#and your fucking lame ass boyfriend and his fucking gauges

[transzilla]

Personally i've been obsessed with scary, female and feminine phallic energy actually. Like I transitioned to male thinking I could take some of that  male power for myself, and whew jesus christ some of the shit I saw... For me womanhood has been used against me as a bludgeoning weapon but Never could I have imagined how femaleness and femininity could be used for incredible power and dominance. Both by women and feminine men. So much for harmless soft feminine energy. That's ftm rapists and abusers trying to make themselves seem soft and like women so people can't believe they could ever hurt someone. That's people using femininity and softness to control me, make me wear dresses so I'd minimize my legs and stop moving, poison all joy i could have possibly gotten from being a woman so I can't even hear my own name without flinching. That's other fucking trans men trying to lie and mislead and make me seem transfem within the lgbt community to villainize me. That's multiple of my stepmothers coming into my home, literally in evil phallic man style like in all the pretentious lit analysis, and taking all refuge and safety of my family from me. And not only for evil, like that's "playing the woman card" to get out of speeding tickets. That's trans women pioneering drag and finding ways to learn and adapt and exist in a world that seems to betray you no matter where you go, taking psychedelics and smoking mad weed and becoming incredible musicians and programmers, finding ways to be comfortable and thrive and be beautiful as a woman, like that takes incredible fucking strength that I'd say a lot of cis people don't have in them. That's hiding behind the moronic brute force of men, that's sheer resourcefulness and ambition finding and reclaiming your own power in a world that fixed to take it from you. Like goddamn.

[cunttom]

every day i kept asking when will tumblr user cunttom return from the war........

anyway. Tom unpopular opinion now

i actually returned from the war just yesterday...

LIST OF MISCELLANEOUS OPINIONS WHERE I STRUGGLE TO GAUGE WHAT IS "POPULAR" OR "UNPOPULAR"

beyond tom is absolutely excellent. while OBVIOUSLY the characters arent the real people, tomska's favoritism toward tom is literally palpable. if you touch your hand to the screen while you watch legacy it is like a beating heart. late classic > beyond > early classic > legacy.

the tom's tales are sooooo fucking good i wish people talked about them more theyre so fun and i consider them canon.he jumped in a blender. he fucked a tree. its absolutely joever.

despite edgytom distaste I LOVE HIS DEMON I LOVEEE HIS DEMON MORE PARANORMAL EDDSWORLD FUCK SHIT1! he should be fun and whimsical and silly and cruel and mean and also wacky.

its hard to take depression-angst fanon tom seriously. i try because often its venting but its so hard for me to reconcile with canon tom. to even perceive them as the same character

he should have cool gore. matt & tord get zombehs. tord gets exploded. edd gets to barf green. maybe we should have more transformation horror. matt gorewhore but someone needs to hang out with him

eddtom growing on meeeee between projection on tom and i just feel like they have a housewife4housewife thing going on. only ones with any sense of responsibility but they dont want to oblige it. theyre very "domestic" to me. tomtord hatesex? more like eddtom hatesex (due to puns)

zantom. toms cool boyfriend who occasionally whisks him off for violent adventures that edd and matt dont know about but are insanely jealous of.

his casino fit is so lame and the noir comic made no sense. people seem to just adore his casino fit. he could be so cool as a casino card dealer but edd gould just put him in a vest with a name tag. he looks like a valet. hes who patrick was mocking when he said can i take your hat sir.

thompson and tamara are hot and tom is NOT.

they took away his ass but they cant take away his canonically massive doinker.

if he was blue leader he would win. because his goal would be to take a nap and he would do it.

[kinkyquirk]

*Cracks knuckles*

---

Idle was not a word one would use to describe your boyfriend. If it wasn't to sleep, sitting down and doing nothing irritated him. Being "a bum ass loser" as he liked to put it. That being said, most of your time together was spent studying or training.

