss to be more special than this. Roman nodded emphatically, then left as quickly as he came, allowing Janus to finish packing his bag for the day.

-

One week later, the pair sat on Janus’ couch after he made Roman dinner, their heads leaning against each other as a movie played on the television. But neither of them were paying it any attention, instead their eyes were locked on the way their fingers were intertwined between their laps, on the slow breathing of the other.

“Janus, I’d really love to kiss you, now,” Roman said quietly, and Janus hesitated. He had wished they had done something more romantic for their first date and now his cat was twining itself between their legs but Roman’s hand was at the base of his neck and then lips were on his and it was magical and wonderful and worth the wait. They’d have the chance for a million more romantic kisses and brunches and outings, and in that moment, Janus knew that this was something that would span his entire lifetime.

[skullsandwineglasses]

Life Lessons

The things you thought you wanted when you were 18 are very different from the things that you realize are important when you’re 24. 

1. Meet cutes

You fantasize about running into a stranger at a coffee shop, a book store, a library aisle, a grocery store lineup, etc and that you’ll click with them right away. You think “the one” is out there somewhere. But Ashley from bestdressed put it best: do you really think that out of the 7 or 8 billion or so people on the planet, you were born down the street or a city away from your soulmate? How is life going to be that convenient?

I thought college would be my Debut(TM), especially after a comfortable but uneventful time in high school. But college was quite anticlimactic. I was even less social if that was even possible. It’s hard to make friends when you’re not forced to sit next to the same people everyday. You instead meet people from afar who seem to be living, breathing real-life protagonists: beautiful, smart, witty, stylish, artsy, outspoken. I found myself trying to emulate them. I felt like I was falling behind in terms of who I should be in life. 

I tried to take control. If you don’t put yourself out there, how would meet cutes ever happen? So,

I go to coffee shops: but everyone’s too busy to look up from the work on their laptop screens to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to bookstores: but everyone’s too busy scanning the titles on the shelves to pay any attention to anyone else. 

I go to the library: see coffee shop.

I’m in the grocery store and someone asks me about the best coconut milk to use for curry: they get their answer and leave. 

I go to a jazz bar: again, everyone’s too busy listening to the band to pay any attention to anyone else.

I go to a swing dance social night: but everyone’s too busy trying to dance with as many different partners as possible in order to diversify their skills to linger any attention on anyone

You can’t say I didn’t try. 

Bonus:

Imagine you’re feeling bummed that you got assigned an aisle seat on the plane, only to approach your seat and see that a cute guy is sitting in the window seat next to yours. Could this be the meet cute you’ve been waiting for? You sit down. He says hi. You return the greeting a little too excitedly. You move to the fasten your seat belt. He speaks again: “So, my girlfriend has a window seat a couple rows back. I was wondering if you...”

Stunned, you pull the seat belt back and get up, gathering your stuff. “Oh yea, for sure, no bother at all. I wanted a window seat anyway.”

I kid you not. Cringe writes itself. It was like the opening of a bad romcom where the side character has one romantic failure after another. 

-> Moral of the story: Don’t expect to arrive at a place hoping that you’ll lock eyes with someone across the room. People go to places for the services that the place provides, and so they’ll be focused on their purpose for having gone to said place. Taylor Swift songs and YA novels did a wonderful job of misinforming me of how indifferent the social environment is like in public spaces. 

2. Exchanging phone numbers

So, maybe someone finally asks for your number. You part ways at the subway station. He promises to talk to you soon. But after 3 days, you wonder why he hasn’t texted you yet. You get a text from him Sunday morning asking you to meet for coffee that evening. You’re outside the cafe at 7:15, waiting. He texts you apologizing for being late because he was jogging around the lake and lost track of time. He says he’s on his way. You never hear from him again. 

-> Moral of the story: Even if you do ending up having a cute first encounter with someone at a subway station, it doesn’t mean things will work out. I’ve been ghosted like this 3 times. It’s gets harder trying to give men the benefit of the doubt each time.

I had thought that my self worth depended on how many strangers would approach me for my number. I thought that being liked was the only way to be validated. And while being asked for your number is flattering the first time, the illusion quickly shatters when you learn that the success of a relationship hinges on more than just the circumstance of the first meeting. 

3. Reading signs

You’re in line at the airport after returning from a conference trip, waiting to get through customs. You finally reach the customs officer who asks about the reason for your trip. 

