#not only that but the hormones are raging bc I started my period

[werewulf-dyke]

I'm not allowed to believe anything about my life after 9pm I'm NOT

[littleoddwriter]

hi! can i request (only if you feel comfortable, if not its totally fine, ignore this!) some trans roman? and maybe victor helping him with his dysphoria?

Dysphoria | Roman Sionis x Victor Zsasz | ZsaszMask

Hey! :) Gosh, yes, of course! Thank you so much for this request, you have no idea how excited I got when I read it! I absolutely projected on Roman and thought about him being trans a lot over the last year. So, of course, most of what is written here have been my own experiences, projected on him (not 100% the same, ofc, but--- yeah. I'm pre-everything for example, so, that's already not accurate, but other things that I'm not gonna point out here). Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this, mate! <3

summary; Roman is trans and some day into everything, his dysphoria thought to fuck him over more than usual. Victor helps him through it.

notes; TW // Gender Dysphoria; Mentions of Periods (one sentence); Past Child Abuse (being beaten); Transphobia (nothing explicit, but-); Crying; Self-Harm (punching); Dissociation; essentially Roman's having a BPD Episode bc I always write him having BPD even if not explicitly stated. Trans!Roman, who is on T, but hasn't had Top Surgery, yet. Hurt/Comfort; Showering (mentioned); Cuddling; Kissing; Reassurance; Victor being a good BF.

From the day on that his body has- developed further, Roman’s known that it wasn’t right, that something about the way his body has changed was so utterly and terribly wrong. He hadn’t been able to put his finger on it for a long time, uneducated as he’d been, no thanks to his parents who’ve made sure he’d never be exposed to such things.

So no, of course he hadn’t realised that he wasn’t crazy, but in fact experiencing gender dysphoria.

The understanding and connection he felt with other boys, but not with girls; the way he desperately tried to hide his curves when they started to be visible; the way he thought he was dying, when he first menstruated; the way he’s been crying and feeling such burning rage, when he’s looked at his naked form in the mirror; the way he’s thought that if he was a boy, he’d be happier.

He’s not known for a long time that this was an experience a surprising amount of people have made before him, alongside him.

When he’s finally found people describing their own experiences and learned through those that he truly wasn’t alone with his feelings, he also started to gather more information on the right terminology: Transgender; Gender Dysphoria and Euphoria; Binding; Packing; Social and/or Medical Transition; Hormone Replacement Therapy; Top Surgery; Bottom Surgery; Bottom Growth, and so forth.

Roman marvelled at the possibilities for him to bring out the man inside of him to the outside world, for others to see and recognise. He’s been so ecstatic, doing all kinds of research into it and starting to slowly carry it out to the world around him.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t gone over very well at all. He’s gotten to feel his father’s strength, balled into fists, for the first time in a couple of years, after he’s stated his refusal to wear a dress to the gala because it made him uncomfortable. He’s cut his hair shorter just before that, too, which had upset his parents greatly.

Still, he hadn’t let them deter him. Then he was on his own until he was an adult and able to move out. He’d deal with it somehow. It was fine.

And it really had been fine for a while – up until he’s gathered all his courage to come out to his parents, actually.

Surprisingly, his father hadn’t beaten him into a pulp, like he’d expected. Instead – and really, for Roman this was a lot worse than the beating – his parents had kicked him out and written him out of their will, pulling the plug on him ever receiving another cent of the family’s fortune. He’d been allowed to take his things with him until the late night and then he’d been supposed to be out for good. That was exactly what he’d done, too.

Lucky for him, though, he’s opened a bank account a while ago, setting aside most of his allowance there, just to be safe. Although, frankly, he’s done it to pay for hormones and surgery with it, but that was alright. He’d get that money back eventually, so much more than that, too.

Years later, he’s finally come to the point, where he’s changed his name and sex on all documents, now he’s officially been registered as Roman Beauvais Sionis. It was euphoric, really. He’s also started Hormone Replacement Therapy, and it worked out brilliantly for him.

Still, he’s not had Top Surgery, yet. Why? Well, he was scared for one. He didn’t fucking trust doctors, either. And somewhere along the way, he’s become so conscious of having an immaculate looking body that he just didn’t want to ruin it with surgical scars under his pectorals. It had to sound silly to some people, since his chest dysphoria wasn’t exactly light either, but every time he so much as thought about it and informed himself about it, he ended up with a fucking panic attack. So he’s put it on the back burner for the time being.

It hasn’t really bothered him too much, yet. He worked well with sports bras, binders, and tapes, sometimes nothing at all either, albeit rarely.

His partner in crime (and more), Victor Zsasz, who he’s met about two years ago, has taken it in stride that Roman wasn’t a ‘typical man’ and he was secretly grateful for it. It’s been something he’s always been cautious of, but fortunately Zsasz wasn’t typical by any means either. He didn’t care what was between Roman’s legs or on his chest, as long as it was Roman and no one else. Charming, really.

One late afternoon, though, Roman’s been feeling a little off all day long. It wasn’t anything new; his moods fluctuated between extremes very quickly all the time. Still, he could very well live without days on which he’s felt as though his skin was too tight and like he was one very minor inconvenience away from breaking down crying.

He’s gone to take a shower, washing off the day’s grime before changing into something more comfortable. All business meetings for the day had been taken care of by then and with the way he’s been feeling, he’s made no plans on going downstairs to oversee his club.

After his shower – throughout which he’s kept his eyes closed for most of it, having taught himself to navigate through it mostly without seeing at all by then – it’s all come to a tipping point, apparently.

Still naked, his eyes swept over the mirror, glancing at his own body quickly.

Roman’s been working out since he’s gone on testosterone, making sure his body looked more and more masculine as the years have passed. He was pleased with the progress he’s made.

But when he caught that glimpse of his chest, he stopped short. Overwhelming sadness, disgust and rage broke through to the surface, suffocating him all too suddenly.

Quickly, he pulled the light grey cotton shirt over his head, making sure it sat loose enough. He looked back into the mirror.

It was as though suddenly all masculinity had been stripped off him.

He could see the curves on his chest, his shirt not loose enough to cover them up entirely without anything binding them. He’s stopped binding all day long a while ago, having started to feel more comfortable, thanks to Victor and the hormones’ affects. It didn’t change the fact that in this very moment, it was all too visible – his previous femininity.

Roman kept on looking, all aforementioned emotions overwhelming him more and more, so quickly and suddenly, practically choking him from inside.

And then he was screaming.

He was crying, sobbing violently.

He was punching his thighs first and then the mirror, cracking it.

All of a sudden he was stopped from continuing.

His wrists were being held in a strong grip.

His vision was blurry.

He was still convulsively sobbing and shaking.

“Roman.” It sounded so far away, almost distorted, but he could tell it was Victor. His Victor.

“Roman, hey. Look at me.” It was becoming clearer with every word.

Snivelling still, Roman tried his best to focus on coming back, on looking at his partner. The tight grip Zsasz had on his wrists helped grounding him more easily, more quickly. Fresh tears rolled down his red, puffy cheeks, but it cleared his vision a little. He looked straight into Victor’s beautiful deep, yet empty, brown eyes.

“You’re okay, Roman. I’ve got you. I promise,” Zsasz assured him, sounding so calm and so convinced of his promise.

Roman nodded jerkily, although he didn’t believe Victor entirely.

Then Roman tried to get his arms out of Zsasz’s hold, which he tightened at first, but let him go eventually. He must’ve seen how worked up Roman was getting.

Finally released, Sionis wrapped his arms around Victor, embracing him tightly, pressing himself against him, so that nothing could possibly get between them. Zsasz immediately reciprocated and put his arms around Roman’s waist, holding onto him, while he started crying again, the violent sobs shaking his entire body, cries of anguish leaving his lips. His voice sounded so abused, so raw and broken.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you, boss. I’m here for you, Roman,” Victor shushed him, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

After a while, Roman started to calm down, his snivels dying down to quiet hiccups, tears having long stopped to actually fall.

He released Zsasz from the embrace and rubbed his hands over his face, groaning frustrated. It was so wet. He was disgusted. He turned towards the sink and washed his face with cold water, rubbing it dry with his towel.

He didn’t spare another look into the mirror.

Afterwards, Roman and Victor walked over to their bed, lying down on it. Roman cuddled into his partner, burying his face in the crook of his scarred neck, wrapping his arms around his waist and tangling their legs. Zsasz put his right arm around Roman’s shoulders and with the other one’s hand he held onto his forearm over his own stomach, stroking his thumb over the soft skin there in soothing circles.

“D’you wanna tell me what happened?” Victor asked quietly.

“Fucking gender dysphoria is what happened,” Roman murmured against Zsasz’s skin, sounding agitated, still.

Victor sighed sadly.

“You know it’s lying to you, Roman. You’re a man. Doesn’t fucking matter what your biological sex is or whatever.”

Roman scoffed, “But I’m not a real man. I was a fucking- I can’t even say it,” another frustrated groan, “I looked into the mirror and all I could see was-“

“No,” Victor interrupted him, “Roman, you are a real man. Whatever you thought you saw in the mirror wasn’t real. Your mind’s playing tricks on you to make you feel bad about yourself. You’re as much as a man as me. Or literally any other fucking guy here in Gotham, more so than some of them, too. I promise.”

“You really think so?” Roman nearly whispered, lifting his head to look at his partner, assessing him.

“Yes,” was Victor’s simple answer, such conviction in his eyes and voice, it was palpable – it took Roman’s breath away.

Roman nodded, “’Kay,” he paused for a long moment; then he leaned down and kissed Victor on his full lips, a very small smile stretching his own, “Thank you.”

He rarely ever said ‘thank you’ to anyone at all, but he knew it was the only appropriate response he had for Zsasz’s constant reassurance – his help.

Instead of saying anything else, they started kissing, tenderly making out and enjoying each other’s company, warmth, and mere presence.

Roman may not have always felt complete security about his identity, but he’s never been alone with it either. Victor’s unfailingly been staying by his side, fending off bigots, unbelievers and even his own mind day in and out.

He couldn’t possibly find the right words for just how grateful he was.

He thought that no words could even come close to describing it.

[flower-blooming]

I finally graduated !! it was abt 4 or 5 m/o ago. anyways, i hate and love christmas. love it bc i like being around my family and shopping. hate it bc it seems like the family members i want to be the most around don’t want anything to do with me when it comes to doing fun xmas things (i.e. decorating the tree, i’ve been doing that alone for the past three yrs, and it was nice for my bff to offer to do it with me; but i  want to be with my family) and don’t get me stared on today. ya know i was having a pretty nice fun day till i started getting the worst period cramps of my life. so i took my meds and calmed down. i guess that wasnt enough for my mom and brother, bc according to them i just complain abt everything !! and im the absolute worst. i HATe when they say that its “just bc shes on her period,“ it just sounds so sexist and horrible, but like yea it is bc of that but that doesn’t mean you go around and saying how i have raging hormones that keep in mind are testosterone so really i am acting just like a man. anyways, i then had to go shopping which i think i was acting pretty nicely during. we got home, my mom and i, so i suggested we wrap gifts together she said okay but then she goes and starts other things. i was fine with it, but it gets so annoying when she will ask me to do it all just bc i am a “better wrapper” idc that im better i want to be with you and just SIT in ur presence. all you do all day is sleep and go to work. OMG my mom was even going to offer to work on my dads death anniversary, lucky her co-workers told her no and that she needs to be with us, but GOOOOD can’t you just be there for us like we were for you. apparently not bc now my brother is like extra depressed this yr but i feel like im the only one noticing. my mom just thinks it him going to slip into another episode, which yea could be, but he is so sad all the time and talking abt my dad. but no, she needs to go call my uncle to talk abt whatever. any who im leaving now. maybe ill go watch little women and say i was crying bc of that and not bc i always feel like my feeling are unvalidated during my period, simply bc i bleed lol :)  

[oikawas-bae]

omg! domestic headcanons got me like uwu, can i please request a scenario where tsukki is accidentally pressuring his kid into academics too much, and his kid just breaks down right in front of him because of the unbelievable pressure he's putting on his kid? and then the mother is gone for some reason, so tsukki has to deal with it? thank you! keep working hard!