You parried a blow meant for your face, simultaneously using your opposite had to grab your boyfriend's wrist and yank him closer, ending with a sharp jab to the sensitive ribs just beneath his armpit. He hissed as the punch made him stumble, rushing at you as soon as he caught his footing again.

The blows flying by your head came in such quick succession that you had a hard time dodging them all, and he inevitably landed a hefty strike to your chin that had such power behind it, it sent you to the ground.

As soon as you hit the floor, you slid between his legs and knocked his feet out from under him, causing him to fall as well. He cursed loudly, grabbing onto your arm as you attempted to stand and rolling the both of you until he came out on top, an arm around your neck.

"Ha! Gotcha now, little mouse," he gloated, no doubt grinning down at your prone form.

You gave a strangled yelp at a sudden constriction of your airway, weighing your options before admitting your defeat and tapping his arm. He was quick to let up on the constriction, but didn't move. Before you could question him, he sent a rolling jolt of butterflies through your stomach by planting a kiss just below your ear.

All at once, the atmosphere did a complete 180° flip and you were suddenly very aware of the position you were in.

You, helpless on the floor. Him, in complete control above you. The idea created a feverishly hot blush on your cheeks, fueling something primal within you to be completely and totally at his mercy. No matter the consequences of your thoughts, you couldn't keep them from coming to you rapid fire.

Finally, and you were ashamed of how disappointed it made you feel, he released you and stood, offering a hand to help you to your feet when you rolled onto your back.

"Fuck, you're red," he noted aloud upon seeing your flushed skin, the smirk falling off his face. The comment only served to deepen the blush in question, and you swallowed nervously.

"It was a good training session," you shrugged, rubbing your neck and hoping he didn't catch the way your voice cracked. Cold water. You needed cold water.

He studied your face for what felt like an agonizingly long time before turning and making his way to the bench where your towels and water bottles sat, "That's it for today, let's head out.

-

Ever since then, you hadn't been able to train with him the same way. You found yourself anticipating the moment he'd wrestle you to the floor, trapping you beneath his strong body and setting you with a victorious gaze. The prey-like feeling of being caught by a powerful predator made your skin tingle and toes curl every time, and this time - your skin ablaze as he sat atop you and gripped your wrists to the floor - he finally caught on.

"You," he paused, scanning your face questioningly one last time before something seemed to click in his head, "You fucking like being pinned down?"

Dread washed through you at having been caught, scrambling to form some kind of excuse that didn't sound like a straight lie, "I, no- It just- you-"

"Have you been letting me win for this?" he growled furiously, the grip on your wrists tightening. You flinched, quickly shaking your head.

"No! No, I-" you deflated a bit, seeing no way around it, "You've always beat me fair and square, I just...," you fell into silence, shame warming your face once again.

He gauged your reaction carefully, seeing no lie in your words and the anger melted off his face slowly, "You just what?" he demanded, his voice considerably lower now but his hold on you remained firm.

The heat warmed your ears, and you squirmed uncomfortably, "..I uh, I dunno," you finished lamely, heart thumping away in your chest in panic. What would he think of you if he figured it out? Would he be annoyed? Disgusted? To want to be dominated by him the way you did, it was...well, if anything, it was kinky. And you weren't sure if he would be comfortable with it.

He gripped both your wrists in one hand, grabbing your face with the other to force you to look at him, "You want me to hurt you?" he asked. It wasn't a threat, he was simply asking.

You shook your head, "N-not really..."

Suddenly, he had flipped you to your stomach, pressing his weight into you and cupping your chin while he kept your hands secured behind your back. His voice was a low growl in your ear, "You want me to fuck you like this?"

You nearly squeaked as he trailed a hand down your side, grabbing possessively at your hip, "You want me to make you scream, little mouse?"

The whimper that left your throat was downright mortifying. Here you were, wiggling and moaning beneath him like some cat in heat, and he hadn't even touched you yet.

He sat up, releasing you entirely. For a second, you were sure you had put him off when he suddenly gripped your hips and dragged your ass into the air like he owned it. Hell if he didn't as far as you were concerned. He pressed into your back again, hands dipping into the waistband of your workout pants teasingly shallow as his lips ghosted over your ear.

