#we had a project in like junior high that I barely remember

[amphiptere-art]

Hum just reminds him again. Warning that Envy would get the same scolding as a child if he speaks those words around them. If he can't control his tongue then he's going to be an example. Stating that he really should learn how to do it around his own child.

Zip grumbles a little bit at Envy's stab of his own family's group size. Quietly stating that he's only met so many. Although it does feel like there's a whole family freaking gathering happening.

Zips face does sour as envy explains there are many many more versions of TF. Asking why the hell are there so many versions of him that are just pure up assholes. Sure if he looks at it it kind of.. sounds normal. He's just surprised it got that far.

Xolo happily explains to greed that it's a nice hot drink. It's made with crushed cocoa, cornmeal and chilli pepper. It's super super yummy in his opinion. Hum quietly sighing that it tastes like somebody mixed the bitter part coffee, chocolate, and hot sauce into a drink.

Ooh! Even better idea, Zip meeting a fucking Stockholm Traveler and seeing the parallels with how Stockholm acts towards TF Monty and how Hum acts towards Eclipses.

OH.. OHHH THAT WOULD BE AMAZING >:D

Because he DOES act like how Hum acts towards eclipses just with Monty’s! He 100% does, and that would fuck with Zips head so much. And I love it

@amphiptere-art

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

Part Twenty-Seven

My freshman year of high school, I was put into a junior level government class. I was only in there because it was the only class that fit into my schedule other than ag classes I couldn’t have been less interested in. I didn’t talk much in the class because everyone was older than me, and they thought I was a kiss up because i always made good grades. I didn’t particularly love the class, but of course, I still did my work and did it well.

Toward the end of the year, we did a mock trial. We drew for positions within the trial, mr flynn the judge. I drew attorney.

The case was a business lawsuit, I was the lawyer who was going against the business for their supposed cruel acts.

Mr. Flynn told us that we would receive extra credit if we dressed up, so me, a fourteen year old with a desperate need for academic validation, borrowed one of my mother’s pencil skirts and a suit jacket from my dad. I looked like a mini Aaron Hotchner, even my mom said so.

I remember preparing for the trial for at least a week, being a little excited about the project. I wanted to win the case, especially since I was, as I believed, on the right side of the law.

My opposing attorney was Noah Kincaid. He was a smart but cocky kid who also cared about winning the trial.

I remember standing up from my desk when is was my turn to ask questions to the kid under oath. I felt as though I had stepped into myself for the first time. It was just a mock trial that lasted half an hour, but I felt proud and confident. I was good at it.

Mr. Flynn pulled me aside after class and told me I should consider law school in the future. He said, and I quote, “The way you handled yourself was the most confident and concise I’ve ever seen in a student. You surprised me, Hotchner.”

I didn’t take it to offense that he said my skills surprised him. In his defense, he’d only heard me talk when I turned in a paper or answered a question, which the latter was usually rare since I didn’t particularly like to “show off” in front of juniors who already thought I was a kiss ass.

I did, however, take his first sentence as a compliment. I was confident and my statements and questions were concise.

I smiled, nodded, thanked him, then left. A lawyer was not on my top five career choices at the time. I didn’t want people to think I was doing it because of my father. I was definitely not. But after some research and a few binge watches of crime shows, I knew I actually did want to be an attorney. Not because of my father but almost in spite of him.

My dad quit his job as a lawyer and took the job Agent Gideon offered him at the BAU. I resented him for it, still do, but that’s besides the point. He wasn’t around much in my most influential years, and at fourteen, I decided I would be a lawyer, and if I happened to have a family, I wouldn’t take a new job that prevented me from being there for them.

So now, I’m currently four weeks away from grad school and three years away from the BAR. And I’m going to rock the shit out of them both. Because I can and because I’m determined. It’s also way less about my unresolved daddy issues now than it was in high school and even some of college, it’s a dream of mine.

Spencer has made it his mission to make sure I enjoy the last month of summer as much as I can. He’s taken me out on a million dates like picnics, movies, late night drives around the city and out into the country, and more every chance he gets between cases.