Okay so I named the kid Takumi bc that’s the first thing I thought of and also it starts with a T and Fire emblem got me all uwu. » » this request is everything bc I am both tsukki and the son at the same time, curse the pressure of the education system 😖 also have a carbon cycle quiz tomorrow so let’s hope that goes well bois

1.2k Words

Tsukki undeniably loved his son, from the moment he first held him at the hospital, he felt an indisputable connection with him. To hold something so precious and know that it would be his to nurture, it was breathtaking and it brought upon him an unmatched amount of fear and anticipation. Luckily, Tsukishima had the best wife to help him raise the child.

He viewed the responsibility of being parents as categorical and so he divided the responsibilities with his wife. She would deal with the emotions and age-related hormone reactions while he dealt with the academic and social circles of his son. Tsukki was as meticulous as they got so he’d carefully planned out what teachers his child got assigned, who he was seated next to (because those people would most likely end up his child’s close acquaintances), and the academic track he would follow. Though controlling, it was an effective method of raising a child, given that his mother was present for moral support. But this wasn’t always the case when she got a job as a journalist and had to travel abroad frequently for prolonged periods to cover a story. Tsukki would be left with his son at home. It worked out. Again, Tsukki divided the responsibilities of cooking, cleaning and errands with his son. For all he knew, he was managing just fine.

“Takumi, I’m home! Dinner is on the table, it’s the meat buns from that Ramen place close to my work,” Tsukki dropped the white bag onto the tabletop and walked to his son’s room, the door creaked open and he could see him closely studying the textbook in front of him. “You should eat.”

Tsukki went to use the restroom and when he got back, his son was still sitting in front of his desk, deep in concentration as he skimmed the words, jotting down notes on post its and plastering them on the pages before he flipped to the next section. “Hey, how long have you been at this?”

No response. He stepped calmly toward him and peered over his shoulder. “Hey.” His voice remained dull, he moved the spinning chair so that Takumi faced him. His son looked up at him with matching golden eyes.

“Sorry, dad. I was just so focused.”

“You should take a break.” He squeezed Takumi’s shoulder. “Also, how did that Biology test go today?”

Chills ran up Takumi’s spine and he pulled his knees closer to his chest, looking in any direction but his father’s. “It was good, as usual.”

“Cool, wasn’t it about the carbon cycle? I was pretty well versed on that topic. Do you happen to have the test on you? I’d like to just look at the questions.” Tsukki assumed they were in the desk and reached out to move the other papers and books aside. Takumi pulled Tsukki’s shirt before he could reach the bottom of the pile. “Dad, you should eat with me now!”

“That’s fine, I already ate.” The look of desperation on Takumi’s face increased in severity. He clamored for any excuse or distraction to get his father away from his pile of papers.

“This is my space, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t intrude on it so rudely!” Pushing away his dad from the desk, Tsukishima barely budged but voluntarily moved away in shock of his son’s actions. This was a first. He’d always been so well mannered. He was barely 13, this couldn’t be the start of the rebellious stage, could it? Even so, he knew better than to be aggressive.

“Sorry, what?”

Takumi blinked, swallowing the lump in his throat before continuing the successful act, “You can’t just barge in here, dad.”

Tsukki’s brows narrowed angrily and he flicked his son on the forehead, “Listen kid, I don’t know what your deal is right now but you need to cut this out right now.”

Takumi opened his mouth to retort but his throat hitched and he could only manage a low “ah”. The two sat in awkward silence for a few seconds before Takumi’s defiant expression faltered and he threw himself back onto his chair, “When’s mom coming home?”

“Next week.”

“Next week?” The boy cried out, a weak crack splintering his regular tone. He slammed his head onto the desk.

“Hey, don’t do that!” Tsukki pulled the chair away from the desk and crouched down to be at eye level with Takumi. “What’s wrong with you?”

The boy looked up, his eyes glossy with tears threatening to fall. “I failed my biology test, my score was below the class average. I know you’re mad, I even talked to the teacher about retaking it but she refused.”

“You studied didn’t you?”

“Not as much, I wanted to play video games, I get tired of studying.”

“Well that explains it, you’re not applying yourself-”

Takumi interjected, his voice squeaking with anger again, “I don’t get it, dad! Why do I have it be the best at school? Why do you put me in the toughest courses? I’m not even interested in most of the subjects you sign me up for. I could care less about carbon cycles or Avogadro’s number or Geography! I want to be able to enjoy school but you always make it seem like I’m going to be a massive failure if I don’t come out at the top at everything I do. I’m tired of it and when mom isn’t here, I can’t talk to anybody- You’re no help, dad!”

Speechless, Tsukki thought to himself as he stared into his son’s eyes, they were filled with rage and exhaustion. He’d never seen him so pent up with anger, it hurt that this tantrum was a product of his work. He’d planned everything out, made sure his son would have the brightest future, but he was failing to consider Takumi’s feelings. Tsukishima had planned everything with the justification that his son would thank him later but now he was wondering if he would instead resent him for it all.

Takumi wiped his eyes, ensuring no tears fell, “Sorry, dad. I didn’t mean to be rude…”

“It’s fine. I deserve it.” Tsukishima looked up at the ceiling, hands deep in his pockets, “I always half-assed everything in school because I was afraid if I tried my best I’d be less than people expected. I just wanted you to always be the best so you’d never feel like a failure. But I guess I just pushed you so much that now any shortcoming feels like a failure, huh?”

Shaking his head furiously, Takumi looked directly at his dad, a sincere smile gracing his face, “No, you’re a good dad! I really appreciate you and I’ll try harder next time. I won’t play video games so much-”

“Please stop,” Tsukishima took off his glasses and wiped them with the butt of his palm. “We should just stop talking about school right now. How about you eat and we’ll watch a movie?”

“But I’ve got to study…”

“You know you want to watch the movie,” Tsukishima ruffled Takumi’s hair, walking him to the kitchen with his hand still on his head.

“True...well, if you say so!”

[tartagliaxx]

hi hi lei!! how are you? your new theme looks so pretty!! especially on computer when i first got mine i was just looking at people's layouts and i felt so amazed looking at yours its was so cute!! also i had a nice time co oping with you but i'm also painfully bad at talking to people and i hope it wasn't too obvious 😭😭

i could be doing better i'm going through pms and i'm being stupidly emotional i keep tearing up and it becomes less and less reasonable every time it started with the guy from the archon quest whos waiting for the love of his life that he forgot, then ayaka's story quest, then this drawing,,,, in my defense it looks like a drawing by a kid almost like one of them drew it and they probably gave it to the other and i bet they still would have kept it 😭😭 i think a larger more series reason about my sadness is i potentially have covid i'm taking a test in a few days ;; i haven't felt any symptoms but incase i do i already had my favorite meals thankfully i took the vaccine so maybe i don't have it or maybe i won't need to deal with the symptoms- 🍰

i’m suffering in an internet-less state but other than that… actually, scratch that. i have to film yet another workout video and this one is way worse. i could feel my legs wobbling like,, i cant even go down the stairs at my normal pace bc my legs feel like they’ll collapse w one nudge. ah enough w the complaints… thank you v much!! i prefer this theme compared to the previous ones, actually. i wasnt planning on changing it this soon but i got bored in my internet-less state so i decided to roll w it. also, dw! i understand how hard it is to communicate (i have been in that position way too many times). i had fun as well and you didnt appear to be detached or anything! we should deffo play again soon!

i’m sorry you havent been feeling the best. i also just finished my period and i could still feel the raging hormones in me. yesterday i was crying over a letter i had to write for my grandparents and it’s not even anything special and earlier, i almost cried over my messed up schedule (bc of my internet-less state) akshajnsjsk— the reasons might be horribly small but i still think that our tears aren’t invalid yknow? we just feel more deeply bc of pms and i think it’s almost nice to be so involved w the small things we usually overlook. moving on, i hope you’re okay. it’s good to hear that you’re not experiencing symptoms and that you’re vaccinated. i dont really know what to say but… try not to think about your test too much. it’ll only give you extra stress and whatnot. on a different note, i hope it comes back negative. lmk if you need to vent or what.

[calif0rnia-lovers]

fake it ‘till you make it

chapter 1: you were mine first. 

summary: a trip down memory lane as Tre returns home to find his best friend dealing with the fallout of her divorce proceedings.

a/n: this chapter is really long. it’s essentially full of backstory. i didn’t want to post each part as its own chapter bc that would end us up with four short chapters. so...prepare for time jumps. kinda wanted to get the backstory out the way so that i can get into the good stuff. let me know what you think. i know it’s a reader fic but i just think aja naomi is so pretty that’s why you see her face :)

if there are typos bare with me. I forced myself to stop making changes and just posted it. songs are linked because i’m hella dramatic and moody when i write.

words. 8,960

2006: junior year in high school. (gif).

You say we're just friends but I swear when nobody's around You keep my hand around your neck, we connect

You're seated, alone, in the corner booth at Happy's Diner. The AP Calculus book and notes spread out across the table are the perfect repellants for teenage boys hoping to "keep you company" until your friend arrives.

Your friend who just so happens to be running extremely late. Halfway done with your second glass of soda kind of late.

Trevante comes strolling into the diner, pausing long enough to say hi to Happy before heading in your direction. Climbing over the booth, he slides in next to you.

"Sorry I'm late," he huffs as he settles in next to the window.

His arm drapes over your shoulder, as he reaches forward to drag your plate towards him. Keeping your focus on the problem you're solving, you blindly lift his left arm, turning it so that you can see the face of his watch.

"You are forty-eight minutes late." You shove his arm off your shoulder, it finding its place back to your shoulder instantly. "Why do you wear a watch if you don't know how to use it?"

"Why buy me a watch for my birthday if you know I can't use it?"

Trevante narrowly avoids the slap you send towards his hand, stealing a french fry and popping it into his mouth.

His neck rolls, a groan escaping his lips as you move the plate out of his reach.

"Come on, Y/N. I can't have any-"

"No. You can tell me where you were. What was so important you left me waiting for forty-eight minutes? I already ordered the dinner you promised me."

"You clocking me now?" His brow arches as he drags the plate across the table.

"When it affects me? Yes. Yes, I am."

Trevante lightly shrugs his shoulder before retrieving the ketchup. The fact he doesn't want to tell you causes you to lift his arm from over your shoulder.

Resting his arms against the table, he silently busies himself with cleaning your plate.

"Why can't we study at your place?

Trevante watched as your shoulders rise and fall, your brow furrowing as you reach in your backpack. You're willing to acknowledge his question isn't that strange. From the fifth grade, the two of you have always studied at your house. Your dining room table has years worth of homework sessions. When you entered high school, your study sessions had migrated to your bedroom.

Trevante could usually be found sprawled across your bed; arm tucked behind his head as he lounged on your pillows. While you were found seated on the floor, books and notes displayed neatly around you.  You would kill to be back in your room right now. Both of your giggles mingling with the latest playlist Trevante has downloaded on his computer. However, ever since your last study session, that doesn't seem like a great idea.