"Tell me you want me to fill you up," he murmured, reaching down to pet you through fabric. Your thighs quivered violently at the sudden pleasure, your cheek pressed into the cold floor as you moaned shamelessly. Fill you up? Why did that do so many things to you?

"Tell me you want me to completely wreck you, baby," he said, fingers moving to pull at the tie in the drawstrings of your sweatpants and diving beneath to continue his assault skin to skin.

"Fuuuuuck," you whined pathetically, hips jerking spaztically at the feeling of his calloused hand working you so possessively.

"Damn it," he spat, yanking your pants and underwear down in frustration. You jumped, moving to sit up in surprise when his hand grabbed the back of your neck and forced you back down where you had been. The action might have alarmed someone else, but it had you melting needily under his grip.

"Don't you dare move," he warned, curling back over you and grinding against your entrance with his now unclothed cock. His voice in your ear was rumbling and harsh, vibrating in his chest against your back, "You're mine little mouse. Understand? Mine."

You nodded fervently, pressing back into him eagerly.

"Say it," he demanded, the tip of his cock now prodding teasingly into you, "I wanna hear you say it."

"Yours! I'm yours, Katsuki," you gasped, every attempt to push back into him and sink him deeper into you thwarted by his powerful grip on your hip and neck.

Pleased, he sank into you with a deep grunt, hips meeting your ass and thighs in a rough slap that jolted your whole body forward. The sudden pressure widening you and stretching your walls drew a startled yelp from you, but you were glad he didn't take it as a sign to stop, rutting into you hard and slow. He reached for your sex again, stimulating you roughly while he kept a hand around your throat.

"You belong to me!" he ground out, curling down around you until your body was caged in his own, completely under his control, "You're gonna take everything I give you like a good little mouse!"

"Katsukiiii," you nearly sobbed, so incredibly turned on by this new side to him. The rocking of your bodies sped up, and a sudden bite to your shoulder nearly made you jump out of your skin. You definitely hadn't expected it, but oh fucking god did you want him to do it again. Harder.

"Take it," he growled in your ear, biting the sensitive lobe there, "I'm gonna cum deep inside you... and you're gonna take it all! Every. Last. Drop," he punctuated each word with a harder than usual thrust, drawing a cry from you every time.

It was building so fast, you knew you couldn't last any longer. His hand gripped your throat tighter and you grit your teeth against the strain.

"Cum for me, baby," he gasped, spasming inside you already, "Cum while I get you pregnant!"

True or not, the words made you fall so hard. Your orgasm hit you with such force, you couldn't see for a second or two and when your vision faded back in, it was blurred. Without realizing it, you had screamed his name, thrashing as he held you down through the rolling aftershocks.

"Fuck, baby," he gasped for breath, littering your shoulders and neck with kisses and bites while you laid there twitching, drool dripping carelessly from the corner of your mouth to the ground below.

Your body kept jolting even as he gathered you in his arms and pulled you into his lap, petting your hair and back as you calmed.

"You should have told me," he huffed, a shit eating grin on his face and in his voice, "If you wanted me to get dominant like that, all you had to do was ask."

[sauveteen]

3.25 Year Anniversary | s.m

"You're really trying to lie with your face all red like that?"

"But I swear I'm not lying!" Is what Shawn claims, but the way he's biting down on his lip to hide his painfully obvious smile tells you something completely different. Your boyfriend's cheeks are stained red — and by stained, you don't mean the soft, rosy blush he gets after a cold day out or a heated makeout session. You're talking tomato, crimson, I-look-like-I-took-a-snowball-to-the-face red. The kind of blush you've only seen on him when he's a) lying, or b) ecstatic.

Something — more specifically, the twinkle in his tired eyes — tells you that the current reason for his expression is a mix between the two.

You hum, a lame attempt to humour him. Placing your bag on the counter, you hold your hand out, "Can I at least see?"

