Title: The Notebook Ch.2
Character: Lin X Reader
Prompt: When the reader runs into Lin in the airport, (literally “runs” into him), an accidental notebook swap occurs in the confusion, and they go home with each other’s work.
Word Count: 2,625
A/N: You guys asked for it, so here it is! I just can’t fathom how much you guys actually like this????? Like what??? ALSO if y'all wanna know about the musical the reader is writing, ask me! It’s an actual play that I’m writing, except it’s a play not a musical…
Also I shit-wrote this in a matter of two hours so please have mercy on me
“Ma'am, are you okay?” A distant voice asks you worriedly, a gentle tap on the shoulder shocking you out of your disassociated state. You jump slightly at the touch, but try to collect yourself enough to plaster a fake smile onto your lips and nod feebly to the flight attendant. It’s clear that she can see right through your crummy facade, but she just nods and continues down the isle, knowing well enough not to prod.
Your attention immediately snaps back to the worn black notebook in your hand, except it’s not yours. It looks exactly like yours- it’s even got the same scratch on the cover from the price sticker- but it’s not yours. The handwriting is too clean to be yours, there isn’t nearly as many ink smudges or eraser marks spread across the pages as there should be, and nothing scrawled across the yellowing paper aligns with what you’ve been working on for the past few years.
You were becoming hysterical, to say the least.
In any other given situation where this had somehow miraculously happened, you would’ve been on the phone with Kylie faster than lightening. But you were on a plane, at least an hour from landing and giving you access to others again, so that option was on hold. Obviously you couldn’t talk to anybody else about it on the plane, they’d just label you as crazy, which to your defense you can be, but they’d just zone out after about a minute. So here you were, forced to panic and get worked up over this notebook of yours all on your own. Great. Just great.
Oh god, what if that, that Lin guy was reading through your notebook right now?! What if he had already stolen all of your ideas and morphed them into his own?! No, no. Calm down, Y/N. You’re obviously overreacting, Lin wouldn’t do that. Sure, you only met him for a solid thirty seconds, but that’s enough time to get a decent judgement on somebody cute, right? He helped you up, he tried to make conversation, he seemed like a pretty good guy, a gentleman even.
Calm down, Y/N, you’re just getting yourself riled up for no good reason. You’ll be able to figure this whole situation out once you get both feet back onto solid ground again, and you’ll be able to start writing again in no time. You’ll get your notebook back, and Lin will get his. Simple fix, minus the whole “he’s in New York and you’re in rural Missouri” thing, but something can get worked out.
Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath and try to calm yourself, even slightly. Everything will turn out fine in an hour, so just wait it out. Just an hour, that’s all. Yup, juuuuusssttttt an hour.
Oh who are you kidding? This is going to be the longest hour of your life.
Your eyes snap back open and you feel a sense of jitteriness pulse through you, only making everything seem worse. What were you going to do within this agonizingly long hour? Usually you would’ve brought a book or something to read for the flight, just in case writer’s block hit you, but what were yo-oh. That’s right, you do have something to read.
Your gaze slowly shifts downward to your slightly calloused hands, mainly from your late writing nights, and settle back upon your imposter notebook. Turning it over and over in your hands, the sleek black leather only makes you more and more curious as to what else it holds inside, besides characterization and such.
A little peek wouldn’t hurt, right?
Shifting in your already stiff seat, you pull your legs up into a criss-cross position and re-open the journal, ready to try and figure out what everything was in here. You focus on a random page near the center, and quickly become absorbed in deciphering everything out of it. Are these… song lyrics? Alexander Hamilton? Hold on, that name rings a bell… Hamilton, Hamil-wait, that’s the guy on the 10$ bill! He wasn’t a president, right?
Sifting through more pages, you attempt to gather more and more information, but all you come up with is more “Hamilton this” and “Hamilton that”, and some more lyrics for different situations. Although, with the way these songs are aligned, you can totally see a character arc for a musical here and-oh God.
This notebook is a developing musical for a founding father.
That’s a new one.