Your mind is still trying to make sense of what exactly happened. You were slightly hopped up on coffee, the late-night study session keeping you and Trevante up well past your parents. Trevante...was wired by something else. What exactly? You're not sure. He'd arrived at your place, hours before, in a shitty mood but refused to tell you why. You'd initially thought it was because you'd rejected his invitation to attend William Prescott's party because you needed to study. Trevante had gone to the party before meeting you. Whatever happened at the party had stopped him from being a semi-decent study partner.

You were used to the textbook attempts of avoiding his work. The television, conversations about something he'd heard in the locker room, etc. What you weren't used to was his fingers toying with your hair, or brushing against your thighs. His lips brushing against your shoulder.

You'd nearly caused him to break his neck on the stairs with how fast you got him out of your house that night.

You grip your eyes closed for a brief moment, an all familiar heat spreading across your skin as he studies your face.

"It's just, my mom...she said something about us having an open-door policy and raging hormones, and it just...weirded me out?"

"Raging hormones," he scoffs, his attention focusing on the problem you're finishing up. "Your mom thinks we're having sex? We used to take baths together."

Erasing your mistake, you try again. You don't respond until you've finished the problem. Sliding the nearly completed homework assignment in Trevante's direction, you pick up your soda.

"I know, that's what I told her. She seems to think guys became sex-crazed when they turn sixteen."

"It's earlier than that," Trevante teases as he looks over the work.

It takes him a moment to realize the assignment is his not yours. He'd given you the completed homework during third period.

"Can you look this over?" He'd asked, hastily placing a kiss against your cheek before starting down the hall after William. "I'll make it up to you tonight. Dinner at Happy's at seven!"

You'd marked up most of the assignment in red while waiting for his arrival. The fact he'd attempted to do the homework without your help leading to you redoing it for him to soften the blow.

Releasing a sigh of relief, Trevante grins in your direction.

"You're so fucking smart, Y/N. It took me all last night to finish that."

You wince as his grip tugs against your shoulder, pulling your closer. His lips briefly press against your cheek. Your giggles fill the air as a second kiss follows.

"Stop," you giggle, lightly pushing against his cheek you watch him place a kiss against your palm before returning your focus on the math problem to his homework. "Don't think compliments will get me to finish your homework for you. You're finishing the rest. Right now. I'm only helping you make the corrections from now on. I only fixed it early because I can't be here until ten again."

Trevante's eyes roll as he accepts the pencil you offer him. "I've got plays to remember. I don't have time to ace AP Calc."

"And I have an entire European History essay to finish when I get home, so focus."

You spend the next thirty minutes helping Trevante finish working through his assignment. By the time you're finished explaining his mishap in the last problem, he's got a headache, and you're on your second plate of fries.

"You got that?"

"Yeah."

"Tre?" You wince at the sigh escaping his lips. "You don't sound too convincing. Do you need me to explain it again?"

You look up to find him watching you. His brow furrowed.

"What do you think of Prescott?" Trevante asks.

Your brow furrows as you concentrate on finishing the remainder of your shake.

"Prescott? As in William Prescott? The quarterback?"

"Yeah."

You attempt to read his expression, but whatever is on Trevante's mind, he isn't giving much away.

"He's...nice? I don't know, Tre," You laugh. "I don't know him. I mean, he's spoken to me maybe...three times. Each of those times is because I'm with you."

William Prescott was hard to ignore. Even if you weren't acquainted with him, it was impossible not to know who William was. His father was mayor, his mother, a member of the school board. Not to mention William was captain and quarterback of your school's football team. You share two classes with William. The fact you tend to sit in the front, and him in the back, making it difficult for him to talk to you. You can't even remember the last time he looked in your direction, let alone acknowledged you.

"I'm pretty sure he's gonna try and ask you out."

Your eyes roll as you uncap the highlighter in your hand.

"Right." You snort.

Concentrating on highlighting the formula before you, you glance up when you realize nothing else has been said.

"He asked me if you were seeing anyone," Trevante responds, his expression unreadable.

"And? What'd you tell him?" You ask the urgency in your voice, causing Trevante's eyes to roll.

He shrugs.

"I said not that I know of."

You let his words sink in, your brow furrowing. You're not sure what to say to that. If there was anyone who knew about what was going in your life, it was him.

"Okay..."

"I mean...I told him you weren't really looking for him. I figured he wasn't really your type. He's the quarterback, and you're..."

You wait for him to finish, but he doesn't.

"I guess you're the only exception to my newfound hatred for jocks?"

Lifting his arm, Trevante didn't bother responding as you gathered up your belongings before heading to the door.

two weeks later.

You keep your hands out before you. With your palms an inch away from the vent, you struggle to keep your entire body from trembling. Your dress is clinging to your wet body, the fabric's weight adding to the uncomfortable sensation on your skin. The air pumping through the ten-year-old jeep is a struggle on a good day. Paired with pouring rain on a chilly October night, it seemed the old vehicle wasn't going to be up to the task.

The rustling alongside you isn't enough for you to open your eyes, or move away from the slowly heating vents.

Trevante continues rustling through his gym bag. He is in search of an extra set of clothes. The spur of the moment thunderstorm that had erupted at the end of the game left everyone unprepared. You were in the stands, only really attending to cheer on your best friend, so you hadn't brought an extra pair of clothes. With the downpour, exiting the stands was a disaster. You didn't want to twist your ankle running down the slick foundation. By the time you made it through the gates of the field, you had to trek up the hill to the parking lot. You had struggled against the crowd to reach Trevante's jeep. By the time he'd met you in the parking lot, you were soaked to the bone.

After retrieving his shirt, Trevante grabs his letterman jacket for good measure.

"All right," he huffs as he tosses his duffle into the back. "This is all I've got."

Tugging the wet dress over your head, you toss it into the backseat before gladly accepting the longsleeved shirt.

The initial stripping off your clothes left Trevante frozen. In his haste, he hadn't considered the idea you might have to undress to get warm. His eyes had widened, his gaze instinctively drifting down your chest to the light pink bra you wore. He pauses to admire how the light fabric contrasts against your skin. You are too busy struggling to tug the shirt over your head to notice. Clearing his throat, Trevante shifts in his seat before focusing on adjusting the radio.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into coming," you mumble as you slip your arms through the sleeves of his shirt.

"You can use my jacket." Stealing a second glance in your direction, Trevante felt his shoulders relax once it became apparent you were decently covered. "It wasn't like you were doing anything anyway."

Shoving your arms through the sleeves of the jacket, you can't deny him a smile as a warmth passes over your body. The fabric is thick, capturing his scent. It feels as though its nearly twice your size.

"I was because, believe it or not; my world does not revolve around you, Rhodes."

"Right," he scoffs. "It's just boring when I'm not around."

Trevante glances apprehensively in your direction.

"So…" You wait for his sentence to be completed. When he doesn't speak, you glance across the car to find his thumb tapping against the steering wheel. "Will Prescott?"

A heat flushes over your skin at the mention of his name.

A light shrug rolls off your shoulder, your gaze diverting. "What about Will?"

"You're going out with him next week."

"Sounds like you already know the answer to that," you mumble.

The laugh that fills the car brings the heat to your face.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," Trevante shakes his head before shifting the car into reverse.

You reach forward pushing it back into park.

"No, hold up. What?"

He looks at you for a moment before releasing a deep breath.

"It's just...he's kind of a player."

"William Prescott, a player?" Now it's your turn to scoff. "He's the captain of the football team-"

"That should tell you-"

"Oh, so does that extend to you?"

Trevante smiles, motioning for you to finish your sentence.

"Besides, you didn't even let me finish. Will's the second smartest kid in our class, and I know that because I'm the smartest. He's the poster child of our town. You can't be a poster child, slutting it up without everyone knowing. I haven't seen him date anyone since freshman year."

"Yeah you're right...must just be locker room talk." Resting his head back against his seat, Trevante runs his hand over his face. "What'd you wanna ask me?"

Suddenly your motives for attending the game seemed stupid. You'd texted Tre before the game, asking if he could give you a ride home.

"I need a favor." Your text had read, followed by "A big one. However, you have to promise not to tell anyone. Ever."

"Depends on how many laws we break," he'd responded.

"It's…" Your voice tapers off as you concentrate on the working windshield wipers. "A terrible idea."

"A bad as you picking William Prescott over me?"

When his teasing isn't enough to make you smile, Trevante sits up.

"I'm not a cheerleader, Tre. I don't have guys lining up after me like girls do you. I don't want my first kiss to be with a guy I barely know."

"Look, Y/N, I was fucking around about Will. He's not that bad. Pretentious, but not a complete dick…" Trevante's eyes widen. "You want me to…"

Suddenly the idea sounds stupid, and you're backpedaling.

"It's just I mean, he's the quarterback. Also, I know guys talk and-can't you tell when someone's like inexperienced with that kind of stuff? I don't want that being the only thing he thinks about when he's kissing me-and then he goes back and tells everyone during "locker room talk." Next thing I know, the school newspaper will be publishing that I'm a virgin-"

"Whoa-chill," he chuckles, the smile on his face stopping you in your tracks. "Okay?"

You nod. Your gaze drops to your hands. You're almost sure the heat burning your cheeks is visible to him.

You reluctantly look at Trevante as his touch finds your chin.

His lips press against yours, pulling your eyes closed. It takes a moment for your body to respond. By the time your brain processes what is happening, his lips are gone. His eyes are on you.

"Relax, y/n." He chuckles, his tongue passing over his lips at the sight of the range of emotions flickering across your face. He gently brushes his thumb along the curve of your jaw. "I'm not looking to break your heart. It's just a kiss."

"Just a kiss. Right."

You nod, but the action only causes Trevante to laugh for a second time. He knows the wheels are churning in your head. That, just like every aspect in life, you are beginning to overthink.

"Relax."

"Easy for you to say, Cassanova. Besides I am-"

A squeal comes out mangled with a gasp as his hands find waist and he's pulling against you. He's lifting you into the passenger seat and resting you against his lap. Your hands find his shoulders, the urge to push some space between you the first thought that crosses your mind.

There isn't much space you can put between the two of you with the steering wheel behind you.

You blink. Meeting Trevante's gaze, you feel the pulse of your heart skyrocketed as his hands move from your waist to your lower back.

Sensing your tension, Trevante smiles softly.

"I'll let you take the lead. I know you're big on learning on your own."

Suddenly you're aware of your surroundings.

The smell of rain against your skin. The soap from his rushed shower. The tap of the rain against the window, and roof of the car. The feel of his jeans against your thighs. The sensation that rushes across your skin with each shift of his jeans against your skin when you move. The muscles of his shoulders beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. The slight spike of his heartbeat as your touch drifts to his chest. The rise and fall of his chest as he takes a deep breath as he waits for you to kiss him.

Relax, Y/N. It's just a kiss.

When you blink, and your eyes lift to meet his, you find Trevante's gaze on yours. A tiny smile is on his lips, his head resting against the headrest. The sense of calm that seems to cover you from head to toe stems from the steadiness of his heart against your palm. His thumbs gently massage the outside of your thighs.

The sight of his growing smile causes one to spread across your lips in response. With a slight shake of your head, you place your hands along either side of his neck and lean in to kiss him.

His grip tightens around your waist, shifting your body forward so that you straddle him. Trevante's fingers are in your hair, keeping your lips pressed against his. The desire to feel as much of you as he can eliminate any remaining space between the two of you. Neither of you can keep track of who does what first. Who's tongue brushes against who's lips first, who's hands start to wander first, who's giggle melts into a groan as your hips shift instinctively against his.

