meditati ✧ oneshots

starstruck

pairing: asapcarti

✧

in which jordan is an obsessive stan & breaks into the dressing room of his favorite rapper

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jordan probably belonged in a psych ward.

or at least that's what symere said when he unfortunately had to be subjected to his elaborate and dangerous plan to sneak into asap rocky's dressing room while the two of them were at his concert the following friday. needless to say, jordan was out of his fucking mind.

"yeah, you definitely have a couple of screws loose up there," symere tuts, sinking his teeth into the twix bar that he'd recently purchased from the gas station that they were leaving.

jordan didn't let his friend's negativity get him down. "call it what you want," he shot back with a shrug. "all i know is i'm going to get backstage, i'm going to get into his dressing room, and then rakim is going to dick me down. the end."

symere let out an irritated groan at being forced to listen to jordan's delusions. the worst part? jordan was 100% serious as well. there was no hint of irony, sarcasm or absurdism in either his tone or his mannerism - he truly believed that he was going to win rocky over by essentially trespassing into his personal space.

as annoyed as he was, this wasn't new for jordan. for as long as the two had been friends, he's known that jordan had an unhealthy obsession with the rapper. it seemed as though he was an innocent fan at first, but as the years passed, he realized that jordan was honest to god in love with this man who he's never met. he even had an asap tattoo on his pinky. every time rocky was in town, jordan was right there, front row at whatever concert or festival he was performing at, running to twitter afterwards to talk of how he looked him in the eyes or pointed at him. the upcoming concert that he and symere were going to was no exception to the rule, except this time, jordan was about to commit an actual crime just to be in the same room as rakim.

"....or you're going to get tossed out on your flat ass by security. or: better yet, you don't even make it there in the first place," symere rubbed at his temples, trying his best to explain to jordan why the idea that he had was a very, very bad one.

jordan's triumphant smile stayed put upon his face, he wasn't about to let symere's attempt to talk sense into him ruin his chances of being near the love of his life.

he smacked his lips, "whatever, you're just mad because i'm getting dick from rakim and you're not."

symere decided to drop it for now; obviously talking him out of it was a waste, as he just kept repeating the same three talking points over and over when he tried to tell the taller that he was being an idiot.

"niggas love calling celebrities by they first name like they friends or sumn," he huffed, collapsing onto jordan's front porch when they reached his home.

jordan took a seat next to symere on the concrete, pulling out the one litre orange crush that he purchased and unscrewing the tightly sealed cap, "whatever, don't you be calling 21 sHeYaA? worry about your fave getting his visa so they don't fling his ugly ass out the country again," he snarked, taking a gulp of his orange soda after doing so.

"you doing a lot for a limp dick ass nigga who fucks like a grandpa. we ain't forgot about that tape," the philly native discarded his twix wrapper into the plastic bag before grabbing another candy bar out from it.