At least now we don’t have to sneak around and lie about our relationship. Though I was prepared to keep this from my dad for however long necessary, I’m pretty glad we accidentally outed ourselves at my graduation dinner.

My dad cooked a big meal for me, some family, friends, and we invited the team too. Spencer and I didn’t even sit near each other. We barely talked the whole dinner just to be safe.

But as love-sick, horny couples do, when we saw an opportunity to take a minute alone, we did just that.

Having your father catch you making out with a guy will never not be awkward, but when the guy happens to be his employee, it’s fucking weird.

Though, I will say, the look on his face was priceless. I’ve hardly seen him have that much emotion on his face.

After a very awkward, flushed-face, and stuttered explanation from Spencer and me, we were able to calm my father down. He was a lot more excepting than I expected; I think he finally realized he can’t dictate my life, and he saw how happy we are together.

The rest of that dinner consisted of a lot of teasing from Derek Morgan, my brother being grossed out by me having a boyfriend, and everyone asking about law school.

I’m excited and anxious to start the rest of my life as a law student. I’ve prepared for this for nearly 8 years now, and I’m getting closer and closer to my dream career. It’s terrifyingly exciting. I’m grateful to have my family and Spencer by my side through all of this.

hey, so this is it for this story! this is also most likely it for my fanfiction in general.

and for a little life update: i started college a month ago, and i’m adjusting to my new life which has been interesting and scary and fun. im also in a healthy relationship and have been for a while which has been pretty amazing. i hope all my mutuals/ readers are doing well. thank you guys for sticking around :)

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[slickshoesareyoucrazy]

Already

I cried already this morning.

My kid isn't eligible to go to a prom unless he's asked to go by a junior or senior, because he's just a 10th grader still. And he is unlikely to go to prom when he's eligible anyway unless one of his 3 best friends or someone he is actually dating in the next 2 years (also unlikely) almost (or actually) begs him to go. He doesn't like manufactured socializing or loudness or dressing up (Shit I wonder where this kid comes from? 😂 It's not like J and I both also hate all that shit...🙄😂). But my friend D's kids and my friend B's son are all eligible to go to their school prom and they are all kids like their dads. Social butterflies. Class clowns even, at least in D's son's case. Popular, socially in demand kids. And because of you, A, I'm half-ass back on Facebook, so I saw the prom pictures hit this morning. And it was supremely bittersweet. Because I LOVE looking at D and B and their families being happy, whether I'm blessed to do that in person like I did this winter into early spring, or in photographs. But because it's prom, it made me think about you.

You and me, man, we did not have good luck with proms. (There's a colossal understatement). Both of them kinda sucked, and even the Senior Dinner Dance wasn't great, but wow junior prom was *particularly* shitty. I should have just not gone to any of that shit, because I didn't like anything about them anyway, and it cost a lot of money I didn't have. I wore that junior prom dress twice, remember? I re-wore it to Senior Dinner Dance, and CB was like...judging me. She was so mean. How the fuck was she our homecoming queen? A mean kid would never ever win something like that at a local school now. Seriously. Now kids like D's and B's kids win that stuff. But anyway, I did go because T begged me to go. She got me to go with that guy from the private school her date went to (same private school D's and B's sons' team ceremoniously beat in basketball this spring in the regional tournament...the whole school is entitled, privileged assholes it seems, and always has been). And you went with that girl from the other snooty area school (the only high school guy I dated that I actually liked and felt safe with went there too, but in our defense, they were a brand new school and had yet to turn snooty back then), but you wanted to date T. And all of that shit blew up at prom. And then shit blew up with you and T later anyway, and it was barely even later. Before senior year started, it was over. (It was over with the guy I was seeing between prom and school starting too; we all went out together to play mini golf and he saw me talk to you after being separated most of the summer because you were doing band and Smarty Pants programs and shit and he accused me of cheating on him with you...so dumb). I always thought T was your best girlfriend. I thought that for DECADES, man. I wished you married her. I did. Years I thought this, wondered what went wrong there, because she was the only one who wouldn't cheat on you. You never told me how quietly mean she was though, and I guess I overlooked it in high school, and since I only got the Facebook edits of her life and values and personality, which everyone knows is heavily curated and usually skewed positive to project the right stuff in the right light. I bet she was mean to you, and you didn't tell me then or ever because you didn't want to wreck another friendship for me. Dude, I wish you told me. I don't like how few friendships I seem to have and how tenuous they are to keep, but I'd have burned that bridge to the ground for you. You know that. I've burned it now anyway.