Time seems to fall away as quickly as the rain.

His lips linger along the curve of your neck. The pain that had pulled a gasp of irritation from you, a few seconds prior, has been replaced by a much more addictive sensation. The kind that sends a shiver down your spine and digs your fingers into his shoulders. Your hips instinctively shift against his as the coolness of his breath fans the sensitive bruise forming against your skin. His lips press a kiss against the bruise, retracing their steps until they’re pressing against your lips suppressing your giggles.

The tap that echoes off the walls of the jeep causes you to jump. Your back pressed against the steering wheel, your heart skipping a beat as the horn fills the air. Trevante’s hands instinctively grip your waist, pulling you forward, steadying your body. He winces as your weight shifts, your hand pressing against his chest.

Through the damp window, you can make out a single figure. As if that isn’t enough to scare you, you realize the figure is surrounded by something much more frightening than a peeping Tom. The blending of red and blue lights flooding the car distorts the figure. A second tap, with the butt of the flashlight, against the glass follows.

“Don’t-” you catch Trevante’s wrist as he reaches to roll down the window.

“What? You think they’re gonna go away? We can’t exactly say we didn’t know they were there.”

The rain has stopped, leaving just the chilly October night air. You shiver against Trevante as he rolls the window down. There’s no point in climbing into the passenger seat, moving would only draw more attention to your current situation. Your face turns towards the passenger seat, Trevante’s hand lifting to shield his eyes as the flashlight floods the driver side.

Trevante blinks, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light residing on his face. His grip painfully tightens around your waist, his fingers attempting to send you a message, once he realizes who’s on the other end of the flashlight.

Your heart jumps into your throat as a man’s voice floats through the window.

“Game’s over Tre,” came a familiar voice. “You kids need to go ahead and clear out the lot. Take this somewhere else…Preferably with a condom, and off school grounds.”

Trevante nods quicker than intended. He clears his throat, his mind torn between focusing on hiding the fact you were half-naked in his lap and wrapping up the conversation so that he could roll up the window.

“Yes, sir.” He stammers, his weak smile arching the cop’s brow. “We’re – uh, we were actually getting ready to go grab some food. Kinda just lost track of time. But uh – we’ll go now. Sorry for the trouble.”

Trevante moves to roll up the window, but pauses as the officer rest his hand against the door. Cutting off the flashlight, he reaches in to clap Trevante on the shoulder.

“That was one hell of a game, kid” the cop whistled. “You’ve got some speed, son. Those boys from Eastside didn’t know what to do with yo-”

You grip your eyes shut as your father’s words come to an abrupt halt. His gaze lingers on the backseat, Tre’s eyes drifting shut once he remembers what’s in the back. Discarded in haste, your dress rested on top of his gym bag. The same dress your father had zipped for you this morning before you gave him a kiss and ran to catch the bus. You don’t have to turn and face to him to know that your dad’s shooting daggers into Trevante.

A shiver runs through your body as the door is yanked open flooding the jeep with the night air.

Pain shoots through your arm.

You wince as your dad’s grip tightens as he tugs you out the car. Your stomach flutters as nearly fall face forward towards the ground. Your dad pauses long enough to ensure both of your feet have planted before heading towards the awaiting squad car. You stumble forward as you struggle to match his much longer strides to prevent from tripping.

The initial shock is what allowed him to get you halfway to the squad car. But once you notice Ramos, his much younger partner hesitantly shrugging off the squad car, your heels dig into the ground.

“Dad, you’re hurting my arm –” You yank your arm back, the force causing your father’s grip to tighten. For a brief moment you both pause. The adrenaline from just a few moments before seems to have kicked into high gear as you meet your father’s gaze. “I can walk myself to the car.”

Trevante is already out of his jeep, partially afraid he might be drug out next. He watches you storm off to the car and takes a step in your direction. The more rational part of his brain tells him he should get back into his jeep and head home before your dad’s gun is out of its holster.

“Sir, I promise you, it’s not what it looks like-”

"Get your ass in the car, Tre."

It's not until you've slid into the back of the squad car, slamming the door as hard as you can for good measure, that Trevante realizes he was meant to join you.

Trevante hesitates. Pointing over his shoulder, he takes a step back towards the security of his jeep.

"Uh-my pop's will flip if I don't bring the car home."

"Don't worry about that," your dad smiles as he pauses to clap his hand on Trevante's shoulder. His grip digs into Trevante's skin, causing the young man to wince. "I'll explain it to him when I drop you off."

Once your dad is seated in the driver's seat, you lean forward, your fingers pressed against the grate.

"You're not going to let Ramos cuff me? Take me down to the station to prove a point?"

Your dad doesn't speak to you. Instead, he lifts his radio and shares that he's dropping two teenagers off at home.

In fact, he doesn't speak to anyone for the fifteen car ride home. He pulls up to the curb in front of your house and comes to a stop. You get out. You hop back as the squad car takes off. Driving past Trevante’s house, it does a quick U turn before speeding out of the neighborhood.

You take the front steps two at a time, not bothering to check if the door closes fully behind you. The last thing you need is for your mom to see you. You head straight to the shower, locking the door, and hoping no one will bother speaking to you. But as you cut off the light and head to your room, you know that is impossible.

You enter your room to find your mom seated on top of your bed, patiently waiting for you.

Your shoulders tense, your body bracing for the screams. But, your mom surprises you by quietly asking.

"Are you okay?"

"It's embarrassing. I wasn't doing anything-"

"That's not what your father told me." She interjects, your face falling into your hands. "He said you and Tre were...closer than usual."

You find yourself wondering if your father had recounted precisely how he'd found you.

"It was a kiss," you sigh. "Nothing else -- We didn't do anything else. We weren't going to."

"We're not surprised, sweetheart." Your mother's response causes you to blink in confusion. She was not lecturing you. She was using this opportunity to have yet another sex talk. "I mean -- your father is pretty surprised. But your father and I have had this conversation already. The two of you spend an awful amount of time together. You and Trevante have been friends for a while. You're both growing older, and your bodies are changing. He's noticing how your body's changing. You're noticing his-"

"Mom-"

"Your hormones are through the roof, your body might feel like it's hypersensitive around him. That's normal. You find yourself wondering if sex is as good as it looks on tv--"

"I don't need the sex talk again." You groan as you cross the room. Taking a seat beside her, you pick up your pillow before laying back. “And, what is it with you and hormones? This is the second time this week you’ve brought them up.”

Your mom doesn't quite believe you. "A mother’s intuition. The last time we had the sex talk, honey, you were a freshman. You weren't thinking about boys-"

"And I'm really not now," you mumble from beneath the pillow covering your face.

"Take that off."

You groan.

Doing as she says you allow her to tug against your hands pulling you up. Sitting against the headboard, you tuck your knees into your chest.

"Kissing can feel good. But it often leads to something more serious. I'm not as naive as your father. You can't stay a little girl forever. I just don't want you rushing into something you're not ready for. Or at least not with a clear head."

"Mom, I wanted to get my first kiss over with. So I'm not the only girl in the entire junior class that has never been kissed. Tre just did it as a friend. Nothing is going on between us. We're still best friends."

Your mom is silent for a moment. You feel nervous as her gaze studies your eyes before leaving your face. It feels like with just a look, she can visualize every moment from before, and what is to come. Heat races across your skin as you think of Trevante's lips against yours. It rushes to your thighs as her eyes find your neck. The place where his lips showed you that kisses didn't have to be on your lips to feel amazing. The place where your flesh was tender, bruised.

"Best friends still need to understand the importance of condoms." She smiles as your brows raise. You're not sure how you didn't notice it before, but she lifts the box of condoms from her lap. "You can't depend on a guy to have one. In fact, most will try and say you don't need them."

Noting your wide eyes, she says quietly. "It'll give your father more peace of mind if he knows you have these. Even if you're not planning on using them."

You take the box, tossing it towards the chair in the corner.

She gets up pausing long enough to press a kiss against your forehead.

"I think it might be best if Tre doesn't stop by for a while. At least until your father can cool down."

"Fine," you huff.

"Night sweetie."

You watch the door close behind her, listening to her retreat to her room. A few moments later, you hear her speaking to your father through the phone.

You get up, crossing the room. You retrieve the previously discarded box of condoms. Opening the top drawer putting the box of condoms inside. You're about to close it when you stop to rearrange the clothes inside. You cover the box from your sight. Pushing the drawer shut you take a deep breath.

You study your reflection in the mirror. You swollen lips, wide eyes. The bruise on your neck. You realize it won't be easy to hide it in tomorrow's heat. When you cross the room, you pause by the window. You realize Tre's curtains are open. The light in his room is on. From your windows, you can see directly into each other's bedroom.

No matter how many times you've shared this tidbit, Trevante doesn't seem to utilize the blinds. You tend to keep your blinds shut in the morning and after his return home from practice. Accidently spotting him walking around his room, stark naked in the eighth grade has made you overly cautious.

You are in the process of untying the string holding back your curtains when you realize he's moved in front of the window. From what you can tell, your father hasn’t done any physical damage to him.

Trevante tugs his shirt over his head lazily tossing it in the direction of his hamper. He pauses to release the breath he was holding. As he turns towards the window, you take a step to the side. Your breath hitches in your throat as you bump your elbow. 

He waits a moment. The light flooding from your bedroom making him hopeful you’ll check to see if he’s home. But you never do.

 two and a half years ago. (gif)

Catching my breath, pounding my chest

I’m loving you less, I need to confess.

What is it about firsts that the human brain loves so much?

It seems as though we always remember our firsts.

Our first kiss, the first time we heard our favorite song. The first time we felt an inkling of true love. We can remember everything down to what we were wearing, how fast our heart was beating, the weather. Everything. Down to the smallest of details.

When you're in love, being able to remember all of your firsts is a beautiful thing.

What about when you're no longer in love? When only one of you is still in love?

Suddenly, your firsts are different.

You begin to remember the first time you notice his lips felt different against yours. The first time his hand stops pressing against your lower back as he passes you in the kitchen for his morning coffee. The first time he stops whispering how beautiful you look when stealing a second kiss.

You remember the first time his phone lights up, illuminating the bedroom ceiling when he thinks you've dozed off. The first time he calls to tell you he's working late, so there's no need to postpone dinner. The first time dates that once seemed important only seem important when he is reminded of their significance. You even remember the first time you gave up on sending him reminders.

Most importantly, you remember the first time he tells you he isn't in love with you anymore.

It had come in your favorite restaurant: The Gold Eagle. William always took you there when he had news to share whether it be a promotion, the winning of a case, or when he wanted to renew your vows.

You weren't expecting any news in particular when he asked you to book a babysitter for Colby. Certainly not the end of your marriage.

The words had come abruptly -- or maybe it seemed abrupt to you.

How else would can you describe the shift in conversation from plans for your son's birthday party to not being in love anymore?

Abrupt. It is the only way to describe it.

When he'd first spoke the words, you didn't respond. Will had thought you hadn't heard him. Under the music and laughter surrounding you, he couldn't be too sure.

Will cleared his throat, shifting in his chair as he paused the action of cutting his steak.

"Did you hear me?" He'd asked. His brows knit together as he studied your face for any sign of acknowledgment. "Y/N."

You had heard him. Loud and clear.

Your mind concentrated on his word choice. It was meticulous.  There was a time when you loved that Will spoke that way. He never strung people along, or beat around the bush. He always told the truth, sparing someone's feelings came second.

You always knew where he stood, or so you thought.