“A conference,” you say.

“For?”

“Narrative. You know, like storytelling”

He hands you back your passport. “So are you an author?”

“Oh no, I just study the psychology of storytelling”

His face lights up. “Wow yes, storytelling is so important. It’s the foundation of civilization. That’s great”

“I’m glad you’re able to appreciate it. Not many people do when I tell them.”

“Well that’s because they don’t understand how important storytelling is to the basis of civilization. And for me too as someone who works in law enforcement.”

“Yes, for sure,” you say nodding. You look at the line behind you and start to move to leave.

“Well, it’s too bad we can’t talk more. Have a great day, miss”.

You walk towards the exit where the baggage claim is, and your head’s a blur. Was he...flirting? You’ve never met a stranger who was that interested in your research before, much less a border officer who was willing to stall the line just to ask you more about what you do. 

You begin to wonder if you should have left a card or a number so that you could talk later. You know, for research purposes. It’s always nice to make a friend outside your field who shares the same interests as you. But none of that matters now anyway because #ACAB. What’s done is done. But you still wonder about what his intentions were when he started that conversation. It’s too bad we can’t talk more. Yeah. A shame.

-> Moral of the story: Be more assertive. Offer a way to connect if you’re interested. Why do we keep reinforcing the idea that women can only be acted on and can’t act themselves?

4. To love or be loved

Like many young adults, I often question if my mother really understands what it means to be in love. She seems to like the idea of love, the idea of the perfect fateful meeting, but proudly says that she never fully gave her heart to anyone. She’s always warning that it’s better to receive love than to give it. That you end up at a disadvantage if you love first and love more. 

But I think I’d rather have the agency to make that choice than to be chosen. All throughout high school and in the media, we seem to glorify having someone choose us and love us unconditionally. But that’s unrealistic. There’s no such thing as unconditional, but I do hope to get as a close as possible to it. I want to love someone even if they might not love me back. I want to know how it feels like to put someone else first. Maybe this is just another teenage fantasy that has re-manifested itself in adulthood, but I want the freedom of stretching my feelings out than to feel the weight of that of someone else’s whom I can’t reciprocate. 

It also has to do with how much the alpha male is romanticized in our culture. I realize that I don’t want a domineering male version of my mother, who herself is controlling, obsessive, and possessive. I want a friend, not someone who thinks that I constantly need to be coddled and protected for my own good. 

It’s also a stupid expectation to have of real life men. If the men in my life are any indication, then they have goals and ambitions that they want to pursue. Everyone does. A relationship is a mutual support system. It’s not about how much as can take from someone. 

5. Choices

Some people say that you can fall in love with a city by falling in love in that city. 

TW: Sketchy interactions in ubers/taxis

I was grabbing coffee with a guy that I just met in a foreign city that I was visiting. It was approaching 9pm and he said that he had work the next morning, so we decided to call it a day. I was heading towards the subway station when he said that he called an uber and could drop me off at my hotel. Obviously, warning bells went off, but I was so worried about disappointing him, even though I knew that I wouldn’t see him again anyway after that evening. I just didn’t know how to say no. I reluctantly got in the car with him and instantly regretted it. He moved closer, but when he saw that I was uncomfortable, he moved away. Thankfully. We had an awkward conversation, and the driver dropped me off at my hotel after 10 minutes. I was lucky. I knew it. But looking back at the encounter now, I do wonder what would have happened if I had reciprocated the interest. I mean, I was definitely was curious at the time, but mostly because I was inexperienced and a little desperate to be completely honest. But, I knew that I didn’t want my first kiss or first whatever to be with a stranger who I knew I would never see again since I was leaving the next day. I knew about the emotional confusion that it would cause. I also wasn’t prepared to go as far as I thought he wanted to go, so I didn’t want to give him any wrong impressions and assumed that it was just easier to not show any interest at all. From time to time I still wonder about him and how he’s doing and whether I’ll ever run into him again if I’m back in the city. 

-> Moral of the story: Learn to say no and to stop worrying about whether you’ll offend someone because you want to keep yourself safe. I should have never gotten into that car, and my friends always remind me of that every time I tell them that story. I also acknowledge that some people might not always have that choice, and we should never victim blame. 

