#the fact that this was in the midst of graduation stuff too. They Know.

[arolesbianism]

Im still not over how bandori just dropped this card and then just kept trucking like nothing happened. Just a casual "oh yeah here's Aya holding the empty husk of her idol identity in her arms in front of a shattered mirror ok anyways" like ok cool guess I'll just have my brain rewired in a single moment that will haunt me for the rest of my life. Sweet.

[sneezemonster15]

Why do like 90% of males think male homosexuality is disgusting? I read somewhere that they think it's as gross as rotten flesh 😭 also why do they laugh at it and make jokes about it too like they can't take it seriously? They're so insufferable, I see this so often. Not that I care about their opinions but they're the same kinda guys who gave yaoi loving girls the name fujoshi meaning "rotten girl" because that's how disgusting they thought they were. Freaks. It wasn't like this in ancient Greece, was it? What changed? Now they're more annoying. Before they were only misogynists and not homophobic but now they're both :/

Hah. This is one of the ramifications of the well entrenched patriarchal system in the midst of which, we live and operate. It has always been like this. Didn't happen overnight. It's intricate and quite a bit of it is invisibilised and the rest is normalised. It's better in some places, worse in others. But it's everywhere barring pockets of tribes which are matrilineal, which seem almost inconsequential in the larger picture of things.

Within the patriarchal set up, men also are conditioned to potentially satisfy certain expectations, whether it be of a provider or a leader, decision-maker. They are taught that certain things are acceptable where others are taboo. A heteronormative society, whether it be a man or a woman, would glorify or normalise heterosexuality and denigrate anything that comes into opposition with it. Heteronormativity is the narrative they grew up with, that's how they were conditioned. They were inspired by or impacted by their parents, neighbours, teachers, members of their peer group, also heteronormative, who reinforced these narratives and with time, they became a line that is not to be crossed. Taboo.

These dudebros online are just insecure little boys. That and very dumb. Naruto is shounen battle manga and most men/boys take it for granted that it's targeted at them (because it is) and they do end up enjoying it. When you have got super straight and super popular shounen MCs such as Luffy or Goku, it just reinforces the notion that Naruto also will be the same way. And Naruto the story does have all the nuts and bolts of a typical shounen manga, even if it also has a lot of other stuff that is a bit more subtle. A lot of dudebros really relate with Naruto and proudly. A lot of them incelish. Imagine how they would react to the fact that Naruto is gay. Lol. It really troubles their sense of masculine identity to think Naruto could be gay, that's why so many of them would get so bothered whenever Naruto would get super focussed on Sasuke. Lol. And so many of them think that Naruto was wrong to 'let Sasuke free' at the end. According to them, it was unpatriotic. Because that's what they think this story is about. Lol.

Like I said, most Naruto fans are way too attached to their lens. It's emotional for dudebros too. And you can't really argue with an emotionally affected illogical bigot. That's just too many odds against reason lol. They also think Itachi is hell's bells. Itachi is a Sigma male for them. I bet you can find many dudes who fangirl over both Itachi and Andrew Tate. Hahaha.

They are both misogynistic and homophobic, they have always been. Misogyny kinda goes hand in hand with homophobia with these men. Anything that threatens their narrative about men, women and their heteronormative m/f dynamic, will trigger this juvenile, bigoted behaviour in them. And their sense of entitlement as men makes them think they can get away with it. They do get away with a lot of times because reasonable fans usually don't invest in them, considering it a waste of time.

When I was in school, I had a few male members in my group. Three of these boys were very close. Straight boys. But you know, they were growing up, their hormones were welling up. One time, after graduating from school, we were drinking and one of these inebriated boys told me this. In school, after the sports period, they would take a shower together and sometimes, they would jerk each other off. Straight boys. They were curious and their sense of sexuality was not consciously set in stone. They didn't think of it as an overtly sexual act, for them, it was just boys having fun. They would get bored of jerking off themselves so someone else's hand did the trick for them. Another boy. A very good friend. When my friend later told me about it, he was aware how sexual an activity it was. He had realized that it was 'controversial', it was 'gay' and he felt guilty about it. He felt shame. So did the others, so they made a pact to never talk about it.

Kids often indulge in sexual acts while not being consciously aware about its nature. They are discovering their sexuality, their newly minted desire, their changing bodies, the unsettling surge of sex hormones. It's understandable. A lot of kids unconsciously experiment with overt or not so overt sexual acts without being consciously aware of what it implies. Which is understandable. I have heard such accounts from many men. They would never share it with another man though. Their sense of male masculine pride would shatter. Doesn't help that more often than not, there's no one to talk to them about it. Most parents don't, especially in conservative societies. No one to tell them what's right, what's acceptable, what's certainly not. Sex is still a very taboo subject among a lot of societies. Even reproductive sex, and not just recreational sex.

If someone had reassured those boys at the time, if someone had talked to them about it in a balanced way, perhaps their sense of sex and homosexuality/sexual orientation would be more mature, less prejudiced, more inclusive. Don't look at me, I was also quite young, I had not started delivering sermons and lectures yet haha. I did laugh my ass off when he told me though. It was not helpful at all. Hahahaha. You should have seen his face.

It's sad how so many grown and mature men still feel icky about homosexuality. I have seen so many of them who wouldn't be overtly homophobic but they would still show it in some way or the other. One time, i was working on a project where one of the team members was openly and flamboyantly gay, and my very 'liberal', foreign educated, upper middle class male boss hired him on an urgent basis and then appointed me to supervise him. One time, I needed some approvals so I told the boss to talk to him directly. He said no. He acted like it creeped him out, made him uncomfortable. For the rest of the project, I had to act as the liaison, which was fine for me, we became good friends. But it was pretty clear how 'open minded' my boss really was and how entitled he felt to be wearing the mantle of 'liberalism'. He was also a misogynist under the garb of feminism. Another member of the team, a woman, was fired by him. Now she was definitely to blame for her otherwise unprofessional behaviour, but one of her concerns about mistreatment by one of her own assistants (male) should have been addressed with respect. It wasn't. Instead, she was made fun of by the boss. He simply bypassed her complaint about harassment by her male assistant.

My boss would also make fun of the gay man behind his back because of his 'body language' and 'feminine' disposition. He would do it subtly, like it was just harmless ribbing, just a joke. But of course it wasn't. It was more than microaggression. It was disrespectful and very homophobic. I have seen so many men act like this, and it's crazy how so many men never talk amongst themselves about it. In my circles, they would tell me because I am not too judgmental, because I am a woman and because I am not conventionally 'feminine' in opposition to their conventional 'masculinity', which always seemed to reassure them. They thought of me as just one of the guys. I am not. I often found it funny but also quite sad.

So many of these men would open up only after getting sloshed. Their inhibitions would only be relieved when under the influence. Imagine all the energy spent on towing this line, the way both men and women are conditioned how to be.

A five minute shallow interaction online isn't going to do the trick. These men need to be rehabilitated. Their notions about sex and sexuality with respect to the world in all its inherent diversity need to be reexamined and changed where needed. It's difficult to feel sympathy for such men, yes. Some of them. But I am sure they will not be receptive to aggression, they have a degree in aggression themselves. You need to find their emotional Achilles heel, a chink in their armor, to find an in. It's honestly quite easy to crack most men. If you wanna break them, hit where it hurts most, their ego. If you wanna gain their trust, play up to their ego.

Why call them freaks? Lots of women also act like them. It's quite easy to see why they act like it too. We all come with our notions. We all have certain narratives we have grown up with. Certain hardlines we aren't supposed to cross. Certain socio politico cultural structures that reinforce these narratives that form the foundation of our lived experiences from babyhood that most people don't question, whether it be men or women. Our society was not built to be conducive to questions or challenges. It was built to repress them and eventually squash them. So obviously, we aren't able to reach an understanding about something that needs empathy and an open mind, that could really benefit with a balanced dialogue. Especially something that needs us to relook at our belief systems/established narratives. Such as feminism, homosexuality. What we don't understand, we hate or fear or revile.

One would really need to hunker down and have a proper dialogue, if you really want to change these narratives. It would take time and effort and lots of patience. You would need to invest. Build a new narrative. Look at all the ingredients that make up these narratives and start at the root. Change them one at a time. Unless that is done, one cannot convince them of Naruto and Sasuke being gay and it being a gay love story.

[smittenroses]

can you do madeleine cookie x wizard reader headcanons? Is ok if you cant

Madeleine cookie with a medical wizard! s/o

given that you didn't specify the type of wizard you wanted, I decided to do a medical based one

Meeting you was quite the experience in the first place, as not only had you just charged up to the male in the midst of one of his parades around the kingdom but you had taken his horse's reigns and guided the knight towards one of the nearby forests, but you had also been so forward about the request you needed. After all, there were no other knights that had been willing to take on your request and Madeline just so happened to be nearby the forest you had taken your chance. He had thought that this was one of those moments where a fan had wanted to smooch him behind the covers of the forest, so when he had gotten off his horse to do so, he had been shocked when you had swooped under his arm and instead started talking about how you needed him to cut through some foliage in order to reach an ingredient that was needed for a spell — it had shocked him into near-silence before he started chopping through, and after exiting the forest once you had gotten your items of desire he didn't see you for a while after that.

The next time he had seen you was when he was struck down with an almighty fever that had made his own sword and shield feel far too heavy in his hold and he thought that he had seen an angel but in true fact, it was you dressed in your medical garb and he got an almighty surprise when he felt a spoon being shoved into the back of his throat as soon as he sat up and a nasty tasting liquid being held there until he swallowed. When he demanded to know what he just swallowed, you had informed him that the foliage that you had asked for him to make you a path through had an effect that caused for people to become ill should they inhale the fumes, but he hadn't listened and now he had to pay the consequences.

Now, Madeline may not admit it himself but he does find it attractive when people take the lead over him so let's say, after he got better he started hanging around areas you usually frequented in order to try and show off; were you shopping for groceries or ingredients for medicines and spells? He'd suddenly swoop in and take your items off of you in order to carry them, are you travelling somewhere? He has to accompany you of course! That's what a knight always does.

Soon enough just going around the kingdom wasn't enough and he started hiring your assistance to go on expeditions with him since "you know the medical stuff and I can easily protect you, we make a good team, right?" He no sooner ate his own words after that because he got to experience you properly using your magic for things other than medical things — you hadn't graduated from the top magic school just to be some knight's arm candy healer.

Yeah, you embodied the sadist healer trope, the type that went "then beg" when people were asking for heals. You weren't truly a sadist, however, as you wouldn't of become a healer if you were, you just were tired of being bossed around all the time by other people and thus had started to cause trouble on purpose if you weren't in immediate danger. Madeline, like usual as he was young, dumb, and in love, found this hot.

"Why do you always hire me on when you need a magic-user? Espresso and Latte are both perfectly capable of holding a good fight." You hadn't even needed to turn around to know that the holy knight was standing in the middle of your shop's doorway, most likely holding his shield like a dumbass and most likely going to accidentally ram it into the door frame again — which he then proceeded to do, the hard thunk against the door frame being evidence enough of that as you flicked through your tome, hoping to find the spell that you were looking for. "Well, they're always so busy with the academy and I don't want to bother them." Looking up through your glasses, the blonde now stood in front of you, no doubt having left his shield by the door as he usually did after damaging the wooden frame, "And besides, a wizard such as yourself is what I'm looking for and-" "Save the dramatics, fine, usual payout."

You frankly had to be the one to make the first move when it came to romantics, as not only did Madeline have too much of a thick skull to even notice the fact that you had warmed up to him, but he couldn't even figure out his own emotions when it came to his feelings about you; sure, he admired you, he thought of you as someone almost as high as himself when it came to the respect of the citizens, but it was you that had invited him out to dinner. At first, he had thought it was a celebratory dinner, but when you had shown up with a bouquet of flowers and in your best, he finally had it click in his head.

After that, he was much more... calm to say? Well, it was calm in terms of Madeline standards but at least he wasn't always bugging you for attention all the time, though you now had the issue of him constantly asking for you to move in with him... into his big house... with a ton of mirrors. Yeah, you didn't like all the mirrors, and since it was still a brand new relationship you politely declined.

In terms of romantics, he also sucked at being as such, however, he made up for it with his funny attitude and his willingness of doing whatever you wanted; he still had to keep up his duties as a knight, but that didn't stop him from showering you in kisses and cuddles whenever he would see you, even if one time he had done that he had temporarily turned you both into jelly frogs. Accidents were bound to happen, but the two of you never wanted that to happen again.

his kisses are very soft and sweet, not demanding, he doesn't manhandle you, he actually treats you like fine china and with respect. The first time you had kissed him you were shocked since you had been expecting him to kiss with teeth and tongue, but no, he was... decent. Though it was hilarious when he told you he had been practising on his pillow and getting pointers from Almond (who had been dragged into it when he had requested Madeline's help for a police raid, however, that's another story).

Overall, he fell for you because of your wit and will to lead

[rouiyan]

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

synopsis: jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

✧ lee jeno x (fem.) reader) ✧ childhood best friends to loverz, next door neighbor au, (mentioned college au)

✧ genres : fluff, angst, slight comedy ✧ word count : 19.3k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, underage swearing (?), shirtless jeno, legal alcohol consumption

✧ author’s note — i am unsure as to why you would spend your christmas reading this heckin long fic, but in the case that you do, i hope that you enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. it’s longest fic i’ve written thus far (though only by a hundred or so words) so happy reading <3 and i’ll see you around :D

jeno’s glad his mom’s asked him to go to the grocery store, a two minute walk away, to grab some eggs, a tub of sugar-free yogurt, and a breath of fresh air—the most welcome change of pace to his stuffy bedroom or the dust of the stale garage. he thinks he's the first of his high school graduating class to arrive back in town for the winter but it’s here at the store that jeno sees you for the first time in years. his hand, the right one, clutching an empty basket goes limp and he's two steps away from being fully unconcealed by the far end of the dairy aisle. surely, he must look like a creep with only his head peeping out.

it's been years. your hair is now a faded silvery brown, presumably dyed, and gathered into a messy ponytail. the ends of your hair fight with the hood of your sweatshirt, a distilled blue and loose fitting atop a pair of gray sweats. and the basket, looped upon your left elbow, is as empty as his own but you're overturning a can of condensed milk in your other hand, eyes scrutinizing the packaging for the expiration date, the later the better.

he would go and say hi, maybe even strike up a conversation, ask you how you’ve been, but he can’t bring himself to because he’s wearing that one bright green shirt from his seventh grade math competition that is certainly not up to your liking nor preference. really, it’s not that he thinks you'd judge him, knowing you, you’d probably get a good laugh from it and move on, but things have changed since then.

you are no longer the girl he walked to middle school with everyday in the mornings, in the afternoons. and jeno is no longer the boy that was the same height as you; the glasses are long gone and so is the thirteen year old boy who'd cried at his mom for telling him he'd have to go to a different high school than you. things are different and things have changed.

it was all this, paired with the gut feeling that if he went up to you, shirt stretched out like a muscle tee, he’d simply be cowering in your presence. jeno had not the faintest idea you’d be returning this winter since the last three years were spent without (and the four before, though that was only because he lacked the guts to ring the doorbell three houses down). he sticks his head back before you notice him. rerouting, he goes for a stroll in the chips aisle and then right back to the dairy after he sees the slightest indication of your sweatpant cuffs rounding the corner. 

jeno catches his breath there. he gets the goods and makes a beeline for the cash register, keeping his head down and nearly toppling into the display tower of canned corn along the way. the lovely granny at the register, with a nametag labeled 'poppy' on her pink cardigan, is kind enough to check up on his tattered state as she squints at the barcode to scan the yogurt, "young man, are you alright? you're panting awfully hard there."

he only realizes he's spaced out when she repeats with added concern, "sir? do you need some water or-"

"oh, no- i- no, thank you. i'm-" he clears his throat, a plastered smile to aid in his response, "i'm quite alright, thank you." she gives a faltering smile back, one meant to assure, as she discloses his total, "that'll be seven dollars and forty-eight cents." the items are bagged and handed over to him with a receipt. he's in the midst of giving the kind lady a nod in thanks, in the midst of turning and heading in the direction of the exit, in the midst of taking that first step to freedom, the land of no pressures, when he hears your voice from behind, "jeno? is that you?" 

well, shit. he swallows thickly. conscious of his every move, he turns deliberately, the plastic bag hanging, swinging to hit his knee and a hand coming up to the scruff of his neck. he turns to see you next in line, smiling and approaching him with paced steps. only, in his mind, it seems as if you are charging towards him at full speed. although conscious of his every move, jeno unconsciously takes a step back. "y- yeah, that's me."

you beam at the words, setting the basket on your hip as you empty the items onto the checkout conveyor belt. "gosh, i knew it!" he sees your favorite gummy worms, a pack of those flamin' hot cheeto fries which are admittedly too spicy for you to handle, both in the mix of what seems to be baking ingredients. dusting your hands off with two definitive swipes, you fist them and set them on your hips, an adorable pose if he were to be honest. hand falling to his side, jeno watches as a corner of your lip lifts into an emerging grin, "so, how have you been?"

he almost coughs as his words tumble their way into air, "i've been well, home for break, you know, from college and stuff." huh, he thinks, not a bad start.

apparently not because you giggle in turn, "well, obviously." the way you gesticulate your hands with each spoken word strikes familiarity within him. "you don't have to be so vague, jen, we were best friends at one point, remember?" the hand is back at his neck as if it never left, the nickname you had used making him squeak, "yeah, of course i remember." jeno watches as you stare for an awfully long time (two seconds) at his shirt. he knows you're just a thought away from commenting on it when dear mrs. pops clears her throat, a half-apologetic smile on her face, "your total will be sixty-four dollars and twelve cents." your eyes go wide, "oh shit- i mean, oh no!" you feel odd swearing around an elderly though you're really only muttering to yourself, "did i buy that much stuff?"

for some odd reason that he's unable to pinpoint just yet, jeno perks up at that and, seemingly involuntarily, offers, "i got you." he slips his wallet back out, eyeing the twenty dollar bill clutched in your hand. jeno holds out a fifty to mrs. poppy and she takes it before you can protest. you protest anyways, "jeno, wait- no, you don't need to- i could just take some stuff out, you know." he merely nods along, a small smile edging upwards on his lips. mrs. poppy hands you the change and your bagged items and you shove the bills towards jeno who, though no longer needed, is just standing there. he refuses with a shake of his head and hand in tandem, leading the way to the exit but before the two of you make it two steps, mrs. poppy smiles wide before mumbling, most likely meant to herself but discernible to your ears anyways, "looks like someone has a crush on you, dearie."

jeno's heart speeds erratically, again for reasons he has yet to comprehend, and his head snaps to make sure you hadn't heard what he'd just heard. eyes wide upon realizing you had, his head snaps back into place to avoid your teasing gaze. jeno utters a curt, "see you around," the second he's out the automated doors and speed walks to his car, the contents of the plastic bag jostling with each ushered step. 

the door to his pristine condition '93 chevrolet vette, his baby, shuts behind him. the grocery bag is set in the passenger's seat, mindlessly. jeno starts up the engine but stays put. he can see you across the parking lot, trying to find the keys to your hyundai kona, the white one that's now a certified gray. he chuckles.

he chuckles at the fact that it's been years upon years and you still have yet to fail to put a smile on his face. he chuckles at the fact that it's been years and your cheery, snarky persona has not changed one bit. he chuckles at the fact that he stills finds every aspect of you effortlessly charming, for so many and no reasons all at once. he chuckles at the fact that he still, still feels the need to impress you every chance he gets. perhaps, things haven't changed all that much.

"i'm home!"

shuffling off your shoes, you hear snippets of your mom's voice coming from the living room. a hand on the doorframe, you push yourself up, only to realize that she isn't even talking to you. rather, and upon entering the room, she's on the phone, unaware of your entrance and exclaiming into the jabbed speaker as she crochets a baby blue piece into existence. stepping into her line of vision, you give her a small smile in return to her nod of acknowledgement before moving on into the kitchen.

you've only just finished up with storing the flour into the pantry when you notice your mom has followed you into the kitchen as well, phone supposedly hung up. she sets her elbows, leaning, onto the counter as she watches you put away the baking goods. there's a glint in her eyes that you're wary of. sure enough, "guess what?"

"mom, i'm not interested in going on another blind date. not after what happened last time with that son of your cowork-"

"no, no, nothing like that," and though her words contradict what you thought was to be another stood up date, you're still on edge for the glint in her eyes has anything but subsided, "i was just going to inform you that mrs. lee's son is back in town."

your eye roll reverts itself halfway. crossing the room, you lean opposite of her on the counter. "you mean jeno?" she nods in slight confoundment. "yeah, i just saw him." your mother leans a little further and her voice comes out bordering a whisper though no one is around to hear but you and there's nothing scandalous to what she's saying, "mrs. lee tells me he's almost six feet tall! is that true?" you lean forward as well, not in interest, but in actuality to grab at the nutmeg extract. "pfft, as if. i'd say five eleven at best."

the humor in your eyes is enough to get your mom to defend her trusted source, "oh, i bet he's getting there." you shake your head, "he's twenty-one mom, i doubt he's still growing." turning your back on her to prop open the spice rack, her voice mumbles along, "you never know…" she relents and moves onwards to the next topic in line, eyes eager, "so, did you get to talk to him?" 

she's busying herself with tying up the plastic bags for later use as trash can liners when you turn back around, "i did but i mean, it was short," you gesture to the rest of the food you've yet to put away, "but he did pay for most of this." her face is drawn in teasing and she's about to comment on 'how sweet of him that was' when she realizes what you'd just said. "why? did you not have enough money?"

"no, i only brought a twent-"

she hits you lightly with a tied bag before sticking it in the compartment under the sink with a huff, "how dumb can you be to only bring twenty dollars to a grocery store? especially with all that junk food you always buy." now that's the motherly nagging you're more used to. but the teasing comes back soon after when you're upon exiting the kitchen in favor of changing out your clothes. "why don't i make some food for them so you have an excuse to pay him a visit?"

you very clearly remember your mother's propositions of your wedding all those years ago, after you'd gotten your first boyfriend. she didn't even really like him but it was enough that you did. she'd sworn her preparations were all neat and ready when you'd sat her down to tell her that you'd broken up with him. turning on your heel, your mother's eyes expectant, you give her a knowing shake of your head, a warning for ever since that first boyfriend, you'd refused to tell her a thing about your love life, a torturous prospect for her and just the right thing to ward off any of her coming interventions.

as for her incessant questions that were still sure to come, you supply her with this, "i'm sure he'll come visit us first!"

and in some way, you're right.

head and hands on the wheel, you let out the shakiest of breaths, and another and another until the air before you is laden thick with heat. you release the knuckle-white grip that held the wheel, the pads of your finger an angry red. sighing, you let yourself fall back in the seat with your sights set on the blinking red light under the speedometer, your ears ringing at the blaring alarm. another sigh escapes your lips, vaguely resembling a shudder, as you jerk the keys from the ignition. the red light and the alarm cease and you exit your car.

jeno nearly crashes as he turns the corner onto his street. he didn't expect to see you so soon after the horrid scene at the grocery store the other day, the other day being yesterday. he slows the car as he approaches your driveway, rolls down the window of the opposite seat and ducks, only to see you, hands fisted and on your hips, a similar stance to the one he'd seen yesterday; he blushes unknowingly. 

the purr of a nearing car sounds from behind and you whip around to catch the red finish of his vette as it comes to a stop along the sidewalk. tucking a lip under teeth, you cross the length of your driveway to meet the boy in the car. the crease in your brow unsettles him. he clears his throat, "hi, y/n. fancy seeing you around here."

"jeno, i live three houses down from you."

he's not in that green shirt anymore, thank goodness, and he'd prepared for this exact scenario with a slightly more put together outfit. the outfit consisting of a hoodie and sweatpants with his socks and sandals. but now that he thinks about it, he still feels slightly underprepared, "that's right…," he does his best to not sound unintelligent, "what happened there?"

"ahh," fisted hands are back on your hips and a war is brewing within him, fighting to keep his composure. you look back at your car, which looks fine to the eye, "apparently i have a flat tire and i-"

"were you driving when it happened?" jeno gets out of his car as he speaks, questions shooting like rapidfire, "was it on the freeway? how bad is it- wait no, are you injured?"

jeno and his furrowed brows are fast advancing on you and you take a step back in surprise but under the guise of moving back towards your car. genuinely, you weren't quite sure why you hadn't thought of jeno being a 'car person,' especially when that's exactly what his car tells of him. "i don't really know but the alarm went off right before i got off the freeway so nothing serious happened." the two of you tread down the side of your house, back up the driveway. "which one is it- oh, i see." jeno bends down the side of the rear left wheel, a solid smack and squeeze applied and he looks up and back at you, "a nail probably, you got a spare?"

you nod, "i'm pretty sure." crossing your legs you cock an eyebrow at him, at your suspicions. there's something about you being right about all your little inklings because he confirms them almost instantaneously, "i can fix it up for you then," a smile eases onto his face as yours perks up, "really? i mean you really don't have to, i can just go get it-"

"how are you gonna get the car to the shop then?"

and that's how jeno finds himself hauling the car jack from his garage, to yours while you cradle the tools needed in both hands, trailing behind him. he gets to work with the wheel cover as you maneuver around your own garage for the spare and when you find it, you sigh. sighs, seem to be very plentiful, maybe a preferred form of communication this one day. "jen," you wedge yourself back to the driveway between your mom's car and the built-in cabinets. jeno's eyes are focused upon the lug nuts but his eyebrows are raised in expectancy.