"I don't love you anymore." Those were the five words that had come out of his mouth.

He hadn't said, "I'm falling out of love with you." He wasn't giving you a warning as to what might come. He was careful with his words because he knew you. He knew you were hoping he hadn't made his mind up. He wanted you to understand that there was no room for repairing.

There was a tiny part of you that was not shocked. That little voice, in the back of your mind, that has been whispering to you the last year. The tiny voice that has been telling you to trust your gut each time you doubted Will.

Reaching forward, you picked up the wine glass before you. Will's eyes observed as you downed the red contents of the entire glass.

He wiped at his mouth, his jaw tightening as you reach across the table for his untouched glass. He doesn't bother objecting as you down the entire glass of wine. He subtly waved off the young waiter approaching with a fresh bottle in his hand.

Will cleared his throat, sitting up in his seat.

"I've already drawn up an agreement. I believe you'll find that it takes both you and Colby into consideration."

He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket. He produced a white envelope.

"William-," you gasp, the air in your lungs escaping you for a moment.

For a brief second, the sound halts his passing of the envelope. He watched the welling of your eyes. His throat clenched as he tried to swallow.

"I don't want to fight you for anything. I told my lawyer that the money's not an issue."

"The money you got because I stayed home with your son? The money you earned being able to show up at all hours at the drop of your boss's hat because I put off getting my masters and furthering my career? Now you’re kicking me and your son out of my house --"

"I told my lawyer that the money's not an issue." He repeated. "I have opted to split it all, 50/50. I'll pay a set amount the first of each month. It will be enough to keep you and Colby comfortable. It will cover his tuition-"

"What do you want me to fix?" Your question had come out softly. The raised question pulled Will's eyes from the envelope. "I'll do anything you want. I'll-Please do not break up our family."

William knew this would happen. He knew that letting you down wouldn't be easy, no matter how much he tried. That is why he can't meet your eye as your plea hangs in the air. He can't watch you cry, his gaze returning to the envelope before him. The tears which blurred your vision are his one weakness.

As he watched you wipe at your eyes, Will found his confidence slipping away. He leaned forward and placed the envelope in the center of the table. He needed to present his out, needed to make the break clean. There was one piece of information he knew would make you take your previous plea back.

"She's pregnant," Will continued as you concentrated on finishing the wine in your glass. It takes a moment for his words to sink in. You blink, meeting his gaze. "She wants to keep it, and...so do I."

Suddenly, everything made sense — Will's insistence on hiring a  babysitter. There was a reason you were having dinner in a public place as opposed to the privacy of your dining room.

Will didn't want you to cause a scene, or at least knew you wouldn't. Not here.

"We can't have another kid right now, baby." You recited, the words halting his movements. "I'm swamped at the office. They're finally giving me a shot. I wouldn't want to leave you at home taking care of two kids just as I'm getting a break in my career."

Will shook his head. "I...It hasn't been right between us for months, Y/N. What's the point of staying together if we're drifting apart? Please don't say we need to stay together for Colby. I'm not leaving my son. But kids pick up on shit. No matter how good we are at faking it in front of him."

"Come on, y/n," he sighed as you glanced over your shoulder in search of your waiter. When you spotted the young man, you lifted your empty wine glass in the air. Will continued speaking the feeling he was digging himself into a deeper hole heavy against his chest. "This isn't a surprise to either of us-"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," you scoffed as you watched your hesitant waiter arrive. Sensing the tension between you and your husband, the young man quickly attempted to uncork the fresh bottle of wine. "I wasn't aware that my husband was fucking someone else while he was also fucking me-"

"Alexis and I-"

William watched your movements freeze.

The mentioning of the young paralegal's name seemed to break through the haze that had started forming on your mind.

"Could you be even more cliche? You fucked the office's teenybopper paralegal? And you got her pregnant? You could have just used a condom."

For a moment, William didn't react. He watched the range of emotions wash over your face. The frustration that morphs into disappointment. The resolution that forms as you reached forward taking the bottle of wine from the hands of the struggling waiter.

"He'll pay for it."

You removed the napkin from your lap, sitting it on the table. You picked up the envelope and shoved it into your purse. You're halfway to the door by the time Will can take out his wallet and pay.

The cold air hit you hard. The intake of fresh air causing your head to swirl. The burn of your chest and rush of your heart made the task of retrieving your valet ticket from your purse difficult.  

Once you found the ticket, you turned. The wind was knocked out of you as ran into a solid barrier.

"Whoa. You okay?"

Trevante caught his breath, his hands instinctively finding your waist to keep you from falling back.

You looked up at him, the recognization on his face causing his brow to furrow.

"Fuck," you groaned, your hands instinctively pushing against his chest.

The look on your face caused Trevante to ignore your request of space; his gaze drifted over your shoulder in search of an explanation.

"Hey, what's wrong?" He asked, the warmth of his hands finding your cheeks. His grip was firm, forcing you to stop your attempt to turn your face away.

You shook your head; your eyes gripped closed.

"I can't see you right now. You of all people. I cannot handle seeing you right now."

"Are you okay?"

Will's grip found your right elbow, his touch seeming to snap you out of it. Wiping at your eyes, you allowed him to guide your body closer to his.

"It's all good, man," Will smiled as he watched Trevante reach out to take your left hand.

"You sure?"

With one look, William knew he was not the one the question was directed to.

His weight shifted forward as Trevante takes in the scrunching of your nose. He knows the action very well. He knew that the silent breaths you take are an attempt to stop the tears in your eyes from spilling over.  But you also won't meet his gaze.

"Yeah, look, man. Y/N just had too much wine." Will chuckled as he retrieved the bottle from your hand. "I figured it'd be best she finished this one at home. You know how she is. Could never keep up with the guys."

You wrapped your arms around your waist, your eyes remaining on the ground before you as Will draped your jacket over your shoulders. You nod.

"I'm fine. Just ready to go home."

Trevante was thrown by how fast your entire demeanor had changed before his eyes. The tears were gone, along with the shaking of your voice. He almost thought he'd imagined it.

Before Trevante could respond, Will had led you back towards the valet. He helped you into the passenger seat, pausing long enough to give Trevante a wave before walking around the back of the car and getting into the driver's seat.

2019: this morning.

Concentrating on your son, you smile as Colby absentmindedly toys with the phone in his hand.

The headphones resting over his curls, obstruct any sound or conversations you don't want him to hear. After your reunion, he'd climbed into your lap to watch an episode of  Teen Titans.

You're both seated outside of the courtroom, patiently awaiting your turn. The clock on the wall, states you have five more minutes until your lives officially change.

They have changed steadily over the past few months, more noticeably for you than Colby. It took a while for him to understand that his dad was no longer living with you. William tried to stay present. He saw Colby more than you initially thought he would. The two of you alternate pickups and drop-offs at school. William stops by to share dinner with the two of you on Sundays, taking Colby to eat with him and Alexis twice a week.

When he's feeling up to it, Colby spends a week with his father. Usually, he opts for weekends. He hasn't warmed up to Alexis yet. Or their daughter.

Today is the first time you've physically held your son in two weeks. William had taken him to Atlanta to visit his parents for their wedding anniversary at the start of summer break.

"Thanks for letting me take him."

Instinctively, your eyes leave your Colby to find Alexis.

She is waiting beside William's lawyer, by the courtroom doors. She is cradling their daughter, Lola, in her arms. Although William's lawyer is speaking to her, Alexis's attention is focused on you.

"He is your son."

"I know, Y/N." William takes a deep breath. He releases it before adding. "I know two weeks is a long time, and you didn't want him to go...so thanks. It meant a lot to my parents."

You nod before looking in his direction.

"I'm shocked Alexis didn't show up with balloons, streamers, a "bride to be" sash, save the date cards...a marriage license for the judge to sign after she notarizes the divorce decree."

Your words harden William's jaw, his gaze sinking to his lap.

"We haven't spoken much about it," he breathes, but the wiping of his palms against his pants legs begs to differ. "We're still trying to settle in with Lola."

"But you have talked about it."

"She wants it to happen sooner than later."

"Well, you can come back here tomorrow and make it official. As of today, you are officially free of me, Mr. Prescott."

Most of the court proceedings are a blur — stipulations, and compromises going in one ear and out the other.

You didn't need to focus in on the words. You'd memorized that divorce agreement front to back. It's impossible not to when you've found yourself crying over it as many times as you have the past few months.

Many of those tear-filled nights, when you'd settled for a glass of wine over blowing William's brains out, you'd thought of calling your lawyer. She and everyone who learned the details of your split urged you to file under claims of adultery. It could increase the amount of child support and alimony, but it wouldn't give you any satisfaction. Your mother didn't care about satisfaction. She wanted you to hit William where it hurt, or at least where it would hurt Alexis the most, in his pocket. But you didn't.

It when you are having a lasting doubt about your decision when a slight nudge comes to your side.

Looking up, you find the judge's expectant gaze on you.

"Mrs. Prescott, would you like to keep your last name?" She asked for a second time. "You have the option of remaining a Prescott, or returning your legal name to that of your maiden."

"Um..." Alexis's brows shoot up at the hesitation. She leans over, whispering to William. He looks away from you long enough to respond to her. Keeping his last name had never crossed your mind, for more than a few brief seconds. It always seemed unimportant compared to ensuring you were financially stable for Colby. "I would like to keep it, your honor. It's the same as my son's."

William nods, his reaction falling on the opposite end of the spectrum when compared to Alexis's.

"Mrs. Prescott will keep her legal name," the judge noted. "As of today, upon the signing of the presented documentation, from both parties, your divorce will be finalized."

William meets your gaze. His fingers gently ruffle Colby's hair. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss against your son’s forehead. He finds himself reaching out to wrap his arm around you, his arm giving you a gentle squeeze. He accepts the pen offered to him by his lawyer. William’s hesitation catches the attention of his fiance, but not yours as you place a kiss against Colby’s cheek.

"To new beginnings," his lawyer smiles, squeezing William's shoulder. The pressure a mixture of reassurance and urge causing WIlliam to remove the cap before leaning over the document. 

"Yeah...new beginnings."

2019: later on in the day. (gif)

"Do I have to wear this?"

Tugging against the collar of his shirt, Colby attempts to undo the top button. The light green polo button-down was one of the many gifts found in Colby's suitcase, courtesy of William's parents. Each time he visits them, they send him home with an entirely new wardrobe.

He needs to start dressing like a young man, Y/N. William's mother would always say.

"Yes," you sigh. Taking a step forward, you ring the doorbell for a second time before moving back to stand alongside your son.

"Daddy's always making me dress like this," Colby huffs, giving the collar another tug. "I hate dressing like this."

"It's because you look so handsome," you gently tease. "If I unbutton it, will you feel better?"

Nodding, Colby allows a grin to slide across his face as you kneel down before him. Undoing the top button you watch him release a dramatic sigh of relief.

"Hold on, let me get my glasses. I believe my eyes are deceiving me. Y/N Prescott?" Stepping onto the front porch, Trevante's father joking adjusted the frames resting on his nose. "I can't remember the last time that husband of yours let you come down to this part of town. Last time I saw you, you definitely weren't this tall, little man. How are you, Colby?"

"Good, sir. Thank you for asking." Bouncing his weight against his heels, Colby pauses long enough to shake the hand offered to him. He attempts to take a step inside in search of the children's laughter from inside the house. But you catch his shoulder causing him to stay put.

Mr. Rhodes looks over your shoulder, his gaze scanning the street.

"Speaking of husband's, where's yours? I wish I could say I've forgotten what he looks like, but his face is all over town now that he's made partner at that law firm. What is called now?"