You stifle a laugh from the realization, trying not to draw anyone’s attention. A musical about a founding father? Who most likely wasn’t even a president? What kind of drug did this guy have to be on to come up with this off-the-wall idea? No wonder he came off as nice when he ran into you at the airport, all crack-jobs are nice when you first run into them.
Might as well humor yourself and read on, you’ve got a miserable hour to go.
But as you pick back up where you left off, you begin to see where this Lin guy was going with this Hamilton stuff. This founding father’s life story is the perfect. Love, angst, tragedy, hardships, lost of death, all wrapped up into song? Critics would eat this up with a spoon. Sure, there’s a lot of hitches and messy parts to some of these songs, but the idea is there.
A certain pair of characters stood out to you a bit more than Hamilton himself did; The sisters, Angelica and Eliza, Angelica specifically. You unintentionally began to flip through the pages, looking for any indication of the name Angelica, wanting to know more about her. Descriptions were scattered here and there as you continued to flip; strong, independent, intellectual equal, sacrificed love, all of these quick details scrawled about.
But then you fell upon a certain song. Well, you couldn’t really call it a song with the way it looked, more like a bunch of lyrics broken up and not really connecting to each other. A bunch of small scenes that didn’t quite have an order yet, if you will. At the top of the page a bunch of titles had been written and scratched right back out, with only one remaining, a think black circle around it with a bunch of question marks, reading “Can I say Something?”.
You begin to read through the setting of the song that was hastily written along the border of the page, getting a basic understanding of how Lin was imagining this scene to be. A whole rewind situation to see a love triangle from the third angle. Alright Mister Lin-Dude, this scene has you intrigued. You feel pretty connected to this Angelica girl, the same independence of hers coursing through your blood as well. Reading on, you try to grasp the concept of the fragmented lyrics, the plot line of it partially coming together. Okay okay, so she fell in love with Hamilton first, but because she loved her sister, Eliza, so much, she let her have him instead? Wow, that’s some serious sisterly love.
Although the idea and concept of the song was well presented, the actual lyrics itself felt like it was missing something; a single word or phrase. Something that left room for interpretation, yet had many levels of meaning to it. Also something that would get more and more tragic sounding as it was said more (because there’s totally a term for that). Convinced, Unannounced, Satisfied, Unspoken, Certain… something along those lines.
You reached for your pencil in the mesh pocket of your bag and brought it down to the paper, halting only centimeters above it. Hold on, Y/N. This isn’t your notebook. This isn’t yours. You can’t go writing at will in it, who knows what kind of trouble that could stir up.
But at the same time, you couldn’t let this criticism go to waste. Maybe this Lin guy needs some “creative help” with his works?
You continue to blankly stare at the page before you, your favorite mechanical pencil teetering against your fingers in anticipation of your decision.
It’s pencil. If he doesn’t want these ideas, he can erase them with ease.
But your little notes don’t seem to just stop there. You subconsciously scribble down little anecdotes and ideas on almost every page. A little note on a line about Hamilton’s son, and how he can be both his “son” and “sun”. A small adjustment to a roasting between Jefferson and Hamilton, making Jefferson claim to have written “Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness”, when Jock Locke had actually written them, giving him the effect of “underhanded”. Just simple notes and suggestions here and there, nothing major.
Well, if it hadn’t been an hour’s worth of suggestion writing, it may have been considered “small”. Yet, here you are, an hour later, being told by the overhead speaker to fasten your seatbelt for the landing in St. Louis.
You need to learn to control your writing needs, Y/N.
Setting your feet back on the floor you re-buckle, ready to get off of this airplane and back onto solid ground. Sure, you weren’t scared of heights or anything, but you really were just itching to figure out where your notebook was, and how you could get it back. Had Lin done the same thing to your notebook that you had done to his? Nah, there’s nothing good enough to deal with in it anyway. Three years of work on your musical and there’s not much to show for it, in all honesty.
The buckling of the wheels hitting the runway underneath of airplane jars you back into the present. The endless amount of more runways and nothingness outside of your window already gives you a nostalgic feeling of being back home, a smile growing on your face from the mere feeling of it. The captain’s voice rings out on the overhead speaker, announcing that all of you were now in St. Louis, and how you were able to exit to the airport now.