"gosh, i'm sorry, but it's- the spare's kinda heavy...do you mind? you know…" you feel bad for asking, almost reluctant but with a wave in the general direction of your hands, he gets it well enough, "oh, it's no problem. i'm here to help you anyways." jeno retrieves the tire with a smile on his face.

you stand off to the side and watch as he raises the back end of the car (seven inches, he said), removes the loosened lug nuts, pulls off the flattened tire, and pushes the spare into place. you give remarks and ask questions once and awhile, all of which must seem pretty dumb to him though he answers each one with a smile and a reassurance to make sure you've understood. tightening the bolt, replacing the tire cover, and lowering the car is done within minutes and he's left rubbing his sullied hands on the towel hung upon his shoulder.

jeno stands and looks over at you. the little complacent smile you've put to show tells a lot about how bothersome you feel in the moment. "you don't have to feel bad, y/n. i offered."

you nod as he packs up his things, blindly handing over the wrench and uttering a thank you in your daze. heading inside, you note that the heater is on and that the window next to the door offers a view of the busying boy. you watch as he leaves and you watch as he comes back again to drive his car up into his garage. 

there's something about your inclinations that you can't shake. either the fact that you haven't been home in three years is really getting to you, maybe you're just horny, or whatever is brewing in that head of yours is telling you that first loves stick with you even when they're gone, even when you've been given reasons to get over them, and even when you really are over them.

but when they're there, when he's there, in all his glory, there's only so much you can refuse.

thirteen-year-old donghyuck is a mean little shit, that we all know, and when he eventually pieces one and one together to make two, he's bound to act on it.

especially when one is the fact that you've been skipping out at lunch for "group project" reasons for the past two months and the other one is that jeno has also been skipping out at lunch for "club meeting" reasons, also for the past two months. he's dumbfounded at the fact that it's taken him this long to track the two of you down and he almost wants to laugh at the situation at hand. 

donghyuck guesses the slats of the bleachers block him out of your view, but he's certainly in the perfect spot to see the both of you, under the bleachers sitting atop jeno's jacket, meaning that there was barely a space in between you and him. his pride would have been hurt, after all his newest revelation comes in the discovery of his two best friends leaving him with jaemin and renjun during lunchtimes, also his best friends but he grumbles at the thought of being left with those two (one being a flirty little shit and the other an annoying little shit, not all that different from himself; you'd think he'd tone down his mean-ness after witnessing, firsthand, renjun's mirror antics).

a hand of yours is flipping through the pages of a textbook while the other holds a subway sandwich, at which he observes jeno to steal bites from every time you look away towards the book. the scene sprawls into a mess as you begin to notice when jeno tugs particularly hard at the string of cheese that's been pulled far too long. the boy gets a flick on the forehead and an impish smile forms; he almost looks elated to be caught by you. 

before he even knows it, donghyuck's onto something, and much more than something he can simply tease you about, oh no, this is the real deal. he reroutes his mind to the image he'd retired from—ducking his head back under the cover of the bush—to the image of you and jeno, smiley, giddy, and secluded from everyone else. the image of jeno and the little giggles he gives as red blossoms on his forehead from where you'd flicked him. and the image of you and your suppressed smile as you try to retain your thinly-veiled frustrations from him. this is it, his friends are falling in love. he's convinced and he also has now appointed himself as the wingman, the cupid in disguise.

the thing is, we're talking about donghyuck (mean little shit) here, not jaemin. so when jeno waltzes into his shared sixth period class, spewing some apparent nonsense of how his club meeting went, (perhaps something that you and him had mutually and meticulously coordinated), donghyuck sits him down in the seat next to him and leans in for a whisper, "i'm gonna ask out y/n today, what do you think?" 

jeno doesn't respond, he doesn't even seem to have remotely heard him. or if he did, he must've suddenly underwent a malfunction of sorts because the boy is quite literally just sitting there, staring listlessly at the empty beaker and the lab tools in front of him.

"jeno? are you hearing me?"

lee jeno, instead of feeling a sudden urge to race donghyuck to the finish line, to confess to you before he does, rather feels defeated, deflated, discouraged. donghyuck is a terrible judge of his character for he pushes on, "do you think i should do it right after school today or tomorrow?"

he gulps and while his eyes are still deep in rumination, his mouth is already squeaking the worries have come to haunt him in the last thirty seconds, "you like her?" donghyuck's eyes glint with mischief that the heavens wish jeno hadn't missed though fair enough, they think, because his thoughts are all over the place as donghyuck goes on to respond, "yeah, i've liked her for awhile now," sounds familiar," been wanting to tell her for the longest time," me too, "and i've been kinda scared to," well i'm scared shitless, "but i think i'm ready now," i'm not. 

"i think you should go for it," jeno deadpans, eyes still trained on the glass, 500 mL beaker that is very interesting.

donghyuck nearly jumps out of his seat, "wait what?!" 

"yeah, you should jus- why're you so surprised- no, why are you even asking me?" jeno finds it much easier to play the role of a supportive friend rather than a jealous rival. he thinks it was rather dumb of him to assume that he was the only one going after you all these months and that he could take his sweet time in confessing and growing your relationship. at least, that's usually how his classroom daydreams go. 

but at the same time, they only go that way because though it really has been a few long months, jeno knows that he's still a long way from making his sentiments known to you. he's a reliable kind of guy, who's reliance is often built upon trust. and while the little folder in his mind of all the possible telltale signs that you like him back has been steadily growing, he needs to know definitively for really, thirteen-year-old jeno lacks the courage. even more so now that his best friend, donghyuck, displays the exact courage he needs to confess. jeno figures that his folder must be gargantuan in comparison.

donghyuck doesn't confess to you, not at all, but he makes a show of rushing out the class right when the clock strikes three, leaving jeno to collapse into himself in utter despair. shoulders hunched over, he counts the minutes until he deems it safe to leave. his chair scrapes the floor with a resounding squeak as he stands up, the chemistry classroom now empty. running his fingers through his hair, he makes sure he doesn't cross paths with you as he navigates for the exit, purposely avoiding the area of the campus with your locker and last class. 

jeno makes it home with a heavy heart, far heavier than what could be the doing of any simple crush. stupid of him to think it a simple crush when the tug of his heart squelches and sqirms like there's no tomorrow, but it's only years after that he realizes the ache in his heart was the payoff of his first love.

he'll admit that he's never asked what actually happened that day, a part of him was terrified to even imagine the prospects of you and donghyuck being a thing. and even if that wasn't the case, he wasn't keen to risk it in the first place. 

so jeno cries on the night his mother bore him the news that he'd be transferring schools. he'd have friends there, sure, jaemin had made the same decision and chenle was to follow in the year after. he'd have the opportunity to make new friends, to start fresh as a high school student but the biggest problem he faced was that there would be no you.

no you to greet in the hallways two minutes before class as you rushed your books into your backpack, slamming your locker shut in a frenzy with your elbow. no you to catch dozing off in history, math, english, and probably all the other classes he didn't but wished he shared with you. no you to sneak off with during lunch, far from your noisy (and nosy) friends and a hair's distance apart from each other. no you to stare at when class gets a little too boring, to share an eraser with, to brush fingers with, to steal bites of a sandwich from.

jeno cries because he'll never get the chance to ask you to prom, he's quite sure you'd never want to attend another school's. he cries because he doubts he'll have the fortitude to text you on a daily, to text you at all, to keep in touch. he cries because in his eyes, the dwindling remainders of your relationship are coming to a close.

one day or another, it'll come to him that it was because of those very thoughts that they actually do.

"oh no, no you definitely planned for this to happen."

"did not!"

"so you're telling me that having me go three houses down to ask the boy that you just so happen to think is cute and the same age as your daughter to go tree shopping with me because you can't carry a tree and dad just so happens to be at work right when you desperately need the tree-" your rambling ceases abruptly as you struggle to find the correct structure of your question that, for emphasis purposes, had derailed itself, "...is all just happenstance?"

"yes," your mother has the straightest look on her face. you're sure she's having a hard time keeping it that way. "unbelievable." she keeps the straight face pretty well and the staring contest you're currently participating in with the snowman candle behind her is futile and broken as you grumble, "fine." your mother has the gall to lift her face into a smile almost immediately upon hearing that.

in all honesty, your reflection in the mirror looks pretty damn good. after spending the few of your days back home in tracksuits and large tees—a minimum effort outfit—dressing up a tad bit for today was certainly not a bad idea, your favorite green corduroy coat making its appearance in the december cold.

the same reflection can be seen in the glass of jeno's front door, the door that swings open right as you're about to ring the doorbell for the third time. his mother is the one who answers and she seems a great deal surprised. "y/n! oh wow, you've grown quite a bit since i last saw you."

you giggle with her, partially out of incredulity because of course you've grown, the last time you really saw her was at your middle school graduation. "it's nice to see you, mrs. lee." she opens the door wide, the smile on her face beaming just as wide, "i assume you're here to see jeno. let's see," the door shuts behind you, "he should be over in the garage," and she leads the way through the house, the layout teeming with renewed familiarity. 

"the garage is just down there, sweetie," pointing at the door far down the hall, to the left, "tell me if you guys need anything, okay?"

"will do," you give her a warm smile as she treads off.

pushing at the handle, you think first that jeno isn't there at all but then there's the sounds of metal clanking and his legs that are situated outwards from under one end of his car. in a fear to startle him with your presence, you decide upon a clearing of your throat and a small but sure, "jeno, it's me," to which he responds with a surprised grunt and the further clanking of his tools.

there's the squeaking of his mechanic's creeper before he draws himself straight before you. you nearly give a double take because, well because he's without a shirt, he's shirtless, he's half naked. however you want to put it, it's the dead of winter and he's standing there with his toned chest bare and glinting with sweat while the two of you furiously blush without even looking at each other.

"y/n," his voice comes out strained, "wha- what are you here for?" jeno fusses around hurriedly for a shirt, any shirt, any article of clothing, any piece of fabric. the shirt he eventually finds is almost enough to get him to put it back down but he's desperate. your eyes glimpse across his body once again, and entirely on accident, before he slips the bright green material over his head, your own head snapping in the other direction.

the two of you stand diagonally in opposition to each other, seemingly speaking to no one in particular, "i'm- i came to ask if you'd want to go christmas tree shopping with me? since i don't think i'd be able to by myself…?" you turn towards him, the tension in the air somewhat subsiding, the difference a mere shirt could make.

he stance is awfully rigid as he responds, "yeah, no yeah i can definitely go with you. right now though?"

"if it's not too much to ask of you then yes, right now."

"oh okay, i can do that, i jus-" jeno catches your line of vision dip down to his shirt, he squirms under your gaze, "-i, do you mind waiting for a bit while i get washed up?" eyes flitting back up to meet his, you nod fervently, "fine by me."

the shower runs in the background of your thoughts as you swing your legs off the side of jeno's bed, the same bed he had all those years ago that's sill littered with random pencil marks and stickers on the headboard. the walls adorn large prints of cars, none of which you can identify but you're intrigued nonetheless by how well his childhood room entwines his whole lifespan together. there's mvp trophies on the bookshelf just opposite of you and if you squint, you can see the fine print that spells 'lee jeno, 2015 varsity swim mvp.' a certificate on the wall titles his participation in some algebra competition, a few ribbons to demonstrate his scientific achievements, and a little under where those are pinned into the wall is a framed and familiar picture you haven't seen in a long while.

it's the five of you, eighth grade graduation, with mark behind the camera and chenle and jisung far off in the background. jeno's in the dead center with one arm draped around donghyuck and the other around you, though you're noticing for the first time how the arm around donghyuck falls limp while the arm around you is held tight. gears are turning and shifting in your mind but before you can come to any sort of conclusion on what that could possibly denote, the door to the bathroom on your left is held open.

jeno's dressed fittingly, you think, for christmas tree shopping that is. the green of his sweater matches the green of your jacket and jeno makes sure to comment on that as he reverses his car out of the driveway even though his choice in clothing was deliberately made to match your own. he catches a glimpse of your car in your own respective driveway on the way out the street and at that, he already has another conversation queued and in mind.

"you took your car to the shop, right?"

you find that your eyes dry out if you face them forward for too long, the heat blasting from the front is doing its job well enough. you don't complain though, jeno's just making sure it's not too cold in the car. "yeah, i went this morning. was also going to get it washed but my mom had other plans."

"other plans being making you go buy the tree, i'm guessing."

you click your tongue, "exactly."

silence hangs between the two of you as he veers into the freeway entrance, mulling over what to say next. bring two seven years disconnected best friends together and you'd think there'd be more to talk about but today must be an exception, the only other words exchanged being the following.

"you know, i could wash it for you."

"i've already asked you for too many favors."

"i mean," jeno gives a smile to the side, "you could help."

a smile of your own forms as you muse on, "i could."

"tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

jeno pulls into a makeshift parking space for the vast christmas tree lot you've decided to buy from this year, your usual having moved further out of town disappointingly. although with all things considered, you doubt there's much of a difference between the trees that are leftover for the few days before christmas and as suspected, the selection isn't all that impressive.

your town and neighboring seemed to have taken a liking towards fraser firs this year, no surprise in that, which leaves the dilapidating alternatives of douglas and noble firs, both of which would be fine if one wasn't prone to browning in a week and the other wasn't so tall. jeno holds up the last of the trees up and you do your routine inspection by viewing it from three feet away to seven, and ten. the boy scrunches his nose as you give a shake of your head, "too full, how are we even gonna decorate it?" and he sets it back against the fencing with a huff, "now what?"

"now, we…," you're unsure as well, eyes roving across the farm to give any candidate of tree a second chance. that's when you're hit with a revelation, well two revelations. rather sardonically, the wilting pines of the trees lead you to the first of your revelations; you're quite literally standing in a tree graveyard and if you were to go so far as to compare it to a graveyard in itself, there comes the thought that you've came with the purpose of buying a poor, dead tree to take it home and prop it back up as if it were alive, dressing it and decorating it, only to throw it to the curb a few weeks later. funny how all your life that seemed perfectly rational.

but christmas is a tradition, and traditions don't necessarily have to die even though they're faulted from the start, certainly not if you can help it.

jeno gives an eensy yelp as in a sudden flurry, you take the sleeve of his sweater between two fingers and drag him down and through the aisles of decaying trees to find the very thing that'd ignite your little light bulb. he's dawdling behind you, best he can, as your steps quicken and stop almost as abruptly before a sizeable army of potted christmas trees, smaller but also more alive than the usual lot. "how's this then?"

"i'm on board," jeno's beside you now and ever-so-aware that your fingers are still gripping his sweater. it doesn't stop there, however, because now your hands are enveloping his arm in its entirety and you're speaking softly, "of course you are, you're not even needed anymore," the words coming close to his ears from the proximity you've set. they don't warrant a blush by any means and for certain, the reason he's blushing aren't the words, it's you.

you leave his side as you release your hold on his arm, though it seems as if he's the only one who notices. a few steps away, you crouch in front of one that suits your likings to a T. you barely notice jeno's presence behind you, reading off the tag and muttering to yourself, "sustainable, affordable, replantable, eco-friendly, a natural scent, convenient...oh boy, i think we get it." upon further observation you decide that this one's the one—the green is vibrant to the tips and it's just full enough that the pines poke out in all the directions needed to support a modest amount of tinsel. "jeno, i think this is it-"

really, you really really had no idea that he was right there, head right above your shoulder. if you had known, you wouldn't have turned your head in the first place, much less allowed your lips to brush his, however brief. evidently flustered, the two of you snap your sights back ahead, at the same time, with both your hearts beating at the same, turbulent pace. you bring a hand up to your lips, partially in shock and partially in the thought that you basically just kissed lee jeno.

"sorry about that, i didn't think you'd turn…"

even when he's speaking, you don't dare look over at him. but in comparison to the tempestuous replays you're imagining, jeno's thoughts rumble a deeper current than anything he's felt all winter break.

the pot of the chosen tree rests against his hip as he stands a little off to the side to let you pay. he watches you keenly and uses the opportunity to scrutinize what exactly about you makes him feel that one way. as of the late, he finds that none of his emotions are describable and it's frustrating to say the least when all he knows is that the cause of his inner turmoil is you. you and your little sniggers whenever his clumsy side acts out too much for his liking, you and your undeniable affection for all things sweet and all things spicy, and you and your fisted hands on your squared hips, a fighting stance perhaps, a ready-to-throw-hands stance most definitely.

but finally, he gives his feelings a name when he witnesses in the rear view mirror, you and the little smile that creases your eyes, lifts your cheeks, bares your teeth, as you strap in the potted plant to the back seat, giving it a gentle pat as if it were your own child. he names it 'the long lost crush, the one that got away, the second season of his middle school one-sided affair, the-'

"are we...gonna go?" 

jeno jumps in his seat, "huh? oh." hand on the gear stick, he avoids your gaze fervently and pulls out of the spot. there's a shift in the air, at least from his end, and he thinks it has something to do with how he's come to terms with the fact that he likes you, again. is he surprised? no. why not?

because he knows this much, the longer you're by his side, the less it can be helped. he remembers every night in high school when, even in the time the two of you'd stopped talking, he'd stare lethargically at his ceiling before he went to sleep and imagine you by his side. he remembers another handful of nights in college when, long after he'd thought he was well over you, he still found himself rethinking your smile and refiling that folder of his. time carried on, and though he didn't necessarily have a heartbreak for it to heal, it wouldn't have mattered anyways because in his case, time could never heal. not for him and not in the face of you.

so jeno laughs along with you when he trips over your front steps, he sets both hands on the doorframe and leans in ever so slightly to say his goodbyes, and when the door shuts behind him, he takes a good look back over his shoulder anyways, hoping that you'd pop your head at the window, that you'd catch his lingering gaze. jeno's steps are resolute because he's not thirteen anymore. it's no longer about whether you like him back or not, it's about dealing with the fact that he likes you. and if his coping mechanisms come in the form of pushing his bounds as just a friend, flirting an obscene amount, and perhaps even confessing, then so be it.

jeno decides that, this time around, he would rather risk heartbreak than love you in silence for seven more years.

propping a knee, you catch the back end of the trash bin before it can thud on the pavement beneath you. a huff and a grunt are uttered into the air as you push it against the fenced side of your house, to the curb. you slide it against the elevated sidewalk, down onto the road, and it gives a resounding thump as it hits the ground. you dust off your hands and pivot to retrieve the last one and upon setting that one down in the spot adjacent to the previous, in the corner of your eye is perceived a figure.

born of instinct, you almost rush back into the house, a case of kidnap tends to loom when you're a young adult female taking out the trash in the dead of night. but another glance is given and the silhouette draws familiar notion, broad shoulders and especial proportions, not to mention the bright green you catch in the light of his porch lamp. it's jeno, and a hand of his clamps over his nose as the other thrusts a plastic bag into the black bin. and it's when he turns to retreat into his residence that his eyes catch you as well and he jumps a bit, recollects himself, waves, and watches as you wave back in the hopes that he could maybe approach you. 

instead, he finds that you're the one approaching him and that somehow makes it all the more nerve-wracking as he rushes to meet you in the middle. even a simple, "hi," from you makes his cheeks grow warm. he's breathless when he speaks, and not because of the brisk actions he undertook prior, "hey there." 

"are we still on for tomorrow?"

jeno's mouth parts as he retraces his memory to extract what exactly was planned for tomorrow. "ahh, yeah i can do tomorrow...morning?" you clasp your hands behind your back as you nod along, "morning it is then." your lips quirk to the side as you place your gaze on anything but him, to pass time, perhaps to make the silence a little more bearable. jeno's voice is so low the next he speaks, it almost spooks you out of your wits, "have you met up with any of the boys yet?"

his eyes keep their track on you as you take a few steps to the edge of the curb, lowering yourself atop it, "well, i hung out with hyuck the other day," you motion for him to sit beside you and he follows suit, "and i think he mentioned wanting to do some reunion thing at his house. i don't know, i'll have to ask." jeno stirs in his thoughts for the time being. hyuck. though he'd kept in touch with the boy after middle school and a bit after high school, even his name brings up a shitload of memories. "have you?"

"huh?" his eyes whirl to meet yours, "oh. for me, mostly just jaem, and renjun too the other day."

conversation seems to flow intermittently between you two, ongoing or nonexistent at all, for another lapse of silence is thrown into the mix. the air is certainly not governed by awkwardness, jeno feels that the time you've spent with him in the last few days guarantees at least that. but it's also laden with a sort of tension you can't quite place, a territory you're unwilling to traverse into. you move past your thoughts and voice only a sliver of them aloud, suppositionally, "if- if we do meet up, like all of us, do you think it'll be weird?"

"weird how?"

"weird as in…well, a lot's changed, since we were thirteen, and we haven't been in a room together all at once, since we were thirteen."

"i don't know. i think," he shrugs, "i think we'll be fine, me and you at least." jeno likes saying 'we' when it pertains to you and him. he mumbles it over a few times, under his breath, and though it's not entirely out of your earshot, you're far too busy taking long and zoned-out glances at him to notice. that in itself is something he surely notices.

undoubtedly, you must not be the only person in the world to think that jeno grew up well. lee jeno is kind, kind enough to grant you all the favors you've asked of him. lee jeno is warm, you feel he emanates warmth even by simply sitting by his side. lee jeno is sincere, his smiles beam of genuinity and his words are coated in truth. and in the spotty moonlight, flitting in between the boughs of the tree just above, lee jeno is good looking, chiseled jaw, pretty lips, those eyes. but more than that, he lives up to his good looks. you can only wish you'd been there to see him grow up, to grow up with him.

"jen?"

"yes?"

you tap your toes alternatingly on the scratchy pavement, your eyes and his as well are trained on them. licking your lips, you take your gaze from your feet to his side profile and your breath hitches before you speak, "what...what happened to us?"

jeno reverts his eyes onto your own, "what do you mean?" now you're staring right at each other which is usually how any conversation should be, but conversations between you and him seem to always be an exception. fiddling with your fingers, you trace your sights back down to your feet, "you said that we'd keep in touch. well, we both said that."

in truth, as much as the distance that divided the two of you could be denoted from his seemingly unrequited feelings for you, there was much less of a romantic touch in what happened for the most part. for the most part, things panned out as they usually do when two people, once close and once sworn to never not be close, end up being separated by the one thing that brought them close in the first place. that is not to say that your friendship with jeno had no value outside of school and school-related things but really, school was the one thing that made it so you saw the boy day in and day out, shared with him an intimacy that could only be reached with that basis of interaction. more than any derivative of feelings that could drive the two of you apart, your friendship was split by the common ground idea that people come and go. perhaps it was fate that wielded the sorts, perhaps it was merely meant to be. and if you were to chalk it up to fate, you could say that meeting jeno again, like this, was fate as well.

but jeno here, twenty-one-year-old jeno as opposed to thirteen-year-old jeno, would like to come clean with his feelings. at least his feelings of way back when, because this turn of the conversation had churned a past within him that he had yet to be willing to unearth; that is, until now as he susurrates, "because i liked you." jeno feels his eyes gloss over involuntarily, "and with the whole high school transfer and everything, it just kinda all fell apart." 

he looks to the other side, as naturally as he can, but there's the unmistakable shuffle of feet from behind him and when he turns back around, sure enough, you've inched closer than his current mental state can handle. you watch as jeno blinks, his eyes lain upon your lap, and a tear proceeds to trace its merry way down his cheek. you catch it with the sleeve of your sweatshirt but even after he's cried through his emotions, your hand stays there, cupping his cheek. 

the tips of your fingers protrude from the fabric of the sleeve and they, your thumb in particular, swipe across the heights of his cheeks and the bags under his eyes. your own eyes are soft on his, soft in knowing and in understanding because, "well if it offers you any comfort, i liked you too."

jeno, though fresh in the surprise of revelation, feels an ease pool his mind. he takes a hand and brings it to cup the side of your face as well, mirroring your actions with an equal, loving gaze that holds the memoirs of your cherished past. a past that no longer tugs at his mind, begging for his attention, that no longer muddles his afflictions between what is new and what is old, and a past that he can now move on from, with renewed finality.

you break the exchange with a breathy laugh. a smile stretches across his face. the one hand on his face turns into two and the same is applied to you sequentially. two twenty-one-year-old college students sit on the curb in front of a house that belongs to neither of them but rather lies in between their respective homes. they sit side by side, their eyes boring deeply into one another's and, with both hands clamped on the cheeks of the other, occasionally squishing to produce the silliest of expressions, they laugh and they imbue in the elation of being at peace with their entwined pasts.

when you stand first, brushing off the dust on your bottom, jeno, still sitting, catches your wrist and lets the quirk of his lips and a small, "thank you," express the lengths at which the conversation had gone in its endeavors to mend a somewhat dysfunctional relationship. but now in full functionality, jeno wonders if his feelings still persist.

and if there's one thing to tell him they do, that they're as present as ever if not more so than before, it's the way he blushes warm when you entangle his grip on your wrist into your hand, giving his palm a brief squeeze before you look down upon him with an enraptured smile of your own. he watches you take your leave and, in the blackness of night, he thinks you are the most personable being to have ever walked in his life. he thinks he wouldn't mind another seven years, though only if he was promised to have you by his side the whole while.

"you mind if i tag along?"

yeah, i mind. jeno clicks his tongue, "no."

"you sure?" hyuck edges him on, nudging his old friend with the end of the hose. jeno can only roll his eyes at that, taking the hose from him, "not like i have a choice if she brought you here in the first place." jeno, while watching you roll up the windows of your dirtied car, can't help but wonder why you had to bring this damned boy. he really thought that after such a heartfelt moment the two of you shared just the past night, you would have been more open to venturing into alone, one on one, time with him. he does his best to clip back the snarky tone that's just waiting to be let aloud whenever donghyuck speaks.

"so who do you think's gonna be third wheeling today? me or you?"

"you," jeno bleats with not a second to spare. though he's sure the boy means it all in good-natured fun, jeno's dead serious when he says, "guess we'll just have to see who prevails."

and that, oh dear, that is sure to bring out the competitive temper of the one and only lee donghyuck, winner of all games ever played. jeno knows he's perhaps just dug a hole for himself, a shovel in hand and all, because right off the bat, hyuck is off to hog all of your attention and very rarely does he fail with his witty remarks and his position as 'most recent best friend.' in fact, he's right in the middle of telling you what is sure to be the joke of the century when the idea pops into jeno's mind, a godsend. 

he turns the knob on the hose to its fullest power before trudging off to the dial, his absence going unnoticed as you laugh at whatever hyuck has just said. donghyuck's turning to see if jeno has caught yet another point he's scored when he's met with a forceful discharge of water square to his face. it's four seconds of just standing there before hyuck remembers that he has the miraculous abilities of mobility, and upon moving out of the way in a terrible coughing and choking fit, the spray of the hose lands upon you. 

jeno gives a squeal that's comparable to yours as you snatch the second hose from donghyuck's limps hands, his body now wilted rather dramatically across the hood of your car, and point it to jeno, dousing him full as you charge right at him. he doesn't move, to your liking and more because he feels bad for having just accidentally drenched you in freezing cold hose water in the dead of winter. the punishment he has willingly subjected himself to is also freezing cold, bone-chilling, and numbing to the core. but he doesn't mind it nearly as much when the gush of water hitting his chest stops and he runs a hand through his hair, clearing his eyes to reveal your smiley, smiling face that looks to be having way too much fun in the face of hypothermia.

he's left kneeling when the water clears and you are as well, though while he's kneeling from the sheer force of the deluge, you're kneeling out of laughter. trudging over to your spot a little ways from him, the blades of the grass of your front lawn beneath tickling the skin of his kneecaps, jeno blithely lifts a few stray and wet strands of hair out of your face, tucks them behind your ear. your laughter subsides into gentle smile, one that erupts into giggles recurrently, and jeno has the gall to steal a look a donghyuck, who has since recovered and is now staring at the scene itself, eyebrow cocked and a tongue jutting out his cheek in a challenge he gladly takes up on.

jeno returns from inside his house with the two towels he had his mom fetch, only two because in his eyes, it's only fair that donghyuck doesn't get one. needless to say, hyuck's displeased as he watches jeno pat and dry your hair as you sit, propped atop the hood of your car. jeno isn't all that surprised when his own towel gets stolen from his shoulder and the boy also props himself onto the hood, next to you. funnily enough, jeno's now the one who's displeased because you've taken the towel from donghyuck's hands and instead of using it to dry the damp ends of his own hair, like it was intended to be, you turn slightly and echo jeno's actions, but instead on hyuck.

and while jeno's nose scrunches in a distaste that only hyuck catches, his eyes seemingly everywhere all at once, you turn a tad bit further to the side to reach the back ends of hyuck's head of hair. jeno complains as your own head moves a little too far for his positioning and a hand leaves the towel to move you back into place. that meaning his left hand holds solid on your right thigh. that also meaning the sudden halt of your actions, jeno's too, as donghyuck simply stares, observes, analyzes, comes to a realization, and smirks.

jeno also comes to a realization that his hand is still, still on your thigh, shown in how his hand snaps back into the oblivion and beyond, and how the tips of his ears are exceedingly quick to flush a cherry red. his thoughts of just yesterday, 'get the girl!,' are now very much diminished as his stare fixates on the ground and the ground only, even as you ask for him to move a little to the right so you could slide off the hood, even as hyuck excuses himself to the guest bathroom, though his hand is quick to fish out his phone before he even enters the house. jeno's eyes are unmoving, even as time resumes around him, and even though he understands how crazed he must look in your eyes. he understands, but that's about it because it's nothing that can be helped. 

you quirk a brow at the boy, eyes a flood of worry, and with those same eyes on him, lee jeno, in the middle of winter, begins to sweat. it starts at the palms, a sticky, tacky feeling but then he feels it creep at the back of his neck, coming in the form of a shiver of nerves. and although those two remain unnoticed, you bring a hand to his wrist to catch his attention because the beads of sweat forming along his temple have caught yours. "jeno, are you okay? you seem to be…" 

jeno lifts his gaze from the floor, a feat no doubt, and brings his eyes to yours. there are many things he notes. one, the worry in your eyes irks him, he despises even more that he's the cause of it, however silly. two, your hand remains at his wrist, unsure in the lightness of touch but assured in how it stays put nonetheless. three, your lips, they're very pretty; an observation that he's always been aware of, but when your face is only a rough seven inches from his own, the observations become a fact, ingrained in his mind for now and forevermore whenever he so much as looks at you. though more unconscious, there's a four. he wants to kiss you. and in a way that's quite far from the simple, accidental brush of lips he'd shared with you just the day prior. it's significantly far, a dot in the distance.

he almost goes in for it.