"He couldn't make it." Offering up the platter of brownies in your hand, you feel your shoulders relax as his attention shifts to the snacks. "I made your favorite."

Lifting the lid, Mr. Rhodes sneaks a brownie out.

"Go ahead and takes those in, sweetheart. You know the way. Let's not tell, the misses that I had one."

"Your secret's safe with me."

You keep your free hand on Colby's head as you make your way inside. He knows he must stay at your side until he delivers the gift for Trevante's mom.

With each step, you find you're surprised how familiar the house feels despite the number of years since your last visit.

The music blasting outside is muffled by the shut screen door leading to the back yard, and the laughter and voices coming from the kitchen.

Nearly all of the wives and mothers from the neighborhood are in the kitchen, ducking under and stepping around one another as they balance different plates and bowls. You remain off to the side, suddenly feeling out of place.

Trevante's mother spots Colby first, her squeal of excitement pulling a shy grin from your son.

"Colby Andrew Prescott, my angel!" Scooping him up, she quickly places a kiss against his cheek before stopping to give his face a good once over. "You have gotten so big! And so handsome, just like your father. I've missed you. Both of you!"

Pulling you into a tight hug, his mother places a quick kiss against your cheek.

"Can you be an angel, and take these out to Tre? We're running behind with the food."

Before you can respond, Trevante's mother has replaced the platter of brownies with a plate stacked high with hamburger patties.

She gives you a gentle push towards the back yard, leaving you no room for opposition.

When you'd gotten the call from her, a few days prior, you thought it was a mistake. Trevante was coming home, and she was inviting everyone in the neighboorhood to stop by the house. Your initial plan had been to not show. It wasn't as though the two of you were that close anymore. Surely no one would notice if you didn't attend.

Maybe that's why you pause in the doorway when you spot him across the deck.

He's peppering playful kisses against the cheeks of his niece. Her giggles fill the air as he catches her fingers before her lips before pressing a final kiss against her forehead.

Placing her down, Trevante picked up the tongs before removing the hot dogs from the grill.

"Can I have two of those?" Colby asks as he stops at your side.

"You can have as many as you want," Trevante chuckles as he takes a step in your direction. "Man, you've gotten big, kid."

Colby nods, his smile growing as he tilts his head back for a better look at Trevante.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me."

Smiling, Trevante squats down before Colby.

"How old are you now? Five?"

"No!" Colby's laughter fills the air as he rolls his eyes. "I'm eight. I turn nine in fourteen days."

"Fourteen, huh? I better start looking for a gift."

Colby's eyes widen at the offer, his head tilting back to meet your gaze. "My momma has the list...if you need help."

"Alright. I'll get a copy. Up top." Trevante winces as their palms collide, shaking his hand out. "Take it easy on me, lil' man. I'm not as strong as you anymore. How 'bout you go play for a bit. Work up that appetite?"

Lightly ruffling his hair, you watch as Colby takes off the yard towards the other kids. Your focus remains on him for a moment. When you look back to Trevante, you find his gaze on you.

He accepts the plate of patties you offer him, his gaze remaining on your face causing you to redirect your attention.

He knows the source of your gaze's redirection is him, but he doesn't look away. He finds his mind picking up on the visible changes you present. It seems now that you're in one another's presence, it occurs to Trevante the last time you were this close to him was two and a half years ago.

Placing the plate aside, he reaches into the nearby cooler.

"Want a beer?"

"Uh, no, thank you." You look up, watching as he twists the cap off of his bottle before taking a sip. "I'm Colby's designated driver. We're going to get ice cream later, so...lemonade for me..."

The heat on your skin causes you to point over your shoulder. "I'm actually supposed to help your mom. So, I'll see you later -- when I come back for the burgers."

"Okay." Trevante smiles. The passing of his eyes over you for a second time causes you to take a step back. "Look, don't be stranger. I don't want another two years to pass before you give me more than five words."

You nod. It takes you a moment to realize you haven't spoken. When you do, you manage an, "Okay."

There is a silence that rests between the two of you for a brief second.

"Just uh...come find me. Colby and I are at my parent's old house."

Trevante nods, his brow furrowing as his eyes linger on your bare ring finger.

"I know the one."

Turning, you start back towards the house but pause as you near the door.

Biting your lip, you release the breath weighing against your chest.

"Tre." At the sound of his name, Trevante glances back. You wait until he turns to face you to speak. Your gaze falls to your shoes. "What did my dad say to you that night?"

It was a question you found yourself pondering more frequently as of late. One you'd never mustered the courage to ask when the first shift in your relationship occurred.

His silence makes you think he's having trouble remembering what night you're speaking of. You had nineteen years worth of consecutive nights spent together to catalog.

When you look up, you find his gaze is across the yard. A soft smile is on his lips. Lifting his beer to his lips, Trevante takes a sip before taking a step back.

He meets your gaze before smiling, "these should be done in about twelve."

Taking a second step back, he turns and focuses on laying out the fresh patties across the grill.

..... to be continued .......

tags:  @chaneajoyyy @kemkem101 @l-auteuse @doublesidedscoobysnacks@ghostfacekill-monger @blackpinup22 @blkroyalltea @essaysbyciara@wakanda-inspired @eyestheyseeyou​ @hufflepuff-ish��

[beabaseball]

this is a delirious 11pm post for Adults Only guys

Leave this space, child!

...

...

...

...y’all teenagers are going to be tweaked out of their goddamn minds.

Like, not necessarily in the drugged way, though some maybe yes in the drugged way, but like. Specifically in the non-drug way, they’re going to be snippy, and inattentive, and self centered. And that’s probably fine.

Like. Of course teens are self-centered, their bodies are doing weird shit for the first time and people keep making jokes they don’t understand yet, and some of these fuckers haven’t been given sex ed so they don’t even know what’s coming.

The younger teens have just emerged from the child form that has only just started being able to comprehend a larger world. In elementary school, sure I was reading time magazine for kids and we prayed for people who were being reported (religious school; recent tsunami, it happens) and when I was in 1st or 2nd grade we heard rumors that once upon a time women weren’t allowed to do the same stuff as men, but like— you can feel those things, but it’s not really something that you comprehend unless it’s right then a part of your life. I remember the first time I really ‘got’ sexism was in ninth grade in a gym class of 24 boys to 3 + me girls, and I wrote bad poetry about it in my phone for like three months trying to process it.

When I was like 16 our car broke down midway to school and we had to call my dorm parent to come drive me the next 5 mins, and so he’s in a bad mood bc he has to pick me up, and mom is in a bad mood bc car she gets a feeling dorm parent didn’t believe her when she said the car broke down, and it’s like 80 out but more importantly the humidity is a swamp, and I just remember being in his car driving the rest of the way to school and he’s complaining about sunburns bc he’s super pale and Irish, but he’s trying to talk so I kind of say “huh well i’ve never gotten a sunburn. I tan real fast and then go inside and I’m white again.”

and even in the moment I remember being like “that’s not really what he wanted to hear” and I think he even made a face, but I was too out of it and hot and tired to really do anything passed that. And I do feel kind of bad about it? Like, I did not mean to demean his pain of sunburns and I know also that at the time he was having A Rough Time with his marriage, to the point where he had us doing religious plays about parenthood for three seasons straight.

But also, I was a teenager. And looking back I can’t exactly blame my past self for just kinda... saying some words and feeling bad the rest of the car ride but also too tired to care. Theater teacher man wasn’t a bad guy; we were definitely not good at reading each other and he thought musicals sucked, but he also was the one who comforted me out of a panic attack when we had a tornado warning and I ended up convinced my daystudent friend was going to die.

Because that’s what I cared about at the time. Me-related things. Yes, tornado, but I am worried about one (1) person, and that mattered to me. I stayed behind when we got an actual sex-ed person in 7th grade because I was scared that reading yaoi would send me to hell. I had a breakdown in front of my history professor because one of my friends was discovering her gender identity and I was scared I was ‘losing her’ (you know the words!)

Now, someone comes out to me or someone doesn’t understand a term and I’m over here like “yea which definition u wanna use” but back then I was a kid and I had never experienced anything like this before, my hormones were wild—which didn’t mean I was horny and wanted boyfriend, it meant I was in constant fear of bleeding through things and every now and then I would wake up and my body would be in surprise unknowable pain (aka I was finally big enough to cut off my own circulation in my sleep and also growing pains)

Now, I’ve got a lot of that under control. When I wake up with a body in pain I usually know why and probably it is my fault actually. I know a bit better how to get through days when I’m too hot, or too groggy, or just dissociation or mad. (The trick is: say aloud, “sorry if I’m not responding much, I’m just really hot/groggy/out of it/still upset about that.” )

That’s not something a lot of teens have down yet. I saw a kid with a naruto shirt on at work once and I said “hey naruto” and he looked at me like he’d seen the face of god, he was so surprised someone knew what naruto was. To someone even MILDLY in my age range, the idea of not knowing who Naruto is is preposterous. But this was like, 12-15 year old at the most. Not hit his growth spurt yet. Just absolutely blindsided that there was an outside world which recognized something he liked, which I’m gonna wildly guess his parents probably aren’t into or don’t talk about it with him, because the thought of talking Naruto with your kid is horrifying.

Obviously, thinking other people don’t know about naruto is a similar kind of self-centered thought along the lines of “I bet thigh chick isn’t a REAL fan of x” or “EVERYONE has an opinion on me and there is no in between” where like the world... sort of revolves around you.

And like, once that person grows up if they keep that sort of self-focus, that’s usually the time you start trying to ditch them, but even older teens are still just coming out of that larval childhood state. They know a lot more about the world than we probably did at their age—I know a lot of them aren’t having the same existential crisis over their friends’ gender like I did, which is a big ol step— but there are still days that it’s going to be too much new shit to deal with, plus whatever else is happening inside them personally. And it’ll take a while to learn how to handle that.

In the meantime, they might be snappish, or out of it, or just kind of give up and have a ‘fuck it’ attitude sometimes, and it drives a lot of adults just goddamn insane it seems, according to all the mildly aggressive parents at work, trying to get kids who don’t want to be there to give the right reactions. It’s probably not even anything personal to the event that’s making them unhappy. One time I talked to a kid who was crying, and when I got her to tell me what was bothering her, it turned out that some people on her family reunion were mean to her. Nothing about the immediate ‘now’, just a lot of emotion that needed to go somewhere, and that somewhere ended up being crying, and it was not at all about respect or disrespect or anything related to us. Probably most of what was needed was to talk about it (success) and take a long nap.

The first time I remember having a meltdown with a ‘trigger’ like that, I was in 5th grade and my first assignment was something like “what did you do over summer” so I lost my entire shit and cried on the couch for an hour. Passed out, slept til 7, woke up and was fed soup, and have no idea if I finished that paper but presumably I did because I remember a nap and food working.

I would keep having these homework meltdowns periodically, and I don’t know when they stopped, but I had at least one, maybe two, in my first year of college.

And eventually I’ve just kinda.... stopped having them. Stress about a big project wasn’t something that bothered me anymore. You just did it one step at a time, and when you started thinking “maybe I’ll do it in the morning”, you immediately go to bed because you’ve already lost the fight and even if you don’t do it in the morning at least you won’t face it sleep deprived.

It takes time and living to get these experiences, and while one kid might not have the same issues with school work I had, maybe something else just knocks them on their ass every time (same) and it is just. Literally something you need to live through a couple times before you know how to deal with it. You can provide Blank Slate Alien Person with all the mental health tips and anecdotal advice and chamomile tea as you want, but the first couple times they face stress, none of those tips help if they don’t know how to implement them.