For me in that situation, I had a mix of different emotions. Curiosity, attraction, anxiety. My friend told me that I should have told him what I felt at the time and what my boundaries were instead of shutting off. But at the same time, he should have been vocal to me too and voiced what he was thinking, instead of just moving closer in the closed space of an uber. Sketchy af. 

6. Fate (is a lie)

I like to believe in the idea of fate and soulmates. My mother always tells me how I was the product of fate and so a part of me feels entitled to a little bit of that magic too. 

But I got my wake-up call when I walked into a dive bar one Friday night and could have sworn that I saw my first crush from middle school sitting at a table in the centre of the room with a group of his friends. 

We made eye contact, but it was too dark to know for sure. I walked past the table to the bar and asked for a table for one. I sat in the corner and watched him and his friends, curiously.

No one just walks into a dive bar and suddenly decides that the first person you see when you walk through the door is someone you once knew from middle school. I was almost sure that it was him. Was he? 

I was in a city an hour away from where we went to middle school. What are the odds. Was it fate? Was it a coincidence? After 12 years of having never seen this kid, I run into him in a dive bar I’ve never been to before in a city I only go visit maybe once every 2 months. 

Out of all the kids I went to middle school with, I had to run into my first crush? Seems like a joke. What kind of message was the universe trying to send?

In the end, I finished my sangria, and left. He never took one look back at me. And I walked out knowing that I’d never see him again. What seemed like an impossible coincidence just ended up mounting to nothing. 

That’s when I learned that coincidences are just coincidences. There’s nothing more to them unless you decide to make something out of them. 

Concluding remarks:

Maybe y’all are smarter and more perceptive than I am and already knew about these things when you turned 18. But these are lessons that took me 6 years to learn and then some. And even at 24 and having a couple of serendipitous experiences under my belt, I’m still no closer to being the confident, mature, and level-headed adult that I think I should be. I still feel 18 with the unrealistic expectations and mentality embodied by someone that age. Hell, to be honest I’m not entirely sure I remember when it feels like to be an 18 year old anymore. I just feel like an inadequate 24 year old. I shouldn’t be insulting 18 year olds like this. 

[ludi-ling]

Romy Prompt #1

Fair & Square

               It’s still strange to kiss without being scared, without the crazy avalanche of memories.

               Hell, it’s just strange to be kissing at all.

               Especially now, here, with him.

               Don’t get me wrong – it isn’t like this is the first time we’ve kissed, or even the second or third… or maybe even the tenth, if I think about it.

               What’s strange is the both of us being absolutely powerless; and what’s even stranger is that only a couple of days ago I’d dragged him away from the pearly gates of heaven itself, and I could’a sworn ever since then he’s been angry with me.

               Nah – angry don’t even cut it. He’s been worse than angry – distant, stand-offish.

               I’d stolen his redemption from him, and now he’s powerless and vulnerable in a way he’s never been before. I know it don’t sit well with him – hell, it don’t sit well with me – but I did it because I love the man, and I don’t regret it for a moment.

               I have no idea what he’s been through, but the hell we shared with Vargas made me sure of one thing – I ain’t done with him, and I’m gonna fight tooth and nail to keep him till my dying breath. I want more, and for once, I ain’t afraid to tell him so.

               I want a lifetime, I’d said to him.

               I’d asked him for everything.

               And he hadn’t said no.

               He ain’t given an unequivocal ‘yes’ neither, but I’ll take what I can get from Remy LeBeau.

               Our kiss is over all too soon, and I don’t dare to press for more – I feel like I may be pushing for luck. For a moment we sway together in time to the band, neither of us saying a thing. It ain’t too often we get moments, let alone kisses, like these – the best we can do is savour it.

               “You wanna go back?” I finally ask him. “Join the others?”

               His swaying slows slightly.

               “Do you wanna?” he asks me instead. I barely need to think about my answer.

               “No,” I reply simply. “Not if you don’t wanna.” I raise my head and look at him, feeling the need to finally speak the unspoken.

               “Listen – sugar. I know what I took away from you, Remy. But I want ya to know I did what I did ‘cos I love ya. ‘Cos I ain’t ready to lose ya. And—”

               “Shh.” He places a forefinger against my lips, silencing me – the texture of his skin on mine still so wonderfully alien. “I know why you did it, Rogue,” he says. “You don’t need t’explain.”

               “Don’t I?” I say, doubtful.

