officialpabloschreiber: A huge and heartfelt thank you to all the brave men and women who have and continue to serve our country in defense of our freedoms. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed or unappreciated. We stand with you! 🇺🇸 #HappyVeteransDay
PS- This is @johnkrasinski and I pretending we know what we’re doing in #13Hours. Not to be confused with real service men and women, some of whom have had to duck REAL bullets. We tried to honor them as best we could…
Why are all of these older pics of him making me want to write drabbles? Is young Big McLargehuge going to help me out of my writing slump 🤔?
Hmmm…
Why the hell did I major in architecture? Sure, there aren’t many architects that look like me but this studying is for the fucking birds. I got up from the table where I was trying my damnedest to remember the last four chapters I just read for my upcoming midterm and headed into the stacks to find yet another tome I won’t remember shit from. I walked down the aisle looking and, not seeing the table right at the end, hit my foot against the leg of the table and stubbed my toe. Stupid flip flop; why didn’t I wear real shoes?
“MOTHERFUCK ME!”
“SHHHHHHHHHHH!”
I plopped down right in the aisle to rub my foot when someone swooped down in front of me.
“Hey, are you alright?”
I looked up and it was cute tall guy. I hadn’t seen him as much as I would like in our building other than passing in the halls and a brief hello or goodbye. But I learned a little bit; I know that his name was John, he’s from Boston and he was a senior too.
I know, I know. Don’t you judge me.
“Hi. And no. My fucking toe is killing me. This clumsy thing sucks.”
He smiled and sat down in front of me. “Believe me, I know. Tall doesn’t equate graceful in my world.” I chuckled. “Can I?”
“Can you what?” He gestured to my foot. “Oh, uh. Sure.”
No it’s not weird that a cute guy I barely know is going to rub my foot. I stretched my leg and he gently grabbed my foot and slipped off my shoe to start a quick massage.
“Oh…you are good.” I watched him concentrating on my foot, his tongue slightly poking out. I also gave him a quick once over; he was lanky but broad sholdered and I could tell there was a bit of muscle underneath his yellow tshirt (and where did he get that shirt? Did he attend the NY film academy?). As I continued looking him over, he rubbed my foot in a way that caused a small moan to slip out, just loud enough for him to hear. He looked up at me, eyes darkening at the sound and licked his lips.
Goddamn. I was going to be good but with that look, that’s completely out of the window. A good looking man checking on my wellbeing and giving me a way too pleasurable foot massage?
I want him. Bad.
Before I could climb into his lap, I immediately remembered that we’re in a library and this university seriously frowns upon students banging it out in here. I slowly removed my foot from his hands and started to stand up. He stood and helped me up.
“As much as I love this impromptu massage, I don’t think we should do this here.”
“I think you’re right.” He stepped closer to me, leaned down and whispered into my ear, “maybe we should take this back to my place. I can finish that massage.”
“On just my foot? Or am I getting the full body?”
“You can have whatever you want. As long as I get to hear that sound again.”
I looked up at him. Sure he’s cute, but this version here? With this look he’s giving me, like he would have me right here in front of God and everyone? Sexy as fuck.
“Then we better get going. I tend to get pretty loud.”
Annnnnnnd why is the drabble sense tingling on this?
This is it; your final year of college. And it’s going to be the best year ever. You and your homegirl got a bomb apartment together, you got a great work study job in the engineering department and a pretty good part time gig at one of the last music stores in town and your schedule gives you a chance to sleep in two days a week (it’s not a lot but you’ll take it). Everything seems to be working pretty great for your senior year.
Except the love department. No boyfriend, no friends with benefits, no nothing. Hell, your “BOB” is on its last legs due to all the extra uses recently. No, you got too much to focus on; no time for any-
“Excuse me, is this 1210 Billings?”
You turned toward the voice.
Oh. Hello.
It was a guy. A kinda cute guy. Tall, dark hair, kinda disheveled wearing a button down and basketball shorts carrying a couple pieces of luggage. He was looking at you expectantly. Answer the question, dummy.
“Huh? Oh sorry, yes. Yes this is that location. And I live here but you didn’t ask me about that…sorry. Uh yeah, this is 1210.” You put your head down slightly, completely embarrassed by your babbling. You didn’t notice the cute smirk tall guy was giving you.
“Well that’s good to know. I’m moving in with my friend Eric in apartment 204.”
You looked up. “I’m in 205.”
He stepped a bit closer, “well since we’re neighbors, I hope I get to see you.”
“Me too. With you I mean. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”
“Why? I think it’s cute.” Your face immediately felt hot. He smiled and started to walk into the building.
You turned back toward your car, trying not to squee like a 13 year old at a boy band concert. Yep, gonna be the best year ever.
(Why do I do this?)
Yeeeeesssss!!! I LOVE THIS! Just cute and adorable and fun! <sigh>
Annnnnnnd why is the drabble sense tingling on this?
This is it; your final year of college. And it’s going to be the best year ever. You and your homegirl got a bomb apartment together, you got a great work study job in the engineering department and a pretty good part time gig at one of the last music stores in town and your schedule gives you a chance to sleep in two days a week (it’s not a lot but you’ll take it). Everything seems to be working pretty great for your senior year.
Except the love department. No boyfriend, no friends with benefits, no nothing. Hell, your “BOB” is on its last legs due to all the extra uses recently. No, you got too much to focus on; no time for any-
“Excuse me, is this 1210 Billings?”
You turned toward the voice.
Oh. Hello.
It was a guy. A kinda cute guy. Tall, dark hair, kinda disheveled wearing a button down and basketball shorts carrying a couple pieces of luggage. He was looking at you expectantly. Answer the question, dummy.
“Huh? Oh sorry, yes. Yes this is that location. And I live here but you didn’t ask me about that…sorry. Uh yeah, this is 1210.” You put your head down slightly, completely embarrassed by your babbling. You didn’t notice the cute smirk tall guy was giving you.
“Well that’s good to know. I’m moving in with my friend Eric in apartment 204.”
You looked up. “I’m in 205.”
He stepped a bit closer, “well since we’re neighbors, I hope I get to see you.”
“Me too. With you I mean. And I’m gonna stop talking now.”
“Why? I think it’s cute.” Your face immediately felt hot. He smiled and started to walk into the building.
You turned back toward your car, trying not to squee like a 13 year old at a boy band concert. Yep, gonna be the best year ever.
JackburtonSays 