It takes a little convincing and a lot of pecks for him to finally place his hand in yours, an angry gash cutting across his palm. Wincing, you immediately twist towards the shelf that holds your first aid box, but Shawn's grip on your waist anchors you there.

"I've cleaned it already. I'm stupid, but not that stupid, you know?"

"What about a bandage?"

"We're all out. Shouldn't have used them to wrap me a birthday present, don't you think?" His grin is wide, and voice teasing, so you can't help but join in on his mirth. Giggling softly, you tuck your hair behind your ear, bringing his hand up to your palm to press soft, butterfly kisses against his wound. He sighs, contended, and pulls you in by his other hand. Dropping a kiss to the top of your head, Shawn lets his fingers tangle into your hair. You hum against his chest, the warmth from his knitted sweater pressing into your cheek.

"I just don't get it, though..," Belatedly, you pull away, "So you're saying you got that while washing dishes?"

"Yes, hunny. I've told you like ten times already."

"But Shawn... we have a dishwasher."

"And?" Shawn presses impatiently, hurriedly trying to pull you back in. You resist, however, leaning away from his touch.

"And you hate doing the dishes."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you!"

"Are you sure?" You purse your lips, gaze falling to his cut hand, "You sure you're good?"

"Yes, yes, yes," Shawn places his hands on your face, pulling your face upwards to press a sweet kiss against your lips, "How can I not be good when my second favourite girl in the world is here with me?"

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, "Second favourite, huh?"

"First is Beyoncé. Always. Sorry, babe, you're gonna have to do a little more than be cute to top Queen B."

"Queen B doesn't take care of your annoying morning wood every morning, does she?"

"I mean, yeah," Shawn tilts his head to the side, a little smirk gracing his features, "But she's not the one who causes it either, soo.."

You chuckle, swatting his chest with the back of your hand before moving underneath his arms and out of his grip. A soft whine of protest follows you as you pad around the kitchen, Shawn's doe-like eyes watching your every moment. You breathe a sigh of relief once your hair cascades down your shoulders, placing your scrunchie on the island. Proceeding to take off your heels, you chuck them towards the living room, telling yourself you'd bother with those later. Coming home to the sight of your boyfriend tumbling around clumsily in the kitchen had been contending, but you can now slowly feel the tiredness of the day weighing in your shoulders. Making your way back to him, you place your hand on Shawn's face, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"I'll go get changed, 'kay?"

Shawn answers with a nod, but his movements are too practiced. Rehearsed, almost. You try not to let yourself be bothered by his antics, making your way over to the living room. The sight that greets you has you gasping audibly, hands flying to your mouth to hide your surprise. Turning back to see Shawn casually leaning against the doorframe, a shit eating grin on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

"This—I— what?" You manage to stutter, stealing glances at the marvellous spread before you. The entire living room has been decked out in candles, a massive blanket fort stretching from the beginning of the hall to the doors leading to the balcony. Your mind is screaming three things — one, oh my God this is a big safety hazard, two, Jesus Christ that must've taken a shit load of time, and three (and this one you say aloud), "What?"

Shawn's making his way over to you, patting himself on the back for his stealthy trick that had distracted you into completely avoiding the living room earlier. He had wanted to see your expression, more than he wanted you to enjoy the actual setup itself. What Shawn needed was to gauge the look on your face as you took in the hardwork he had put into your surprise, the amount of time he had spent lighting and blowing candles. Because sometimes — sometimes words fell short to describe his love for you. Sometimes he had to go all out.

And you loved him to death for it.

"Happy three point two five year anniversary!" Shawn announces giddily, placing his hands on your waist, slightly lifting you off the ground. His happiness is so damn contagious that you're joining in on his laughter not long after, your hands on his shoulders as he twirls you around. When Shawn finally sets you back down, the both of you stumble for a few moments, unable to find your grip on the ground.

You hold his arm to steady yourself, eyes mapping the layout behind you, "Shawn, baby, I love you so much — but you know a quarter of an anniversary is not a real thing, right?"