               “Non.” His thumb caresses my lips softly. “I ain’t angry at you, chere. I may’ve been, a li’l bit. At first. Not anymore.”

               I slowly release a pent-up breath. Till this moment, it ain’t hit me how much I’ve needed him to give me that reassurance.

               “You sure?”

               “I’m sure.”

               Silence follows, interrupted by the sudden swell of laughter from the nearby party. He starts swaying again and I follow, our arms around one another.

               “You wanna head somewhere more private?” he asks, resting his chin in my hair.

               I lean back, press my hips against his, and quirk him a smirk.

               “Private, huh? Private as in what exactly, sugar?”

               He cocks a lazy smile.

               “Well, you got the best room in the house, cherie. Mind if I take a li’l peek?”

               I roll my eyes. When we’d first got here, in this incredible house Destiny had secretly bequeathed to me, right in the Garden Quarter of the Big Easy – Remy had been in terrible shape. He’d gotten his own room, and his own carer, in the person of our old friend, Beast – and, under doctor’s orders, I’d been careful not to ‘excite’ him. His brooding had made sure that wasn’t a problem.  The past few days he’s been up and about, almost like normal – as normal as he can be, after nearly losing his life – and while there have been touches and kisses, he’s still been holding something back. Which is why I’m kind surprised he’s choosing now to be flirty.

               “Remy LeBeau,” I scold him sarcastically, “you passed out on my bed last night – don’t pretend you ain’t seen inside my room!”

               “That was on top of your covers,” he drawls, “I was thinkin’ more inside o’them.”

               I slap his cheek playfully.

               “Are ya even sure ya even got the strength to go messin’ around, Cajun? I thought doctor’s orders were not to get over excited!”

               “Doc just gave me a clean bill o’ health,” he grins too smugly for my liking. “As good as I ever was, Hank says. Superb shape. So I think that’s permission for some ‘excitement’, neh?”

               Well, knock me down a feather! Seems like the boy might be recovered after all!

               And I can’t say I ain’t been anxious to try things out between us without anything but skin in the way… …

               “All right, sugar,” I say, half turning and drawing his arm firmly round my waist. “Lemme give ya that ‘sneak peek’ you’ve been waitin’ for.”

-oOo-

               I lead him up through gorgeously furnished and decorated corridors to my room.

               I’m on tenterhooks for this, like some kid in a candy shop.

               I love him, and he loves me – he told me so, at the gates of heaven no less. Doesn’t matter if we’re still too dumbfuck, even at this point, to translate that into anything more than ‘taking things day by day’ and ‘seeing where it leads’.

               Hey, you know what really sucks? I ain’t never had this boy fair and square. First time was in some godforsaken cave in the middle of Antarctica, fearing that either one or both of us would die the next day. And the second time was when his powers were at maximum control thanks to Sinny, and the static charges any contact created between us was, while fun while it lasted, hardly conducive to no-holds-barred fucking.

               I want him on my own terms.

               I’m about to.

               I can hardly contain myself, I’m so excited. Nervous too, but… …

               We’re kissing as we enter the bedroom; he kicks the door shut behind us, and we’re already undressing each other as he backs me up towards the dresser with this dominating masculinity that in normal circumstances would have me pushing back just by instinct, but right now is the sexiest damn thing he could be doing.

               As soon as my ass hits the dresser he hoists me up onto it, wedging up in the space between my legs as his mouth leaves mine and blazes an angry trail down my neck. I’m on horrible, all-consuming fire, a familiar hot wetness blooming up inside me. I fumble between us for his flies, and my fingers are shaking with impatience as I finally unzip him free… and suddenly, he’s in my hand.

               He moans.

               Lord, but you do not know what the sound of that does to me.

               Then he cusses through his teeth, backs away slightly, hooks my legs at the knees and lifts them. My feet slam noisily onto the dresser. I’m wide open to him, and he grabs at the waistline of my pants and underwear, yanking them roughly down past my ass and thighs, and I wriggle to accommodate him, eager to shake off my clothing.

               He’s impatient, animal almost, intimidating in a way that thrills me. I feel… weird, but not in an unpleasant way. This ain’t the first time we’ve done this, and it’s a long time since I’ve been a virgin, thanks to him. We’ve messed around as much as we’ve been able with my toxic skin, which has been… an education. But the power differential has always been lurking there between us. He knows I could kick his skinny Cajun ass into the middle of next week if I wanted to, and I’ve always wondered what it felt like for a man like him to acknowledge that his woman could physically beat him into a pulp if he tried anything funny.