"do you mind if i shower at your place? it's fucking cold."

you remove your hand from his wrist, jeno's fingers twitch in longing to reach after it. with your own fingers absentmindedly toying with the cinched waistband of your sweats, you shift your weight from one foot to another. remarkably, only your top half was drenched but that in itself was sure to trail little shivers up your spine. jeno avoids your gaze, feverishly, hand coming up to the nape of his neck. he mumbles a short, "sure," before turning upon his heel, leading into the house. 

while hyuck is in the guest bathroom, you venture into the one through jeno's room which is noticeably cleaner since the last you were there. he tells you to wait there while he messes around in the bathroom, cleaning, but he leaves that detail out. one leg crossed over another, you bunch up the soaked hems of your shirt so as to not drip everywhere, standing there in apprehension and also halfway in the dark with the slatted blinds above his bed turned shut, the only source of light being the little that slips in between the slats. resolutely, you cross the room and gingerly lean a knee into the bed, reaching for the handle to twist them open. that's when you see it, slung upon the footboard of his bed.

that's also when jeno calls, voice distant and steps in a hurry as he pronounces, "i'll get you a shirt from my closet, hold up." but as he emerges from the bathroom, it seems that you have different plans. his eyes go wide as he sees the one, unfortunate garment he'd forgotten to put away this morning in your hands. yes, the bright green shirt from that one seventh grade math competition, with the now faded and very corny geometry joke proudly displayed on the front. it's that one that his mom asks him all the time why he never throws it out even though it's been years. he almost lets it show how he sulks into himself because they're his pajamas, and for a reason that he knows that you know and, to him at least, it's all the more embarrassing when you know. there's a lot of almosts today because jeno almost shits himself at the thing you say next.

"can i wear this one instead?"

the shy glint in your eyes and the light smile that glosses over your expression are all he needs to say, "sure," it comes out nonchalant but jeno is freaking the fuck out internally. you asking to wear that specific shirt suddenly made all the embarrassment garnered from it seem significantly less embarrassing. 

he sits on the edge of his bed as the sounds of the shower going skirts his thoughts. feet kicking up and down, back and forth down the side, jeno sighs with his bottom lip tucked under his front teeth. he's directly opposite and in line with the one picture on the wall he couldn't dare put away in his prior and precautionary cleaning in the case that you would come over once again. the edges of the photo are frayed with time and brash handling, seen even in its frame, but if anything, the memory of it is intact as ever. 

jeno thinks of all the things that would have gone differently, had he confessed to you that day as he planned he would. graduation day it was, and it was cloudy and on the verge of raining but his spirits weren't dampened in the slightest, clapping the loudest as you crossed the stage to shake hands with the principal, head awkwardly facing the crowd as your father had implored you to do so for his picture. his spirits were far dampened when you returned to your seat, a row ahead and a few down from where he was himself, mouthing a, "stop it," in annoyance as he mimicked your ungainly actions from just before. he felt that his spirits could never be dampened as he returned to his own seat, looking over in your direction automatically as you posed a thumbs up and another mouthing, this time an, "i'm proud of you," before getting caught by a passing supervisor and being forced to turn back around with a huff.

jeno remembers his spirits plummeting as he sat with you under the bleachers, for the last time, half his body situated on his jacket and the other on the scratchy grass. he didn't mind it as long as you were fully atop it yourself. despite what his quick wikiHow search on 'how to confess your love to someone,' there was no surge of confidence, not one stroke of it within him. he gave small smiles to your animated talking and the bare minimum of responses when prompted. and when you'd fished your phone out of your back pocket at the sound of a ping to see your mom texting you to go back to the field for pictures, he took your helping hand as he stood but even then, he couldn't dare be bold enough to keep your hand in his. with an arm set loosely across the back of donghyuck's shoulder and the other across yours, he made sure to hold you tight by his side, for fear and acceptance that this would be the last time he would have you there, by his side.

but as his gaze is pulled away from the picture, instinctively towards the sound of the door being propped open, jeno's reminded that, for now, you're all for his taking as long as he's up for the challenge. he watches as you linger by the door for a second, lip tucked under teeth yourself as you contemplate your next steps, next words. and as jeno watches, the shirt hanging tight on his figure but loose on yours, he can't help but think that this time around, he's in it to win it.

forms clutched in your left hand, all of them filled out in your neat, pencilled handwriting, you tap your toes impatiently. the line that you were currently in, placing at about the middle, was long and not at all to your liking. against your best wishes, your parents really had the gall to sign you up for this; you have foolproof evidence that math is your weakest subject, the foolproof evidence being a years and years accumulated stack of report cards. they claimed it was for you to get some extra practice and you'd countered that the annual math competition at your middle school was only really for the people in the advanced math placement, which you were most certainly not. you were still forced to go, though you declined the offer to buy the gaudy green shirt, but you were also right in saying that because none of the people in the line, at least of those in front of you, were from your class. you look towards the back end of the line to check the same so that you could provide extra evidence to your conviction, not that you were going to really need it after you took the test but you would like something to pair with your lacking results when rubbing it in to your dad later.

at first glance, there's no one really that you can spot but then you look at the person directly behind you and what you don't expect is it to be that one kid that is indeed in your class, your low level math class. he's quite the sight and you wonder why he didn't catch your eye earlier with his hair sticking up in all directions as he frightfully balances on one leg, his other hiked up and being used as a makeshift table. upon closer inspection, the paper he's furiously writing upon looks to be akin to your filled out form, only it's not filled out at all.

twelve-year-old jeno feels your gaze on him, and though he's verily preoccupied with writing, he's much more intrigued by your interest in him. head snapping up in a sudden movement and snarky in his greeting, "got something to say?" and it reminds you a little too much of hyuck to simply let it pass, "yes, i do." no, you actually don't so the empty pause you leave is in search of anything relevant. when you do happen upon something, your continuation is in equal snarkiness, "your hair's a mess."

at that, he stands up straight and you note how at the age of twelve, the boy is annoyingly taller than you, "shoot, really?" a hand rushes to pat down the straight strands in a hurry. a mild surprise lines your countenance at how the snarkiness ends there, watching as he furthers his comments, "i was in a rush this morning, that's probably why," and when you, again, have nothing to add, he goes to say, "renjun told me about this competition and i just had to do it."

now it's confusion that can be seen in your bewildered stare, you only knew about this since your mom is pta (parent teacher association) president; the competition, though advertised as open to all seventh graders, was only really promoted to the higher level math students, namely renjun and his lot. the kid, whose name you place to be jeno, friend of renjun's who's a friend of hyuck's, is now expectant in a response from you, less the conversations take a turn for the worse. you provide something short but enough to compose your inquiries, "why? who would want to do this?"

a part of you already knows. lee jeno, though you know little of him, sits at the front of your math class and never forgets to bring his glasses to school. a pencil is almost always in his hand when he raises it to ask a question at least ten times per lecture which is also the only reason you actually know of him because unlike him, you don't pay much attention at all in math class. jeno raises his eyebrows and replies as if his reasoning was common knowledge, "well i thought it'd be fun!"

"fun?"

"yeah!"

"fun how?"

jeno's standing complacently but his hands are making vague motions, "because you know…," a hands comes to the nape of his neck and he whispers as if his utterances were frowned upon for a lower level math student. to you they are indeed. "i like math."

"yeah no shit, you're the only one who participates in math." his eyes widen at your profanity, head snapping to see if anyone had heard. upon realizing something else, he motions for you to move forward, neither of you had noticed the line had started progressing onwards. 

jeno's still on edge, eyes peering side to side to make sure no teacher had passed while you spat such a vulgar word, "shhh, what if someone hears you?!" a coy smile creases your eyes, you decide that you're certainly very fond of this boy, or at least you're very fond of teasing him. "then how about...damn?" jeno's startled. "ass?" jeno looks like he's on the verge of shitting his pants. thus you go on, "another shit?" the twelve-year-old's mouth drops wide open, "y/n-"

"asshole, dickhead, son of a bitch, mother fucker, your mom's puss-"

he's rushing right up to you and before you can proceed, jeno's hand is clamped tight over your mouth. "y/n, that's-" and as if he weren't already a close seven inches away from you, he leans in further and you swear his lips graze the side of your cheek as he whispers, "y/n, that's illegal," and suddenly and in your eyes, the humble, wide-eyed boy that you'd only thought to tease of has you floored with his gaze locked on yours, breath fanning across your skin. he looks good, even at twelve years, lee jeno is easy on the eyes.

you gulp, push him off, and turn back around to the line that'd moved up four people since the last you'd moved, leaving jeno to stand there, hands limp by his side and in complete neglectance of his still half-filled out form. it takes thirty or so seconds for him to move up in the line as well, the mutters from the people lagging behind him also going unnoticed. and when he does notice, taking a few steps forward and once again hiking his leg up to be used as a viable writing surface, it's only after he spent those same thirty seconds spaced out in aftershock of why he did that, or rather, where the sudden surge of confidence came from that had him in the position in the first place. perhaps that's the first time that jeno ever thinks of you a little differently, only because there's something about you makes it so he does things a little differently, makes it so he can't simply act normally around you.

and perhaps you've also undergone the same predicaments because you pay extra attention when the test is handed out, and the way your brows pull together with your eyes trained on the paper tells a lot about those normally divergent acts. you're the last to turn it in, even after the bookish jeno, and when he takes a glance at you across the room as he returns to his seat, a little smile creeps its way upon his lips.

the same smile is there when you plop down next to him in math class the following monday, right at the front of whiteboard, and there goes the tug of his heartstrings when you lean over, eyes in wonderment, to ask him a thing or two about hypotenuses or some of the sort which he more than happily obliges. jeno beams when you hold him back after class to show him your score on the unit final he'd tutored you for and he beams the year after that when the two of you both climb the ranks into the prestigious advanced level placement. 

for many reasons, jeno proved to be a blessing in your life. your parents loved him specifically for the studiousness he instilled within you, something neither of you have ever pointed out but are in mutual understanding of. jeno was by your side through your traumatic first post-breakup stage, the douche of a boyfriend, or rather another twelve-year-old boy, had dumped your ass after two and a half days. jeno was the one who coughed into your ear during that one fateful game of telephone, the one played on the bus to the museum field trip; he'd defeated, and i mean absolutely crushed, donghyuck in a game of rock, paper, scissors to win the spot next to you, still a feat he considers one of his many prides to this day. jeno was the one who picked at your food, but also magically produced his own to share whenever you were without a lunch. 

lee jeno was the epitome of right person, right time, and even though the same sentiments weren't carried all the way through, were interrupted, displaced, all the things he gave you, left for you, they stayed.

lee jeno remembers the day he met you with keen lucidity. he remembers all the days after that in a chorus of feelings that swept him in the most unintelligible way, after all, who expects to fall so deeply in love at the age of twelve. at twelve you'd think the thing you'd be most worried about would be having fun before high school, occasionally grades, or maybe even the changing appearances that come with puberty and puberty in itself. for a good chunk of it, jeno thought that his feelings could be explained by puberty but it proved especially ignorant of him to think the same in high school when his feelings that persisted were only sustained by the mere memory of you. 

maybe it wasn't from day one, by no means was it love at first sight, second sight, or even third or fourth or fifth, but it was the succession of some inevitable process, the day you met through the day you graduated. to finish a thought, maybe lee jeno could have claimed spot as your boyfriend of seven years, had he not yielded in the face of profession. perhaps, you would have broken up already, the simple outcomes of distance and the natural order of relationships. would he have let you go? or would it have been you to call it off?

it's unfortunate that he'll never know, no matter how much he wonders, but of all the things he's sure of in the moment, it's that your laugh is the prettiest thing known to man, known to him. your feet dangle a significant amount over the edge of his bed, stark from his own toes that are stagnant and grazing the floor. he doesn't look over at you and his mumbles say enough of why, "i'm not kidding, y/n- don't laugh at me! i'm being serious, you really do."

"really now, you're telling me that i look good in your old pajamas. as if it weren't just to tease me."

"really!" his voice hits a pitch higher and he clears his throat, a scrunch of his nose at your laugh follows and denotes much regret in how he accidentally spoke his thoughts aloud in the first place. you really can't tell but he's trying his best to get in a few compliments, he'd heard that girls like flattery (he didn't hear, per se, he'd seen it somewhere online—read: wikiHow). "you look far better in it than i ever would." 

with his hands on either side of him, jeno pushes himself upwards the bed, lowers his back upon the sheets, and folds his hands across his stomach. he didn't expect as such but you do the same. it's now that his heart sees it fit to speed its pace, only because of that one pesky thought that's infiltrated his mindset. you're in bed with him after all, and though it's nothing close to what would be considered crossing the line as two friends, the thought itself is enough to ignite a fervid warmth through his cheeks. his eyes are rigid on the ceiling when you speak, "do you even remember where this is from?" they itch to look over at you but he's afraid it'll be too obvious then; his plan is to woo you, not to make a fool of himself.

jeno senses the sheets stir from beside him and he can only guess what position you've assumed, and hopefully not the one where you're facing him while his everything is still aligned straight ahead. he hopes it's not because if it were, he'd be missing out on one of those *romantic moments* that he so wishes to achieve. jeno's inability to think straight, about positioning, hinders his ability to respond, something that's only brought to his attention when you perk up again, "jeno? did you hear me?"

jolted, his eyes instinctively snap to yours in the sense that yes, now he's facing you and yes, he sees that you're facing him also. there seems to be a little something lodged in his throat when he replies because it comes out as if his neck were a squeaky toy that'd just been stepped upon. "of course," he clears his throat with a grunt, "that math competition, seventh grade." jeno concludes that that something in his throat must be his heart because he can quite literally hear its beating in his ears and feel its thrum through his organs. he licks his lips and sits in silence, save the thumps of his heart, as his eyes trace to your own lips, not seven inches away.

"that's...that's when it all started," you muse, a hand coming up to brush a hair from your face and hitting jeno's chest on its way, as if just to remind him of how close you are. "i mean, for me that is."

pushing his rather uncivilized thoughts from his mind, jeno gives a, "what do you mean?" before dutifully returning to glancing at your lips. if you notice, you don't comment upon it, choosing rather to answer promptly, "i think that's when i started to like you." he gulps and says just about the same, "me too." jeno's nerves think they are just about ready for whatever is thrown his way but not until a leg of yours moves to nudge his gently. "wow, it's like we're meant to be." his nerves, they must be on fire now and just about ready to take on the whole world in its entirety because he notes with keen incredulity that your use of 'we're' could indicate that you still like him, the possibilities of it being an 'are' versus a 'were' are only fifty-fifty.

"yeah…," he trails off, misses the look in your eyes, shifts to land onto his back, eyes on the ceiling. you do the same and decide that it's enough of 'testing the waters' for today. but apparently jeno thinks otherwise because just as you're moving to sit upright, he spells a slither of his heart out for you, "you're my first love, you know."

jeno would like to pride himself in the usage of 'you're,' also vague and could be taken either way. upsettingly, he lacks the know-how to understand that what this situation needs right now is certainty to topple over the tension and teetering statements. he's a bit too used to hiding behind the veil of 'what ifs' and resting atop the net of safety to realize. 

blinking up at the ceiling, you rustle to sit up once again, but not before donghyuck bursts through the door with an expression that sits pissed at first but melds into his signature leer as soon as he surveys the pair he's stumbled upon. "been looking for you two." jeno's shooting upright himself and all of a sudden, things are happening too fast.

there's two seconds before you're off and bounding towards hyuck as if he were your means of rescue; there's the, "what took you so long?" that slips from your mouth as if you'd been waiting for him all along instead of willingly giving jeno your time of day; there's donghyuck's phone that rests limp in his hand, by his side, but not yet clicked off because the screen gleams bright and it's showcasing jaemin's contact, a recent call most definitely; there's hyuck's response, muttered but in good humor, "i took a shit, that's why." 

and then there's the sinking feeling that sets fire within jeno. maybe even jaemin as well but it's for certain and even further confirmed when hyuck's smirk makes its way to meet jeno's benumbed expression, his eyes locking with sickening devilry and the traces of a challenge. donghyuck knows. and though he's sure to take it upon himself to get the two of you together for once and for all, jeno knows far better, with experience in hand, that though his friend's sentiments are in support, his chances fair much higher when it's only him that's left to trifle with the dealings of his love life. only him, and his languishing confidence.

plucking a kernel from the carpet, you toss it into the bin over the arm of the couch. the paper towel on the same arm is used to rub off whatever dust had soiled your hand and it's returned to the bowl to rummage for another, slightly more buttered, popcorn. you wish that your mom was into those hallmark christmas movies, because in all honesty, you're quite the fan but you suppose 'rise of the guardians' ranks close enough. glancing down to the bowl in your lap for a second time, you groan upon realizing that the only reason you've been munching on the terribly unflavored popcorn was because you've already tired out the supply of the buttered ones. that enough gets you to set the bowl on the coffee table, done with snacking for the night as you pick up your two crochet hooks and get to work, your actions mirroring your mom's though she's a lot farther in her chain.

you suppose the movie is just about halfway through when you're sidetracked by how you've somehow messed up a turning chain, warranted though, as you're an amateur in the dark. it's a shame because you really would have loved to pay at least half attention to the very gorgeously animated character, jack frost, but are instead struggling. after reworking the chain a few times, you decided to give it a rest and set it aside as well. it seems that being a quitter is the overarching theme of today.

the sound of your head thudding against the back of the couch gets your mom to separate her attention as well. seeing your state, she opts to make conversation in the light that you're far from returning to the movie. it plays in the background, the only source of light in the living room. "how's the car?"

"clean." a sour mood you're in, it seems. your mom hesitates for a second before approaching a second question, "how's jeno been?"

"great. he's been great, mom." she sets down her crochet for the time being, the foot of hers that's jutting out of the blanket bouncing up and down. you doubt why you even tried to conceal your feelings with curt responses when really, you're unashamed in front of your mom. that's the sole reason why she deems it fitting to dig a little deeper, "anything you want to tell me?"

it's an, "of course," that has her crochet set in her lap for the rest of the night. you turn towards her in full, shifting your weight so that it faced her position on the armchair diagonal of the couch. sighing, you shove a tongue in consideration to the side of your cheek before pulling back the curtains a third of the way, "i think he likes me." your mother's eyes sparkle, she sets her hooks and yarn on the coffee table as well, urging you to go on with a nudge of her head. "but at the same time he doesn't?"

she nods in the processing of her thoughts, "so, mixed feelings?"

you nod along with her, "mixed feelings."

your mother never disappoints you when a situation of yours arises and she's bound to give you her advice, her very blunt, very to-the-point advice. "just ask him. i mean, if he rejects you, you're only going to have to see him for a few more weeks before you're back off to school."

and you never disappoint yourself when a situation of yours arises and you're bound to adhere to her advice, the very blunt, very to-the-point advice because as always, she's right. but then she muses on with the littlest care in the world, "or you could just mess around with him for a bit-"

"mom-"

"what's making you think i mean it in that way? did i really raise such a slu-"

"mom! oh my goodness-"

"i'm just saying," she drags on the word and you almost rush to interrupt her with another exclamation before noting her demeanor, her countenance in the dim light. you lick your lips in apprehension, vaguely reminiscent of salted butter. "i'm just saying...keep him on the hook for a little longer," her crochet reference is bad but you don't miss an opportunity to let a small smile show. it's gone the next second when she resumes with more to her thought, "really, take it slow. i doubt that he doesn't like you. i'm pretty sure he did back in middle school-"

"he told me he did, something about how i was his first love."

she's taking this a lot less seriously than you thought she would. it irks you to know why. your mother has her head propped on the palm of her hand, her weight on the arm of the couch, "then i'm pretty sure he's never had a second." your brows draw in, "why?"

"no matter how much i love you, y/n, i would never pay for your groceries, change your tires, haul your christmas tree, or wash your car after not seeing you for seven years. just think about it, seven years without contact is as good as being strangers." you watch as she pushes herself off the arm, off the chair, blanket falling aside. your mom takes your discarded bowl in her hands, her own crochet, and the tv remote before clicking the movie off. you watch her as she moves casually across the room and you hear her just before she flicks on the light. 

"it's either that he likes you or that he's jesus, your pick."

it's a christmas rule, or at lease a rule that you and your friends go by, that if christmas day is for family, then christmas eve is for friends, hence why donghyuck had so cleverly gathered everyone in his basement on the very day, or night actually. he stops you with an arm just before you descend upon the staircase, "what'd you bring?" he motions towards the plastic bag clutched in your hands, the same one that'd bagged your groceries the other day (reduce, reuse, recycle!), but it instead carries, "pumpkin pie, i've come bearing pie," and hyuck removes his arm for you to pass before holding it up again for jeno, "and you, sir?" 

"eggnog."

you turn back to see donghyuck give jeno the heartiest pat on the back, "now that sir, that's what i'm talking about." scrunching your nose in good-natured fun, you quip at that, "what's wrong with my pumpkin pie?" jeno's a step above you, hyuck on the step behind as he retorts, "nothing, it's just that jeno here remembered that we're very much legal." shrugging, you trod off down below, missing the way donghyuck holds jeno back for a second. firstly to ask, "brandy or bourbon?"

"whiskey, actually."

and secondly to ask, "so what are you waiting for?"

"huh?" jeno takes a step back up the stairs and away from the hustle and bustle of the basement where you might have lingered to hear what he thinks the conversation is steering towards. "or did you do it already?" he checks himself before jumping to conclusions, "what do you mean?"

hyuck's hand is impatient on his friend's shoulder, after all, it's been eight years and counting since he first discovered jeno's little secret, plus only a day since he rediscovered it. "did you ask her out yet?" jeno's about to disagree with him, partially out of habit, "i-" before he realizes it's for naught, "no, i haven't."

"do you perhaps, i don't know, have a time in mind?"

repositioning the gallon-sized jar in his hands, jeno's response rumbles deep and low for only him to hear, "yeah actually, i was thinking next-"

"next?!"

"what-"

"no next! you have to do it like- tonight!"

"what, why?"

hyuck isn't smirking but the look in his eyes is somewhat akin to it. "because…," it seems that he isn't up to letting his mischief spill for his answer is really quite lame, "because timing is imperative! remember what happened last time?" jeno doesn't let it get to him nearly as much as it should; his plan is foolproof and he's convinced that nothing of what haechan does should be able to catch your gaze tonight, or for the rest of nights. he leaves the boy at the stairs as he treads into the space, ready to take on step one. different plans await him as he draws nearer to the sectional, only to find that the one available seat next to you, at the far right of the couch, has been taken by jaemin.

awkwardly, jeno sets the eggnog on the table and takes the next best spot, the one next to the boy, squeezing beside renjun who gives him a glare and a scowl, "first time you see me in awhile and you decide you want to sit on me? really jen?"

jeno puts his whole heart into apologizing, "oh whoops, my bad," as he turns his body in your direction, and jaemin's, only to feel his stomach furl at how jaemin's body is also aligned with your own, effectively blocking him off. again, the awkwardness that's emitting from him is awfully discernable to renjun, watching the boy turn back around again and give him a sheepish smile, this time in actual contriteness. with step two out of reach and thwarted, he sets his sights on the eggnog. jeno's quite the simple man. his approach was simple. he was sure that simple would get him many places, unlike donghyuck's abundant and conflict-laden schemes.

his plans were simple in that, one: sit next to you, make sure that no one else sits next to you. two: talk to you, make sure that no one else talks to you. and three: ask you out, make sure that no one else asks you out. and that's how it should've gone! though it's certainly not how it's going.

jeno's left to pick up the pieces of your and jaemin's delightful conversation as the same boy reaches for the eggnog at the same time as him. retreating, he watches as jaemin fills a mug for you, then for himself. he listens as jaemin questions, "first time drinking?" pfft, even i know that.

"yeah, actually," it's because you're mom's strict. "my mom's strict."

 "oh wow, so eggnog for a first must be kinda heavy, huh."

i wish that you would start with something lighter, just in case. "i know right, i wish that i could start out with something lighter, just in case. but i don't mind." i'll mind for you. if you can't finish it, i'll finish it for you.