"I knew you've had a long month and were shit booked with meetings today. Just wanted to do something nice for mon amour. What, I can't celebrate my love for you anymore? Rude!" Shawn looks genuinely hurt, bottom lip jutted out. Before you can apologise and convince him of your happiness, however, his face breaks out into a grin, "Just kidding! Ha! Got you, bitch."

"You're a baby."

"What did you say?" Shawn tips his head forward, his ear turned towards your face, "I'm your baby? Yeah, sounds about right."

You're too busy staring at the candles to send another retort his way, your hand intertwining with his again. Eyes dancing with love for the boy you so luckily ended up with. Your finger brushes against his wound, causing him to hiss slightly and for your eyebrows to furrow.

"And this? You didn't get this while washing the dishes, did you?" You slide his palm open again, concerned eyes now flitting between him and his hand. There's a sheepish glow to his face as you wait for him to answer, an eyebrow raised expectantly. When he finally does, you don't know whether you want to laugh or reprimand him for being the most stupid twenty year old you know.

"So I wanted to have wine ready, right?"

"Right.."

"And I don't know how to use that twisty corky thingy, right? You always do that for me."

"Mh—mm."

"So I kinda... sorta... might've used a knife?"

Your eyes are as wide as saucers, lips parting in surprise. Your mouth open and closes, reminding Shawn of a dazed goldfish, but he pinches his lips shut as he waits for your reaction. And then you're screeching, hitting his chest with balled fists, but your laughter seeps into your anger, causing you to giggle between your words.

"You—fucking—dumbass!" You manage to let out, chasing him as he tries running away from you, "You could've killed yourself!"

"But I didn't!"

"But you could've! All over a bottle of wine?"

"I will have you know, though.." Shawn holds up a finger, gripping both your wrists in his giant hand, "That it was a Chateau Pierre de Montignac."

"Oh, thank God," You let out a relieved sigh, "That changes everything."

"It does, doesn't it?" Shawn lets your hands go, "It's like plum—"

"No it doesn't! I don't care what brand it was, Shawn, you could've seriously hurt yourself!"

"But.."

"But..?"

"But I didn't!"

"Shawn!" You exclaim laughing, not finding it within you to be mad at him anymore, "Come on! It's not funny."

"I'm not the one who's laughing, though?"

"I hate you," You mutter, softly shaking your head. The smile on your face says completely otherwise, though. Your arms go around his waist and you press your face against his chest, Shawn's heartbeat thumping softly against your cheek. Allowing your eyes to flutter close as you breathe him in. He smells like the laundry detergent you fought over in the middle of a grocery store because, apparently, Olives suck ass and he would leave you if he had to use your detergent again. So despite him bullying you into switching detergents, his warmth and presence smells like home.

"A reveleation like that, and on our 3.25 anniversary? Damn, you're really out for blood tonight."

"Shut up and kiss me, idiot."

"Yes ma'am."

taglist: @muffinmendussy @fuckneymar

[lmk if you want to be added to the permanent taglist!]

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Chinese Class (One-shot)

Pairing: Tao x Reader

Genre: Fluff; College!AU

Description: You need a tutor for Chinese, and through your roommate’s boyfriend’s friend you find him. One shitty study session, some mistakenly sent texts, and a retry later, you find that he’s isn’t as horrible a teacher as you thought.

A/N: If my Chinese is shit, let me know. I used translate for part of it bc it’s been a month since I even looked at anything related to my Chinese class, and unlike the character in this all of my Chinese is shitty. Not just my speaking. (Translations at bottom)

“Okay good, but your pronunciation is wrong. It’s fourth tone not second.”

“I’m saying it in fourth!”

“No you aren’t. You have to say it like you’re angry. You just sound…slightly displeased. Say ‘to buy’.”

“Mǎi.”

“Now say ‘to sell’.”

“Mai.”

“No, see that’s where you’re fucking up. Your third tone is fine, it’s just…your fourth. Say it like you’re pissed. Mài!”