If you’ve ever assembled something by instructions and ended up building it upside down—it’s easier to build it again once you’ve gotten mad and undone it and started again. Because you’ve practiced. You already had the instructions, but now you have the experience of building it already, even if the result wasn’t the one you wanted.

Teens are learning a) how to read instructions, and b) that their assembly is probably upside down. and in the meantime, the world is also bonkers wild right now.

When they have that moment of rage, or giving up, or aloofness upon finding shit got built upside down— just. Let them.

You don’t have to ‘fix’ it or ‘fix’ them for having these emotions, or lack of them.

These are normal reactions. They make sense. All I’m asking is that we understand it’s going to happen. These emotions are going to happen.

Don’t let yourself justify being mean to kids and teens by telling yourself they’re being disrespectful. The world and their lives and emotions also don’t revolve around you. It’s not always a rebellion or reason to fight when things get too high strung to hold total control of.

That doesn’t mean ignore them. I was maybe 12 or 13, and it was 90 on a metal ship, and i was wearing an under shirt because i didn’t have a bra, so two layers of clothes on a hot metal ship, on my period— and all I remember is asking my dad to let us sit down and eat some lunch, because i was dizzy and dehydrated, and all he just kept saying we would do it once he saw the tour. I have no idea how long it was but I probably could’ve cried and been called moody or uncooperative.

Life is difficult. Especially for people who aren’t yet in control of their situations. Who are still bursting out with emotions they can’t otherwise articulate.

Be kind to that.

[pineapplecoreconfidentials]

🖤

In prep mode (kinda like beast mode in terms of determination and drive, but less protein, sweat, and muscles) for Friday’s hysteroscopy, doc put me on birth control. This is routine.

.

What seems less routine is that the BC makes me an emotional mess, like I’m some crabby teen who is in a fight with her best friend, is having a bad hair day, got only two likes on her latest IG post that she was sure was a winner, found out her bf cheated on her, and then got her period while wearing white pants ALL ON THE SAME DAY.

What’s strange to me is that I had zero symptoms while pumping myself full of two rounds of stimulant medication beyond bloating due to supersized ovaries. I was also on a different form of oral BC for nearly ten years without a hormone induced whack attack. Yet this teeny tiny pill that I’ll be on for the next two and a half weeks gots me feeling like Johnny Depp in a cross over role between Jack Sparrow and Willy Wonka. Good thing I’ve got this rolling right in time for the start of the new school year next week. That’s not usually a stressful time at all, so might as well add “crying or raging at the drop of a hat” to my list of work superpowers.

[gxldensnitched]

undeniable (part 2/?)

I just finished this! It’s posted on AO3 and a few posts back if you haven’t read the first part :) I decided to make this a little Albus centric bc I love him, so I hope you enjoy!

There were a lot of things that Albus Potter was good at. Things that might actually come in useful, like potions or charms. He was quite skilled at defence (he firmly believed that his father’s additional holiday lessons had nothing to do with that) and while flying, he could pull out of a sharp drive with his broom (and bones) fully intact. 

But one thing that completely stumped him was history. He hated learning the names and tales of witches and wizards who’d helped “pave the way” as Professor Binns claimed, towards modern magic. It was something he deemed completely unnecessary. After all, what was there to gain by knowing when Stupefy was first used? Or the duration of the goblin revolution? 

Albus personally thought History was boring. They didn’t do much besides take notes and listen to their ghastly professor drone on and on about wars, warlocks, and on good days, historical potion making. 

Albus buried his face in his arms, closing his eyes. It may be dreadful, but history was a great class to take if you wanted to catch up on your sleep. He’d often joked that insomniacs could merely listen to a tape recording of one of Binns’ lessons, and they’d be able to fall asleep in no time. Rose had rolled her eyes, but everyone else laughed, so he paid her no mind. She had an awful sense of humour anyway. 

The caffeine he’d consumed that morning fought to keep him awake, and after half an hour of trying to rest with no avail, he let out a frustrated sigh and lifted his head back up. 

“Good morning, grumpy pants. You only missed every point that Binns said would be on our OWLs,” came Rose’s bored whisper from the seat beside him. 

“It’s afternoon, and I wasn’t asleep,” was his response, which came out muffled as he decided burying his face in his arms was still a better option than trying and failing to listen to the lecture while Rose poked him with her quill whenever he zoned out.

He heard Rose’s sigh and the scratching of her quill on parchment, and smiled into his arms slightly as he realized she wasn’t going to sacrifice her precious note taking time to try and keep him alert. 

After a few minutes of not so satisfying rest, the class slowly started to increase in volume, and Albus looked back up. 

“Is class over already?” He asked, as people began to stand up. 

“No, Albus. He said we could collaborate to answer the questions on the board. You have a terrible sense of hearing, you know that?” Rose asked, but there was no real malice in her voice. 

“If my hearing is so terrible, why do I know that Yann Fredericks is planning to ask you to the Valentine’s ball?” He said with a raise of his brow, looking up at his cousin smugly.

Rose’s freckled skin went pink, and she shot him a glare that wasn’t up to her usual standards. The look of satisfaction on her face couldn’t be missed, even as she turned to head away from their shared desk. 

“You’re going to abandon me? You know none of my friends were stupid enough to take this horrible class again, Rose!” Albus whined, pulling on Rose’s arm to hold her back. Despite her bossiness and love of control, she was a good partner to work with. Especially when you didn’t know a thing about a subject. 

She turned around with an exasperated look on her face, one that Albus was quite accustomed to. He didn’t mind, he loved getting a rise out of her, even if it meant getting a scolding from his mum. 

“You can sit with my friends and I. If you behave,” she replied, pulling him off the seat. 

“Your friends are all girls.” 

“So?”

“So, that’s a little weird.”

“You’re a little weird, Albus. Besides, Polly would love to work with you.” Rose gave him a slight smile, and he groaned. 

“Absolutely not,” he protested, stopping in his tracks. 

Polly Chapman had been his girlfriend of a pitiful two months, before she’d declared her love for him over dinner and he’d promptly spat out his pumpkin juice. All over the front of her new silk robes, to be specific.

In her defence, they had only been in third year. Raging hormones was Rose’s explanation. 

“Oh, give her another chance!” Rose said, putting an arm around his shoulders and pushing him towards the opposite end of the room. “She hasn’t gotten over you and you know it!” 

“She told me she loved me! We’d only kissed eight times!” 

“You were thirteen, Al! And you seriously kept count?”

Albus’s cheeks grew slightly pink, but pulled away from her. 

“I’ll work alone. Or with the vast array of nerds in this class whose names I don’t even know.” Albus watched with an expression of mock betrayal as his cousin headed over to her group of girls, where he locked eyes with Polly for a brief second before hastily turning away.

“Suit yourself!” Rose said, not looking back. 

Albus ran his hand through his jet black hair with a sigh, looking around the room to see if he could spot at least one person he knew who wouldn’t spend the period gawking at him. His bright eyes scanned the room before falling on a familiar white-blond head of neatly combed hair. 

Scorpius Malfoy would be the perfect partner. After all, his knowledge of potions surpassed even Albus’s own, which made him a certified genius in Albus’s eyes. He’d been much nicer than Albus had expected, and the last time they’d worked together was surprisingly pleasant. Not to mention the way Scorpius seemed to know the reason behind everything, from why you shouldn’t add too much lavender sprigs to why Slughorn had paired them together in the first place. 

He quietly approached Scorpius, who was sitting a few rows ahead of him, books and papers strewn all over his desk. 

“Hey.”

Scorpius startled, dropping his peacock feather quill onto his parchment, creating a coal black smudge.

He turned around to face Albus, a mixture of confusion and relief when he saw who it was. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Albus said, giving him an apologetic smile, while also trying not to laugh. He made a mental note to sneak up on Scorpius more often, except next time he’d do it when Scorpius was empty handed.

“Oh, it’s okay, I have plenty of parchment, anyway.” He gestured to the mess on his desk, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I can see that.” Albus shot him a smile before sitting down. Scorpius’s eyes widened slightly, as if he thought Albus was just passing his desk on the way to someone else’s.

“What? Is this seat taken?” Albus asked, confused. 

“No, it’s not that! You’re completely welcome to sit here.” He paused. “I’m just... wondering... why?” 

“My cousin’s being annoying, and you’re a better partner than her anyway. Unless you were planning on working alone? I can leave if you want.” 

“No!” Scorpius added, a little too quickly. Seeming to notice, he added “I mean, I was. But I’d rather work with you, obviously. If that’s what you want?” 

“That’s why I walked all the way over here,” Albus replied, emphasizing the words all the way and gesturing to his desk, only a few steps behind Scorpius’s. 

He shot Scorpius a sideways grin before fishing around in his bag for a piece of parchment. 

“Oh, right. Obviously.” Scorpius blushed, and Albus laughed. 

“You don’t have to be so nervous, you know! I’m not going to curse you or anything.” Albus laughed, and Scorpius’s shoulders loosened. Albus was used to people being nervous around him, but this felt different. Oddly enough, he felt a little nervous himself. It must have been because of the whole Malfoy-Potter rivalry thing. 

“I know, sorry. It’s just that you’re Albus Potter.” Scorpius spoke lightly, sounding posh even when he was nervous. 

“And you’re Scorpius Malfoy.” Albus responded. “Wanna make a bet?” 

This seemed to scare Scorpius slightly, and his eyes widened. Albus couldn’t help but notice how grey they were. They reminded Albus of thunderstorms, the comforting kind that make you want to snuggle up in bed with coffee (or butterbeer, if he was in the mood) and a book. He’d never met anyone with thunderstorm eyes before, and it took a while for him to pull his own gaze away. 

“A bet?” Scorpius asked.

“M-hmm. If you apologize one more time during the remainder of this class - which, I might add, is a double period - you have to be my potions partner for the rest of the month.” Albus grinned, and Scorpius visibly relaxed, letting out a breath. 

“That doesn’t seem like much of a punishment,” he pointed out. “And what if I win?”

“Then...” Albus pondered for a moment. “I’ll show you something... special.”

Scorpius seemed intrigued. He leaned closer to Albus than he was before. Albus took advantage of this, wriggling his eyebrows. He lowered his voice to a whisper.

“It’s something you’d never get a chance to see with your own eyes. It will utterly enchant you.” He said, in the dramatic voice he usually reserved for babysitting Lily and Hugo, when he’d had to make something mediocre sound interesting in order to keep them still. 

This, however, was far from mediocre.

“I formally agree to this bet,” Scorpius said, and Albus wanted to roll his eyes at how he talked. He sounded like Albus would have when he was trying to imitate one of the annoying, overly serious business wizards his father often complained about. 

“Good.” Albus flashed him a wide grin, and Scorpius reciprocated, making him wonder why he’d never done this sooner. 

“Shall we get started?” Scorpius asked, rearranging the supplies on his desk.

“Do we have to?” 

“Technically, no. Failing is always an option.” Scorpius responded thoughtfully.

“I really can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” Albus laughed. “Although if you’re serious, we might as well ditch right now and go flying.” 

Scorpius laughed. 

“It wasn’t sarcasm, but failing isn’t really an option,” He said, as he started to copy down the questions from the blackboard. 

His writing was neat and loopy, and all his letters looked the same. That was a feat Albus could only dream of accomplishing, and he quickly flipped to a piece of empty parchment, hoping that Scorpius hadn’t gotten a glimpse of his scrawly, almost unintelligible handwriting. 