"if you can't finish it, i'll finish for you."

with that, jeno's off to minding his own business because na jaemin is quite literally, stealing his spot, stealing his lines and it's evident that whatever he'd planned for tonight was simply, as simple as his plan, not happening. glare and scowl set into place, akin to renjun's earlier, he fills his own mug, only up to the halfway mark because his last glimmer of hope lies in when he walks you home later in the night. hell, he regrets just thinking that he should've just asked you out on the way here.

setting the mug down, he leans back in his limited space, arms behind his head and an elbow digging into renjun's space as well. the boy is about to comment on it when donghyuck finally returns from his room with the board game of choice this one christmas eve. "since y/n's here for the first time, i've decided to go with something mild," everyone, except you, is transported into the memory of last year when the now-snapped-in-half connect four contraption had bewitched them all into a death match (at least it wasn't raining and at least it wasn't on the rooftop), "so we're going with monopoly." jeno notes the smile that makes its way to your face.

renjun from beside him groans, "monopoly's boring though, ("-because you suck at it-") why can't we just play like-"  

"i think it's a good idea," jeno announces rather suddenly, to which donghyuck rejoins, "and i asked neither of you for your opinions." he tugs off the top of the case and throws it back, "my house, my rules." although jeno wants to confront the urge to counter hyuck's sass, he doesn't because you look pleased at the game of choice, elated almost. but then there's jaemin beside you, commenting and remarking into your ear to further the little smiles you give and, change of plans, jeno decides that if he can't beat jaemin in winning your attention, he'll just have to beat him in winning monopoly. 

the fake bills in his hands stack steadily as renjun, who'd been appointed banker, hands him, two hundreds, then another fifty. but with each increasing increment of jeno's money and competitiveness, jaemin's seems to dwindle as any inverse relationship would do as such. jeno seems to have forgotten that he, na jaemin, is the self-proclaimed 'least competitive person in the world' and how that held true in most any circumstance, including the case of girls or this case of boardgames. rather than narrowing his focus on winning, jaemin catered his role in the playing of the game to comedics. and while jeno dearly loves to hear you laugh, he finds it unfortunate that you find jaemin very funny.

he thinks he's had quite the night. the two rounds of monopoly, an hour each where he'd won both times but was also unrivaled both times, the movie marathon that followed suit (though is the word 'marathon' really warranted if only one and a third were watched?), and the grand finale, eight rounds of drinking games. certainly any singular event could have ignited a spur within him but after enduring all of them, paired with the fact that he was now mildly drunk, lee jeno is, to put it simply, not having it.

jeno undoubtedly has had a drink or two more than he should have because he sways a bit when he stands. he isn't sure but somewhere in the midst of seeing jaemin's hand rest casually on your thigh (missing the way you brush it off politely) and the way he seems to exclusively talk to you and you only (though your half-hearted responses are just out of earshot), jeno came to the conclusion that drinking copious amounts of eggnog seemed the best course of action. he also comes to duly note the looks that jaemin has been sending him, periodically. it's something along the lines of a smirk without the smile, a challenge set in his brow, and a glint of smugness in the eyes. drunk jeno is having exceeding difficulties in stripping down the implication of those regards, especially when his forefront train of concentration is currently being narrowed towards not tripping up the steps.

the jar of eggnog, now empty, is left behind on the table with the cumulation of also empty mugs and extra beer cans, soju bottles. your plastic bag and the aluminum container that held the pumpkin pie are long gone as well. you track your eyes down to each step of the stairs you take because if you look up, you'd be face to face with jeno's bottom. face to butt, really.

the night had ebbed, slowly but surely, into a mess. for whatever reason, you had minimal interactions with any of your friends except for jaemin, not that jaemin wasn't your friend, just that you had hopes of a christmas eve spent with the boy you talked the least to in the course of the night. the one whose bottom has just backed into your forehead. "jen…"

he pays no mind, perhaps doesn't even hear you at all because he proceeds to stumble around for a bit, taking another step down until you're forced to do the same, else your sanity be damned. both hands on the rails on either side, you suck in a breath. "jen, get your ass out of my face." and at that, the boy seems to get a grip on himself, tossing a dumbfounded, then staggered look back at you before straightening and taking the surest steps the rest of the way up to the utility room landing where donghyuck is seen to have been holding the back door open for the better part of three minutes. jaemin is there as well, lingering to see you guys off, you specifically, and jeno finds that same look being thrown at him, except this time he's slightly sobered up. the haze that had hitherto hindered him from thinking through his thoughts with clarity had cleared. he realizes what's off.

maybe it's the flashback, episodic memory style, to donghyuck's phone displaying jaemin's contact after intruding upon the little moment you'd been sharing with him, only a day ago at that. maybe it's that paired with hyuck's, "you have to do it like- tonight!" something that he'd brushed off but also made a lot more sense when put into consideration with the fact that jaemin's looks emanated of provocations, a dare of sorts. and that in itself speaks volumes of nonsense now that jeno's remembering that jaemin is the least competitive person in the world, not only to his own standards but to everyone else's. na jaemin, jeno's other best friend, wasn't deliberately trying to steal his (soon-to-be) girl. he was rather (rather infuriatingly) trying to rile up his dear friend into asking her out. bitterly, jeno notes that it's working; he's a great deal ticked off, even more so now that he's in the know, and his plans on asking you out have indeed been sped up to tonight.

so as jeno holds an unnecessary hand out to help you up the last few steps, a hand that you take with an apprehensive smile quick to form, he makes sure to give jaemin that same look he's been receiving all night. and while jaemin holds an elbow of yours to steady you as you slip on your shoes, jeno makes sure to take both sides of your open jacket and zip it closed, tugging the garment tight to your frame. he relishes in the feeling of your eyes on him, for the first time that night, as you bid your farewells to everyone else. jeno tries to hide a smile of his own as he says his goodbyes, eyes never leaving yours. he ushers you out of the house soon enough, the door clicking shut behind him and offering him the makings of possibly the confession of the century. he paces himself beside you.

hyuck's house is only four blocks down from your own, the only reason the two of you had agreed to walk there in the first place which was a seemingly good idea, if only you had considered the fact that by the end of the gathering it would be three forty in the morning, on christmas morning. the sky is dark, the moon itself offering little light in the presence of clouds, though the air is crisp as it is cold, nipping at the exposed skin of your face and hands. you shove those same hands into the pockets of your jacket as you shuffle along the side of jeno; just being by his side seems to provide a steady stream of warmth you're unwilling to stray too far from.

it's when the two of you cross the second intersection that jeno thinks to start up the little conversation that's been playing in his head for the last six or so hours. it's also then that an idea, though rather dumb, dawns upon you. your neighborhood circles around a fairly small lot, one with only a lawn of grass and a childrens' playground to earn it the title of being a park. a corner of your lips turns itself upwards as you grasp a hand on jeno's forearm, lightly steering him, "let's go sit on the swings for a bit, how's that?" and he complies, mind rerouting the scenarios of the conversation as the circumstances fluctuate. 

the swings, a set of two, creak and groan as you kick up and back, the movement coursing the wind to whip cold across your cheeks. your hands clasp the equally frigid chains from which the seat you're on is sustained, the metal is sure to leave red streaks along the lines of your palms. jeno, who remains unmoving, merely looks on at you with a bemused and adoring gaze, his hands fisting and unfisting in his jacket pockets to retain their warmth in the case that you would be willing to hold them. a wide grin spreads across his features as he watches you dig your heels into the bark to stop, your giddy laughter quiet but perceptible to his eager ears.

with the last bit of momentum edging you on, you almost stumble off the seat. lunging forward with added force, your arms are thrown out on either side to maintain your offset balance. jeno startles at your actions as well, a hand of his own is flung out instinctively to steady you but the distance makes it so the closest he gets is your thrust out hand. he's holding your hand. and it jars him a bit because the sequence of planned events, the notecards by which he was dutifully following, are now jostled and out of order.

he's yet to let go of your hand and that's yet to leave your notice. you don't question it either but you look over just in time to see him gulp, his eyes on the ground before him. the second you revert your eyes, jeno speaks, "do you mind if i ask you something?" his hands are warm.

"go for it."

"i- i said yesterday that...that you're my first love." despite the weather, jeno can almost feel the sweat rush to his palms. he hopes it isn't noticeable and pushes on, "am i yours?"

jeno's banking on your answer to give a green or red light to follow through with all else, he'd phrased the question to deliver precisely just that. never more than now have the differences between 'were' and 'are' meant so much to him. 

he turns to see a smile light your expression as you continue to stare into the ground and when he turns back, the fruits of his efforts are bestowed upon him. "yeah, you are my first love."

the green light has been given, jeno's palms are growing clammier by the second. he stands, hand still in yours, and pads over to where you're seated, the sound of wood chips crunching beneath his steps. jeno holds out his other hand and you take it. thumb rubbing over your knuckles, you find that jeno simply stands before you. the dark shrouds the two of you entirely but you make out enough of his features to see that he's smiling, blindingly, and it's in that moment where your mother's advice falls short because in all honesty, you have no willingness to 'take it slow.' you want him fast and you want him now.

"jeno, i like you."

his thumb on your knuckles stills. jeno isn't sure if he's falling or willingly lowering himself onto his knees because that's what's happening, though he's almost positive that he's come to a dead end on controlling his bodily functions. his mind, all those thought out scenarios of how this night could possibly pan out, every plan that's been enforced and redacted, it all short circuits because he's met with the one possibility that he thought unthinkable. you've confessed to him.

"you what?" jeno's looking up at you with what you believe to be wide eyes, they're beautiful to say the least. you give a squeeze to his hands. he almost jumps in response and in his sensitive state. with another five words, "i said i like you," and it feels as if you've decked him in the head with a chair, or ran him over with a truck, flew an airplane square into his chest. he squeezes your hands back, but harder and for longer as if to convey what he cannot possibly fathom into words in the moment. so he gives it two moments, maybe three or four, before he comes to grasp his bearings with a little more certainty.

but jeno can't bear to look you in the eyes. the thought of his sweaty, clammy hands in yours enough to render him an ungainly mess. with the bark digging sharply into his knees and beckoning for his attention, he doesn't think much as he drops his head into your lap. in fact, he doesn't think at all when he mumbles, "well, i love you," in such a casual manner, it's as if he were implying, 'hah, beat that.' 

and you do. to add on to the shitload of emotions he's currently surfing atop of, you retract a hand from his hold and bring it to his head, fingers weaving in and out of his locks, back and forth on his scalp. the world of thirteen and twenty-one collide because when he looks up, you're the same, pretty, endearing middle school girl and the same enthralling, though stressed college student that he's been loving for so long—almost too long, for the length of time would have deemed incredulous and in vain had you not uttered in the second following, with your fingers laced into the curls at the foot of his head, "well, i've loved you for as long as i can remember."

jeno goes in for it.

his lips on yours, at first, are hot like fire on a cold winter night. they burn and they scald and they sear until the memory of how they meld in perfect unison with your own has seared itself into the forefront of your mind, riveted and ravaging your every thought. sequentially, the initial pang dulls in the trail it's blazed as your movements settle into the languid pace he's set, lips encasing your own repeatedly no matter how many times you part. on perhaps the seven or eighth time you've met your lips to his own, he stops, though his lips remain on yours, and he breathes, "if that's the case...," he suckles on your bottom lip but falls back before you can act on it. jeno brings a hand to the line of your jaw and traces his finger along it, tilting your head to his as they happen upon your chin. "if that's the case, then i guess i must've loved you since the beginning of time."

if christmas eve is for friends, then christmas day is for family.

and perhaps jeno can be filed under friends and family after all because when you awake on christmas morning, or rather afternoon, it's not to the knock on the door from your dad or the screeching of your mom but rather, to jeno's leg shifting atop your own.

"oops, didn't mean to wake you," is what you first hear and the sight of him, hair messy and without a shirt, is what you first see. the brightness of your room, evidence of how you'd forgotten to draw the curtains closed before going to sleep, is almost enough to get you to shut your eyes again but you don't because it's lee jeno who's in front of you, in bed with you, with his arms around you. you wonder how you even fell asleep the night before.

yawning as you speak, "how long have you been up?" he glances at your bedside table, "since nine," and you follow suit, only to see the time on your alarm clock spelling out a 1:04 PM. "shoot, did my alarm wake you?"

"it should've woken you too."

you let a chuckle out at that and he returns with a hearty laugh that reverberates through you. letting your head hit his chest, you mumble, eyes closing shut, "why didn't you just wake me up then?" jeno's glad that you're unable to see him in the position you're in because he's sure to be sporting a blush when he says, "because you're cute when you sleep."

"and so you just ogled at me for four hours?"

yet somehow, he's anything but embarrassed when he retorts, "oh believe me, i've been ogling at you for years." you look up at him once again to see that his eyes are already on you. jeno pulls you closer until your clothed chest hits his bare one. "why am i the one wearing this?" he eyes the bright green material of the shirt and shakes his head, "i thought i already told you that you look better in it."

"in this musty old green tee?"

"not just any musty old green tee. it's my most prized possession, means a whole lot to me."

a smile finds its way to your face, "then why do you wear it to sleep every night? wouldn't that like, i don't know, shorten its lifespan?" jeno only shakes his head a little more, "i wear it to sleep because i like going to sleep thinking about you, it makes me think about you."

"then do you dream about me?"

shameless as he never was before, he nods, "do you?" you shuffle your legs around with his a little more, "i don't even remember my dreams but i'm sure that if i did, they'd all be dreams of you." the smile on his face stretches wide, neither of you are sleepy anymore.

you move to get up but jeno holds you still. complying, you decide to further your interrogations, "does your mom know that you're here?"

"no, but she probably thinks i just stayed over at hyuck's or something," you hum along, figuring just about the same. "the real question is, does your mom know i'm here?" musing along, you can only imagine the look on her face when jeno trails behind you on the steps down to breakfast (overdue lunch), "no, but i'm sure she'd be more pleased than anything. she really adores you, you know."

"then she wouldn't mind it if i asked you out, no?"

good god, it's like the reciprocation of his feelings has made him out to be a whole different man. gone is the stutter-filled, wide-eyed thirteen year old boy who could not, for his life, lay out his love for the one girl he'd only ever had eyes for. in with this smooth little fucker that has you stuttering over your own words, "n-no, i don't think she would mind." and he seals the deal with a kiss, lingering his lips on your own and pulling your bodies flush.

jeno wishes that things never change, the shoulder stitch of his shirt falling far too low on your arms and far too high on his collarbones, the white paint of your car gleaming and his clothes doused with a hose or two, the eggnog drunk until words string incoherent and his ass is shoved unceremoniously into your face. jeno hopes to keep you by his side, to go grocery shopping with you instead of having to bump into you by chance, to throw out his trash and return to your house instead of his own, to feel the arm of your jacket brush against his as you walk side by side in the blackness of night, to be able to close the distance every single time because you were always seven inches too far; the prospect of you and him had been withheld for seven years too long and since the seventh grade too young. but now, with your forehead pressed to his, legs tangled in ways unimaginable, it seems that he has you all to himself for seven eternities on end, endlessly, forever, forevermore.

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — it’s ree here, and i hope you enjoyed my christmas gift to you hehe <33 as the new year comes into sight, i’d like to pass on to you some of that *good energy* and say that 1) i love you, very dearly. and 2) if you ever need anything, i’m right here for you, inbox always open. with sentiments as warm as ever, i am exceedingly glad to have been able to spend the latter third of this year with you guys. much more to come, rouiyan.

[free-pool-trash]

come off it - george weasley

i wrote this because i was bored and in my george feels :) if you know me irl no you dont

word count: 5k

warnings: swearing, y/n absolutely bullying draco 💓😌, angst at the start for 0.2 seconds, mentions of blood, umbridge being a bitch, kissing 😽 slytherin!reader

summary: george wants to break up just until you graduate to keep umbridge off your case but it comes out wrong. eventually you both agree to keep your relationship on the low until you can see each other at graduation <3 (im terrible at summaries)

this is my first time ever writing for hp so please let me know what you think, id love feedback <3 reblogs are so appreciated

let me know if you’d like more hp stuff

masterlist

(also i dont support jkr if i saw her on the street she’d need new kneecaps <3)

The silence was screaming, the room completely devoid of volume, and yet, you’d never heard anything quite so loud.

He never moved from his spot, perched on the arm of an old grandfather chair, his head hung and his hair blocking his eyes from view, hiding any chance you had of reading his expression.

Feeling suffocated by his lack of dialogue, you spoke up again, your voice nothing more than a whisper to be swallowed up by the silence, “So, that’s that then.”

The quiet in the room didn’t bother you so much after you heard the words that had slipped from your lips, you could find solace in the hollow silence. Relating it to your thundering heart, that was beating rapidly, but the thought that you no longer knew what it was beating for left you like the aforementioned silence; hollow.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice, as smooth as ever, brought your thoughts back to the situation at hand. All you managed was the weak shake of your head, willing your wet eyes to dry out before you lost hold of what little dignity you had left.

How could you possibly cry? You wondered miserably.

If you had only listened to the whispers in the back of your mind, you’d have seen this coming, foolish girl. You scolded yourself mentally.

“Don’t be.” You told him simply. Regaining your composure long enough to make it to the exit of the room, you spared the boy one last glance, he was looking at you then, brown eyes cloudier than you’d ever seen them.

What would he have to be sad about? This had been his choice, after all.

With a steadying breath you left the room, uttering an almost pathetic, “Look after yourself, Georgie.”

Only when he was sure you were truly gone did he allow his tears to fall, he hadn’t wanted to end things with you, not really.

It was for the best though. Tensions were high in Hogwarts at the minute, with Umbridge’s take over of the school putting everyone on edge. George knew well enough that the pink sporting she devil wouldn’t take too kindly to the prestigious, pure-blooded, princess of Slytherin embroiled with the likes of him. A supposedly lowly Weasley. A blood traitor.

Of course, status never mattered to you, or to your family for that matter. But it mattered to the new headmistress and George couldn’t bear the idea of putting you on the wretched witches radar knowing that he and Fred would be leaving you before the end of term.

He hadn’t expected it to be so bloody hard though. He thought he’d breeze through it with the thought process of “it’s only temporary”, as he’d initially intended. His plans for a temporary reprieve were hushed the second he saw your heart shattering right before his eyes.

You should’ve known really, you can’t just break up with the girl you’ve been completely in love with since third year out of nowhere. Merlin, you’ve really done it this time, haven’t you? She must think you’re a right tosser.

He reprimanded, the words trapped in the confines of his muddled mind.

His sadness turned to anger as it dawned on him, he’d just let you go and for what? Merlin, his mother was going to kill him.

Molly Weasley absolutely adored you, George recalled the first time he’d introduced you to his family. You’d been so nervous, it wasn’t every day a Slytherin found themselves in the midst of mostly Gryffindors.

Of course, yourself and George were just friends at the time. Fred had been the one who had begged you to visit the burrow as a matter of fact.

George cringed at the thought of the letter he’d surely be getting from his mother when she got wind of what he’d just done.

Overcome with frustration, George lifted himself from the arm of the chair and began storming through the stone halls in search of you. The conversation, if you could even call it that, hadn’t gone the way he planned.

He’d planned to sit down with you, talk you through his thought process and then hopefully you’d promise each other to rekindle your love in six months after you graduated.

Obviously that’s not how it ended up going. He’d screwed it up completely, he’d frozen on the spot and suddenly he’d forgotten everything he had planned to say.

He spotted you then, sluggishly moving down the corridor, small sniffles emitted from your retreating form and George jogged to reach you.

His large hand grasped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks, “Wait. Please.” His voice was strained, pleading.

Inhaling shakily you turned to face him again, the redhead tried his best to ignore your red rimmed eyes as he could already feel his guilt eating him alive as he held your wrist.

You didn’t speak. Just looked at him expectantly.

Carefully, his hand slipped from your wrist to your own hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“Can we talk?” You nodded wordlessly, allowing him to lead you wherever he intended to go.

The pair of you didn’t speak until you reached your destination. You found yourself standing in the privacy of the astronomy tower, hugging yourself to lessen the chill you felt when George released your hand, you stared at him expectantly, praying that you wouldn’t cry anymore.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did.” He confessed while taking a calculated step closer to you, acutely aware of your habit of simply walking away if you felt as though you were being ridiculed. It was a characteristic that he loved about you, you didn’t take anyone’s shit, including his. Which is why he wanted to keep a close proximity, knowing that there was a very real possibility that he’d say the wrong thing and you’d tell him to shove it.

“First of all, I love you. I don’t want you thinking for a second that I don’t.” He couldn’t quite hold back his grimace as you shuddered and turned your face away, staring out at the view as opposed to at him.

With an aggressive sniff you blinked away the water forming in your eyes before meeting his gaze again, “Then what is this about then?” Your tone was demanding, the cold air making itself comfortable in your bones while you waited for an answer.

George took another step forward, the sound of your shaky voice sending a pang directly to his heart. Throwing caution to the wind, he grabbed hold of your arms, just above your elbows.

“I want to be with you more than anything, honest. But I can’t have you in Umbridge’s bad books because of me, especially when Fred and I will be gone in two weeks.” He tried his best to explain, his grip on you softening when he felt your body become less rigid, although you still shook slightly from the cold.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place?” You chastised him weakly, your lips turning downward as you realised he was right. Umbridge had been on your case since she had arrived, with being the top student in her house, she didn’t take kindly to your “fraternisation with the likes of them”.

He let out a sigh, tugging you gently to his chest, his long arms wrapped around you tightly. “Because I’m a knobhead.”

His words had obviously been intended to get a laugh out of you and he was pleased to confirm that it had worked when he heard the soft giggle leaving your lips.

You gave his shoulder a halfhearted whack, “Yeah, you are.”

“Are you still breaking up with me?” You asked, voice a whisper, arms tightly around his waist, afraid if you loosened your grip he’d disappear.

George chuckled at that, “I was never breaking up with you, love.” His lips met the top of your head before he continued, “I just think we should keep a low profile for a bit.”

“I hate it when you’re right.” Your grumbled, pulling away from his hold slightly to look into his eyes.

“I know this isn’t ideal… but we’ll get through it. I need you in one piece for our wedding, after all.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows and causing you to bark out a laugh.

“One minute you’re breaking up with me and the next your banging on about marrying me? I’ll never understand you Weasley.” You reciprocated his teasing, eyes finally dry and shining a little brighter than they had been just a few minutes prior.

George lowered his face close to yours, your noses nudging together ever so slightly as his mouth, formed in a grin, hovered in front of your own. “I’ve got to keep you interested somehow, love.”

With that his lips met yours, his hands sliding up to cup your cheeks when you began to move your lips in unison with his and your own hands tangled in his ginger hair.

All too soon, he removed his lips from yours and rested his forehead on yours. “Maybe we should make up some code words.”

“Like what?” You entertained him, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as he thought about possible code words.

“Right, how about this? When I say “ Merlin, you’re hard work”” he spoke, his hands leaving your cheeks to make air quotes and you watched him fondly as his hands moved to your hips, “That will mean. You’re bloody incredible and I wish I could snog you right here on the spot.”

Throwing your head back, you laughed, “Perfect.”

Then you paused, thinking for a response and then you bit back a smile, hands sliding to his chest pushing him away ever so slightly, “And when I say “Oh, come off it, Weasley” that will mean You’re a prat but I love you regardless.” A dopey smile crossed his lips.

“I’m choosing to ignore the part where you called me a prat.”

Innocently, you shrugged your shoulders, “You are a prat.” George scoffed at that, pulling you into his chest again, rocking your bodies together and lulling you into a sense of tranquility as your cheek rested against his chest.

He let out a long sigh, tightening his grip around you, muttering cheekily in your ear, “Merlin, you’re hard work.”

A small laugh left your mouth and you looked up at him with a half hearted glare, “Oh, come off it, Weasley.”

*

This ‘keep it on the down low’ plan was to put it plainly: dreadful. Acting as though you and George had broken up didn't do too much to keep Umbridge off your back. What it did do however was have, what seemed like every girl in the entire castle, crowding around your boyfriend in hopes of being the next one to catch his attention.

He entertained them all with charming smiles and false niceties, more often than not passing them over to Fred, who basked in the new found attention.

Not that George was the only one being bombarded with love offers, you had your fair share of Slytherin boys sniffing around you over the last couple of days.

One boy had been particularly persistent though, and it was easy to see it was driving the youngest Weasley twin absolutely mental.

The boy in question was currently sat beside you at the Slytherin table in the great hall, doing his very best to keep you interested in what he was saying.

“I don’t know if I mentioned it earlier, but I’m sorry to hear about you and Weasley.” He told you, his voice uncharacteristically shy.

You supposed you shouldn’t be so curt with him, as far as Slytherin boys went Adrian Pucey was probably the kindest of the lot. With a small sigh you turned to the Slytherin chaser and gave him your best fake sad smile, “Thanks, Adrian.”

The boy cleared his throat and you couldn’t help but notice the flush beginning to form on his cheeks, Merlin he is going to be upset when he realises you're not really available.

“If you ever want to talk about it I’d be more than happy to listen.” He offered up kindly, his kindness wasn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, the pair of you had always been friendly with each other, but your perception told you that Adrian was definitely hoping for something a little more than friendly to come of this situation.

Giving him another small smile you nodded your head, deciding to cut the poor boy some slack, “I appreciate that. It’s been pretty strange honestly, feels like every girl in school is lining up to take my place…” You trailed off, eyes landing on George who was sat at the Gryffindor table, a fifth year Hufflepuff girl sitting way too close to him for your liking, twirling her hair and you let your eyes roll at the sight.

Adrian followed your gaze before giving you a sympathetic look, “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that left you at that, you returned your gaze to him, giving him an expectant look, “You seem more upset than I am.” You pointed out, trying not to smile at the furrow in his brow.

Adrian looked away from you towards George who was now laughing with Lee, the Hufflepuff girl now long gone, shrugging his shoulders lightly he began to speak his eyes never leaving the red headed Gryffindor, “The pair of you were great together. I just don’t see what he could possibly want that you couldn’t offer… if you ask me he’s a right idiot for letting you go.”

George was looking in your direction now, his jaw set in a tight clench as he watched Pucey playfully bump his shoulder against yours. Why on earth were you smiling at something Adrian Pucey said?

You caught his gaze from across the room, sending him a sad smile then turning back to the Slytherin beside you, keeping in character as you were very aware of Umbridge’s eyes on you and what she would consider an eligible bachelor.

“Yes well, you know how Gryffindors are. Don’t often think before they act.” You told him, pushing yourself away from the table and collecting your things.

Adrian nodded in agreement, quickly standing up too, “Um, I was wondering if you were after a new potions partner?” He asked quickly, voice shaking ever so slightly with nerves.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you glanced towards George- your usual potions partner desperately, turning back to Adrian you reluctantly nodded your head, you’d need a new partner in a week or so anyway. “Sure.”

Seeming pleased with your answer the brown haired boy sat back down and smiled happily as he watched you leave the hall.

The evening was drawing to an end as you found yourself on the balcony of the astronomy tower, eyes set on the sunset, your body leant comfortably on the railing in front of you.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the future Mrs. Pucey.” Came the voice you’d recognise anywhere, his tone teasing.

Without looking away from the view you chided him playfully, “Don’t be jealous, Georgie. Or should I say Hogwarts’ most eligible bachelor?”

You let out a content sigh as George wrapped his arms around you from behind, leaning his chin on your shoulder and placing a delicate kiss to the curve of your jaw, “I quite like that title. But I’d prefer to be known as your future husband.” He shot back cheekily, placing a flurry of kisses against your neck making you giggle joyfully.

As you threw your head back, your laughter was silenced by his lips catching your own in a passionate kiss, his hands moving to your hips to flip you around to face him, your back pressed against the railing now as you looked up into his eyes.

“That’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.” He admitted, his hands sliding up and down your sides gently as you slid your own around his shoulders.

You hummed approvingly, pulling him towards you and placing your lips against his again, tongue moving against his as his hands gripped your hips. When you pulled away, he chased your lips, pressing short kisses to them while simultaneously pressing his body closer to yours.

“Bet Pucey wouldn’t be able to kiss you like that, eh?” George smirked cockily and you let out a breathy laugh.

Matching his energy, your hands slipped up his neck and you let them get tangled in his hair, you raised an eyebrow, “I could always go and find out… how much are you willing to bet, Weasley?” At your challenge, his lips returned your neck, dragging along the sensitive skin and making your stomach flip.

George’s lips paused right at your ear, his voice gruff and low as he whispered, “No amount of galleons would tempt me if it meant you’d be kissing that git, darling.”

“Stop, you’ll make me swoon.” You joked dryly, tugging softly on his long hair causing him to detach from your neck.

His forehead met yours as the sun finally retreated, leaving just you, George and the stars in the darkness of the tower.