               Hell, maybe it turns him on – maybe I should ask him.

               Not that it matters anymore. Now I’m just like any woman, and the weirdness I feel is from the thread of vulnerability not having my powers anymore gives me. It isn’t like the first time. The first time he was patient, tender, loving. Now he’s… something else.

               My pants are off.

               He reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and suddenly he’s slapping a condom into my hand.

               Gotta love this Cajun – he always comes prepared.

               This is something we’ve practiced scores of times before, and between him shucking off his pants and my quivering desire, I somehow get it on him. Ha – don’t have to worry about skin on skin contact this time round – he always swore the long drawn-out, uber-careful methods I’d had to take before were hot as fuck, but slow is not what we’re aiming for right now, not by any stretch of the imagination. We’re both as rabid as a couple of rabbits on heat, and as soon as he’s suited up, he grabs my ass, scoots me forward to the edge of the dresser and—

               He’s surging up inside me so hard and fast I’m crying out into his shoulder.

               Damn.

               My body is suddenly reminding me that I don’t have invulnerability anymore.

               He freezes right up there inside me, says shakily, breathlessly into my hair: “S-sorry.”

               I breathe in deep, sucking up the scent, the taste of his skin. The stars behind my eyes start to fade a bit.

               “I-I’m okay,” I whisper back hoarsely – my mouth is dry.

               He backs up a bit, kisses my forehead softly, looks into my eyes.

               “Don’t wanna hurt ya…” he says, and I grab his face, saying:

               “I’m fine. Don’t stop.”

               I pull his face down into another kiss.

               And neither of us stops, for a little while at least.

-oOo-

               We’re lying side by side, listening to the sounds of the party outside.

               My body is still a tingling fuzz of pleasure, swimming lazily in and out of the haze of exhaustion.

               “They’re probably wondering where we are,” I murmur aloud. Beside me, Remy chuckles softly.

               “No, chere. They ain’t.”

               I huff a lose strand of hair out of my face. No, they probably ain’t.

               “Speakin’ of the others,” I say after a moment. “What did ya think of Jean’s pitch about headin’ back to the mansion?”

               “Sounded good,” he answers drily, “but that pitch wasn’t aimed at me. It was aimed at you folks. And y’all know I ain’t part of your ‘X-Treme X-Men’ outfit.” He pauses, adds under his breath, “which is the dumbest team name of all time, by the way.”

               “Oh, quit bein’ a baby,” I nudge in the ribs with an elbow – I ain’t strong enough to even elicit an oof from him these days. “Ya know you’re one of us! And you know as well as I do that Jean was includin’ you in her invitation!”

               “I dunno,” he shrugs, staring at the ceiling. “I was havin’ fun wonderin’ round thievin’. Just like the ol’ days. Shame that Vargas fella had to come along and ruin it all.”

               He sighs, and I can read the unspoken easily – he’s missing his powers. I sure as hell ain’t.

               “Remy,” I roll onto my side and lean my head into my hand, “if you wanna talk about what happened with Vargas, I—”

               His eyes flash to mine and he silences me.

               “Hey, listen. Let’s not get back on this track again, Rogue. What’s done is done. I don’t regret it now. Honestly.”

               I’m still not sure I believe him.

               “You would’ve died,” I say quietly, averting my eyes and tracing the line of the already-fading scar marring his breast. “I couldn’t let you. Y’see, I realised somethin’,” and I raise my gaze to his again, ready to be honest. “I can’t live without you. So many times we’ve been apart, and you know what? Knowing you’re still out there keeps me going. I didn’t even realise it until I nearly lost you.”

               A slight smile curves his lips – he raises and hand and tucks a lock of white hair tenderly behind my ear.

               “Same,” he murmurs. He looks thoughtful for a moment, and the smile drops as he says: “What do you want, chere? Do you wanna head back to the mansion? Join back up with the X-Men?”

               I think about it. And all I can really say is that I want what I wanted before. Everything.

               “I want our lifetime,” I reply simply. “Even if it means havin’ t’ take things day by day.”

               This time his smile is kinda sad. I know he’s not the type to promise everything – he never has been. I don’t expect it from him. I guess I never really have.