When you died, T reached out to me. One of the first people. She knew we were close, mostly because of that prom. And I guess she knew we were still close even though we were never Bestie Bestie Bestie lets get matching tshirts and bracelets and shit and take lots of pictures of it and tag each other all the time so everyone knows we're besties on social media like she does and several other people from high school do with their best friends. I thought she was genuinely sad herself about you, and genuinely cared about me. But I think she just wanted an excuse to gossip about you and insult you to me in her passive aggressive way, and somehow thought you dying gave her permission to do that (finally...I almost think she was waiting for us to have a fight and not be friends anymore or even this, to give her an opening to trash you to me). First, she asked if you'd committed suicide. (I'll never know for sure sure, because I'll never look up your autopsy results, but I have to believe NO, based on all of our 30+ year friendship and everything you ever said to me and how much you loved your kid and your dogs. Like no way you'd do that to them.) T almost seemed like she wanted that answer to be yes. Like she wanted to know you were that miserable and in pain in your life. Like that would make her feel smugly good. And then when I told her I was not doing well when she asked how I was holding up, her choice of comforting thoughts was not comforting. 'We can just look back and remember the good times we had with him *and laugh about his idiotic choices.*'

That phrasing didn't land hard in the moment. I was too devastatingly sad to be angry with her or defensive about you then. But I'm mad about it now. I can't believe she'd take that opportunity to focus on what she perceived as your mistakes. I used to think when she asked me how you were doing over the years that she really cared, maybe was even still carrying a flickering torch for you, but now I think she was just jonesing to hear some bad news. She wanted schadenfreude...to take pleasure in your unhappiness. I hope I never gave her the satisfaction, because when you did share that you were unhappy with me, I never shared that with other people, particularly not her. It's not my place to do that. I hope I was always a loyal, trustworthy person in your life. I hope you always thought I was safe. I hope you always knew without a doubt you were loved and valued with me. That I didn't care about your 'mistakes.'

Anyway, I said up there ^ in this ramble that I wish I hadn't gone to any proms or whatever. Which is mostly true. But I know you'd have gone to all of that stuff anyway. And then it would have been bad for you without a buffer. So what I really wish is that we went together. You wouldn't have ever tried to be all over me like Private School Boy or judged that I wore the same dress to 2 different events. Or maybe I wish that I could have talked you somehow into not going and walking around the park or an all night grocery store or something with me instead. I think it would have saved us both a lot of grief. There's no going back though. No Monday morning quarterbacking. Hindsight and all that shit. That's why this morning I've cried already.

Still miss you every day. Wish you could see D's kid in his Prom Prince sash mugging at cameras fucking EXACTLY like D. 😂 Wish you could see B's son with his high school sweetheart in the couples shots, and he's probably going to marry her in a couple years, just like his parents. Just wish you were here. 💔😢❤️

[fr3nchtoastcrunch]

Dyspraxia in school (cont.)

I still remember the last few weeks of my junior year of high school. One of my teachers had a final project where you make a "bedroom" inside of a shoe box.

Being dyspraxic, I knew this was gonna be hell. Especially when she said "you may not take the box home." That ticked everyone off, because it made this project much harder than it needed to be.

I've never considered myself a creative person, so most of my time was spent making a janky-ass carpet that had several different designs due to limited fabrics, and making a very crappy bed out of popsicle sticks.

Another thing that I knew would destroy me is that it had to be "in proportion." Buddy, I can barely even make the objects I'm trying to make. I don't have time to stress about if it's too big or small.