“You know, you could always run away with me. Then we could go back to snogging whenever we want and that old cow wouldn’t be able to punish either one of us for too long.” You could tell he wasn’t truly joking despite the tone of his voice, you released a sad sigh, running your hands through his hair, your nails scratching his scalp the way you knew he liked.

“Mm, but imagine how incredible it’ll feel when we reunite at graduation.” He let out a small puff of air against your face, tightening his arms around you.

It was then that a worry crossed your mind, would he and Fred even bother showing up? Ron wasn’t graduating until next year, Ginny in two, so there would be no family members there for them to see. But surely they’d show up to see Lee?

“You’ll come won’t you? To graduation?” You wondered out loud, his hands rubbing soothing circles into your hips as he sensed your nerves.

He pressed his lips to your forehead and hugged you close, “Freddie and I wouldn’t miss it for the world, love.”

“If I don’t see you there I’ll hex you both.” You promised, snuggling into his embrace.

George let out a small chuckle, hand running down your hair with a content smile, “I don’t doubt it.”

*

All too soon, Fred and George disappeared from Hogwarts in a blaze of lights and explosions and you couldn’t have been prouder of them. With the ambition those boys had you sometimes questioned how they weren’t placed in Slytherin.

You’d managed to stay on Umbridge’s good side for the most part, you’d become quite close with Adrian too, but to avoid leading him on you’d fed him a story about how you were still mad about George and that you were sure he’d only broken up with you so it wouldn’t hurt you so much when he left, he accepted it far more gracefully than you’d expected and continued to be a great friend to you despite knowing you weren’t interested in anything romantic.

There was only a week left until you graduated from the school you’d called home for the past seven years and you’d managed to make it this far with no detentions with Umbridge and her favourite quill.

You were so close.

It’d been a long day of classes and you were on your way back to the Slytherin common room, Adrian by your side when you’d come across the scene.

Some of the fifth years were crowding a scared looking fourth year, you let out a low growl as you recognised Ginny to be the girl cornered by Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle. Throwing all your previous caution to the wind you stamped towards the scene, wrapping an arm around the youngest Weasley’s shoulder and pulled her into your side protectively.

“What do you three little demons think you’re doing?” You seethed, checking Ginny over for any injuries only to find she had tears pooling in her eyes.

It was no secret that you adored the Weasleys. You’d visited the burrow six Christmases in a row and Molly has never failed to send you an owl with a present attached on your birthday. It was also no secret to the family, even George, that you’d both kill and die for little Ginny. When she’d been taken to the chamber of secrets in her very first year you’d nearly popped a blood vessel worrying about her and very nearly ended up petrified while looking for her. Your fake break up with George hadn’t changed how you felt about the family.

Malfoy scoffed, turning his nose up to you, “What’s it to you, you’re just as bad as them. Filthy blood traitor you are.” It was then Adrian stepped in, clamping a hand down on the blonde’s shoulder.

“I’d watch your mouth if you’re looking to play in the final game on Saturday.” The chaser spoke lowly, his threat scaring the younger boy only slightly.

“Oh you’re such a big hard man, Draco.” You laughed mockingly, you’d known him since he was in nappies due to the fact that your mother and his were quite close up until recent years.

Pushing Ginny gently into the grasp of Adrian who had again moved to be standing by your side, he gave her a kind smile and you nodded reassuringly and that was all she needed to go willingly to Adrian.

Now that Ginny was out of the line of fire you squared up to the spoiled brat in front of you, you were anything but intimidated by him, it was high time you gave him a little reminder of exactly why you’d been named the Princess of Slytherin for so many years.

You were never mean for no reason. In fact, everyone believed you’d been misplaced at first. That was until half the student body had watched you absolutely verbally obliterate a Ravenclaw two years above you after he’d called you a slut. You had been absolutely ruthless. Nobody dared to speak badly of you or your friends as you proved on several occasions that you’d not hold back in retaliation. It seemed that little Draco needed a reminder of this.

“You’re so cool. Bullying girls…” You told him dryly, smirking wickedly as he swallowed harshly when Crabbe and Goyle had the good sense to take a few steps back, you raised an eyebrow lowering your voice and forming your lips in a pout, “Tell me, Draco, is your daddy proud of you? Or have you yet to catch his attention?”

Draco fumed then, huffing and gritting his teeth, by now there was a small crowd forming and Ginny had retreated into the arms of Ron, another one of George’s siblings that you simply adored.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spat out, venom lacing his words, only egging you on further.

The grin on your lips only widened and your eyebrow rose higher, “Oh? Because the last time I checked” You lowered your voice so only he could hear before going on, “He’s missed your birthday for the last three years.”

His face turned red and he lunged. Shouts came from the crowd and you considered your options, were you really, as a seventeen year old, about to fist fight a fifteen year old prat with daddy issues? You got your answer in the form of Draco connecting his first to your jaw and busting you lip. The fifth year being restrained by Adrian and Ron, both of whom looked like they were going to fight him themselves.

The crowd watched with bated breath as you dabbed a finger under your cut lower lip. Noticing the blood that now painted your finger you let out a humourless laugh and tilted your head to the side.

You were absolutely about to fist fight the fifteen year old with daddy issues.

Just as you realed your fist back, a voice that met your ears like nails on a chalkboard sliced through the jeers of the crowd, “What is going on here?”

Umbridge screamed when she took in the scene. And you’d be the first to admit it looked bad. Draco with his hands being restrained by a seventh year and your fist in the air, there was absolutely no question about what was going on.

“Why Ms.(L/n)! My office this instant!” She seethed but you could tell she was biting back that horrid grin of hers. She’d been waiting for a reason to lock you in detention with her before you left.

You didn’t bother arguing with the women as she glared at Adrian, Ron and Draco.

“Pucey, Weasley let the boy go. I will deal with the three of you later.”

She motioned for you to follow her and you obliged, sighing softly when the voice echoed from behind you, “My father will be hearing about this.” He couldn’t quit could he? Seeing as you were already in trouble, you continued walking but turned your head over your shoulder and gave him a look of agreement, “Yes Draco he’ll be hearing, but will he really be listening?”

*

“You have been soiling the good name of Slytherin for far too long, positively whoring yourself out to that Weasley boy.” Umbridge had been criticising you for what felt that hours, watching intently as your hand bled as you wrote.

Not too bothered you let her go on her little rant as you write out your line: house embarrassment, her words stung far less than the growing wound on your hand.

The women took a deep breath as she continued, “A bright girl like you should be putting her talents to good use not entertaining the likes of blood traitors.”

It took everything in you to bite your tongue and refrain from stabbing her with her own enchanted quill. It was funny how you’d ended up in that position really, not because of George but because of his little sister.

“I had half a mind to hold you back. But you’d only get in my way. Consider yourself lucky.” She shut up after that, obviously growing bored of your lack of response she relieved you after another half an hour.

When you got back to the dungeon Adrian was sat waiting for you, a tired smile on his face, “You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh how your words injure me.” You jested, flopping onto the sofa, dropping your feet into his lap.

He patted your shin with a chuckle, “How’s the hand?”

You wiggled your bloody hand at him and he winced, “Merlin, (Y/n)...” It looked at lot worse than it felt.

You only shrugged, a dazed smile on your face, “My only regret is not getting a punch in.”

“That Ginny girl is quite worried about you. Kept saying how George was going to prank her so badly for getting you in trouble.” Pucey told you, laughing lightly when you sighed dreamily at the mention of the twin you loved.

“I’ll protect her.” You murmured, thoughts trailing off, “Did I tell you he’s coming to graduation next week?” Adrian nodded, soft smile on his face.

“D’you reckon a reconciliation is on the cards?” He asked teasingly, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Mimicking his eyebrow movements you nodded with determination, “No doubt about it, mate.”

He barked out a laugh, pushing your feet off his lap and standing up, “Save me the details, a man’s heart can only take so much.”

With a wicked smile you watched as he walked towards the dorm stairs, “So are you going to tell that Ravenclaw girl you fancy her before the end of the week?” He went rigid then, blushing furiously as you laughed.

“How’d you find out about that?” He whined miserably.

Just like earlier, you wiggled your eyebrows at him, “Saw you snogging at the back of the library.”

Adrian groaned, grabbing a cushion from the armchair by the stairs and chucked it at you, “Why’d you ask if you already knew?”

You placed your uninjured hand over your chest and faked hurt before it morphed into a triumphant grin, “Thought it’d be fun to rile you up considering you didn’t think to tell me.”

Adrian shook his head before finally heading up the stairs, “Don’t stay up too late.”

*

The days until graduation flew by and before you knew it you and the rest of your year were shouting in delight, a few even crying.

“(Y/n)!” Lee’s voice caught your attention and you met him with a bright smile and squeezed him tightly when he pulled you into a hug, “Come on, the twins are here!”

Being Fred and George’s best friend, Lee knew all about your fake split, never shy to tell you how utterly stupid he thought the whole thing was. But it didn’t matter anymore because the jig was about to be up. Finally.

Eagerly, you followed Lee through the crowd, rushing ahead of him when you locked eyes with George.

When the pair of you collided it was as if you’d never been apart. Your hands immediately tangled in his hair as he lifted you from around the waist, spinning you around excitedly before placing you down but keeping his arms around you

“Merlin, I’ve missed you.” He whispered lowly into your ear, you pulled your lip between your teeth, and leaned away to look at him fondly.

“Hi.” You whispered, a huge grin on your face.

“Hello.” He whispered back, the look on his face nothing short of enchanted when he studied you for the first time since he left.

Without another word you used your grip on his hair to bring his lips to yours, kissing him softly through your smile as you heard Ginny giggling from her place beside Molly.

George grumbled at the short length of the kiss, settling for holding you hard and leaning down to whisper, “You’re hard work, my love”

With a laugh you pecked his cheek adoringly, staring deeply into his eyes as you murmured with a shit eating grin, “Come off it, Weasley.”

[netflixaddictedd]

10 lesbian books you should read

Leah on the offbeat: When it comes to drumming, Leah Burke is usually on beat—but real life isn’t always so rhythmic. She’s an anomaly in her friend group: the only child of a young, single mom, and her life is decidedly less privileged. She loves to draw but is too self-conscious to show it. And even though her mom knows she’s bisexual, she hasn’t mustered the courage to tell her friends—not even her openly gay BFF, Simon. So Leah really doesn’t know what to do when her rock-solid friend group starts to fracture in unexpected ways. With prom and college on the horizon, tensions are running high. It’s hard for Leah to strike the right note while the people she loves are fighting—especially when she realizes she might love one of them more than she ever intended. (Make sure to read Simon vs the homosapiens agenda before Reading this)

Her royal highness: Millie Quint is devastated when she discovers that her sort-of-best friend/sort-of-girlfriend has been kissing someone else. Heartbroken and ready for a change of pace, Millie decides to apply for scholarships to boarding schools . . . the farther from Houston the better. Soon, Millie is accepted into one of the world's most exclusive schools, located in the rolling highlands of Scotland. Here, the country is dreamy and green; the school is covered in ivy, and the students think her American-ness is adorable. The only problem: Mille's roommate Flora is a total princess. She's also an actual princess. Of Scotland. At first, the girls can't stand each other, but before Millie knows it, she has another sort-of-best-friend/sort-of-girlfriend. Princess Flora could be a new chapter in her love life, but Millie knows the chances of happily-ever-afters are slim . . . after all, real life isn't a fairy tale . . . or is it?

The price of salt: Therese, a struggling young sales clerk, and Carol, a homemaker in the midst of a bitter divorce, abandon their oppressive daily routines for the freedom of the open road, where their love can blossom. But their newly discovered bliss is shattered when Carol is forced to choose between her child and her lover.

The miseducation of Cameron Post: When Cameron Post's parents die suddenly in a car crash, her shocking first thought is relief. Relief they'll never know that, hours earlier, she had been kissing a girl. But that relief doesn't last, and Cam is forced to move in with her conservative aunt Ruth and her well-intentioned but hopelessly old-fashioned grandmother. She knows that from this point on, her life will forever be different. Survival in Miles City, Montana, means blending in and leaving well enough alone, and Cam becomes an expert at both. Then Coley Talor moves to town. Beautiful, pickup-driving Coley is a perfect cowgirl with the perfect boyfriend to match. She and Cam forge an unexpected and intense friendship, one that seems to leave room for something more to emerge. But just as that starts to seem like a real possibility, Aunt Ruth takes drastic action to "fix" her niece, bringing Cam face-to-face with the cost of denying her true self even if she's not quite sure who that is.

Late to the party: Seventeen is nothing like Codi Teller imagined. She’s never crashed a party, never stayed out too late. She’s never even been kissed. And it’s not just because she’s gay. It’s because she and her two best friends, Maritza and JaKory, spend more time in her basement watching Netflix than engaging with the outside world. So when Maritza and JaKory suggest crashing a party, Codi is highly skeptical. Those parties aren’t for kids like them. They’re for cool kids. Straight kids. But then Codi stumbles upon one of those cool kids, Ricky, kissing another boy in the dark, and an unexpected friendship is formed. In return for never talking about that kiss, Ricky takes Codi under his wing and draws her into a wild summer filled with late nights, new experiences, and one really cute girl named Lydia. The only problem? Codi never tells Maritza or JaKory about any of it.

Annie on my mind: Liza begins to doubt her feelings for Annie after someone finds out about their relationship, and realizes, after starting college, that her denial of love for Annie was a mistake.

Tell me again how a crush should feel: Leila has made it most of the way through Armstead Academy without having a crush on anyone, which is a relief. As an Iranian American, she’s different enough; if word got out that Leila liked girls, life would be twice as hard. But when beautiful new girl Saskia shows up, Leila starts to take risks she never thought she would. As she carefully confides in trusted friends about Saskia’s confusing signals, Leila begins to figure out that all her classmates are more complicated than they first appear to be, and some are keeping surprising secrets of their own.

It's not like it's a secret: Sixteen-year-old Sana Kiyohara has too many secrets. Some are small, like how it bothers her when her friends don’t invite her to parties. Some are big, like the fact that her father may be having an affair. And then there’s the one that she can barely even admit to herself—the one about how she might have a crush on her best friend. When Sana and her family move to California, she begins to wonder if it’s finally time for some honesty, especially after she meets Jamie Ramirez. Jamie is beautiful and smart and unlike anyone Sana’s ever known. There are just a few problems: Sana's new friends don't trust Jamie's crowd; Jamie's friends clearly don't want her around anyway; and a sweet guy named Caleb seems to have more-than-friendly feelings for her. Meanwhile, her dad’s affair is becoming too obvious to ignore. Sana always figured that the hardest thing would be to tell people that she wants to date a girl, but as she quickly learns, telling the truth is easy…what comes after it, though, is a whole lot more complicated.

Juliet takes a breath: Juliet Milagros Palante is a self-proclaimed closeted Puerto Rican baby dyke from the Bronx. Only, she's not so closeted anymore. Not after coming out to her family the night before flying to Portland, Oregon, to intern with her favorite feminist writer--what's sure to be a life-changing experience. And when Juliet's coming out crashes and burns, she's not sure her mom will ever speak to her again. But Juliet has a plan--sort of. Her internship with legendary author Harlowe Brisbane, the ultimate authority on feminism, women's bodies, and other gay-sounding stuff, is sure to help her figure out this whole "Puerto Rican lesbian" thing. Except Harlowe's white. And not from the Bronx. And she definitely doesn't have all the answers . . .In a summer bursting with queer brown dance parties, a sexy fling with a motorcycling librarian, and intense explorations of race and identity, Juliet learns what it means to come out--to the world, to her family, to herself.

Style: Kyle Blake likes plans. So far, they’re pretty simple: Finish her senior year of high school, head off to a good college, find a cute boyfriend, graduate, get a good job, get married, the whole heterosexual shebang. Nothing is going to stand in the way of that plan. Not even Stella Lewis. Stella Lewis also has a plan: Finish her senior year as cheer captain, go to college, finally let herself flirt with (and maybe even date) a girl for the first time and go from there. Fate has other plans for Kyle and Stella when they’re paired up in their AP English class and something between them ignites. It’s confusing and overwhelming and neither of them know what to do about it. One thing they do know is that their connection can’t be ignored. The timing just isn’t right. But is there ever a good time for falling in love?

[hollenka99]

A Mislabeled Hourglass

Summary: Fundy grows up faster than Wilbur was expecting but he is going to make the most of his son’s shorter childhood regardless.

Warnings: Mentions of hunting animals, implied character death

Wilbur is no stranger to growing up faster than most. In the midst of learning survival skills as a child, he was still able to play to his heart's content. His mum, and later Phil, never cared too much if he got dirty. Kids will be kids. Despite that, his first experience with grief is at 6, he causes an animal's death sooner than most would and he dies himself for the first time at the age of only 9 (stupid accident, he should have watched his step). He is perhaps 8 when Phil gives him his first taste of independence. At 11, Tommy enters their life and makes him a big brother. Phil's day trips gradually get more frequent, sometimes stretching out for longer durations too. Whenever it's just him and Tommy, he has to be responsible, has to play a more adult role despite being in his early teens when it becomes a noticeable habit. Then Technoblade shows up. You could argue that from around 17 or 18, Wilbur is practically becomes a young carer on a full time basis. However, this accelerated maturation was all mental. The earth had gone around the sun once when he spoke his first word, five times when he began deciphering sequences of letters as words, ten times when Phil told him what to expect over the next several years and it had completed its 19th revolution shortly before Fundy came into the world. Fundy was... different. First of all, he was a shapeshifter so right off the bat, he was never going to look fully human. Sally had fins and naturally red hair. Fundy was born with a substantial amount of ginger hair and ears that seemed slightly more pointed than they should be. When his son gets older, it will become apparent that his senses are stronger than Wilbur's too. Speaking of Fundy getting older... Wilbur has a hunch that something isn't quite right when his baby rapidly outgrows clothes meant for his age group. He initially dismisses it as Fundy likely inheriting his ridiculously tall genes. Because what else could it be, right? Then he is crawling at 2 months old. Wilbur's far from a baby expert but he's sure infants don't become that mobile that soon. A month or so later, Fundy takes his first clumsy steps towards him. Now that? Yeah, that undoubtedly raises alarm bells. He knows for a fact that that milestone was for those around 12 months old. Okay yep, something was definitely up. The books say Fundy should have been introduced to solid foods by now. He guesses that puts him in the Bad Dad category, along with temporarily using cows to feed him when he first got Fundy. He'd defend himself by pointing out he didn't have formula on hand the moment he became a father and was yet to learn non-human milk wasn't actually good for the baby but those excuses don't seem credible. He knows he's been going about this blinder than he would liked since day 1 but the accelerated aging might end up screwing him over even more. Ha, imagine having time to settle into parenting a baby before they graduate into toddlerhood. It's fine, he swears it's fine. It just means he gets to start having comprehensible, reciprocated conversations sooner than most, not to mention going through less nappies. There are stumbles for the first week or two after Fundy learns to walk but his son soon gets the hang of it. Only days after his first steps comes his first word. Noisy pattering paired with cries of "Daddy!" get more common. He could certainly get used to this. A one year old's way of running is potentially one of the silliest things he's ever witnessed. But look at his little champion go! When Fundy learns to crouch, Wilbur is crouching right beside him. Tommy comments that he looks and sounds like an idiot whenever he plays with Fundy. Wilbur pays him no heed because his brother is an absolute hypocrite. He has to say, Tommy is doing a great job for someone who was thrown in at the deep end just as much as he was and his brother doesn't even have the responsibility of having to care for a kid. He's always been a bit... rough and ready when it comes to playing with others. But with Fundy, he makes sure to be gentle around the toddler. Wilbur isn't entirely sure whether hanging upside down from someone's grip on a near daily basis is healthy for a little kid but Fundy's eruption of giggles each time suggest otherwise. When Tommy turned 11, he was not yet an uncle. The following April, he has a two year old nephew who complains he wants to help blow out the candles, nearly fighting for his right to do it instead of the actual birthday boy. It somehow leads to a pillow fight between them. So all in all, Tommy is taking it in his stride. By Fundy's second Christmas, Wilbur is able to start calculating. A 14 month old kid is supposed to be getting the hang of being bipedal, not receiving books that will help them learn how to read. Given that his son was walking at 3 months old, his best guess is that Fundy's development rate was four times that of other children. It seems consistent too since Fundy is approximately the equivalent of a 4 or 5 year old boy now. He recalls Sally once joking about how shapeshifters tended to live fast and die 'young'. He thinks he gets what she means now. Quadruple speed for Fundy though? Fuck. If he's got the maths right, they will be the same physical age when Wilbur is 25. The gap will only grow more and more from then on. At 30, he will have a child who is roughly 40. And when Wilbur himself is 40... he'd rather not dwell on the heartache his early 40s are set to bring. He has been given a 60 second hourglass that's been labelled as a 4 minute one. He's begun to comprehend this with 2 seconds' worth of sand already piling at the bottom. What is he even supposed to do? Does he bake a birthday cake every January, April, July and October 10th or just that last date? He guesses that will be for Fundy to decide in the future. Tommy has made a 'reverse leap day kid' joke before but it really is based in truth. While still a small child, one of Fundy's favourite places to rest is against his father's chest. There have been plenty of nights where the little boy has fallen asleep in his father's arms while being read a story. He's rapidly getting bigger and Wilbur frequently has to adapt how he holds him to accommodate. In the quietest of moments, his eyes will notice a tiny mischievous smile directed at him that will make his day or his ears will catch the softest of snores coming from beside him. As much as he tries to enjoy those occasions, peace often leads to a chance for overthinking to take place. When that happens, it all turns bittersweet with the desperate wish he could get several years of this, not feel lucky if he gets more than 2 or 3 of them. Of course, every time Fundy is resting against his chest is not necessarily positive. There are obviously the typical 'toddler having a breakdown because they scraped their knee' type stuff. Those are fine, all he has to do is soothe him and distract from what is usually an overthought 'injury'. But then there are the times where Fundy's fingers ache from the ordeal of slowly developing claws, Wilbur lets him dig his nails into his jumpers as hard as he feels the need to. The same happens whenever there is any significant growth with his ears too. The older Fundy gets, the more used to the flat of a small head pressing into his chest he becomes. He would do anything to alleviate his pain and discomfort if he could. And no, he definitely hasn't shed a tear or two when nobody is watching in regards to the matter. From here on in, it feels like he's on home soil. He's helped raise a kid from the age of 4 before. The only difference now is that this kid is his own flesh and blood. And a shapeshifter, which Tommy never was. They've begun entering the "Dad, look what I can do!" phase of Fundy's life, now that he is getting more capable with age. The first major instance is when he comes home from a hunt. Tommy has a smug look on his face and Fundy seems seconds from exploding with excitement. His son is let loose on him as soon as he's freshened up, dragging him to a chair where he is made to listen to the most drawn out reading session he has ever experienced. But Wilbur can't help but beam every time Fundy successfully gets through a word. The day he believes Fundy is old enough to start learn how to use a bow can't come soon enough. He knows fuck all about hybrids or shapeshifters other than the very basics. He can't tell you how to construct the most impressive of architectural structures. But this, archery and hunting? Now that he can impart wisdom on. He passes down second hand stories about Fundy's grandma and anecdotes about his trips with Phil when he was a young boy himself. As far as he can tell, Fundy laps it all up. Swordplay is soon added to the mix of training activities. The wooden sword he crafted for his son is slightly too big but eh, the kid will quickly grow into (then inevitably out of) it sooner than later. They gradually work up from technique and stance to improving accuracy and striking moving targets. Every bit of progress he makes, his dad is there cheering him on. Fundy only grows reluctant when it begins to get 'real'. That is to say, when Wilbur tries to take him on an actual hunt or attempts to introduce him to the subject of turning a kill into a meal. And yeah, he gets it. He wasn't the biggest fan of it either when he was being taught himself. Plus, he's aware Fundy's nose is more sensitive than his or Tommy's so yep, preparing a body's going to be even less pleasant for him. It's unfortunately a part of this sort of life. There's... well, there's always the option of heading down to the butcher's in town. Just keep in mind who got his first girlfriend indirectly due to the fact her dad would always give him money for helping supply produce. You've been doing great though. The important part is you're learning how to survive on your own if need be, not to mention how to defend yourself in case of an attack. Another part of Fundy's development to make him gush with pride is when he starts to really hone his shapeshifter nature. It's small at first, a furrier hand transforming into a paw here, a lump of a half formed tail spotted underneath a dressing gown there. He can't really describe how happy it makes him to see a child with a fox's head greet him one morning when Fundy jumps out from behind a door. There are features the young shapeshifter will keep in his human form obviously. Yet it's thrilling to have him keep coming over to show off a new shifting-related ability. The first time Fundy manages to morph fully into a fox, during the spring after his 2nd birthday, Wilbur promises the three of them can have an 'anything Fundy says, goes' type thing the following day in celebration. There are times where Fundy may, for instance, forget to include his tail as an animal or he'll walk around as his usual self, albeit with accidental fox eyes. It's simply a matter of practise, Wilbur believes. One of the best parts of Fundy gradually improving his shapeshifting is the fact he loves to curl up on his dad's lap while in fox form. Wilbur cherishes it. Fundy's getting older now (taller too, this kid is undoubtedly going to be at least 6 foot one day) but he'll always be smaller as a fox than as a human. Forgive a father with limited time to enjoy carrying his son around for wanting to prolong the inevitable. Fundy is 3 when he physically catches up with Tommy, age wise. It's not until he is the equivalent of maybe 15 that he passes his uncle's height. Tommy complains about it incessantly, especially whenever Fundy teases him about how much taller he's getting. It's all fun and games but Wilbur was an unusually large teenager once (only a few years ago really, though let's not dwell on that) so he understands what it's like. Going through growth spurts is hardly the most enjoyable thing out there and he can't imagine how it must feel to keep getting hit by them with even less time to settle into your new height. Not to mention growing pains. During a quiet evening, he checks in on his son and approaches the subject. It leads to him allowing Fundy to rant about the worst parts of growing up. Orange fur recedes on his arms to show a few stretch marks. Ah, he was wondering if the extra hair was deliberate or simply puberty taking hold. He assures Fundy stretch marks aren't something to be ashamed of. He got a bunch of them himself at his age. Although, they've pretty much all faded by now. It's fine, you don't need to stress about it. Besides, Tommy's going through the same kind of shit. The main problem with Fundy and Tommy being similar ages now is that they are arguably closer than ever. Which, no, isn't a bad thing. In fact, he's glad that for a few months they're able to hang out on more equal footing. The issue lies in the fact that Fundy takes after his uncle when it comes to causing mischief. The little rascal is turning into a bit of a prankster. And yeah, maybe Wilbur himself likes channelling hints of chaos into his life but you'll never hear the designated responsible adult admit to that in the others' presence. At one point, Fundy is a six year old gleefully explaining how Tommy helped him up so he could place that water bucket. Only a year later, there's an 11 year old revealing that yes, he was the one to make their chickens, cows and sheep switch enclosures during the night. He only gets more ambitious from there. God knows where he got all that dye from when he's in his mid-teens. Fundy is much like himself as a teenager. Both clearly love their respective fathers but both grow to varying degrees of resentment regarding the level of independence they are given. Wilbur always had too much. It was his job to take care of Tommy whenever Phil left on short trips until the avian hybrid pretty much said 'well, you're an adult now, you can take care of things all by yourself' before heading off with Technoblade for months on end. It's why Wilbur knows kids want a safety net, for an adult to be there to help them out if they need it (no matter how mature or independent they feel). Has he taken it further than he should have? Maybe. Fundy is the only one who can be the true judge of that. He just wants his little boy to be safe and happy. He didn't want him to grow up so quickly. However, even if this was happening in 15 years, he would have grown up too soon. It doesn't surprise him too much when Tommy and Fundy make the choice to go off on their own. He only allows it because they promise they will stick together throughout the journey. He supposes it was time. Phil snuck off to do the same around their age and his mum was roughly 18 when she set off to be a nomadic traveller. The thought to live a similar style life has crossed Wilbur's mind. His duty to the two boys under his care has always made him reconsider. But Tommy is 16 now and not as much of a child as Wilbur likes to say he is. As for Fundy, he's probably around the equivalent of 18 or 19 by this point. He hates to admit it but they've both grown up. Where the hell did the time go? So although it pains him to do so, he nevertheless sends them off with a smile. If they find anywhere nice in their adventures, they'll be sure to tell him. He might even join them if they choose to stick around in one area. He turns back into the house after they leave and fuck, has it always been this empty? He gets a letter in early July, telling him all about this place called the Dream SMP and their time there. He arrives and things seem to snowball as soon as he begins the 'drug business' bullshit. Suddenly, he's a general with his brother and son as soldiers, along with some new friends. They are at a disadvantage in this fight against tyranny but it's okay, Eret says she has a secret weapon. They might just pull through. Or... they might instead be brutally betrayed by a former friend and lose so much more than their possessions. He loses track of his battalion in the chaos. All he knows is screaming for everyone to flee. Then the agony a sword through his stomach. Tubbo's dead, as is Tommy. Where's Fundy? He can't see him anywhere. God, please say he managed to get the fuck out of here. Please let it be that he turned into a fox and scarpered away, something like that. Never mind his dad. If Fundy's alright, he'll be alright too. He loves his son, has done all he was able to ensure his little boy has never had reason to doubt this fact. Over the past few years, that love has been repaid in mischievous grins, unrestrained giggles and drowsy cuddles, among other quieter moments. It gets repaid once again as a boy playing a soldier struggles to join the side of his pretend general of a father in order to loosely grasp hands. It barely registers. Neither does the tiny pained smile or ginger hair that go largely missed by eyes preoccupied with the vain effort to keep them open. They all celebrate the independence they'd fought so hard for the next night. The bittersweet nature of this victory goes ignored. With all the cheerful chatter and singing declaring their land to be one of freedom from tyranny drifting in the evening air from the campfire, it feels like the good mood will never end. It feels like the only thing that may tear the father and son apart is Wilbur's desperation for just a bit more time with Fundy as his little boy, despite how painfully obvious he was already grown up into a man in less than 5 years. Arm slung around him as a toast is made, they are not yet a debilitatingly stressed president, increasingly suicidal exilee or secretly loyal spy. For tonight, they are still a relatively happy, loving pair. For tonight, there is hypothetically still so much time for them to stay like that.