You waste no time in high-tailing it to the exit to gather yourself a bit before returning to your hometown. Your best friends from high school were supposed to be there to pick you up, but you had no idea where they were. In Heinz sight, you probably should’ve told them your exit instead of just “meet me at the airport”, but that couldn’t be helped now.
Fishing your phone from your pocket, you flip off airplane mode and allow for it to set in your hand for a minute, waiting for the few text messages and Snapchat’s to roll in. And they do.
But they don’t stop.
Confused, you watch the notifications bombard your lockscreen, each of them burying the other so quickly you can’t even read them. A solid minute rolls by before it finally ends, the most recent being a text from your hometown friends, Karsen and Colin.
TEXT FROM: 🚗🌞 Karsen
-“Y didn’t u tell me dat u were Twitter famous child!!!!!!”
TEXT FROM: 📞📥 Colin
-“You better check your Twitter before Kar has a heart attack.”
Utterly puzzled, you open your Twitter (after turning off the notifications, dear lord) and stare at the little blue bubble over your notifications button. You didn’t even know that number could be so high. Clicking the little bell icon, you furrow your eyebrows at everything cluttering your box. You knew none of these people, not a single one. Why were they-oh.
Every single tweet had your handle, and one other person’s.
A flood of both relief and worry wash over you as you click on the familiar name, taking in his entire profile page. Seems like it’s Lin. The profile picture looks like him, at least. Scrolling past his most recent tweets, you search for the earliest mention with your Twitter handle.
“Okay, I found her account everybody, it’s @(Y/H/N), please bombard her with love for her work, even though you don’t know what it is yet”
Wait, why is he talking about your works?
You scroll further into his history, seeing the progression of his tweets backwards.
“God I need to know who Y/N is. This is totally a romcom movie plot line, with the mystery and beauty of it”
“That was a true roller coaster of emotions. I need to see this I theaters now, Y/N.”
“Oh thank god Leila and Adam got back together I was hoping this would be a happy ending”
“Oh no. Now the best friends have got to do all the work to get the lovers that don’t think they like each other back together. Classic”
“Planning a fake fight always leads to bad things, Adam”
“LEILA YOU LOVE ADAM DONT TRY TO HIDE IT HROUGH YOUR WRITING LIKE ME”
“ADAM WHY ARE YOY CARRYING THAT WITH YOU”
“WHAT?! WHY DID YOU KILL THEM OFF?! You wound me Y/N, you really do”
“Ooo, Adam has such a sad backstory. Of course he gets the Sappy But Still Loved Character Award from me”
“I relate to Leila on an emotional level. An aspiring writer with a bit of a sad past and social issues? Sign me up”
“I’ve only read the basic plot she has written in the front and in already in love”
“Every single one of you are going to be subjected to me live-tweeting about this story she has-best part?-ITS A MUSICAL”
“Wow does she have some seriously good shit in this notebook. Way better than mine. Maybe I’ll just keep it for myself…”
“-and long story short I now have a mysteriously beautiful and talented woman’s notebook.”
“Apparently we have the same notebook though. Or, better yet, our notebooks are identical, and we somehow managed to swap them”
“And we both dropped out notebooks that we write in during the collision, so being nice people, picked them up and gave them back to each other”
“Not only was she pretty and super nice, I looked like a total jerk running into her. Literally ran over her.”
“FUNNY STORY: So you guys know how I’m super clumsy and I run into almost anything ever? Well I ran into a girl at the airport just now”
“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N, HOW DARE YOU NOT TELL ME OF YOUR BOYFRIEND?!” A familiar voice shouts from across the way, her voice just as loud as you remember it. Karsen’s blond hair bounces towards you and you’re wrapped up in a death-grip hug from her. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a boyfriend?! We made a promise to tell each other about that stuff!” She yells in your ear, squealing in both delight and frustration.
“Yeah, you’ve got some s'plainin’ to do, Y/N.” Colin laughs from behind Karsen, his usual smirk plastered on his lips like it always use to be. “Gee, thanks for the warm welcoming you two. No really, I appreciate it.” You remark, sarcasm dripping from your voice as you stuff your phone back into your pocket, not wanting to focus on anything back in New York right now.