We were given two weeks, and by the end of the first week I had only a (terrible) bed and the bare walls and floor. The teacher finally showed mercy and said she would extend the final deadline to the following Monday and that you could take it home over the weekend.

When that happened, I devised myself a plan. My mom is much better at crafts (and art projects in general) than I could ever hope to be, and most importantly, she's not dyspraxic, so I thought that I could enlist her help.

I am absolutely not ashamed to admit that my mom did the rest of it by herself. She was pretty furious that I had to do this anyway. My parents have made it pretty damn clear that I'm horrible with art projects and that I need special help, but I didn't get a para for this assignment at all.

So, after shamelessly mooching off my mom over the weekend, I escaped with an A and got the hell out of that class. I later found out that teacher was retiring that year, and that was the highlight of my year. She was such an awful teacher with a fake personality like no other. She could either be downright helpful or literally your worst nightmare with no in between, and she was in nightmare mode for the entirety of those last two weeks.

[sundaycane]

Let me talk about my experience being cheated by someone.

This is my love-life story, but also my first trauma in my 20s.

In may 2022, i met this guy, I called him john (not real name). John was so handsome, playful, and have a good sense of humor. We met in the workplace when i was his junior assistant. I never thought he would be a cheater because he has a good attitude, loves his family, and acts like a good leader. Really love-blind because he acts to me. John was so cared about me, and i never felt being cared back then. In june, john asked me to go on a date but the place is near our workplace, so after work, we went to a small cafe and dating. We talk about each other, about past love, about school, hobbies and plan for next journey. I remember he talked that he was a leader at the school and how he became now as a consultant in civil engineering. I was amazed at him because he really looked like a hard-working man, how he managed his life back before being a consultant. Then, out of sudden he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was shocked because we only knew each other for just 1 month. Again, love is blind i said yes to him. And that time was a happy moment for me. July, August, and September were passed. We just like an ordinary couple, went to a date, went to a workplace together. After work, we went to dinner. It was the nicest thing I ever had. In October. I found that John was cheating on me. I saw his phone, texting my friend (her nickname is Karen). I have known Karen since in high school, and we were close friends. John lied to me, and he said that he only talked about a job, nothing more than that. I was disbelieve and we fought. I did not call him for one week, and at that time, I had another project in Yogyakarta. Turns out he did not even call me or think about me. My coworker sent me a photo of John and Karen together. I was so pissed and sad. Why did he cheat me? I even sacrificed my dreams just because John did not let me pursue my plans. After that, we did not talk to each other.

2022 passed. In early 2023, John called me and asked me to go to a cafe. He wants forgiveness from me. I rejected it. But, he convinced me so hard and threatened me that he would come to my place. I intentionally said I did not care. Then, Karen called me. She said that she didn't know John had a relationship with me. But, she asked me for forgetting about how he cheated. She literally said that out loud. It was my fault, making John cheat to another woman. I got goosebumps because everyone in my workplace knew it. I was stunned to speak, zoning out and feeling nothing life. Everyone eyes on me starred like I was a problem. I try to defend myself, but Karen brings her friends to my room. After that happened, I went to some place. That place was so dark and no one visited. I was thinking of suicide. My life is broken because John. I was believing him more than myself. Turns out he was a wrecker. Makes me feel alone. I still remember how I was hurt. I barely can't breathe. I was on the top of the building, trying to jump. But out of sudden my phone rings. It was from my colleague at university. I took the phone and burst tears. My colleague was shocked and asked me what's wrong with me. Then, I tell the whole story about being cheated and accused as the main problem for my ex.

My colleague comforted me and convinced me not to jump off the building. I followed her instructions and went to her place. I started crying out loud and blaming myself. My colleague just heard me passionately.

Really, I am so grateful that time she called me. Now, I am single, have a happy life, also me and my colleague became closer. Sometimes, I have a nightmare, and that event still haunts me. But I tried to overcome my trauma with productivity.