               “Okay, well,” he finally says, “I got a better idea.”

               “Better than what?”

               “Better than goin’ back t’the mansion.”

               I raise an eyebrow.

               “Really? Okay, let’s hear it.”

               “Well,” he begins, massaging his fingers through my hair luxuriantly, “how ‘bout you and I take t’the road… see where it leads us? Just you, me and whatever we have with us right now.”

               I stare at him.

               I can’t get words out. I can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not.

               “What?” I finally blurt out.

               “You want more,” he replies, his eyes tracing my mouth, that oh-so-familiar cocky smile forming on his lips again. “I guess I do too.”

               “Oh,” I snit back at him pointedly. “Ya ‘guess’ ya do?”

               He stops massaging my hair, locks his eyes onto mine again, all trace of that smile gone.

               “Yeah,” he says. “I do. And we ain’t gonna go nowhere together bein’ back at that mansion. No offence to the Brady Bunch an’ all – I love ‘em to pieces, sure I do – but all they ever do is stick their noses in and stir shit. B’sides,” he addes nonchalantly, “we ain’t got no superhero powers no more. What good we gonna do the X-Men?”

               I pout, knowing they’d take us back anyway – but that’s not the point.

               “Listen, chere,” he continues, this time in a more pressing tone, “I wanna figure out what we got goin’ together. And we ain’t never gonna be able t’do that with the X-Men always in our lives. Now we have the chance t’be a normal couple – whatever ‘normal’ means. Hell, I don’t know what the hell it means, but I’m willin’ to find out. We hit the road, we get to find out what bein’ together means on our own terms – no pryin’ eyes. No distractions but each other. Whaddya say, Rogue?”

               I think about it. For a second I wonder whether he’s charming me, before I realise – he doesn’t have that power anymore. This is all just me.

               I can’t believe he’s offering this to me – I can’t believe I could say anything but yes.

               “Anna,” I say.

               “Huh?” He blinks.

               “My name is Anna. And yeah. I say we hit the road.”

               He smiles, slow and sexy.

               “Y’know somethin’?” he asks, his fingers kneading my scalp again, sending shivers down my spine.

               “What?”

               “Your hair. I miss also those sexy, wild curls o’ yours. You gonna grow it out again any time soon?”

               I scoff.

               “I’ll consider it, Cajun.”

               He laughs softly, teasing me back towards him.

               “All right, Anna.” He pauses a moment, adds, “I’m gonna haveta get used t’that.”

               “Ya don’t have to, sugar,” I assure him, leaning in closer. “I prefer Rogue.”

               “Me too,” he murmurs; and we seal our deal with a kiss.

-END-

[faraway-wanderer]

QUEER YA READS happy pride month here’s a list of lots of queer YA books!!

-          The Henna Wars- Abida Jaigirdar When Nishat comes out to her parents, they say she can be anyone she wants—as long as she isn’t herself. Because Muslim girls aren’t lesbians. Nishat doesn’t want to hide who she is, but she also doesn’t want to lose her relationship with her family. And her life only gets harder once a childhood friend walks back into her life. Flávia is beautiful and charismatic and Nishat falls for her instantly. Amidst sabotage and school stress, their lives get more tangled—but Nishat can’t quite get rid of her crush on Flávia, and realizes there might be more to her than she realized

-          Red, White and Royal Blue- Casey Mcquinston   First Son Alex Claremont-Diaz is the closest thing to a prince this side of the Atlantic. With his intrepid sister and the Veep’s genius granddaughter, they’re the White House Trio, a beautiful millennial marketing strategy for his mother, President Ellen Claremont. International socialite duties do have downsides—namely, when photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations.

-          You should see me in a crown- Leah Johnson Liz Lighty has always believed she's too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it's okay -- Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz's plans come crashing down . . . until she's reminded of her school's scholarship for prom king and queen

-          Tell me How you Really Feel- Aminah Mae Safi Sana Khan is a cheerleader and a straight A student. She's the classic (somewhat obnoxious) overachiever determined to win.Rachel Recht is a wannabe director who's obsesssed with movies and ready to make her own masterpiece. As she's casting her senior film project, she knows she's found the perfect lead - Sana.There's only one problem. Rachel hates Sana. Rachel was the first girl Sana ever asked out, but Rachel thought it was a cruel prank and has detested Sana ever since.