[superlinguo]

Linguistics Jobs: Interview with a Stay-at-home Mom and Twitch Streamer

Twitch launched in June 2011, which means it’s only a few months younger than this blog, but it’s four years older than this interview series. Today’s interview with Taffy is the first with a Twitch streamer. Twitch has moved from streaming games to streaming al kinds of content, including linguistics! I’m always excited to see linguists reach new audiences, and Taffy somehow manages to fit it in around wrangling a toddler. You can follow Taffy on Twitch, or on other places around the internet, linked below.

What did you study at university?

My undergrad was as an English major, with a double minor in Creative Writing and Theatre;. I studied Mandarin abroad in Hangzhou, China, for a year; and then got my Masters in English with a concentration in Foreign Languages. I first studied Linguistics when I was a junior in college and didn't realize it was, like, a thing. And though I decided not to change majors, I did try to get as many Linguistics-focused courses as I could. When I got my Masters degree, there was not a Linguistics option at my university, but the English department did offer to pretty much make a program for me. We had two Linguistics professors in the English department, and I took every graduate course (and sometimes undergraduate with personalized advanced offerings) they offered. I also took several courses in the Foreign Languages department and was often the only non-FL or non-Education student there. (I was also often the most passionate in the room, haha!) Fun fact: the English department was going to offer Stylistics, and I was so excited for it AND for the professor, but I was the only person who registered for the course, so it didn't make. That kind of sums up my Linguistics experience in school. :p What is your job?

Stay-at-home duties revolve around feeding the daughter, keeping the house maintained, changing diapers, being a source of entertainment and education, and putting the baby to sleep. We sometimes go out for walks or go to playgrounds and such, but we rarely go to a public spot more than once a week or two weeks. Since I also write, I try to make about thirty minutes of time a day writing for Renew, which is a Christian network of materials around discipleship. When we have international students living with us (which hasn't happened since July), I also make sure they get to school safely on the weekdays and have food to eat. I sometimes help them with their school work if they ask for it or offer other forms of tutoring or language discussion. I'm also on the Duolingo team of streamers on Twitch, so I stream language-related content three times a week. Right now, my schedule is on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Fridays during the kiddo's afternoon naps and then also Saturday nights after she goes to sleep. In the midst of all of that, I also try to spend time with my husband and take care of my mental, physical, and spiritual health when I can. How does your linguistics training help you in your job?

As far as being a mom goes, it's really fascinating to watch my daughter's language skills develop. Especially since we're raising her to be bilingual (because my husband is Chinese, and he and all of his family are native Mandarin [and Mandarin-dialects] speakers), I often use skills I've learned from Language Acquisition courses and books to reinforce her language skills. My daughter was also born with a slight tongue tie, and when the pediatrician and I were discussing whether or not we should clip her tongue, she actually asked me what I thought of the effects of tongue ties on speech development. So that was interesting! Because she knows I have a linguistics background, she often checks in with me about my daughter's language and vocabulary development and lets me know about language milestones I should be looking out for. With writing, language and linguistics is a big part of that. I guess the biggest application I use is dealing with diction and word choice because especially when writing about spiritual topics, word choice is really important. I do also do some creative writing (especially short fiction and poetry) for some literary journals, so many other aspects come into focus there too. And with teaching and housing, I use a lot of Foreign Language Education, Grammar, and Language Acquisition knowledge there too when teaching, tutoring, and even just communicating. I also often pull out quite a bit of that knowledge when I'm streaming, but sometimes I also have people in chat who are not super proficient English speakers. (Most of the community are non-native-English speakers, but most are very proficient.) I totally encourage multilingualism in the chat, but it does often require a bit more creative interpretation since it's only by text in a chat rather than face to face. Do you have any advice do you wish someone had given to you about linguistics/careers/university?

I wish I had known it was a possible field of study! It's very possible I may have majored in that instead.

More links from Taffy:

Writing:

Articles on Renew

Jothan (short story)

Stoodie (novel)

The Last (novel)

Streaming stuff:

Twitch

Instagram

Twitter 

Facebook

YouTube

Related interviews:

Interview with a Language Creator

Interview with an Internet Linguist

Interview with a Dance Instructor and Stay-at-Home Mom

Recent interview:

Interview with a Peer Review Program Manager

Interview with an Associate at the Children’s Center for Communication, Beverly School for the Deaf

Interview with a Metadata Specialist and Genealogist

Interview with a Developer Advocate

Interview with an ESL teacher, coach and podcaster

Check out the full Linguist Jobs Interview List and the Linguist Jobs tag for even more interviews 

[hiddlestonsbabygirl]

Care For Me (Steve Rogers au) SugarDaddy!Steve

•prologue•

An alternative universe where Steve isn’t an Avenger, but rather a CEO of one of the biggest companies in the US. His best friend and business partner Bucky secretly made him an account in an online dating site for sugar daddies and sugar babies, setting Steve up on a date with the only suitable sugar baby he thought was best for his best friend among the million others in his inbox.

It’s you. You’re the sugar baby.

Or,

Where reader is a med student who is badly in need of financial support and resorted to desperate measures by signing up to an online dating site with a little help from reader’s best friend, Nat.

•••

You ran up the staircase, not bothering to apologize as you bumped into strangers along the way. Your heart hammered against your chest as sweat outlined your forehead, thoughts running through your mind as you wondered what could have happened to your apartment. You just got a call from your good neighbor Mrs. Sally that the landlord stormed into your hallway followed by two men in white muttering angry words as he unlocked your door with his duplicate key. You knew instantly why he was there. You were getting kicked out of your own apartment since you weren’t able to pay for your rent in six months. The landlord had warned you beforehand to pay sooner, but it was getting harder and harder each day. You were already broke, all your savings spent on your medical school. You didn’t want to stop your studies—you were already on your third year and ever since you graduated college your goal was straight; finish med school, pass the licensure exams and become a doctor. You couldn’t even last a week on your countless part-time jobs because of your coming in late due to knee-deep work you have to face every single day in school.

Your financial status was making it hard for you to finish your goal. Very hard.

You reached your floor, and, as expected, all your things were outside your door in boxes. Your heart sank as you stared at the mess, your clothes and books thrown aggressively into the containers as if they meant nothing but pieces of trash.

You rushed inside and your landlord was standing by your small kitchen, barking orders at his two men, without even noticing that you entered.

“Please, sir,” you cried as you neared him. “Please give me one more chance. I’ll pay by the end of the month, I promise!”

He scowled at you. “I’ve given you too many chances, (Y/N). You’re too much.”

He turned his back at you and proceeded to march into your bedroom, calling out one of his men to follow him inside.

“No!” You yelled angrily this time. You couldn’t believe him. You may haven’t paid your debt owed to this man but that didn’t give him the right to intrude into your privacy.

You ran past them and stood in front of them before they could get any closer to the door, your cheeks flushed and eyes filled with angry tears.

“You can’t just walk into someone’s bedroom and take everything away!” You cried. “I can pack up myself! I don’t need your filthy hands on my belongings!”

Your landlord looked furious. “Then throw your damn things out of my apartment in the next hour or I’ll fucking rip this room apart by myself!”

You flinched at the loudness and anger of his voice before he turned around and left without another word, his men following close behind. Once you heard the main door slam shut you bawled your eyes out, sinking to the floor as you struggled to think of places where you could find refuge without having to pay. All you had in your wallet was a 20-dollar bill, and you didn’t have any extra cash in your bank account. You considered searching for very cheap rooms in the vicinity without having to ride because riding meant paying. But you couldn’t walk on the streets while struggling to hold boxes of your things. They were even too many for only two small hands.

You sobbed. At this point you felt so hopeless already. You almost convinced yourself that you were going to throw your unnecessary things away and sleep on the streets, while asking for spare change. You’d have to give up your med school since you couldn’t shoulder all the expenses anymore and just look for a job where it pays just enough for food and shelter. You didn’t have a family anymore to back you up. Your addictive mother left you for a stranger, and your father’s been gone even before you were born. You didn’t have any siblings, nor uncles or aunts or extended family members where you could go to for help. You had no one. It was only you.

You wiped away your tears, swallowing your pride as you took out your old, worn-out phone from your pocket and dialed your best friend’s number.

Natasha.

She’s been your best friend since high school, and you both shared the same passion in life. You both wanted to become a doctor. You both have so much in common, and you both agree to almost everything. You’ve been there for each other through the ups and downs, and Natasha has helped you through your own struggles financially. But asking for this big favor from her was just too much for you. You didn’t want to add a burden to your best friend—med school is already hard enough as it is.

But you were already desperate. You didn’t have any more options. This was the only one.

“Hello?”

You felt a sudden wave of relief hearing a voice so soothing in the midst of the chaos. “Nat, hi.”

“(Y/N), have you been crying? What happened??”

You hiccuped. “I-I’m fine, Nat. C-Could you come over? I k-kind of need your help.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

As promised, a knock came from your door and you stood up to open it, revealing a worried Natasha standing over your disarrayed valuables.

You couldn’t help yourself. Fresh tears welled up in your eyes as she pulled you in for a tight hug and you sobbed into her shoulder.

“We’ll pack up your things and go to my house. You’re staying there for as long as you like. My home is always open for you, (Y/N). And you know that.”

...

“So? How did it go with Katherine?” Bucky spoke up as he stabbed his medium-rare meat with his fork, clearly playing with his food rather than eating it. It was lunch break and Bucky and Steve were in their usual go-to for lunch, Redbird.

“Despite the fact that we called it a night early? It was okay.” Steve replied with a scoff, bringing a spoonful of rice to his mouth and watched as Bucky gave his best friend a deadpanned look.

“And you were the one who ended things early, not her, right?”

Steve nodded. He was slowly getting tired of Bucky setting him up with several women, whom he doesn’t even take interest in. He always has the need to pair Steve with someone because “you always look so bleak and somber,” as Bucky would put it.

“Buck, I really appreciate you doing these stuff for me, being my wingman and all, but I really don’t feel like dating right now.”

“Oh, yeah?” He retorted. “Then why do you always look so depressed? You can’t fucking tell me your wealth and fame is making you distressed. That’s some absurd bullshit right there.”

“Language.” Steve glared at him. He always hated when people cussed. For him it was indecent and dirty.

Except, of course, cussing in bed. He can only tolerate profanity under the sheets. But not often, though. That would be too much to listen to.

“Seriously??”

“And yes, James. Wealth and fame does not automatically make you happy and unproblematic. Do you know how many rich and famous people died because they took their own life? Because they hide their problems. The only image the public sees is the happy and successful façade they show.”

Silence. Steve was almost convinced he had won over their little argument.

“That shit deep, man.” Bucky only chuckled to which his best friend exhaled an exasperated sigh. Steve couldn’t even bother to point out that Bucky said a bad language word again.

“But you’ve got friends. Your family loves and supports you, you make time for sports and leisure...what could possibly make you so sad??”

Steve breathed out. “I told you, I’m not depressed, I’m not sad. I just don’t feel like dating as of the moment.”

“Will you feel like dating again tomorrow?”

“Haha, very funny.”

Bucky only stared at his best friend as he took a sip of his drink, studying him with confusion and amusement. Very formal man, always has a steely look on his face, very dominant demeanor, couldn’t even stand hearing curse words! What could his best friend possibly like in a woman?? Were his calculations wrong? Did he expect differently? Was he looking at it in a wrong angle?

Is Steve gay??

“Barnes, quit staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable.” Steve brought him back to his senses.

And then it hit him.

“Hey, Steve, I think I need to go.” Bucky announced as he stood up and gathered his phone and wallet lying around on the table.

“Oh? Why the sudden hurry?” The blond-haired man asked as his eyes watched his best friend suddenly look distracted.

“It’s nothing. I just forgot to feed my pet dragon.” He then proceeded to pace towards the exit, leaving Steve confused and asked himself how he was acquainted with a weird and funny man like James Buchanan Barnes.

Little did Steve know that his best friend was up to a very stupid but brilliant idea. He knew he was going to get in trouble if Steve found out about it, but it was worth a shot. And his plan involved an online dating site and younger girls.

........................... ........................... ...........................

A/N: New series! Yay!!! Tags are also open, just hit me up! Next part coming soon ❤️

[hyuniebaby]

Relief

Pairings: Baekhyun x Y/N

Genre: Fluff

A/N: I’ve had this in my drafts for over a year now. I don’t even think it’s good tbh... but yeah, this is my first ever fanfic so I’m sorry if it isn’t good enough... 

Your heart was beating fast after you ended you call with your best friend, Kim Jongdae. Or your “former” bestfriend. You didn’t really know what to call him since you’ve stopped talking 4 years ago, after graduating from high school.

You sighed as you recalled your conversation with him.

“Hey, Y/N! How are you doing?” he asked.

“Oh you know, I’m still the same old me, haha,” you cringed at how awkward you sounded. “How about you?”

“I’m doing great! I’ve finally finished my degree here in the city and I’m finally going back home tonight!” He cheered.

“Wow, congratulations Dae!”

“I was thinking of seeing you as soon as I get back.”

You hummed in response. Panic rising after realizing he wanted to see you after 4 long years.

“Are you free tomorrow night?”

You tried to think of an excuse not to see him but he cut you off. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You silently sighed and finally said, “Sure, no problem. Just text me the details.”

Truth be told, you weren’t ready to see Jongdae. It was way too awkward for you ever since you stupidly confessed that you like him on your graduation day, the same day he announced that he was going to the university 6 hours away from your hometown.

You knew he didn’t like you back that way. Especially when he just laughed off after your confession and then shrugged off the topic as if it didn’t take you a whole night trying to practice how to say you like him... Your thought was further proven when he stopped communicating with you since uni started. You have messaged him every now and then to update him on your life but all of those messages were left unanswered. It hurt when you knew he didn’t like you but it hurt more when you lost your bestfriend too. And just like that, all your 6 years of friendship ended. Or so you thought.

You doubted you could still bond with him the same way. It took you almost 2 years before you accepted the fact that he won’t respond to your messages. And that all your memories with him will be a thing of the past.

You hadn’t really expected a call from him while you were studying for your chemistry exams. You’re in your last year in college and you know you should’ve been on top of your game, but fate seems like it doesn’t want to be on your side this year. Now you lost all your focus. Great, just great. Another exam that would potentially harm your grades.

Just when you were about to close your book, someone took a seat beside you. You were startled at first, but relaxed when you saw it was your boyfriend Baekhyun.

“Hey babe, why were you zoning out?” Baekhyun asked worriedly. “I tried to wave at you from the counter a while ago but you didn’t seem to notice me.”

“Oh, well I was studying for my chemistry exam tomorrow but then I got a call from someone...” you replied.

“Someone?”

“Well, it was my former best friend...”

He looked puzzled after hearing your answer.

“We kinda just stopped talking when uni started,” you explained. “We’re supposed to meet tomorrow night but I’m not sure I’m ready yet. I think it would be too awkward.” 

“Don’t overthink, babe. I’m sure everything will be alright. You don’t have to worry about anything. Your friend probably misses you as much as you miss her.”

Her. He thought you were meeting with a girl best friend. For some reason, you didn’t want to correct him. It’s not that you wanted to lie, but it just doesn’t seem like the right moment to tell him about Jongdae, especially since he looks so worried about you and your anxiety.

You huffed and pouted, thinking of a possible excuse you could say so that the meeting with a certain person would be delayed. Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend was smiling at how cute you were being. He suddenly clapped his hands and signalled you to pack your stuff, “That’s it baby. Enough of that. I’m going to get you some ice cream so that you won’t look so sad anymore.”

You laughed softly at his antics. Your boyfriend really is the best at cheering you up. Baekhyun is literally the sweetest person you’ve met. He always looks out for you. Even when you were just friends, he’d naturally make sure you were safe and happy. In the midst of feeling lonely over the loss of your friendship with Jongdae and dealing with the stress from school, Baekhyun was there to help you. He there when you were sad and was there to make you smile.

After getting over Jongdae, it took a while before you actually opened your heart up again. Baekhyun has been making advances towards you the second he sat down beside you in Physics class but you never really thought of anything of it because of his flirty nature. Only when you’ve decided to let go of Jongdae were you able to notice how clingy he was with you. He’d always be with you during your break time. Always offering to carry your books. Kissing your cheeks or the top of your head goodbye which he never really did to any other of his girl friends. When you started seeing Baekhyun in a different light, you got so shy and would literally blush when he initiates skinship. He would notice the faint blush on your cheeks and would mentally tell himself that he should confess to you soon, but he always chickens out. Eventually you ended up confessing first. All the skinship he was initiating was driving you crazy and it was better to address it head on rather than trying to keep your feelings at bay. You didn’t even know if he liked you back, but with all the girls lining up for him, you couldn’t stand by and wait until he finds someone better. You have to shoot your shot and hope that maybe this time you won’t get rejected. When you finally confessed, you literally braced yourself, knowing there was only a slight chance that he liked you back. There were so many thoughts running through your mind that you didn’t even hear Baekhyun say he likes you too. He literally had to shake you in order for you to get back to your senses. And when you did, you were about to ask what Baekhyun said and the next thing you knew he was kissing you.

You smile faintly at the memory of how you and Baekhyun got together. That faint smile didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend and it made him smile too. He knew just by your smile and your stance that you weren’t thinking about the meeting with your best friend anymore.

“So what are you smiling about baby?” He asked while he helped carry your things.

You blushed. “Oh nothing. I was just remembering how we met.” That statement made his smile grow wider. “And how you fell in love with me at first sight,” you teased.

He laughed out loud at that. He wanted to deny what you said, just because. But what’s the point in lying especially when you had that glint in your eyes? He suddenly stopped you from walking. You were about to ask why but he then kissed you. Just a peck, but it made your heart beat faster.

Baekhyun looked fondly at your flustered state. You’ve been dating for years but his kiss still made you blush. It’s cute. “Okay Miss Heartthrob, let’s go and get you your ice cream.”

Huh, you thought, I don’t even need ice cream to cheer me up when I have you by my side.

[serendipityjxmn]

I Hate You, Park Jimin!

Chapter 1

Words Count: 4.2k

TW: Slight smut

Link to Introduction

Link to Chapter 2

[GIF CREDIT TO @OpaliaJM]

__________________________________________

We all have someone we love that hurt us so much, that it changed us forever.

I heaved a heavy breath as I plopped down the wooden floor in my living room. My head rested on the sofa behind me. I had spent the whole two days working hard on furnishing my apartment. It wasn’t that big but it was enough for me. I liked cozy living space. At least there’s a separate bedroom, I thought distractedly. The house still looked kind of empty as most of it were bare without any sort of arts accompanying it. Buying the basic furnishing was enough to make a hole in my pocket. Before the term started, I worked part time jobs and saved enough just to afford the deposit and a few months rental. I’ve roughly calculated my expenses and I think I’d be just fine to last before summer. I was more than sure I’d need to work during summer but I’ll worry about that later.

I only needed one whole day for cleaning and setting up the few furnitures I had. But it still drained the energy out of me and when I finally sat down for a breathing, the sun was already disappearing over the horizon and the little left of the golden sky being enveloped by the pinkish and indigo clouds. I looked around my small apartment. Everything was practically in place.

I waited for the sweat sticking onto my skin to dry out before soaking myself in an hour long bath, letting my mind wander about tomorrow. I was all but excited, nervous yet curious about my first day at the university tomorrow, wandering the kinds of events that would unfold during my upcoming three years there. The carousel of thoughts soon stopped as I drifted to sleep.

As soon as the professor announced the class was dismissed, the lecture hall erupted into a chattering noise. Still feeling unfamiliar with most people and the new environment, I gathered my stuffs silently and walked out of the hall.

The morning class was done. To my delight, everything went by smoothly. The professors seemed to know what they were doing which was a very important criterion for me because I can’t afford to have an ignorant lecturer. Your girl needs to graduate. I looked down at my watch. It was already 12 PM and my stomach was grumbling. I couldn’t wait to see what the university’s cafeteria has to offer.

“Hana-ya!” I looked up to see a girl with hair tied up in a messy bun running towards me.

“Ah Young!” I exclaimed back although not as loud as her. That was my best friend, Ah Young who I’ve known since forever. We went through the ugly pre-puberty phase together and still stuck together till we hit the glown-up post-puberty phase. She sure had gotten the good side of post-puberty while I wasn’t sure about myself.

“Babe~ let’s go eat!” She linked arms with me and we walked side by side to the cafeteria. We practically see each other most of the holidays but we’re still clingy like that. She is adorable and has such bubbly personality that I think compensates my boring and introvert personality. I don’t socialise much which explains the reason why I only have one best friend. Still, I am thankful she is a loyal friend and stuck up to my boring personality.

“Heol! The bibimbap looks so mouthwatering...” I pointed at one of the menus. “Gosh, I still can’t believe we’re now in university. And we’re together!” I said as I proceeded to inform our order at the counter.

“Yeah, I remembered how frantic I was because you kept on pressuring me to apply for the same university as yours.” She rolled her eyes at me as we both moved to another line of queueing to receive our order.

“You don’t want to be in the same university as mine?” I threw her a hurtful look.

“Of course I do!” She smacked my arms and I chuckled. “It’s just difficult when my results aren’t as good as yours!”

I guess it was kinda true that I had always maintained top scores during high school. I was on scholarships and I can’t afford to have my scholarships revoked so that was my main drive to study hard. “Ahh.. it just still feels surreal.” Although the so-called new surrounding is dampened because I could clearly see a number of familiar faces from our high school. “Remember when we were wondering what kind of food do they serve in university cafeteria?”

She laughed while nodding. “The time when our curiosities were so innocent.”

“I know, right?”

We were still queueing for our meal when we heard a loud noise. We both looked up to see a small crowd was already forming at the cafeteria. Apparently, a brawl had broken out. I was hesitant to witness it as it wasn’t particularly a pleasant sight to see people fighting but Ah Young tugged my hands so I just followed suit.

“Oh my god, it’s Park Jimin.” She whispered the name as if it was some kind of taboo.

What? I looked up. That’s when I saw him. Park Jimin. THE Park Jimin. He was beating the shit out of someone who was pinned to the ground. “It was only the first day of university though.”

It was true. Park Jimin was that kind of guy. He was that typical bad boy anyone would pray to never come across in any chapter of their life. He was rude, self-centred, arrogant, obnoxious, annoying, you name it. Basically, he’s an asshole. I have known to avoid him at all costs because he’s bad news and I was perfectly aware of the fact that nothing good comes from associating with him. Unfortunately for me, I had to endure going to the same high school as him and now the same university. Not a day goes by without me hearing about him fighting or breaking any rules ever made in this world. Not that I ever tried to find out anything about him but the news of his well being always floats around because he was THAT infamous. Boys knew him from his fist while girls knew him from his dick. Yeap, on top of being an asshole, he’s a playboy. I guess that makes him a double asshole.

I scanned the crowd that was slowly forming. It was only the first day of university and he was already acting as if he owns the place. I shook my head. Doesn’t he fear being suspended from university?

“Ya, ya stop it Jimin. At this rate, he’ll die.” One of the blonde guy stepped in and to my surprise, Jimin stopped immediately. I looked up to see who it was and understood at once. It was Min Yoongi. He was our highschool-turned-university-now senior. Park Jimin was the same age as mine but he had this group of troublemakers and that includes Min Yoongi as well. I could easily spot Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok and Kim Taehyung who were all in the group as well.

“He deserved more than that, to be honest.” A mint haired guy with a deep voice said aloud as he helped jimin to stand up. It was Kim Taehyung; another troublemaker. He was the same age as Jimin which means the same age as mine too.

My sight went to an unconscious guy lying on the floor with bruises all over his face. It was too much of a sight for me so I quickly pulled Ah Young away from the crowd with me.

We both took our meals and I chose to sit very far away from the scene.

“Ah, I forgot that as long as we're stuck at the same place with Park Jimin, it’d be weird to not witness his daily dose of fighting.” Ah Young mulled and I couldn’t agree more.