Does it still haunt me? Yes. Yet, I will overcome it as soon as possible.

And how about John and Karen? They're living in a good life. Meanwhile, I struggle here and out.

That's okay. I believe in karma. As soon as possible, they will taste it.

End.

[yeongwonie]

STUPID CUPID! — 49

SYNOPSIS. alone on valentine’s day, you decide to sign up for the student council’s fundraiser: a matchmaking survey, hoping to at least get a few laughs out of the whole ordeal. little do you know, park sunghoon (your archenemy since junior high) has the same idea. but it’s fine! your student body president, kim sunoo, would never tamper with the matching system, right?

note. at the end of the chapter :>

+ please rb if u want to!! it rlly helps w/tumblr’s algorithm :))

masterlist

⤎ prev | 49 — we don't work together (written; 0.8k) | next ⤍

“I THINK I JUST GOT DEJA VU,” you chuckle, approaching sunghoon, who leans against one of the pillars by the front gate of your campus. 

once he hears your voice, his head shoots up, wide eyes meeting your own. he groans, “don’t remind me,” and slips his phone into his pocket.

“move over,” you mumble, speaking softly because the late winter morning holds a certain ambience that you don’t want to shatter. 

sunghoon shuffles to the side, and you press your back against the pillar, the puffed sleeve of your jacket brushing against his. when you turn your head to face him, you find he’s already looking at you and smiling like an idiot.

“stop.” you try to sound serious, but your words come out in a laugh and you lean closer so you can bump his shoulder with your own. “don’t you remember what happened last time we were here together.”

“i don’t know, i think it worked out okay.”

you raise a brow at him, and he continues.

“i mean, we’re here together again, and we don’t hate each other now.” he turns away, looking dramatically out into the parking lot in a way that makes you want to shove him. 

“that’s what i came here to tell you actually,” you smile. “we can’t be friends anymore, i just hate you too much.”

sunghoon groans, clutching at the fabric above his heart as though he’s just been stabbed in the chest, and slides a little down the wall. looking at him, you giggle, immediately shattering his act when he can’t help but mirror you.

“so, what did you want to tell me?” you ask expectantly, as, next to you, sunghoon catches his breath.

“nothing,” he grins, and this time you actually do shove him. 

“bullshit,” you frown, “you texted me at like, midnight.” lowering your voice and throwing a hand over your forehead, you mimic his voice. “i have to tell you something.”

“i don’t sound like that,” he scoffs, taking mock offense. “and you said you had something to tell me too.”

“you first.”

“fine, i’ll tell you,” he says, and you straighten, suddenly serious. 

a slow exhale leaves his lips, and he watches the breath fan out in front of him, visible in the cold air.

“i’ve been in love with you since the seventh grade. maybe i took a little break in the middle because you were really mean sophomore year, but the whole project cupid thing made me realize how much i missed just talking to you and i just,” he pauses to gauge your expression, though you’re not really sure what there is to gather as you stand there, lips parted slightly and eyes unfocused. “i wanted to tell you now that i’m sure.”

“you,” you whisper, unhelpfully, once he’s done speaking. his face scrunches slightly, like he’s preparing for you to yell at him or reject him or walk away. “i’m in love with you, too, sunghoon.”

“can i kiss you?” he asks, and it’s like the nearby conversations of your classmates passing you to enter the gate fade out until all you can hear is your own breath and his. as your eyelids flutter closed, you can feel the proximity, the surging of the moment and the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. 

you give him the slightest nod, tilting your chin down, and then his hand comes up to caress the side of your face and guides your lips up to meet his own. 

for someone who’d barely been able to fall asleep the previous night, who’d had to give themself a pep talk in the bathroom mirror that morning, you feel inexplicably and remarkably tranquil in the moment. you know sunghoon, and he knows you, and even though you’ve never kissed before now the sensation is so familiar that you truly believe you were meant to stand here, lips pressed against his in front of your high school.

you reach a hand up to curl around the collar of his coat, and when you separate, he lingers just above you. 