“No but really, who’s the guy that’s making you soon-to-be-verified on Twitter?” Colin breathes, running a hand through his styled and swoopy hair. “Yeah! I wanna know all about your boyfriend!” Karsen quietly screams, her movements giddy with excitement. “Not my boyfriend, I can tell you that much.” You laugh, following them out of the airport.
How were you going to explain this situation, actually?
If you wanna ask me about the musical the reader is writing, feel free to!
While coming back from the club, you and The Joker were involved in a car accident and both got some nasty concussions. For same strange reason, you don’t remember each other. Hopefully it won’t last for too long, but in the meantime poor Frost has to deal with
calamities clashing. You can’t stop the damage; one hopes to contain it.
“Are you sure he’s my boyfriend?” you
pull on Frost’s jacket, not trusting what he just told you. He is standing to your right after shortly briefing Gotham’s King and Queen about what happened.
“Yes, Y/N, Mister J is your
boyfriend,” Jonny confirms, trying to keep things together. Knowing you two, it’s
not going to be easy.
“Are you sure? He seems so grouchy,”
you pucker your lips, looking at The Joker that sits at the other end of the
table, crabby as hell. “But I have a bubbly personality, why would I be with
someone cranky like him?” you insist and poor Frost hopes shit won’t go down.
“You realize I can hear you, right?”
J snarls, frustrated, tapping his fingers on the grape juice can he keeps on
“Do I love him?” and it sounds so
painful to get it out of you.
“E-hem, yes, you adore Mister J,”
Frost fake coughs, nervous to be the center of attention. Crap, he doesn’t want
to answer all these questions but what choice does he have?!
“Are you sure?” you double check
again, not pleased with his first answer.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“Pfftt,” The Joker huffs, “What’s not
there to adore, hm? I mean, I’m close to perfection, woman. Can’t you tell ?!” J
glorifies himself right away.
“Ummm…” you hesitate, glaring at the
green haired man.
“Frost, why didn’t I kill her yet?
She has such a goddamned attitude!” your apparent… “boyfriend” snaps,
“Because you like her, sir,” Jonny
gets startled at the new twist. Jeez, hopefully his boss won’t try anything. If
he would remember you, it should be fine, but since you are kind of starting
fresh: two calamities clashing; you can’t stop the damage. One hopes to contain
her?! How?! Was I in my right mind
when I agreed to date her?!”
Is this a trick question? Frost thinks, on the brink of sweating from anxiety.
“You were, boss,” and Jonny seems so
sincere that J gives you a super–mean glare, appalled.
“Unheard of !” The Joker sniffles,
considering getting rid of your body tonight after squeezing the life out of
you himself. “What’s your name, woman?”
“Y/N,” you frown, considering dumping
his body in the river tonight after stabbing him or something. “What’s your
“Mister J!” he raises his voice,
upset you called him “dude”.
“And J comes from what?” you
continue. Apparently, you love playing
with fire. Ahhh, if you could only remember.
“Joker!!!” he shouts, more and more
“Why are you yelling?!” you get
pissed. “I can hear you, alright ?! Frost,” you address him, “are you 100% this
is my boyfriend? Are you certain you’re not fucking with me?!”
“I’m not fucking with you,” Jonny
holds his breath, praying in his mind and he never really prays; now seems like
a good opportunity to start.
“Shut up, Y/N !!” J slams his fist on
the table, kicking the empty chair next to him in the process.
“Oh my God, is that how you talk to
ladies?!” you gasp, surprised. “How did you even get a girlfriend with this
temper?! Especially a fine one like me!”
“Whaaaa’ ????????” his blue eyes get
so big you have to inquire:
“Are you ok? Seems like you’re about
to have a stroke.”
“Mister J, Y/N, please calm down,”
Frost is working his magic, starting to sweat; he can’t help it, too much
tension. “I promise you two like each other, I swear you do!”
You and that dude that calls himself
Joker stare at one another, doubtful.
“She’s dreadful!” you both say it in
the same time.
J leans over the table, pointing his
finger at you, so furious he wants to shoot you on the spot.
“Listen here…” he begins his speech
and the partially unbuttoned purple coat reveals some ink on his pale skin.