“Mai!”

“Wow you really are terrible at tones.” You let your head bump against the top of the table you and Tao are camped out at in your University’s study hall. You were in desperate search of a tutor for Chinese, and happened to remember that your roommate’s boyfriend’s friend happened to be from the exact place where this difficult ass language is spoken. You have an oral exam in a week, and unable to practice with any of your friends (who are totally lame and didn’t want to take Chinese with you) you reached out to him.

Through your roommate’s boyfriend of course.

As good as his Chinese is, he sucks as a teacher. And to top it off he was expecting lessons from you in return. You expected him to ask for something in exchange for helping you, but never in your life did you think he wanted to learn English slang.

His foot nudges you under the table. “Hey, now tell me what this word is. What does this mean? Arthur Mee Mee.” you hold your head up to give him a bored stare. He holds his phone in front of you and you see an Arthur meme on his screen.

“It’s meme. Not mee mee. Like…me-muh. You don’t say the second m-e the way you say the first,” you explain monotonously. He pulls his phone back and looks at it like you’ve just explained quantum physics or the meaning of life or some shit. You watch him mouth the word to himself a few times and nod approvingly to himself.  

“I hate Chinese,” you grunt in dissatisfaction.

“Say that in Chinese.”

“Wǒ zhēn bù xǐhuān zhongwén.”

“You said zhōng weird.”

“Your face is weird,” you retort bitterly. He scoffs and doesn’t bother to reply. “Tao you’re supposed to be helping me, and I’m not getting any better at this.” Your plea falls on deaf ears as the guy across from you distractedly plays with his phone. Fingers flying across the screen and soft smile creeping across his face.

You’re going to have to fight him to get him to actively pay any attention to you.

“Let’s just call it a day. I haven’t gotten anything done, and yet…” you wait to see if he is going to even attempt to acknowledge the fact that you started talking. He doesn’t. You huff. “And yet I have a headache.”

Still no response. You stand up agitated and start to violently shove all of your shit in your bag. You feel disregarded and even a bit embarrassed. You nearly had to beg him for this tutoring session, and you even got…somewhat dressed up for it. You could have worn sweats and not done shit to your hair, but you did because you wanted to give a good impression…and you heard he was kind of cute so like…

But fuck that.

You’ll find a new tutor and you’ll dress comfortably and actually get some studying done.

You just need to find someone who can actually help you in Chinese…

You glance outside of the glass that separates the small study room from the larger area and try to get a gauge on what time it might be. You started studying at like 6pm…there’s no way it can be any later than 7. Whipping your phone out of your pocket to check the time and you see that yes, you were right. It’s only 6:42. 2 hours earlier than you intended on leaving today.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. Did you not just hear me 5 seconds ago?”

“You said something?” he asks genuinely. You grunt and chuck your bag over your shoulder offering a bitter but polite smile.

“Thanks for your time, but I don’t think we should continue these sessions,” you tell him evenly. A brief nod is all you can give as you scatter from the room before he can retort or even think of composing a response.

You stab at the elevator buttons trying to get it to close quickly so that you can hide in your room and study for your copious other midterms that you have to prepare for. On the bus ride to your home you send a quick frustrated message to your friend expressing the failure of a tutor you had, and the hopelessness you feel towards ever graduating and getting a stable job.

“Oh you’re home? We’re going to a dining hall do you want to come?” one of your roommates, a girl you’ve known since high school, asks you as soon as you walk through the door.

You grimace and shake your head apologetically. “Sorry, I’ve got a shit ton of homework to do before this weekend. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Don’t over stress yourself. You’ve been locked up in your room for the past 2 weeks. It’s like we haven’t seen you at all,” you other roommate adds.

You shrug noncommittally. “Sorry guys. I’ll join you next time for sure.” With mumbled goodbyes, they leave and you return to your bedroom.

Stupid Tao. Stupid Chinese Oral. Stupid fucking college.