My eyes darted towards him and his group. The way he walked so casually as if he didn’t just punch a guy almost half dead made me nauseous. He was running his hands through his orange hair and I swore if I didn’t just watch him throw some punch, I’d probably melted at that. Here’s the thing, Park Jimin was vain, self-centred, rude and a total asshole but I can’t deny that he had all the God-like features and exuded extremely high sex appeal. This explained why girls are practically throwing themselves at him. Plus, he knew that he was good looking and he used that together with his sweet words to get into any girls’ pants. Asshole confirmed.

I watched them took a seat at a table with a good distance from us silently.

“But I’m not complaining though. He provides one fine ass view.” Ah Young said casually.

I almost choked on my food. My best friend had always been vocal about things like this. I may or may not have drooled over him too but who knows. Who can blame me though? I’ve been working hard on maintaining my grades ever since I can remember so I never had time to date. Plus, it’s also a luxury for me. Being in a relationship is expensive as fuck unless I’m dating a prince or something. Call me materialistic but I’m just being realistic. Anyway, in the midst of working twice as harder than high school, I was still determined to maintain my grades. Fantasizing about Park Jimin seemed like a good idea of personal pleasure.

“Oh come on! I’m sure you’d be imagining about his dick size too.” Ah Young said again.

This time I really choked on my food. I coughed several times.

“Are you okay?” She asked while holding her laughter. This bitch.

“Can you not be so loud?” I almost half screamed myself at her. A tad bit too loud I guess because I saw a girl from the opposite table turned back to look at me. In that instant too, I have no idea why my eyes flickered towards Park Jimin’s table. I regretted it immediately because his eyes were already on me. I froze because I felt his gaze penetrating my soul although we were hundreds of metres apart. Then he smirked.

In this world, there are exactly two things that I hated the most. One was a cheater. The other would be Park Jimin’s smirk. That is because he had this panty dropping smirk and it’s not an exaggeration to say it could make girls hit orgasm just by looking at his smirk.

Also, because I had a history with that smirk. A history that dated a year ago. I remember it was the day before our high school graduation ceremony. I was a member of the student council so naturally, I had to help prepare the ceremony. It was late evening and not many students were left. The decorations were almost done anyway. I stood in the middle of the hall, my eyes scanning for anything that needs to be adjusted or to find anything lacking. Then I noticed a banner’s end was slightly tilted. It appeared that its tie was slightly loose. I immediately hunted for a ladder to fix it.

After I was satisfied enough with my adjustment, I descended the ladder but somehow my steps were juggled and I lost balance. I tried to hold on to the ladder but it was too late. I surrendered and waited for the land to embrace me. But it never came. Instead, I felt strong arms around me and behind my knee. Before I could open my eyes, a sweet yet manly scent wafted through my nose. This person smelled heavenly. I opened my eyes and to be honest I thought I was dreaming.

There he was, Park Jimin, his face only inches from mine. His eyes fixated on me. The close proximity and the physical contact caused an electrical surge to course through my body. It was as if sparks were flying when he embraced me.

Suddenly reality hit me and I realized the position we were in so I quickly struggled out of his embrace and stood properly.

“Th-thank you.” I stuttered. Damn it. I didn’t want to make his effect on me to be so apparent. Especially not in front of him.

His brows knitted together as he regarded me for a moment. Then he said, “Won’t be nice if the top student suddenly broke her neck right before graduation. People might actually accuse me of murdering you since there’s no one here.”

He.. knew me? Although technically he doesn’t know my name but still- he mentioned the fact that I was a top student. I looked around. It was empty. I guess I didn't notice everyone had gone back. I cleared my throat, trying to sound firmer now. “Well, thanks anyway.” Without sparing a glance at him I turned around and exited the hall immediately. I didn’t realize I had stopped breathing until I was out of the hall. Park Jimin, the power he had on me. Or literally, every other girl.

Due to our short encounter the day before, I was under the impression that maybe Park Jimin actually knew me. I mostly minded my own business but my names came up quite often for academic awards and competitions. Maybe he did notice despite him skipping class all the time. But then he proved me wrong the very next day.

After the graduation ceremony ends, everyone was scattered throughout the hall. Most of them were occupied in taking pictures with the scroll. I myself had been dragged around to take pictures together with Ah Young for a good 20 minutes. She was definitely going to drag me to take pictures with literally everyone in our year until I realized that I had the sudden urge to pee so I excused myself.

The restroom on the same floor was full so I decided to take the ones upstairs. I strolled on my way there, taking in all the scenery of my high school one last time. I felt a sudden twinge in my stomach remembering that I didn't make much memories throughout my years here. It was regretful but hey, at least I did well in my studies.

As I reached the restroom, I heard some weird noises from inside. I could barely make out a sound of someone groaning and I instantly became worried if someone’s sick inside. How wrong was I. I pushed open the door and I was met with a sight of half-naked Park Jimin and a half-naked girl crouched in between his legs. I almost let out a scream at the sight. He didn’t seem fazed at all by my presence. Instead, he seemed to be enjoying an apparently extremely good blowjob hearing how much he was moaning. His gaze turned to me. Then he smirked. Yeap, that smirk. The very smirk that I mentioned.

While keeping his eyes on me, he grabbed a handful of the girl’s hair in front of him and started to lead her head bobbing up and down his cock. He moaned while biting his lip yet he still kept his gaze on me.

I was angry at his nerve to do this at school and the fact that he seemed to enjoy having a viewer angered me more. I didn’t drop my stare as I was determined to challenge his stare. I thought I was winning but I was wrong. I looked away after a few seconds because the image of him being turned on and in arousal like that was somehow starting to affect me. If I were to continue watching, I might’ve hit orgasm myself. I turned around and exited immediately yet I could almost sense him smiling his devilish smile because he won. He won our silent fight. So much for sparks flying, huh? There’s Park Jimin having his dick sucked for his life as a slap from reality.

And that was the end of history. To this day, that stare, that smirk, that moan of his haunted me. I wasn’t very much angered by the incident anymore. The image and sound of him moaning had actually turned into a pleasant memory for what little sexual fantasy I have. Plus, I don’t think he remembered the incident. Heck, I can even bet he doesn’t remember me.

So I looked away immediately before the rest of my body stopped functioning. I could sense the very same devilish smile of his slowly forming on his face.

I finished my meal in haste and constantly tapped the table so that Ah Young understood my urgency. She cursed at me as I technically dragged her out of the cafeteria.

Weeks went by after that incident on the first day of class. Everything pretty much went by smoothly. If I were to keep this up, there should be no problem graduating. I hugged myself with glee. Future looking so bright. Or so I thought.

“Ah finally, time to close!” I worked for part-time at a cafe about two stations from my university. I had been working here since after my high school graduation to fill up my holidays before starting university. It was also for me to save enough to rent a cozy apartment that I have now. Since I had already started my classes, I informed my boss about my resignation. However, she practically begged for me to stay for a few more weeks until she finds a replacement. I agreed simply because my boss was a good boss and I didn't really mind working for a few more weeks though. A little extra pocket money won’t hurt anybody.

I was in charge of closing down the shop for the day. I swept and mopped every corner of the cafe. When I was satisfied, I took all my stuff and exited through the back door with a huge garbage bag on my right hand. The back alley was dimly litted and it was practically empty since it was almost 11 PM. At that moment however, I noticed two guys had just turned their way into the alley. My brows knitted because as much as I’m used of the dark and empty alleys at night, I don’t particularly like it when guys would roam around especially when they are drunk. I quickly threw the garbage in the dumpster and locked the door when I heard a whistle a few metres behind me. I didn’t turn around but I was sure it was the guys that had just walked into the alley just now.

“Damn Kim Hana, guess it was our luck to meet you.” A voice was heard.

He knew my name? I turned around. Ah, of course he would. He was a regular at the cafe, always lowkey flirting to which I never responded. I didn’t reply.

“You know.. I’ve wasted so much of my money coming here all day every day and you still won’t tell me your number.” He went nearer to me and I panicked slightly. There was no one else in the alley. He towered over me and I noticed that he was only slightly taller than me. When he stepped forward, I took a step back until my back hit against the door. He inched his face closer and I looked away. I thought of begging for help from his friend that I’ve never seen before but then again, I could barely make out his face. He was wearing a hoodie and it covered almost half the top part of his face.

“If you’re not going to give me your number.. at least give me your kiss.” He said seductively as he inched closer and closer.

I threw a disgusted look at him and I raised my hand to slap him. But I wasn’t quick enough, he already took hold of my wrist. He smirked. “Damn, I’ve always thought you’re one feisty bitch but seeing it now on my own.. fucking turn on.”

From the corner of my eyes, I saw his other hand trying to reach my ass but I wouldn’t give in. I was ready to kick his balls when another voice was heard.

“Let go of that hand now.” His voice was melodic but at the same time raspy. I turned to find the voice and tried to make out his face but it was dark and he was also wearing a hoodie that covered his eyes.

The guy in front of me sucked in his breath and scoffed as if he was surprised someone would stop him. He ran his hand through his hair and turned around. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

The new guy took off his hoodie and ruffled his hair. My eyes widened to see Jimin. He wasn’t looking at me but instead he was smirking at the guy disturbing me. “Feeling familiar?”

The guy in front of me bit his lip. “Aish!” was all he shouted through gritted teeth before taking off. His hoodied friend looked at Jimin as if studying him for a moment before following his friend. He didn't run though.

I gulped. Of all people, why did it have to be Park Jimin to appear at this exact time, saving my poor ass as if he’s some kind of knight in shining armor?

His gaze turned towards me. I felt my breath hitched because I swore his expressions turned so cold it made me shiver. “What the fuck are you doing here alone at night Kim Hana?”

He... he knew my name? “You knew my name?” I blurted out.

He threw a don’t-be-stupid-look at me.

I have no idea what to do with that information. And what’s with his tone? Duh, obviously I’m working here you piece of shit. But I didn’t say that. “I was.. I got lost.” My voice came out weaker than I ought it to be.

His expression didn’t soothe. “I don’t believe that. But I don’t care either way.”

Damn, he’d really be taking his self-centeredness into a whole new level. It hurt a bit. “Yeah well since you didn't care anyway, why don’t you just go and leave me alone.”

I guess my words triggered something inside him as he suddenly pinned me to the wall. His arms each beside my face. Under the dimly lit night lights, his face looked so surreal it was almost unfair. He has a small face but his features were both soft and sharp. His cheeks chubby and his nose, although not tall, was sharp. His eyes were sparkly as if it held a million stars in it. But his lips.. his lips attracted me the most. For a so-called bad boy, he has a set of pretty plump pink lips. It suddenly made me wonder how it would feel if those plump lips were against mine.

“To someone who just saved your ass, I thought you ought to be a bit more polite, don’t you think?” He glared at me.

I snapped back into reality. I can’t believe I forgot that Jimin was the bad boy. What was I thinking? I had no idea what to say so I just stood awkwardly as I mumbled a sorry. Then he straightened, no longer pinning me.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

And so I was trailing behind him, admiring as what Ah Young would always say, his fine ‘piece of ass’ silently. Strangely, it doesn’t feel weird. It was as if his presence does not need to be justified by words. I guess Ah Young was right, although not that I didn’t know at first- Park Jimin does have a nice body proportion. He was almost a good head taller than me. The way he carried himself radiated much charisma and I could tell that he knew he looked good. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have such cocky attitude. I rolled my eyes.

Why was he even here anyway?

He stopped in his steps and I almost bumped into him. I looked up at him, almost furious.

“I just happened to be in the area.” He said, looking almost pissed.

Shit. Did I say it out loud?

“You did.” He answered my thought.

Is he psychic? I looked at him in horror and I could see he was suppressing a smile for a second.

“Anyway, I would’ve done what I did for any other pretty girl so don’t go around feeling too special.” He said then he looked away.

My brows knitted. Don’t feel special... but did he mention pretty girl? Is he.. saying.. I’m pretty? Or what? I was confused.

“Come I’ll send you home.” He said as he pressed his car key. I realized that we were standing in front of a sleek black Audi R8. I gaped. Holy shit, that was his car? Poor people like me can’t relate. And I am never gonna get into a car with Park Jimin. My brain told me Jimin and sports car were a dangerous combination. Therefore, when he pulled open the car door, I took off.

“I’ll just go home by myself!” I shouted as I ran in the opposite direction. I didn’t look back but I’m pretty sure I left him speechless.

When I got into my little apartment, I went straight to my bedroom and laid down on my bed. Tonight was one hell of a strange night. And the fact that Jimin knew my name... what do I do with that information?

Link to Chapter 2

Posted on 200502 12:59AM

[serpentprinceravenhairedprincess]

I ship Jeronica a lot but I'd love for you to do an analysis on their dynamic💕 Love your blog.

Hey there 💕 Thank you so much, I’m so happy you enjoy my blog :D

Going to their analysis..well, there’s a lot to say on the dynamic between those two. It’s kinda difficult because after season 2, everything got really messed up and the characters are not easy to outline (like, who are they anymore, amirite?). That’s why I always focused a lot on the first two season, in analyzing them. But I think it’s time to move forward: first because I’ve already said so much stuff about s1-2, but also because we are facing a time jump so...let’s get to it.

At this point of the narrative (taking for good the shitty writing we got), I think everybody in the core 4 kinda lost themselves. Jeronica wise: Veronica is spinning around the obvious contrast between her and Hiram, while Jughead stumbled from school to school and from being the king of a gang to...basically nothing. The centre of their whole world are the relationship they have right now, so Betty for Jug and Archie for Ronnie. They are relying on them so much that it feels kinda like a dead weight on the shoulders of the other two.  Of course, they are living a really peculiar period in everyone’s life. Facing graduation is a huge defining moment: you start to ask yourself who you are, where you are going, what you want to achieve and who you are willing to take with you on the journey. It’s the start of adulthood, and in order to take that step forward and let go of childhood, you have to sacrifice something - metaforically killing a part of yourself. In this sense, as narrative usually goes, that means breaking up with your high school sweetheart. 

That’s what we are working with right now. Both Jug and Ronnie are not looking at each other: they are not even really seeing each other. That’s the point. They are clinging to what they know and makes them feel safe, even though those relationships are obviously starting to slowly deteriorate. Cause, come on, cheating is at any level a huge red flag for something not working. And beware! It’s not working for everybody. The only difference between barchie and jeronica is that they have different perspectives and also different “safe havens”. Barchie always had each other since they were children, while Veronica and Jughead met in the midst of their teenage years. It’s only obvious that when these couples face a difficult moment like this, Betty and Archie would turn to each other, while Veronica and Jughead desperately cling to what they have - since is also the only thing they actually have.

Jughead and Veronica never really explored their relationship. They always felt connect to one another by their significant others. And that’s a huge point that I think we should get to see in s5. Cause, as I said in other posts, it’s based on prejudice and on the way their characters are built. Both of them always jump to conclusion the quickest, building an idea of people and situations in their own mind and taking this for fact instead of just assumptions. In this sense, one could make a good point by saying that Betty and Archie help them smoothing their edges. To which I answer: no, they don’t. They just kinda dull their characters. That’s not even growth, it’s just...emotional lethargy.

Jeronica is Pride and Prejudice 101. They have that quality that comes not just from the indeniable chemistry between the actors (haters, don’t come at me but if you are reading this and you do not agree, I’m sorry but you’re consciously lying to yourselves). It also comes from their backstories and their characters’ subtleties, which have the possibility to interact almost on a chemical level and create a nice friction that always works really well both on the screen and on the page. Two similar, but also opposite characters are the right recipe for a great love story. Mostly because they bring a challenge to one another, triggering growth. 

In my opinion, the fact that they might get closer due to the cheating bomb is just the needed sparkle to lighten a whole other narrative. Their relationship shouldn’t be based on self commiseration, or on revenge make out session. The breakup should just serve the purpose of making them look at each other. That’s it. Then the next step is seeing each other, understanding each other and by aknowledging that they had looked at one another through prejudice filled lenses, also growing as people and learn a life lesson on how to interact with the world.

I’ll close with a general reflection. The writers seriously need to get these characters back on track, because we are losing them as individuals. They had been spinning around the same mistakes and the same narrative for too long. This needs to change. And also, of course, on a more basic level, it’s always more entertaining to have some drama instead of flat narratives set in stone. That’s the main reason why Riverdale keeps losing viewers: because it’s just not interesting anymore. Nothing changes. Except for the weird ass background plots that, let’s face it, nobody is really here for. In my experience as a spectator and as someone who has an interest in this industry and got to study about its functioning: the viewer doesn’t know what he/she wants. Especially if we are talking about a young audience. They might be really vocal about their likings - sometimes even too much - but if you don’t keep them on their toes, if you don’t poke them..they will eventually lose interest. It doesn’t matter which endgame you give, as long as you create an interesting journey. Writing shouldn’t be safe betting. Fans are not gonna leave you, even the ones who say they will. Especially those, actually, because they are the most invested. Playing it safe, in these cases, always leads to dead ends, because at the end of the day people will remember your show for the emotions you gave them. Emotions are created from contrast, from highs and lows, from wanting something and then finally getting it or having a door slammed in your face. These are the only moments people are gonna remember in a few years, when they are older and reminiscing the good old days. Safeness, validation and mild satisfaction just don’t make the cut.

[kingsten]

CELINE: So often in my life I’ve been with people and shared beautiful moments like traveling or staying up all night and watching the sunrise, and I knew it was a special moment, but something was always wrong. (...) But I’m happy to be with you. You couldn’t possibly know why a night like this is so important to my life right now, but it is. I think this is a great morning. 

JESSE: It is a great morning. Do you think we’d have other mornings like this?

@cir ——— 14.) The timeline in which they took a chance they didn’t in canon.

Brian traces the silver band on Peter’s ring finger. 

It’s an unpretentious piece of vintage work with an engraving of a mostly worn away rose. Peter shifts, pouting even in his sleep from the sunlight hitting his face. Brian watches quietly, curious of what Peter’s reaction will be when he wakes up. Brian can hardly remember most of what transpired the night prior but it’s coming back to him in hazy fragments but mainly the crumpled 77$ receipt from a wedding venue with their vows messily scrawled out on the back is the main indicator that last night was not a dream. 

Peter, after sleeping in for a few more minutes stirs again. He groans, rubs his eyes with his hands then freezes in that position. Brian holds his breath as Peter pulls his hand away to inspect the cold metal while still half asleep, half hangover. It takes a minute for the significance to register then his eyes cut suddenly to Brian who holds up his own hand to show off the near identical ring on his own hand. 

——— 

“We met at a party” Peter states but Brian shakes his head. “or it was the cafe?”

“I think it was in that one class— remember?” At least that’s when he thinks is the first time he saw Peter. “Business fourteen something. I showed up for three classes but couldn’t understand french so I dipped.” Jae’s eyes roll so hard the wired frames slip down to the bridge of his nose and he slides them back up. “I don’t care about how you met I just want to know why you got married? Who the fuck gets married after knowing each other half a year?”   

“Actually, we’ve known each other five months and a half. I know because we met after Peter’s birthday and— ” Jae and Peter both give Brian a hard look and his voice falls but he finishes his thought. “and It’s...uh, now... december.” then sits back in his chair. Jae holds the look longer than Peter before he turns back to his cousin and shakes his head. “RIP to your taxes.... have you even told your mom yet?” It’s a valid question and Brian’s ears perk up though he doesn’t expect that he has given Brian hasn’t mentioned it to his own parents either.

It’s a bridge they’ll cross once they get to it.

Now, regardless of the time and date of their technical first meeting. Brian likes to think that their official meeting was in the metro, while waiting for the last train to come. He remembers this clearly because it was the first time he’d seen Peter outside of the cafe or rather, to be more specific, without a laptop in front of his nose. Sure, even in this case it was tucked safely beneath his arm to be opened on the chance that there’s a free seat available. 

“What are you always working on?” Brian asks, sitting down without invitation in the seat across from Peter. The fact Peter is distracted enough by the question to leave his laptop closed is a small victory in Brian’s book.

“Excuse me?” 

Brian is used to Peter’s blunt speech. In the cafe he quietly says his order then goes back to being silent unless he’s on a business call. The lonewolf silent type is kinda Peter’s thing even when in the midst of a group of coworkers. But there’s something about him that catches Brian’s attention and he’s been working slowly to chip away at that outer exterior by bringing him extra sweets on the side in an effort to get to that other side of Peter that Brian’s yet to see but knows is there. And tonight he’s got a few minutes to kill. They’re not exactly strangers— at least not by Brian’s definition. They both have a few stops before they part ways. What better time than now? “Are you a business man? My dad is always working on finance stuff on his laptop too.” Peter remains silent. Brian takes it as his sign to continue. “He owns a shop. A cafe bookshop in Jersey.” 

“So you are American.” Peter speaks up and it catches Brian by surprise. “I thought you might be Canadian.” 

The fact Peter thought about him makes Brian grin a little before he nods.

That’s the subject that breaks the ice and gets them to talk, so much so that Brian misses his stop but pretends that he’s getting off at the same station as Peter where they both get off then talk even more. Brian’s able to draw out interesting thoughts and commentary from Peter and vice versa. Things like what Peter does on his laptop to discussing their biggest fears, observations of their surroundings and their shared experiences of being only children are brought up. They even touch on the topic of love and how it impacted Brian’s recent breakup and Peter’s long past break up. 

It’s in the middle of that that his phone vibrates, cutting them both off mid-sentence.

“Oh, I’ve kept you for too long.” Peter says apologetically as he glances around their surroundings, uncertain of what time it is but Brian shakes his head. “Honestly, I could’ve stayed on that subway until...forever. I like talking to you.” He says before taking another glance at his phone. “It’s just. There’s this thing I promised a friend that I’d— “

“It’s ok.” Peter interrupts. “It’s late and we should both head home.” 

Brian nods. “Yeah. I’m sorry for interrupting your evening. I know you said that you had work to do and God, It’s so late— I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet.” 

“No, no, no it’s alright. I don’t eat after 7.” 

“Is that like a french culture thing?” Brian asks, curious. He doesn’t get it but he can begrudgingly respect it. It tells him Peter’s very disciplined or likes schedules which he could’ve guessed. Peter laughs, and it still strikes Brian how much his whole face changes with it even as he shakes his head. “Doesn’t everyone do that?” Peter replies, eyes still warm. Brian almost forgets to answer the question. After a beat he finds his words. “Oh,uh, I sometimes wake up at like 2 AM to make ramyeon. Don’t tell my roommates but it’s the only time i don’t have to share with them.” 

“You should get going then. Is it your roommates wanting to know where you are?” Peter comments, nodding to Brian’s hand when the phone goes off repeatedly. “It’s the group chat. Nothing important.”

Just Jae asking where the fuck is Brian. Kate wondering why the hell hasn’t Brian shown up yet. Angelina wondering when more drinks are coming and the inevitable: who is going to kick these people out of the house after their social filters take a nosedive after the clock strikes midnight in, roughly an hour to thirty minutes.

Yet, Brian is still hesitant to say goodbye. Peter doesn’t move either and it’s almost as if he’s waiting for Brian to make the first move to end their time together. 

“So there’s this party over at my place tonight. I — I say that like it’s not going on right now but you should come over and we can have a few drinks, talk about uh what did you say you’re reading Fred....?”

“Friedrich Nietzsche.” 

“Wait, like, for fun?” Brian has to take a minute to let that information sink in and almost reconsiders his previous invitation because frankly he can’t think of anything more boring than Nietzshe. Peter shifts his weight, waiting for Brian to get back to the point. ”Ok, maybe we won’t talk about that but do you want to go? I’m sure by now you’ve figured out I’m not a psycho.” 

"What if I am?” Peter smirks. Brian gives him a once over, standing back like he’s truly considering the possibility then leans in close, too close. “I don’t know what if I’m into that?” Peter grows quiet again, blinking a few times and uncertain of what Brian’s about to do before the other leans away again.

“Come to the party with me.” Brian turns up the charm voice low, warm and inviting. ”It’ll be fun.” Peter knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s clear by now that he’s hinting for him to at least stay the night. He could say no, tell him that he’s not interested in parties but then he gives a small nod and the rest of the night moves in a blur. That tends to happen when Brian is involved. Time seems to blur from one minute to the next in the way that:

One minute they’re in the park, then the vague familiarity of Brian’s place — loud music, flashing lights, pushed closer by a crowd of dancing people. And a few drinks in it’s Peter who breaks the tension between them and throws caution to the wind when he kisses Brian. 

Time and everything else moves entirely too fast after that. Some days they both have to take a seat and remind themselves that it’s ok to go slow, but it’s hard when the clock is ticking down and they both know Brian graduates in December and after that? Where do they stand?

Six months after their chat on the subway they wake up in some shit hotel in Vegas. Bed hair, hung over, admiring the vintage silver on their ring fingers together that Brian picked up for cheap in a pawnshop in L.A. Peter, who always finds ways to surprise Brian is more calm than he anticipated. Brian takes advantage of the slowing in time to make Peter laugh just to see his face transform in that way that made him infatuated before they move onto the next chapter.

It is the start of many good mornings.

[mychemicalficrecs]

Hiya! Not sure if you do this, but would you be able to suggest some non-ao3 finished frerard fics? It seems I've read ao3's entire collection 😅 Thank you so much, you're honestly my favourite blog on here xx

Thanks for your kind words, Nonny! And... congratz on reading the entire ao3 tag, there are a lot of works there :D

Frank/Gerard is such a popular ship that I was actually able to find quite a lot from outside ao3.

Non-AO3 Frank/Gerard

Thing-Thing by sinsense, 43k, NC-17. When Gerard signed the admissions paperwork for the Fordhaven School for Boys, he knew he was signing up for four years of sexual frustration. No one was gay at Fordhaven. Gerard was all-too-aware that he would be a virgin until he graduated. In his senior year, though, this stupid gay freshman disproves Fordhaven's straightness, and throws Gerard's entire world off-kilter. Now, in between drawing, avoiding bullies, running an incredibly serious tabletop RP game, failing out of math, and hanging out with friends, Gerard is also busy kind of falling for this asshole who's way too young for him. It's not what he planned on, but it's what's happening. In conclusion: high school sucks.

I Think I Thought (I Saw You Try) by thatsfinewithus, ~3,000, NC-17. Welcome to some weird AU world in which Gee only does awesome comics and Frank is a vampire.

They Came From Outer Jersey! by thatsfinewithus, 25k, R. New London Fire is an elite fringe government force assigned the task of protecting the earth from some of its more interesting threats: those from beyond the atmosphere or even the universe. They've handled dangerous cases before, but they've never seen anything like...ZOMBIES FROM SPACE. Vampires, long hunted in lore and legend, are now the earth's only saviors. There is little information as to who sent the creatures until Mikey Way, head of the NLF, finds out more by being abducted. Is it too late for him? Is it too late for the earth? Find out how six vampires, one government general, and one frustrated comic book artist save the earth in...THEY CAME FROM OUTER JERSEY!!

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0_fuckin_kay, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, ~44K, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

All We Are by lightisbreaking, 21k, R. Set in the future, where humans are on the brink of evolution. For the select few born with a special awareness of their own minds - an awareness which gives them abilities beyond the norm, life is suddenly a very dangerous thing. Frightened of what this could mean, the government set out to make this new race of humans extinct, telling the public that these people are mentally unstable defectives and must be kept under observation for the safety of the public. All of this brings together a rather odd troupe of people, hiding from the government and eventually having to protect one of their own when he's taken into custody. Superpowers AU!