“Oh, you have tattoos?” you suddenly
become very curious and forget you were just about to shoot him.
“Huh?” The Joker loses train of
thought. “Yeah, I do,” he straightens his back, suspicions.
“I love guys with tattoos, can I
see?” you get up from your spot and walk towards him.
Frost is about to faint and he is a
very strong man: you usually use this strategy when you want to get close to
somebody and kill them.
“Y/N, please don’t do…” and his cell
alerts him there is an incoming text message. Jonny reads it right away.
Emergency, of course, he has to leave. But how can he go when his boss
and girl…Never mind. The Joker took off his coat to show you his tattoos and you
genuinely look interested. If you wanted to try and murder him, you would have
attacked by now.
“I have to go, I’m needed at the
hideout; our guns shipment has arrived,” he announces and you both signal him
it’s fine. He heads towards the exit, completely worried but wishing nothing
bad will happen in his absence.
“These are sooo cool,” you circle
around J , admiring the work. You suddenly stop and look down you cleavage.
“Oh, I have tattoos also,” and without any warning you take your top off,
apparently showing The Joker your lacy bra and your own ink.
He purrs and you pout.
“What are those sounds?!”
“Dunno, just came out,” he mutters,
continuing to check you out. (The tattoos, of course, nothing else.)
What a weirdo,
you think, but then you notice due to your low–cut jeans:
“Oohhh, is this your name on my pelvis
Yup, there it is: “Property of Joker.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” the crazy laugh
makes you squint your eyes; it’s just like listening to chalk scraping on a
board. Makes you shiver. “ This is hilarious!”
J continues to laugh. “I guess I marked my territory!”
Is he trying to be funny?! Because he’s not. You refuse to believe this
is your boyfriend.
Then you see it since his Batsy
shorts slid down his waist. You gesture towards the area, triumphant:
“I wouldn’t laugh if I were you,”
that wide smirk on your face makes him look down and his snickering comes to an
“Is that your name on my pelvis …?”
Yup, there it is: “ Only Y/N’s “.
Your turn to laugh:
“This is hysterical ! I guess I
marked my territory too!”
The Joker instantaneously hates it.
Are you trying to be funny? Because you’re not. He refuses to believe
you’re his girlfriend.
He growls and you bite your cheek.
“What are those sounds?!”
“Dunno, just came out,” he bitterly
replies, wanting to get into his purple coat again.
“Do you work out a lot?” you flutter
your eyelashes at him, distracted by those perfect abs.
“Yeah, I do,” J cracks his neck. “Do you?” he stares at your body up and down,
admitting the view is far from unattractive.
“A-ha, every other day,” you sniffle,
putting your shirt back on. “Taking a shower now.”
“Why do I care?” he snarls, scoffing.
“I was just saying; are you getting
mad again?! What’s wrong with you?!
Can’t you control yourself?!”
The Joker’s left eye is twitching.
“Listen here, woman, I am the King of
Gotham; I own this town!! I’m not gonna let…”
“You like being bossy, don’t you?”
you fight back because he’s rubbing you the wrong way. “How can you be my man?!
You’re so… so…” and you back out since he has this menacing expression on his
face while stepping towards you.
He traps you against the wall and
punches the panel close to your head so hard you hear the fingers snap. At this
point you prepare to gauge his eyes out or kick him in the nuts, whatever works
“Nobody talks to me like that!!!
Ever!! I’m going to…”
You have no idea why, but you sniffle
his neck and whisper:
“You smell nice, what are you
“Huh?” he pushes his body against
yours, still aggravated.
“What cologne are you using? I like
it,” and you inhaling his scent again makes him purr.
“I don’t know, just grabbed a bottle
from the pile,” he tries to concentrate on his anger directed towards you but
“What are those sounds?!”
“Dunno, just came out,” and he releases you,
mustering the strength to not kill
you for your repeated offenses.
“I’ll go then…” and you head towards
the bathroom, leaving a very confused Joker behind. He’s trying to plot your
murder and creativity seems to lack tonight. How boring!
You come out of the shower and there
he is, with a narrow towel around his waist, leaning against the sink.