Right before you can shed your clothes and shower your phone chimes a bunch of times in succession. It must be your best friend. When you open the messages, you’re greeted by straight Mandarin on your screen. Confused, you double check the sender.

It’s Tao.

Why the hell is he texting you, and in fucking Mandarin no less? Did he feel the need to add insult to injury by making you work to read whatever it is he has to say after you ran out of the study hall?

Huang Zi Tao:

>昨天你对了

>她真漂亮

>我太紧张了，不看她

>她讨厌我，我知道了

> 鹿哥, 帮我!

The words glare at you and you wonder if maybe it’s because you just got back from staring at your textbook that the words refuse to register in your mind. These words…you know all these characters.

Your bag falls from your shoulder as you glare back at the messages as if it’ll intimidate them into transforming into English.

There’s no way you could misinterpret something in English.

And there’s definitely no way that Tao miss sent 5 messages (five whole god damned texts) to your phone and…said you were pretty. You might suck at speaking Mandarin, but fortunately your writing and reading ability is the best in your class.

He thinks you’re pretty. He thinks you’re pretty and was too nervous to look at you and he…thinks you hate him. You pull the phone to your chest and blink owlishly at your bathroom door. What do you do? Do you message him back? Reveal yourself?

>怎么了?

The message sends and you don’t have the time to panic before you’re sent another message from him.

Huang Zi Tao

>每次她和我说话的时候，我看着我的手机

>我最坏的

Your fingers move across the screen as heat rises to your face.

>不对。You arent the worst

>lets meet again tomorrow. Same place at 3.

> leave your phone at home this time

What are you doing? What are you even doing?

You type out the short response and delete the smiley face you wanted to add. You want to seem indifferent. Embarrassed, but not nearly as much as he probably is, you lock your phone and escape to the bathroom hoping a shower will work some magic on your…

What is it that you’re feeling?

Excitement?

Giddiness?

Nervousness?

Apprehension?

Whatever it is, you hope the shower will get rid of it so that you can rest up before another study day (hopefully more successful than today’s) with Tao.

Your bag feels heavier on your shoulder today as you ride the elevator up to the 3rd floor of the study hall. After last night, Tao never messaged you back, but you figure he was either too mortified to initiate any further conversation, or he’d just fallen asleep.

Either way, you were here and you planned on studying no matter whether he shows up or not.

Clear as day you find him rigidly sitting in the exact same room, in the exact same chair that you left him yesterday.

No phone in sight.

Calmly, you open the door and step in, keeping your eyes glued to the ground as you settle in the seat you occupied yesterday and pull out your study materials. You make slow work of it. Taking each book out one at a time. Picking up 2 pencils and a pen and setting them down on the table softly before rearranging the order.

Finally, you decide to look up and when you do he’s watching you closely.

His eyes widen at the abruptness of your action compared to how slow you were setting up, and if you weren’t aware of what he thinks about you, you might have mistaken the way he looked off to the side as agitation.

But you do know what he thinks. And you know that he’s embarrassed. A weird satisfaction fills you.

“So I think we should start where we left off yesterday,” you say evenly. He cringes to himself and nods shortly before looking at your face once more.

“I’m so sor-”

“Chapter 9 right?” you look down at your book and pull it open to the page you’d left off on. His words die off as you shift your stuff around once more. Silence engulfs you both as you stare down at your book and he stares worriedly at you. This is suffocating you and you can’t even be mad. Because you did this to yourself???? You’re the one drawing this out.

With a sigh, you finally look up at his…wounded (wow you feel like shit) expression.

“I’m sorry!” he blurts suddenly. You jump in your seat at the volume. He clamps a hand over his mouth and breathes out heavily. “I…I thought I was messaging Luhan.”

“It’s fine.” The words come out easily, and really, it is. You aren’t mad at him. Not one bit. In fact, reading his confession made you like him more than you thought you would. You were ready to hate him, honestly, since he spent the entire day on his phone yesterday. But, you got your explanation, and some flattery. “What’s there to apologize over?”