-          Like a love story- Abdi Nazemian It's 1989 in New York City, and for three teens, the world is changing.

-          I Wish You All the Best- Mason Deaver At turns heartbreaking and joyous, I Wish You All the Best is both a celebration of life, friendship, and love, and a shining example of hope in the face of adversity.

-          The Falling in Love Montage- Ciara Smyth Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited. So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out. But after a chance encounter at an end-of-term house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

-          The Fascinators- Andrew Eliopulos Living in a small town where magic is frowned upon, Sam needs his friends James and Delia—and their time together in their school's magic club—to see him through to graduation.But as soon as senior year starts, little cracks in their group begin to show. Sam may or may not be in love with James. Delia is growing more frustrated with their amateur magic club. And James reveals that he got mixed up with some sketchy magickers over the summer, putting a target on all their backs.

-          The Dark Tide- Alicia Jaskina The Wicked Deep meets A Curse So Dark and Lonely in this gripping, dark fairy-tale fantasy about two girls who must choose between saving themselves, each other, or their sinking island city

-          Summer of Salt – Katrina Leno Georgina Fernweh waits with growing impatience for the tingle of magic in her fingers—magic that has been passed down through every woman in her family. Her twin sister, Mary, already shows an ability to defy gravity. But with their eighteenth birthday looming at the end of this summer, Georgina fears her gift will never come.

-          Sawkill Girls- Claire Legrand Marion: the new girl. Awkward and plain, steady and dependable. Weighed down by tragedy and hungry for love she’s sure she’ll never find. Zoey: the pariah. Luckless and lonely, hurting but hiding it. Aching with grief and dreaming of vanished girls. Maybe she’s broken—or maybe everyone else is. Val: the queen bee. Gorgeous and privileged, ruthless and regal. Words like silk and eyes like knives, a heart made of secrets and a mouth full of lies.

-          The Priory of the Orange Tree- Samantha Shannon A world divided. A queendom without an heir. An ancient enemy awakens. The House of Berethnet has ruled Inys for a thousand years. Still unwed, Queen Sabran the Ninth must conceive a daughter to protect her realm from destruction – but assassins are getting closer to her door. Ead Duryan is an outsider at court. Though she has risen to the position of lady-in-waiting, she is loyal to a hidden society of mages. Ead keeps a watchful eye on Sabran, secretly protecting her with forbidden magic. Across the dark sea, Tané has trained to be a dragonrider since she was a child, but is forced to make a choice that could see her life unravel.

-          I was Born for this- Alice Oseman For Angel Rahimi, life is only about one thing: The Ark – a pop-rock trio of teenage boys who are currently taking the world by storm. Being part of The Ark’s fandom has given her everything – her friendships, her dreams, her place in the world. Jimmy Kaga-Ricci owes everything to The Ark too. He’s their frontman – and playing in a band is all he’s ever dreamed of doing. It’s just a shame that recently everything in his life seems to have turned into a bit of a nightmare.

-          Summer Bird Blue  Akemi Dawn Bowman- Bowman’s sophomore novel follows Rumi, a young musician plagued with grief and survivor’s guilt after her younger sister is killed in a car crash. Her mother sends her to liver with her aunt in Hawaii, and is also now mourning the loss of the music she would create with her sister and is unable to recapture her passion. As she navigates her loss, and feelings of abandonment from her mother, Rumi is also starting new relationships with neighbors, one a cute, easygoing surfer boy, and the other a irascible 80-year-old crankypants, while also becoming comfortable with her aromantic and asexual feelings.An immersive aromantic, asexual journey through grief and understanding.

-          Felix Ever after- Kacen Callender   a novel about a transgender teen grappling with identity and self-discovery while falling in love for the first time.

-          The Stars and The Blackness Between Them - Junauda Petrus Audre and Mabel, Black girls who find romance just in time for everything to fall even further apart.

-          By any means necessary- Candice Montgomery By Any Means Neccesary dives into the intersection of race and sexuality through the lens of its main character, Torrey, a gay Black college student.

-          Her Royal Highness -Rachel Hawkins- When Millie Quint discovers her best friend-turned-girlfriend has been kissing someone else, she decides to get as far away from her as possible – by going to boarding school on the opposite side of the globe. The only issue? Millie’s new roomate is the actual princess of Scotland.