“Ahhh!!!!” you scream, grabbing a fluffy robe really fast to cover your naked body.
“You perv !! Get out!” and you toss a box of tissue at him, your lipstick and
make-up removing pads.
“What the hell, woman?! I’m just
waiting for my turn ! “
“Liar! You just want to see me
naked!” you whimper, feeling weird with him gazing at you like that. “There are
more bathrooms here, use another one!”
“I like this one, ok ??!! I can do
whatever I want, I’m The Joker!!!” and he takes his towel off. It falls at his
feet and you can’t help but stare, fascinated.
“Who’s the perv, hm?” he lashes out
as he passes by you to get in the shower. “My magnificent eyes are up here !!” he shows you and gets inside the bathtub, pulling the curtain around.
Wow, is thatwhy he’s my boyfriend?! you wonder, intrigued, still not moving. What a nice package, you sigh. Too bad he’s a jerk. And you storm out,
wanting to get ready for the night.
The Joker pours some shampoo in his
Wow, is that why she’s my girlfriend?! Nicely assembled Doll. Too bad she’s
a pain in the ass.
He finds you in front of the
fireplace in the living room.
“This is my favorite spot, beat it!”
he barks, imitating your position on the furry blanket you placed yourself on
about 10 minutes ago.
“This is my favorite spot so be considerate
and let me have it,” you roll on your tummy, resting your chin on your arm. “Ladies
“No, I don’t think so!!” and he
shoves himself into you so he can push you away. You fight back because you don’t
want to abandon you position.
“Would you go away!??” and you regret
leaving your favorite knife in the bedroom. It
would come in handy now.
“No, this is my spot!!” he gets
vexed, regretting he left his favorite gun on the hallway. It would come in handy right now.
You land on top of The Joker,
struggling to push him off the blanket. You lean over to scratch his arm and…
“You smell nice,” he sniffs you,
growling. “What is it?”
“Jasmine body shower” you manage to
hold one of his hands in place, panting from the effort. Damn, he’s strong!
“I love jasmine!” he purrs and you
“What are these sounds?!”
“Dunno, just came out,” The Joker
“It sounds kind of sexy…” you lick
your lower lip, letting go of his arm.
“Does it?!” He’s surprised himself.
You nod a yes, inspecting the tattoos
and the smooth skin since he’s wearing just a pair of sweatpants.
“So who’s going to use the fireplace?”
you have to ask, furrowing your eyebrows.
“Well, I guess you can stay. I’ll
allow you this time.”
“Ha, allow me?!” you want to start ranting and he gets ready to strangle you,
but then you notice:
“Hmmm, you smell yummy. What is it?”
“I have no clue, Kitten, just grabbed
something from the pile again,” J moves his hands down your thighs, captivated
with the soft skin he feels from under your shorts.
“Did you just call me Kitten?!”
“Apparently,” his hands move up and down again.
“Dunno, just came out,” he lifts his
shoulders up and you are sort of mesmerized by that silver grin.
“It sounds kind of sexy,” you moan in
his ear and he pulls down on your shorts, testing the waters. Are you going to reject him or not?
“For sure,” you kiss his neck, stretching
on top of him and it makes him lose concentration.
“I’m only doing you this favor once,
ok?” he grunts, getting all excited under your touch.
“What favor?” you mumble, biting his
“Sleeping with you. We obviously hate
each other, I don’t care what Frost says.”
“You’re doing me a favor?!” your temper dictates the switch of mood in a matter
of a split second.
“Of course, I’m Gotham’s gift to
“You heard me,” he slaps your butt,
enticed. “Less yapping and more accomplishments, Y/N!” J demands, pulling you in a rough
You so want to give him a piece of
your mind, but for some strange reason you melt in his arms and your sassiness disappears
in thin air. Momentarily, of course.
“Oh my God, you’re so wild!” you collapse
next to him, exhausted, crawling to rest your head on his chest. You feel his
heart beating very fast; yours is too.
Is this why he’s your boyfriend?!
“Holy shit you’re naughty! I’m beat!” The Joker exhales, holding you close to
Is this why she’s my girlfriend?! J thinks, staring at the ceiling.