His mouth parts slightly in shock at your words, before he tries to compose himself. “Oh…well nothing,” he pouts and you bite back a smirk at the confusion on his face. He must think you didn��t understand what he sent you. “How much,” he clears his throat as some of his confidence begins to come back. “How much did you…understand?”

You purse your lips as you pull out your own phone. When you set it on the table he blanches once more. You point to the first message. “You were right yesterday,” you translate easily. You point to the next, “She’s really pretty.” You smirk when you point to the third and catch his eyes. “I was too nervous, I couldn’t look at her…”

He swipes your phone off the table and hides it in his pocket out of your reach. You gape at him as he looks at you as if he can’t believe he did it either.

“Hey!”

“I get it! You understood what I wrote. Jeez you’re too brutal,” he grumbles. Smiling, you lean back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest. “I thought you needed a tutor because you can’t speak Chinese,” he lifts his eyes to look at you. Embarrassment fading bit by bit.

You nod. “I can’t speak it. You heard my tones. Reading, writing, and listening though? I’m perfectly fine.” Your smile is proud as you look back at him. He closes his eyes and groans loudly.

“I’ve never been more embarrassed in my entire life,” he mumbles to himself.

Stretching a leg out, you kick him lightly. “Don’t be. I…Your messages were really…cute. They were cute and you shouldn’t feel too embarrassed about it,” you admit shyly.

He brightens and smiles widely, so you cough loudly to avoid having to say more. You look at him with a smile. “So, Chapter 9?”

“(Y/N)?”

Your hand hovers in front of the door to the coffee shop you should have been leaving 20 minutes ago (but you and your friend got distracted talking while she made your drink) when you hear your former professor’s voice at a table near the door. She looks pleasantly surprised to see you, and you’re just plain surprised to see her. Classes are over for the year and you expected all of the professors to be off campus at this point. You smile politely and walk in her direction.

“Li Laoshi, hi!”

“Sorry to be bothering you, I know you’ve got somewhere to be,” she starts. You shake your head even though you do have to be somewhere… “I just wanted to tell you how well you did in my class, and how much I enjoyed having you.”

“Oh, no thank you for having me. I loved your class.”

She smiles genuinely and you glance nervously towards the door. “That’s good. Did you have any plans on joining the Chinese program to Taiwan next spring? It counts as class credit and an internship.”

“I plan on going. I just have to work out the details with my counselor before I apply. It sounds like a lot of fun and I need the credits-” you’re interrupted when you hear your name being called once again. When did you get so popular? Tao walks up to you and winds his arm around your shoulder.

Your teacher’s eyes widen ever so slightly and you subtly try to nudge him off of you.

“Hello I’m Tao,” he introduces himself and you want to die on the spot.

You sigh and smile apologetically to your professor. “Ms. Li this is Tao. Tao…this is my Chinese professor.” He straightens and reaches out to shake her hand, but you shove the two coffees that were in your hand into his chest. “Take these. I’ll be out in a minute.”

He nods and gives your professor one last smile. “It was nice meeting you!”

She grins back and raises an eyebrow at you. “Sorry I need to go, it was nice seeing you again. I’ll see you next year,” you say hurriedly.

You scurry to door and are halfway out when she calls after you once more. “Keep studying your Chinese this summer. The best way is to get a Chinese boyfriend you know.”

Your face heats up as you look out at the bench where Tao is sipping from both his drink and then yours as he tries to figure whose he likes more. “I know,” you murmur. With a final wave you trot over and steal your half drunken cup from your boyfriend’s hands.

>昨天你对了 = You were right yesterday

>她真漂亮  = She’s really pretty

>我太紧张了，不看她  =  i was too nervous i couldn’t look at her

>怎么了 = What’s wrong

>她讨厌我，我知道了 =  she hates me, i know it

> 鹿哥, 帮我!  =  Lu-ge help me!

>每次她和我说话的时候，我看着我的手机  = every time we talked i was looking at my phone

>我最坏的  = i’m the worst

>不对 = Wrong/Not right