“I don’t care if I fail this class, to be honest.” Albus said, doodling a broomstick on the corner of his page.

Scorpius looked at him incredulously, raising his eyebrows. That had most definitely made him sound like a careless jock. 

“Not that I don’t care about my education or anything. It’s just... history is kind of useless, isn’t it?” Albus said. There was no doubt that Scorpius would agree with him, because he knew there wasn’t a pupil in all of Hogwarts who genuinely enjoyed the class. Albus would safely say he knew almost everyone in their year, and even a few students from other years, thanks to his multitude of relatives. None of them liked history. 

But Scorpius was looking at him like he’d deeply offended his great ancestors. 

“That’s not true! History paved the way towards modern magic!” 

“So I’ve heard. Every day since first year.” Albus rolled his eyes. 

“Without history, we wouldn’t have broomstick advancements. You do know that, right? Your Firebolt would be practically a tree branch. You wouldn’t be able to fly more than five miles per hour.” 

Albus put his hands up defensively. Clearly he was wrong about no one being passionate about history.

“Damn, I’m working with an actual nerd,” he said, letting out a breathy laugh. 

Scorpius paused for a moment, and it looked like he was contemplating whether Albus had meant that as a joke or as an insult. He seemed to have decided on joke, and he gave Albus an embarrassed smile as he turned back to his empty parchment. 

“You know the point of working together is so that we can get more done,” Scorpius pointed out, and Albus had to refrain from rolling his eyes. This was like working with a male version of a slightly nicer Rose. 

“Really?” Albus responded sarcastically. “I thought it was to make this dreadful class a little bit more bearable.” 

Scorpius paused before responding.

“This is my favourite class.” 

Albus almost choked.

“Seriously? No, for real?” He asked in disbelief. 

“Yes, I think history is fascinating. I mean, look at all the spells that have been created in the last decade!”

“They’re alright.” 

“Alright? They’re wonderful! You can practically do anything you want using magic nowadays.” Scorpius said dreamily, gazing off into space. Albus desperately wanted to ask Scorpius if he had a thing for historians, but he refrained. 

“You can make your bed, comb your hair, and even tie your shoes using a simple incantation!” Scorpius continued, now incorporating in some hand gestures. Albus felt like he was watching one of those muggle infomercials that often came on TV. 

“No offence, but if I needed magic to tie my own shoes, I’d probably never show my face in public.” Albus responded, rolling his eyes. 

“That’s besides the point!” 

“Okay, okay, I guess you’re right...” Albus lied, still as eager to leave the class as he was before. Not even history nerd Scorpius Malfoy could change his opinion on this subject. 

Scorpius gave him a small smile before returning to his work. 

Albus watched him write, occasionally jotting down some answers of his own. He tried to slow down, making his letters a little bit more legible than they normally were. He couldn’t help but notice how much more relaxed Scorpius had gotten since the first time they’d worked together. 

Scorpius was currently gazing at his desk, with his chin in one hand and fancy quill in the other. The only other wizards he’d seen use peacock feathers were high level ministry workers at his father’s workplace. His father owned one too, of course, but Harry had always been more of the traditional sort, sometimes even using muggle pens. 

“Do... you need something?” Scorpius’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, and he realized he’d been staring. 

“Huh? Oh, sorry,” Albus said, turning away with a little shake of his head. “I was just... admiring your quill. It’s very nice.” 

Way to make yourself sound smooth, Albus thought to himself, cringing. 

But Scorpius didn’t seem to notice, and he gave Albus a warm beam.

“Thanks! It was a Christmas gift from my father. I think he got tired of buying me books, he says I probably already own the whole bookstore. Which isn’t true, of course. One can never have too many books!” Scorpius rambled. It was something he seemed to do a lot, but Albus didn’t mind. 

“You sound like Rose.” Albus laughed. “She’s almost as big of a nerd as you, I bet you’d get along well.” 

“Maybe, if she didn’t hate my guts.” Scorpius pointed out.

“She doesn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s my cousin. We usually tend to have the same opinions on people.” 

“And what exactly is your opinion?”

Albus thought for a moment. What was his opinion? 

For one, Scorpius Malfoy seemed like the polar opposite of what he’d heard. Albus didn’t think he’d ever met anyone so sweet in his life. Other than grandma Molly, of course. 

He was also a huge nerd. That much was obvious. 

Apart from that, Albus didn’t know what else to think. He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something he should do. 

As Scorpius’s eyes met his own, he pondered what to say. He couldn’t lift his gaze, and for the first time, he couldn’t find the words to express himself, which was saying a lot considering he’d been told by many that his quick witted responses were so good that he should consider a career in magical law. 

So he settled on the truth, and shot Scorpius a small grin. The subtle, smirky kind that made his eyes flash and almost always got him what he wanted. 

“I like you.” 

[tayegi]

THE NEW CHAPTER FOR NEW RULES HAS ME SHOOK Idk if its my hormones acting up or something but boi i cried when jimin brought up his confession note

Anonymous said:I'm so upset and shocked, I get that Jimin doesn't like OC anymore but he deserves to know how snakey and shady Mijoo is. It's just wrong. I'm so sad :(

Anonymous said:is it weird that ive actually cried over pt2 of new rules? i was so mad !!! i definitely wouldn't have be able to contain myself and id lash out omg i hate betrayal so much!!! i sorry im just so emotional right now! i hope all of this is for the best and props to oc for being so level-headed and mature about this whole thing!! and ofc thank you for writing it ♥️

luxinfired said:Hey Lu! I enjoyed New Rules 2 even though my heart broke for the OC 😭 I liked the turn of events, but wow Mijoo... I didn't expect that, from her and hopefully she isn't just evil, I hope there's more than meets the eye about her. As usual, great work! Your OCs are so richly portrayed, I love that :)

Anonymous said:I read new rules and i honestly haven't been able to stop thinking about it all day. Part 2 really has me in my feelings.. i feel pretty similar to oc.. i wouldn't want to hurt my precious friend but my heart hurts thinking about not being able to tell the truth to anyone (except for jk i guess lol) i hope they can resolve their feelings and still be friends and i hope jimin knows that oc really did love him.. but anyways i loved it thank u so much for writing! 💓

Anonymous said:holy shit lu new rules chapter 2 fucked me up i did nOT SeE THAT ONE COMING I love your writing omg that one hit me like a truck... but.... poor oc

Anonymous said:new rules ch2 fucked me up, lu why are you doing this to me??????

Anonymous said:(spoiler just in case) i think tumblr cancelled my message, but seriously i almost punched myself over OC's friend like who even does that? I thought OC would've confessed at the point where Jimin revealed that, but I understand her decision. I feel her sadness as if my own T.T

artblocks said:UGH LU THAT UPDATE IS MAKING ME CRY!! I feel so sad that OC didn't get to be with Jimin (it is a Jungkook fanfic after all but still!!) ... like I wish she told him that she didn't receive anything ;-; I hope OC will be happier in the future updates! Ugh I get too immersed in your writing T-T great job Lu

Anonymous said:I hurt my own feelings reading new rules but I loved every angsty second of it! I just love how much character and depth you give each oc it's so enjoyable to read. I hope you're doing well too be happy and healthy!

curiosityuponus said:I teared up with the new NR chapter. I mean, how fucking low and disgusting from Mijoo. While the main char swallowed her feelings to not hurt her, she sabotages any way to get into Jimin's pants. I soooo want her to break off that toxic friendship and take Jimin back. Oh god, I'll be screeching in happiness. Poor JK tho, but no hard feelings when there's none in the beginning haha. I want Mijoo sad and alone❤ Anyways, whatever you'll do with the story I'll like so🙆 Can't wait for next chap!

Anonymous said:fuck. I cried so hard reading New Rules Chapter 2 and I was so angry, screaming and shouting. You got me fucked up, Lu. I can only hope this shit never happens to me. But honestly tho - imo, the OC needs to cut off Mijoo. Like what kind of friend is she? Backstabbing bitch. It's toxic. I can't handle that toxicity and would cut that shit out. Once is enough to show the true character of a person. And I want to hug and cry with the OC so badly. I'm really sad. My heart is breaking with hers.

Anonymous said:The OC didn't deserve that my heart broke. Like wow how can people be so selfish and this is just writing. You are just so good. Wow.

Anonymous said:omg...i feel so bad for the oc...jimin liked her back but she didn't get to have a happy ending with him bc of mijoo 😢 ahhh the oc handled it so sweetly :(

Anonymous said:New Rules made me cry so much... My mother looked quite worried when she walked in and saw me sobbing. In addition, I just can't help but despise Mijee for not giving Y/N Jimin's note!!! :(

Anonymous said:🎶Quit playing games with my heart🎶😭

Anonymous said:god that update for new rules made me so sad :( i'm surprised at how the oc dealt with confronting mijoo and forgiving her, but it makes me love her so much more as well (heavens know what i'd do with the temper that i have). now i just want to give oc a hug, some pints of high quality ice cream, and tell her how beautiful she is inside and out

Anonymous said:+++ (I didn't add the pluses before but I'm the anon talking about the seat of someone's pants metaphor.) I kinda wish that the OC had raged at Mijoo or something like that, simply because unleashing anger is cathartic and it pains me to think of her holding all of those emotions in a pent up place, but the way she handled things was the most mature way, so I respect her so much. This series is probably my favorite ever because it's so relatable and so in touch with +++

doubletroublesince1994 said:OMG I CANT BELIEVE YOU MADE ME CRY WITH THE SECOND CHAPTER MIJOO IS SUCH A BITCH AND THE MAIN GIRL IS TOO NICE AND JIMIN DESERVES TO KNOW WHAT REALLY HAPPENED BECAUSE ITS NOT FAIR OMG THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME TO HANDLE

ahhh it’s amazing how many ppl i’ve made sad or cry with this chapter :( can you believe that when I first started this series out, I didnt expect there to be any angst? i thought it would all be crack smut comedy fluff. aksdfjkl what is wrong with me...? :”) 

sorry guys. i think im on my period and i just have a lot of pent up feelings haha. Thank u for being sad with me D: 

[freshpickeddeath]

Birth Control Issues...

Hey, I know no one following me probably knows the answer, but I’m putting this out there in case someone feels like passing it on until someone does know (although no hard feelings if you don’t).

So I’ve been on birth control for almost 2 years in an attempt to control my cramping and hormonal issues (pretty sure I have PMDD, based on symptoms), and it’s been working pretty well. I have still been having some minor discomfort and grumpiness, but nowhere near the pain and intense mood swings that I use to have. Suddenly, though, that all changed this month. I had mild cramping on and off for around 2 weeks without bleeding, and then yesterday I sudden;y woke up feeling miserable and had the same sudden bursts of crying that I use to have pre-meds. I also barely slept last night and have been having bursts of rage and sadness for a few moments before going back to normal.

I tried to google it, but everything that came up was about what’s normal vs. abnormal for periods, or discussing when to start taking a BC, rather than about symptoms suddenly returning. So, does anyone have any advice? Is it possible I did something to make my BC less effective (I’ve been drinking more coffee lately, though I’ve never heard of that interfering for other people)? If it happens again next month, either with our without the 2 weeks of random cramping, I’ll probably talk to my doctor about it, but I don’t want to worry about it if it ends up being a one-off thing or something I can fix with a normal diet change. So, I figured I’d see if anyone else had similar experiences, in the meantime.

PS, in case it comes up, there’s no chance I’m pregnant. I am not sexually active, and even if I was, my datemate does not have the necessary parts to give me a baby. I’m only on birth control for the hormone control properties mentioned above.