You cuddle to him even more, closing
He starts purring, playing with a
strand of your hair.
“I like the sounds you make…” you
yawn, listening to him.
“U-hum…” the confession follows while
you caress his abs.
“Told you I’m Gotham’s gift to women,”
he proudly states, the cockiness taking over.
“Not to women, just my gift,” you
outline the “Only Y/N’s ” tattoo on his pelvis and it tickles. “ I guess that’s
how I mark my territory,” you giggle and he gropes you.
“I wouldn’t laugh too loud,” his
fingers going down to your “Property of Joker” tattoo. “I marked mine too, so we’re
“I’m sure there’s a story behind it,”
you smile, wanting to wind down.
How you love playing with fire! Ahhh, if you could only remember…
My neighborhood is shit. It’s garbage.
Drugs, crime, dick baggery,
Tonight, at 11:15pm three men attempted t get access to our building looking for someone who robbed them. They were angry. They were loud. They banged on our door, scared my dog, frightened my children and pissed me off.
Rule number one of living in the hood…you never fucking open your door.
No matter what.
What does this mother fucker do?
He flings it open. With my dog going ape shit and my 6 yr old standing behind him.
Starts yelling at these brolic dudes, mister tough guy cursing, and posturing.
I jump out of bed, usher my children to safety and slam the fucking door.
I then hear fighting. Screaming. Apparently the guy upstairs robbed this dude and he wanted his money.
I tell him to call 911. The baby is terrified. I’m terrified.
So he calls. Cursing at the 911 operator like some weird 18 year old classless asshole.
And because he’s angry and scattered and thoughtless he doesn’t get his words out properly and he gets irritated and hangs up.
Twenty minutes later, these men are still in my building but now instead of police…dispatch sent an ambulance. So paramedics are here looking confused and wanting to know who’s injured.
The guy shaking down my neighbor for cash explains to them no one called it’s all good and they leave.
I tell him to call 911 again. He doesn’t want to but I insist. He calls like a jerk again. Clarifies but kinda doesn’t. And then hangs up. Cops don’t come for another twenty minutes, and when they do the lady upstairs tells them it’s okay she handled it..buh bye.
We fight after they leave because he doesn’t understand that you don’t open a fucking door if you can’t safely protect your babies. And he fucking couldn’t have known what was out there. And then when you do speak to authority you do it like a man. Not some stoner with no common sense.
Add to this my stress with being the only one working and his bills bleeding me dry and his ridiculously bad behavior and I’m trying not to hurl myself down the stairs.
Like…what the fuck am I still doing here??
13. Whatever you like. I love your nsfw 😂 ("You taste like heaven)
Dude this ended up great
Logicality Human AU - teacher Logan and father Morgan
Warnings: porn, explicit porn, nsfw, rimming, humiliation kink, exhibitionism kink, and I think that’s it idk
How he had found himself in that situation, Logan had no idea. All he
knew was that he was doing all he could to be quiet, biting his left arm over
the teacher’s bathroom sink, thanking the designer of the building for making
the teachers have a solo bathroom, so the door could be locked and he could
pretend not to be dying inside as Morgan kneeled behind him, eating him out,
making him almost sob at how amazing it felt and how embarrassed he was,
looking like a hormonal teenager with no control over his own sexual needs.
After a few minutes, Morgan pulled back, giving Logan a few moments to
breathe properly and try to put himself together, slowly trying to get up only
to be pressed against the sink again, his entire face red, his length so, so
hard pressed against the tile.
“You taste like heaven” Morgan muttered, biting down his ass cheek and
making Logan whimper again, his entire body shaking in shame as he imagined
someone listening to them from outside the bathroom. He was an honored teacher.
And yet there he was, being eaten out in a bathroom by one of his student’s
father. How would he even look at
Roman after that?!
Before he could try to say anything, Morgan stood up and turned him
around on the sink, pulling him up by his tie and pressing him against it,
kissing him hard and rubbing his thigh against the teacher’s crotch while Logan
moaned helplessly against his mouth, hands going up to hold Morgan’s biceps,
digging his nails against them, legs too weak to hold himself up by themselves.