Tell Us a Story by bexless, imogenedisease, 32k, NC-17. The world as these kids know it is ending, and Gabe Saporta is throwing the party. High school AU based on the movie Can't Hardly Wait.

Stay Right Here by idktbh, swagneto, 28k, R. Frank is involved in an accident which renders him paralyzed from the waist down. When Frank begins to withdraw into himself, his relationship with Gerard crumbles and the band faces the hardest decision they'll ever make: whether to continue playing or not. This is a story about how MCR copes with the biggest obstacle of their career so far.

Return to Spirit Lake by inpurity, 22k, R. Gerard Way has left Spirit Lake when he was eighteen to study to become a veterinary surgeon, and with no intention of ever coming back. Twelve years later he is back, carrying secrets of a life spent away from his family and friends, and the weight of a dark, painful sorrow. His old home town has not changed, but his life, and the lives of the people he will meet along the way, will never be the same.

These Friday Night Lights by faux-disco-sins, 21k, PG-13. Gerard is the head cheerleader and wears the cheer skirt, Frank is on the football team, Pete is the school mascot, Ryan is the school’s hobo journalist, Jon does photography for the yearbook, Spencer and Patrick are in the marching band, Gabe and Ray are AV techs who do a ESPN spin-off for the school, Bob is the big scary lineman, and Mikey tries to fit in while ignoring the fact that his older brother is wearing a skirt in public.

Of Love And Superpowers by mcrnut, 20k, NC-17. Seventeen year old Frank Iero is in his last year at Mutant High. He has a couple of good friends, is doing okay in school and even though he has some issues with his Mother, life is pretty great. That is, until one day, when he overhears some of the professors talking about the well-known Anti-Mutant organization HSA and how they have already broken into two Mutant Academies and are heading their way. Frank and his friends have to stick their heads together and try to solve the mystery, and as if Frank didn't have enough to think about already, he finds himself falling for his friend's older brother, Gerard.

Cypress Grove by slashxyouxup, 24k+, NC17. My Chemical Romance fight off a town of sperm hoarding, men hating, PMSing maniac women in order to save themselves from certain doom! Also, Frank and Gerard get closer than close while pretending to not be completely in love with each other. Mikeyway is not amused.

Sleepwalker by lyrical_tragedy, 73k, NC-17. Frank Iero is one of the best cops in New Jersey so it’s only natural that his boss dumps a seemingly unsolvable case on him and his colleague Bob Bryar. With no leads whatsoever Frank enlists the help of Gerard Way, a reclusive young man who experiences strong visions and dreams of events from the past and visions of the future. However, none of them could ever begin to expect the terrifying chain of events that come into play once they delve deeper into the unknown, questioning Frank’s very beliefs on what the world actually holds. A story of visions, sacrifices, over protective brothers and love all in the midst of the attempted destruction of the world. The devil’s got your number and he will come calling, until it’s nothing more than hell on earth.

Patience Is A Virtue (You Might Be Good Looking, But You Can’t Sleep With Yourself Tonight) by eflorentino, 22k, NC-17. Frank Iero’s biggest hero is Gerard Way; the outspoken, obnoxious lead singer of the multi-platinum selling band My Chemical Romance. His world changes completely when he finds himself suddenly shoved into the limelight, playing sell-out shows every night and earning more than his usual $6 an hour. However, the infamously homophobic frontman isn’t what Frank expects, and after mixed signals and unsolved revelations he learns that, with Gerard Way, things are never simple.

But Nobody Cares If You're Losing Yourself by red_ones_fly, 16k, NC-17. It took me a while to work out that there was something wrong with Gerard, he kept it hidden well and, really, he didn’t even know something was wrong with him. To him it seemed like normal, everyday stuff. He never found any of his behaviour out of the ordinary. To him it was just reality.’ After Gerard's grandma passes away his behaviour becomes strange. He becomes less outgoing and more paranoid. As Frank tries to work out what’s going on with his friend/love interest, between school, learning psychology and dealing with the jocks, he doesn’t realise just how bad it is.

Parks and Recreation by vinvy, 35k+, PG-13. Gerard Way is an art school drop out with no prospects, student loans to pay off, and a dead end job. His mother works too hard and his little brother Mikey is keeping secrets. His boss runs shady contracts and smiles too much. It's nothing special and he tells himself that he'll learn to make peace with that- in the meantime he's got to carve out a living that doesn't involve artwork. Really, he's going to be okay. Then a crazy homeless kid comes along and screws up Gerard's Adventures in Normal Employment with his hippie magic and soulless eyes. Gerard can't shake the feeling that this guy "isn't quite right" but he's too busy fending off the freak accidents that are following him around to worry about that particular winged freak.

Empire Boys by noctecaelum, 30k, NC-17. In the city that never sleeps, it's tough to get your foot in the door. While Gabe Saporta may find it easy to blend into the socialite scene; Gerard Way spends his day blending eyeshadow at Bloomingdales. As newcomer Frank triumphs in Women's Lingerie, Gerard sparks a bitter rivalry in the vicinity of Lexington and 59th; but there's no use crying over spilt coffee because things are about to fire up. Meanwhile, on the Upper East Side, Gabe Saporta is none too pleased to read a socialite-bashing article, but when confronting the writer, he doesn't expect to meet fresh faced, pretty-boy William Beckett, who turns out to be the biggest tease this side of the Downtown Dunkin' Donuts.

The Evolution Index by theficisalie, 32k, NC-17. In a world where superpowers are just another thing that can get you sent to boarding school, Frank Iero and his friends know what it's like to operate under heavy levels of stress. After all, they did spend their formative years under the wings of the United States Government's most widespread and successful initiatives; a program that was created to protect and train young Americans with superpowers to become functioning members of society. And, as a side-benefit, the government realized that not only were telepaths great at taking drink orders, but they could also be trained to be highly successful secret agents. Under the guidance of Frank's volatile and (literally) power-hungry boyfriend Gerard Way; Frank, Mikey Way, and Ray Toro are an accomplished team of super spies. When a handful of people from Frank's sordid past crop up during an investigation of rash Superhuman disappearances across the country, the team finds themselves challenged both on and off the field as they fight to solve the mysteries plaguing their beloved nation. Frank knows all too much about uncovering things that he'd rather keep hidden, but can he and his team unravel the intricate web of crime and kidnapping surrounding Chicago without losing themselves in the process?

A Good Ocean Gone Wrong by xoxxblitz7, 32k, NC-17. Titanic AU - The Way's are one of the richest families in America and sometimes being an artist requires the need to travel. On the doomed maiden voyage of Titanic old friends are found, new love is formed and put to the test and the most luxurious crossing of the Atlantic ocean becomes a fight for survival.

A Fanfiction (In Which Gerard Has A Secret Stash of Star Wars Fanfiction) by sparklefap, 10k, R. Frank finds Gerard's bizarrely erotic Star Wars fanfiction, and is both disturbed and aroused by it. Those feelings won't do for Frank. He seeks revenge.

[timeaftertime-chriscornellfanfic]

Chapter 22 - It Pulls You Back

Seattle Washington, April 4 1990

(Andi is 20, Chris is 25)

ANDI: "This is the last box right?" I ask as I pick up a small cardboard box from the floor of our bedroom. I glance down at the contents of the box, making sure I wasn't forgetting anything as Chris comes back into the bedroom from loading up the rented U-Haul van.

"Yea babe," He exhales, flipping his dark curls out of his face.

After Andy had passed away, Chris had the idea for us to just get a place of our own. I think he just couldn't bare the thought of living here now that Andy's gone, and to be honest, I can't either.

I miss him every day and no matter what I try to do to take my mind off of it, all I can think about is how I wish I could've saved him. It kills me inside knowing that I couldn't. I've been time slipping more often over the last week because of the pain and grief I am holding inside and pretending that I'm ok when I'm not. Every time I slip, I always end up in that same spot, trying to get to him from the park and seeing him being wheeled away into the ambulance. Other times I end up in this apartment but still only after he had left for the hospital, but never in time to actually save him. I hate it. It's like re-living the same memory over and over again without anyway of changing it.

It didn't take Chris and I long to find a house that we both loved. It's a small 2 bedroom 2 story home, with a small basement for Chris and I to set up a practice/rehearsal space. It's not much but we love it and that's all that matters. The closing date was yesterday and so we immediately packed up as fast as we could to move into our new home. We honestly didn't have much furniture other than just a couch, a T.V and all of our bedroom stuff so the house is still pretty empty for now but we're working on it.

"You think maybe I should call Xana...? Maybe try and talk to her...?" I ask as Chris takes the box from me and places a quick kiss on my lips.

"No," He says shortly, walking out of the bedroom with the box in his arms.  "After the things she said, I don't give a fuck about her right now,"

Like I mentioned the last time, Xana hasn't been exactly on the best terms with us after that little blow up last week. A few days ago she decided to come back later at night, completely fucked up out of her mind on who knows what - coke, heroin and probably some whiskey mixed in there too I suspect - and attempted to take the last of Andy's things but all the while screaming at Chris about how he changed and how much of a 'fucking chode' Chris had turned into. I had never seen her act that way. It was completely uncalled for. Needless to say her and Chris had an exchange of nasty words with each other and he was about to call the cops before she finally took the hint to leave.

Why does this always happen when someone dies? Why does everyone pick sides and end up fighting and hating each other. Same thing happened with my mother.

I know I haven't really touched on the subject of my mother since the incident between her and my father, when I heard them fighting that night but I guess I should bring it up now.

Watching your mother die is a strange thing to go through at any age, especially when you're young. The summer I turned 16, my mother had become very sick really quickly. At first she thought it was the flu. She felt weak, feverish and would barely eat anything at all, always wanting to sleep and pretty much left me to take care of her and myself. This went on for weeks, much longer than a normal flu would last. I finally convinced her that I would take her to the doctor to see just what was wrong. After a few tests she was diagnosed with Cancer - leukemia to be exact. The type where you start to fade really quickly. If I hadn't convinced her to go, the doctor said she would've been dead within a week.

I had no idea what to think or what to feel at that point. It was like I was suddenly in a dream I couldn't wake up from. But I didn't have time to feel sorry for myself, I had to be there for my mother. So that same week they started her with a blood transfusion and chemo-therapy.

At first she seemed to take to it really well. She wasn't as run down as before and was almost back to herself. Then as the second round of treatments started, that's when the chemo sickness began to take over and it was almost just as bad, if not worse than if she hadn't started any treatment at all. In the midst of all this, I was also time slipping. Sometimes I'd slip for a few minutes and other times a few hours - you know the usual. But I'd always make it back in time for my mother.

Then after a horrible incident where my mother had to be rushed to the hospital because she was in so much pain she couldn't walk, she had told the doctors that she'd had enough. She didn't want to go through treatment any longer and that she would rather live out her last few weeks or months feeling normal again, than to prolong the inevitable. I tried to change her mind, that she had to keep fighting but in reality she had already come to peace with the fact that she had lived as long as she could.

I was angry at first. How dare she give up and basically leave me. I was 16 years old and I had no idea how to make it without her. Again, I was being a selfish teenager not really thinking about how much she was in pain. The chemo was only to give her more time anyways, it wasn't a cure for the type of leukemia she had.

It was the Spring after I turned 17 when she passed away. I'll never forget the day. It was a strange feeling being with her until the end, saying all the things that needed to be said so that she knew how much I loved her. I also did my best to not slip in the middle of it given the fact that it was the most gut wrenching thing I have ever gone through in my life. But something was keeping me there with her, not letting me slip and miss the last moments I had with her.

Making the final arrangements with my dad was weird. They hadn't talked to each other since their divorce but I couldn't do everything myself, I was just a kid. My mother's side of the family basically got pissed and fought over everything and I was left to live with my dad, who I hadn't lived with since I was 15. It was fine though and you know we're still close now but it was a huge adjustment for him since he was used to playing clubs and bars, travelling and hadn't really had the responsibility of raising me since I was 15 - well really since I was a little girl. Eventually he got used to me again, and it was like the bond between us never broke. I finally told him all the things I held inside since he moved out and left me with my mother. I became daddy's little girl again, though I was always his little girl, we just needed to make amends. When I threw myself into my schooling and playing so that I could graduate early, it was hard for him but I had to do it. As much as I loved the bond that me and my father had rekindled, you could say I still have unresolved feelings about my mother's death, since I basically have been pretty much numb from it since it happened. That's why I wanted to run as far from it as possible. So Seattle was perfect.

I still see my mom sometimes when I slip. It's usually only for a few minutes at a time, but I'll see her in the kitchen of our old house, or when my father is just walking in the door from a gig and she greets him with the love she had for him before everything fell apart. It's comforting to know that I can still visit her, even if she doesn't know I'm there.

"Babe...? You alright?" Chris asks me, breaking me out of my reverie as he appears at the front doorway.

"Yea... yea, I was just..." I exhale as I grab my bag from the floor of the now completely empty living room. I sling my bag over my shoulder and un-tuck my curls, then glance up into Chris's blue eyes that gleam.

"C'mon, let's go home," He says sweetly reaching out for my hand. I look around the apartment one last time, quietly saying goodbye to Andy, then I take Chris's hand and lock the door one last time.

*******************************************************************************************

[ellohcee]

Okay let’s try this again long AU (The Mad Ones) under the cut (not mine these were sent in by @jubilantscribbler / @jubilantwriter )

yeah samE i said that about hadestown too fkldsf anYWAY im sending this in multiple asks so that you can hide it under a readmore okayy here i GOO- SO. It starts with David driving away from the city and heading out to somewhere - maybe to see the ocean, maybe to go hiking in the mountains, maybe to take a trek in the great plains, maybe to venture out into the countryside - he's not sure yet, but he's hyping himself as he drives and drives, just watching the city fly by. (1)

BUT. He blinks and he's still in the city. Even worse, he's still in his mom's driveway, sitting in a car with the key still in his hand, and his foot is still firmly on the brake. He blinks and feels crushed under the fact that he's not going away to go hiking forever in nature, but instead, he's supposed to be getting ready for college because he just graduated, and just as he's about to start crying, he hears Jasper speak up like, "Damn, and here I thought you wouldn't choke." (2)

David turns and sees his best friend, his childhood friend, sitting in the passenger seat and grinning like he always does, and David nearly cracks and whispers, "What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here." And Jasper just shrugs and rolls his eyes like, "Sure, but I'm here anyways." And David's like, "You're not real, I'm sitting alone i-in a car-" and Jasper's like, "Yeah, my car. Alone. What are *you* doing?" (3)

GHHH what a cold open, David in his happy daydream and suddenly snapping back to a cold terrible reality. AHH I ALREADY LOVEHATE IT.

(4) And David's sputtering and trying to convince himself and Jasper that David's supposed to be getting ready for college, and he just needed a moment, he's stressed, he knows what he wants, stop questioning him, stop doubting him, this is what he's supposed to do, this is what he needs to do, so leave him alone like he's supposed to be, and suddenly there's too many thoughts, too many memories happening at once- and then Jasper snaps him out of it for just a minute.

(5) Jasper calms him down by reminding him of the one time he managed David to skip school, and it's enough for David to just relive the moment with Jasper vividly, and he remembers feeling that freedom, of being happy and alive and enjoying the moment with Jasper. It's all to calm David down and getting him to cheer up as David remembers that good time and reminding him of what he really wants, and David gets lost in the memory until reality breaks the memory and he's stuck in the present.

(6) Now with his "imaginary" Jasper, as Jasper calls himself, and him back in the car, David remembers that he lost something irreplaceable and can't get over it, and now he's sitting in Jasper's car without Jasper with his future looming over him. But Jasper gently nudges him and reminds him to remember why he's in the car in the first place, and why he has the keys in his hands in the first place. Because he had a plan, and maybe all it takes is a little bit of remembering.

This is already so awful, they had plans together AAHFHHD. But Jasp is always so good at calming David down, bringing him back. As much as I hate that Jasper’s dead this is one of my favorite kinds of setups. Like someone’s heartbroken and it’s kind of a “but how can I go on without you?” feeling and it’s like “You can, you HAVE to.”

(7) Jasper puts the key in the ignition for David and has David go through his memories of his senior year. David remembers Jasper, when he was still alive and bright and in the midst of his rebellious streak, and Jasper laughs as David chastises him for all those times he skipped class and nearly dragged David along with him. But David wanted to go with him. They had dreams - David had dreams that only Jasper knew, and as the end of the crept closer he grew more and more anxious.

(8) David isn't at odds with him mom, but his mom wants the best for him, even if it means pushing him towards a future he doesn't really want, but is stable and ensures he'll live an okay life. Gwen is the voice of reason in their friend group, always telling them off for having their delusions of grandeur, especially Jasper as he seems to lead David into living life based on impulses. He cares about them both tho, and wants to take their advice to heart... when it doesn't stress him out.

(9??) Jasper's the only one who really gets David, and he encourages David at every chance he gets which reveals David's deep seated love for nature, and how he yearns to get out of the city, and not be trapped by gray walls and mediocrity and studying a major he doesn't care for and living paycheck by paycheck, and also he really needs to get his license because he can't depend on everyone all the time or else he'll never truly be independent.

I love all this dynamic it’s so fitting, so perfect. Especially Gwen, she’s so down to earth and she has to be the one with her head on and thinking logically. So fitting. But David and Jasper just wanna be FREE AND IN LOVE DAMNIT FUCK

(10) Despite his internal conflicts, he still applies to colleges and even manages to get into the same one as Jasper, with mixed feelings. They end up touring the college together and partake in a party that leads to David exploding and saying that Jasper doesn't *do* college, Jasper is wild and free and exciting and takes them on roadtrips and is amazing and incredible and doesn't trap himself in the status quo and WOW he's drunk, no he's not, stop laughing, Jasper!

bWABAAHAHA FUCK YOU TUMBLR. (11) Jasper convinces David to recite one of David's favorite passages from his favorite book (because the book is important in the musical but let's pretend it's about the mystique of the wilderness and the freedom of exploration and freedom), and David recites and hypes them both up because of how excitedly he recites it with passion, and Jasper suggests that they do it, that they run off together and explore and Be the Mad Ones and Live Free and Wild.

(12) Jasper gets more and more excited by the aspect of just... going on the road, just the two of them, doing whatever the hell they want without anyone telling them what to do. And David's trying to be like, "Okay but we need to be prepared and stuff-!" but he's getting more and more hyped by it, and they both start getting excited- up until Jasper gets into his car and begs David to get in. And David freezes and panics and realizes he's... not ready to run yet.

Not crying bc they wanted to run off together NOT ME. BUT LIKE. YOU KINDA DO NEED TO GRAB SOME ShIT FOR THE ROAD JASP WHAT DO YOU HAVE WITH YOU??? AN EXTRA HOODIE AND SOME CRAP IN YOUR CAR? COME ON. Give him a little time you can take off in a few days just don’t tell people about your plans to elope???

(13) Jasper gets upset because they need to leave now before someone stops, but David feels unprepared and they argue and snap and- the memory breaks, and David's facing off imaginary?Jasper and blaming him and saying that Jasper never plans anything and it would have gotten them no where, and Jasper blames him back saying that David put the breaks on, and they keep blaming each other until Jasper yells that if they'd just left that night, he wouldn't be fucking DEAD!

nnoonOIFIDH wHy they figting WJHY ARE THEY FIGHTING I HATE IT. DON’T SAY THAT SHIT JASPER. What’s ten times worse is that this is David’s projection of Jasper therefore his own thoughts so he’s blaming himself through Jasper I hate it???

(14) David storms away from Jasper in tears as Jasper tries to call back to David and apologize, but David just runs to his room and locks himself in there and inevitably buries himself in more memories, but none with Jasper in it. He remembers that after their fight at the party, he went to his other best friend's house - Gwen. She asks about the college visit, and David, still running off his anger fumes, says that maybe college isn't for him, and he should do something else.

(15) Gwen tries to talk some sense into him, telling him that life isn't about always about having fun, that college is the way to go or else they'll NEVER achieve their dreams, and David snaps back that maybe he doesn't NEED college to achieve his dreams, and Gwen yells that real life isn't some fucking book, and if he thinks that's how life works, then he needs to get his head out of the fucking clouds and look around them.

(16) Life isn't like it was back then, it's labor and capitalism, and it's a fucking struggle, but that's the hand they were dealt, and they have to live with what they got. She gets upset and cries because she doesn't want to live like everyday sucks, but that's how it is, and she doesn't get to dream like David does, because she has to work harder to even begin to carve out a dream like David's. She implores him for once to stop trying to live ideally, but to live realistically.

WHY IS EVERYONE FIGHITNG STOP IT

(17) He ends up leaving and going back to his mom's, where his mom worries about her son and the state of his being, and tries to get him to open up to her, and it takes a while, but after some coaxing and cookies, and he opens and tells him about his argument with Jasper and Gwen. She's disappointed that David feels that way about college, but suggests that he finds a compromise - one that's realistic, but still gives him what he wants. He weakly agrees to her because he's tired of fighting.

(18) David goes to bed, only to wake to the sound of a phone ringing. His heart leaps, and David's stuck between the past and present, unsure of where he is. As he stares at his phone, Jasper sits down next to him and suggests he pick it up. It's then that David realizes that he's in the present, but still stuck in the past. Instead of living in the present, he suggests that he doesn't pick up the phone, because like, that'd mean like it never happened. Which means that Jasper... is alive.

David needs THERAPY it sounds like he’s having some serious issues with reality and stress and loss please he needs hterapy hahddha

(19) Jasper plays along and is like, "Okay, if I'm alive now, then we're doing senior year *my way*." So they craft an amazing, fun, incredible senior year filled with laughter and highs and love, and David gets to experience a year with Jasper by his side, and maybe he finally confesses, and maybe they go on a million roadtrips, and he's happy, he's so happy because Jasper's here, and he's alive, and- the phone rings. And the fantasy breaks, and he's in the past again. And he picks up.

FHDShHF THEY COULD’VE HAD IT ALL THEY COULD’VE BEEN SO STUPID IN LOVE TOGETHER

(20) Jasper's mom was the one who called him to tell him that Jasper had died. He'd been crossing the street to return a book - the book he read for David, because it was his favorite book - to the library, and didn't see the car in time. David's world collapses around him, and all he can remember is that night at the party, and why didn't he say yes, why did he say no, and it crushes him as he remembers it over and over again, and he realizes that he can't remember the rest of senior year.

SOBBING HE READ DAVID”S BOOK

(21:) For once, Jasper isn't there to snap him out of it. David has to snap himself out of it, and he digs through his memories of that horrible senior year and remembers the one thing that broke him out of his depressed stupor - Gwen. Gwen was dropping him off at the DMV to take his driving test (again). She's holding a familiar book, and she's trying to smile and talk to him while he's stuck in his head, and finally her voice gets through to him when she suggests something.

(22) While they're waiting for his turn, she says that she read the book he loves, and she kinda gets it now, wanting to explore and see the world, and she suggests that they take a roadtrip together before college, and they can go anywhere, and be anywhere, and it'll just be them two, and he won't have to worry about anything because she'll take care of things for him, and he can just... enjoy. And she smiles, desperate but hopeful, because she wants to see him smile again. But he doesn't.

(23) It breaks him out of his stupor, but only because her words make it sound like it's what he wants (what does he want?), but it's not what he wants, and he remembers Jasper's words of how someone's always gonna come along and try to assume they know what he wants, instead of letting him decide for himself. Gwen's doing it here, even if it's in good faith, he knows this isn't what he wants. He doesn't answer, and she looks heartbroken. Before he can get a word out, his # is called.

SOBBING SHE READ DAVID’S BOOK. SHE’s TRYING GOD SHE’s TRYING BUT THAT WAS THEIR THING THE ROADTRIP

(24) She tells him to go take his test and wishes him good luck. He gets in the car and starts his driving test, stressed out and mind a mess. Suddenly it's Jasper in the passenger seat pretending to be the DMV lady and telling him to listen to him, and that he can help David. He wants Jasper to go away, but suddenly it's his mom, telling him to be careful and slow down, and he needs to take less risks and stay in his lane, where he needs to be. Jasper's voice grows frantic and then it's Gwen.

(25??) Gwen is telling him to follow her instructions, and she can keep him on track and safe, so just keep going straight and drive. David argues that he doesn't want to be safe, and Jasper asks if he wants to take a risk instead. His mom says that risk is fine, if he prepares for it and plans for it. David says he doesn't want to plan for once, and Jasper gently tells him that he can take whatever path he wants as long as it feels right to him, before Gwen says that they need to move on.

Therapy therapy therapy please DAvid I’m beGGING YOU you have so much shit in your head babe please. Fighting to figure out what he wants vs what everyone else wants it’s too much

(26) She begs to him to go with her, even if it's hard, they need to make the right choice. David argues with himself, tries to figure out what he wants as everyone talks over his thoughts and words, his mom begging him to slow down, Jasper begging him to remember, and Gwen begging him to go, before David snaps and tells everyone to listen to him. Finally, he tells them what he wants. He never wanted to go to college, never wanted stay, never wanted to run away. But he wanted to go out and live.

(27) He wants to drive with no clear destination, drive to see and feel and live and nothing else, just by himself. Even if, even if he wishes... he wishes that Jasper was with him. But he knows that he's alone in Jasper's car, talking to himself and remembering, and he hears Jasper say to remember, his mom saying she'll let him go, and Gwen saying she'll step back. And David tells himself to look ahead, don't stop, and don't look back in the rearview mirror. He blinks, and it's just Jasper.

SOBBING

(28) It's just Jasper and David, sitting in Jasper's car in his mom's driveway. Jasper smiles, and reminds David that he passed. He's free. He can leave now. David cries and says that his mom will hate him, and Jasper shakes his head. He worries about Gwen, and Jasper says she'll understand. Jasper encourages him to be wild and free and mad and happy, and to NOT crash his car or he WILL haunt him, smiling through his tears as David reaches for him.

(30) David sobs. "I never got to say goodbye." Jasper takes a deep breath, looking away for a moment before turning back to David with a broken smile. "Sometimes you don't get to say goodbye." "...I miss you." "...I know. Total bummer, right?" David grabs onto Jasper and hugs him tight and begs, "Can't we stay like this?" And Jasper clings to him and says, "You know we can't." "Just for a little longer?" and after a moment of silence, Jasper asks with a soft cry, "What do you want, Davey?"

(FIN) David finally says that he wants to feel the wind in his hair with the windows down, the crunch of dirt under his boots, the smell of the pines, of living just to live. Jasper pulls away with a smile and reminds David that he'll live in David's wants and actions now that he's gone, and when David blinks, Jasper is finally gone. And he's finally moved on. And David finally puts the key into the ignition and starts the car. And he drives away.

NNNGNNDJ I HATE THIS BUT I LOVE IT. I hate every time you kill Jasper and make me love it. My poor boys I’m sO SAD FOR THEM> THEY HAD PLANS THEY WERE IN LOVE THEY WERE GOING TO DO ALL THE SHIT THEY WANTED. Jasper didn’t even get to see SENIOR YEAR IT’s NOT FAIRhFH And poor David just like BLANKED OUT that year of his life and WHO COULD BLAME HIM

When I do listen to this I’m going to have to prepare myself hardcore because I’m going to be a fucking wreck mess especially now that it’s firmly attached to Jaspvid in my head UHHHHH HTHANK YOU