-          Tash Hearts Tolstoy - Kathryn Omsbee, Natasha Zelenka (Tash), is a serious fangirl of Leo Tolstoy and a rising YouTube star with her webseries Unhappy Families, a modern-day adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, and Vlog, Tea with Tash. When a famous vlogger gives a shout out to the series, it goes viral. Now she, along with the cast and crew, are finding what it means to be a hit sensation and are managing the adoration, and the trolls, coming their way. Tash, a romantic asexual, has had a long time crush on the hit vlogger star Thom, who, as her online popular grows, so does Thom’s attention. Amidst the fame and romance, Tash is also dealing with her older sister creating distance, her parents announcing a new sibling on the way, college applications, the impending end of the series, and the big “What’s next.”An asexual romantic comedy coming of age.

-          Full Disclosure- Camryn Garratt Camryn Garrett’s debut novel follows a Black, HIV-positive teen as she explores her first romantic relationship. There are few books that discuss what it’s like to live with HIV, especially those that are light, relatable, and told through the lens of a young Black girl.

-          The Black Flamingo- Dean Atta Atta pens a coming-of-age story about a boy accepting his identity as a mixed-race gay teen, but then finds a place where he belongs as a drag artist named The Black Flamingo.

-          Juniper Leaves- Jaz Joyner   Kinky-haired  Juniper Bray used to believe in magic, until she lost her best friend: her grandmother. Now this 15-year-old shy girl is headed to her father's research trip on a farm hundreds of miles away, with a family she barely knows and the opposite of a best friend, her new arch nemesis, Bree Mckinney. As if she wasn't miserable enough. Little does she know the next few months Juniper will discover magical powers she never knew she had, get a crush on a girl she never knew she'd like and well, quite frankly, save the world.

-          Crier’s War - Nina Varela ‘In a world where humans are dominated by superior Automae, one human girl called Ayla takes the role of handmaiden to the Automae Lady Crier in order to help the human rebellion. But to Ayla’s horror, she finds herself falling for Crier.’

-          Queen of Coin and Whispers  Helen Corcoran -When a teenage queen inherits her uncle’s bankrupt kingdom, she brings with her a new spymaster – a girl who only accepted the role to avenge her murdered father. But faced with enemies at every turn, the two learn to rely on no one but each other . . . though it may bring their downfall.

-          Huntress- Malinda Lo – Ill fortune has befallen the land, and two girls have been tasked with the mission of setting things right. As Kaede and Taisin journey to the city of the Fairy Queen, adventure and romance awaits.

-          This Song Is (Not) for You - Laura Nowlin- This is not your usual love triangle. Ramona has been in love with her best friend and bandmate Sam for a long time, Sam has also been in love Ramona. When Tom joins the band, he completes them. Now Ramona is starting to have feelings for Tom, and those feelings are reciprocated. Tom is a romantic asexual, whose asexuality is fully explored

-          Seven Tears at High Tide-  C.B. Lee – After Kevin Luong drops, yup, seven tears into the sea, he ends up rescuing a boy from the waters. It’s love at first sight for Morgan who, unknown to Kevin, is a Selkie.

-          Loveless -Alice Oseman- (out on the 9th July!!) Georgia has never been in love, never kissed anyone, never even had a crush – but as a fanfic-obsessed romantic she’s sure she’ll find her person one day.As she starts university with her best friends, Pip and Jason, in a whole new town far from home, Georgia’s ready to find romance, and with her outgoing roommate on her side and a place in the Shakespeare Society, her ‘teenage dream’ is in sight. But when her romance plan wreaks havoc amongst her friends, Georgia ends up in her own comedy of errors, and she starts to question why love seems so easy for other people but not for her. With new terms thrown at her – asexual, aromantic – Georgia is more uncertain about her feelings than ever.

-          The Last Beginning- Lauren James-  (you probably need to read the next together first which I HIGHLY recommend) Sixteen years ago, after a scandal that rocked the world, teenagers Katherine and Matthew vanished without a trace. Now Clove Sutcliffe is determined to find her long lost relatives.But where do you start looking for a couple who seem to have been reincarnated at every key moment in history? Who were Kate and Matt? Why were they born again and again? And who is the mysterious Ella, who keeps appearing at every turn in Clove's investigation? For Clove, there is a mystery to solve in the past and a love to find in the future, and failure could cost the world everything.