“Morgan p-please” he gasped out as soon as he had a chance, and the
father smirked widely, biting down the teacher’s neck and sucking on the skin,
before wrapping his hand around his length and stroking him, the teacher
gasping out loud before pressing his face to Morgan’s neck and moaning as
quietly as he could against his neck.
“You know, next time I will bring a plug just so I can watch you during the
entire PTA meeting trying not to show how hard you are for me, and I will turn
it on and off as I please, just to see how hard you get from being like that in
front of other parents and teachers. What do you think?” Morgan asked, biting
down Logan’s ear while he stroked him, making the teacher let out a soft
hiccup, biting down the father’s shoulder to muffle his whimpers as he imagined
the scene. “I will love to see you trying to hide how hard you are. I would
love to listen to your little whimpers because I know you can’t control
yourself. I know you love it. You’re such an attention whore. You love this,
doing dirty things where people can find you at any time. I bet you would love
if I blew you during one of your student’s tests wouldn’t you? Under your desk,
sucking you while you try to pay attention to them. You’re so dirty Logan. It’s
“Morgan” he whined out, loudly, the images too vivid for him to ignore,
and suddenly he was coming on Morgan’s hand and his own stomach, moaning long
and loud against the man’s neck, holding onto him as his legs wobbled.
It took him a few seconds, but soon he was breathing slow again, looking
up with teary eyes, heart pounding in his chest. He looked up at Morgan, who
just smirked at him and moved his hand away, licking his fingers and humming.
“You do taste like heaven”
And Logan swore he would have gotten hard at that same moment if he
someone hadn’t knocked on the door.
“Dad, are you done in there? I really want to go home. You can come fuck
my teacher whenever. It’s late.”
Logan’s heart stopped in his chest and Morgan frowned.
“Dude, your dad is fucking Logan?” Alex’s voice came from outside, and
Logan whimpered quietly, covering his face. Morgan frowned deeper.
“We will be waiting you by the classroom” Roman said, and Logan felt his
entire being living his corporeal body, until he felt a light kiss over his
“Don’t worry” Morgan said, smiling and making Logan look up. “I had told
him already. He doesn’t care”
“I…” Logan mumbled and then shook his head, rubbing his face. “I am
“Well you can be if you come home with me and the kids today”
He’s mister cool popular quarterback dude and he knows it and yet in island he made friends with Duncan and Gwen, who are the epitome of outcasts, and dated Bridgette, who was this goofy granola girl at the time
He’s just the kinda guy who, if he’s thrown into a situation with someone, he’s gonna make the best of it and not judge
Dex was used to the comments. He knew he was pale. He knew his red hair made him stand out in a crowd, and while he hated the attention it was something he’d learned to deal with. But this? Walking through the aisles of Walgreens with skin redder than his hair, was something else entirely.
“Do you need any help finding- HOLY FUCK,” the sales assistant nearly toppled a display of nail polish when Dex turned to face him.
“DEREK!” Yelled the girl at the end of the aisle. She was busy stocking multivitamins, but took a brief second to glare in Derek’s direction.
“Uh, I’m so sorry for that outburst sir- mister- dude,” he took a deep breathe, running his fingers through his hair… his spectacular hair, “you just scared me.“
"I’m pretty sure I made a kid pee himself next to the snack aisle, so this is a major improvement,” Dex said. Derek laughed at that, and Dex found himself smiling for the first time that week.
Keith woke up to the sound of a phone ringing. His hand flopped as he blindly searched for his own, squinting at the bright screen. It wasn’t his? It took a moment for him to sit up and think. He groggily realized Lance had stayed the night.
“Breathe deep, Mister Chaos Dude, synchronize with my healing sonic therapy, whoa
So I’m finally all caught up again with the show, love love loved the latest ep. It had everything! Derpy Fluttershy (“We went to the store and got two cakes” :I), Discord being a catty jealous girlfriend, kooky hippie stoner pony, MAAAAAUD PIE, just 10/10 great ep.
It’s a shame Discord was so entirely focused on Fluttershy, cuz I think he and Tree Hugger would actually make really good friends, she obviously has a lot to teach him in the way of being chill