“maybe we just don’t work together, sunghoon,” he says melodramatically, still breathless but using every last bit of air in his lungs to do his best imitation of you as he closes his eyes.

“i was wrong, okay?” 

your arms cross over your chest as you step away, and you look up to the gray sky pensively. “i should’ve gone first,” you huff after a few seconds of silence. “do you know how long it took me to convince myself to confess?”

“we can tell everyone you said it first,” he sighs, slinging an arm around your shoulder and guiding you away from the pillar and into the walkway. “let me walk you to class.”

✮✮✮

note. we’re almost at the end! i thought a lot about how i wanted to do this scene and although i did think about making it more dramatic, i decided on this just to juxtapose all of the drama they've endured thus far ㅠㅠ the final chapter will also be written and is kind of like an epilogue? and unless something goes horribly wrong it will be up tomorrow and i'll also try to post my next smau's mlist the day after so i hope you look forward to it! thank u for reading and i love you <3<3

taglist. @heeracha @msxflower @wonzone @vantxx95 @c9tnoos @abdiitcryy @w3bqrl @jangwonie @laiverose @shawkneecaps @jjunis @niorawr @chiyuv @gyusteez @theskzvibe @yeppeudau @atsumuluvbot @renjunvrse @saucytaehyung @cocoabeen @nomniki @ashxxkook @angelicncity @fairybangtan @fadedluvv @haoreo @love-4-keum @solarswonderland @emoworu @revemixer @hrjchive @sushiriki @hseungi @enaus @maeumiluv @blu3ming-hoon @soobin-chois @ifwtyun @sweetjaemss @luviehyck @angelbaby-rose @beomsun @tobiosbbyghorl @junqwonni @jungwonnieee @carayat @iovnyu @cyuuupid @dekusgirl @hobistigma

[transmogrified-in-the-void]

I'm Not Okay (I Promise) (I'm Lying)

So here's the tl;dr for this essay/creative nonfiction piece. I first heard im not okay when i was at my worst socially, physically, and mentally. it became my gateway into a wonderful community, it was the catalyst for the most fun writing project ive ever been in, and single-handedly saved my life.

there will be discussions of minor eating disorders, suicidal thoughts, self harm, and toxic relationships.

i would also like to thank Joey @space-bones-official Rae @spacingout Naima @ianthe-the-dyke and biz @gayslutraytoro for being the people that helped bring me to where I am today. No matter what happens, I will never forget you.

September 2019. The beginning of my sophomore year of American high school. The small group of three friends I had made in my final year of junior high had increased near tenfold. No longer did we need the end of long tables filling a room that had become obsolete, and instead almost thirty people pushed two large semicircle tables together to sardine themselves in the largest social circle of the cafeteria.

Despite being close to the largest and loudest personalities of the group, it was very rarely that I was heard without acting preposterous or "insane". And even then, I would have to push my vocal boundaries to make a tiny dent in the cacophony of discussion I could barely participate in anyways.

This was the year where it became more apparent the narrow scope of my knowledge. My closest friends were talking about games and movies and music I had never even heard of, and could barely remember due to the amount of noise that took up the space in my head. Even if it was something I understood, I never understood enough to contribute, or I was never loud enough to have my contributions matter.

This special brand of isolation coalesced into a poisonous and slow-killing method of attention seeking. I started to cause small amounts of pain to myself in public. I had been hitting myself and causing myself unseen harm much earlier, but I started to pick and scratch at my skin, or stab a pen into my arm until there was a large and irritated black spot. When that didn't work, I started to not eat. Maybe, I had thought, maybe they'll notice now.

They didn't. Looking back, they wouldn't have noticed if I had said it out loud, but it's hard to see the situation when you're drowning in it.

Then came September. One of my best friends, J, had decided to join us and not sit with the band that day.

I can't remember the discussion, only that I had turned to someone next to me and said something, only for them to start talking to someone else right afterwards. Not even a moment passed where it seemed that I was heard. For the first moment, I felt like I was truly alone.

In the minute that lasted eternity, it felt like everything that was real had started to fall away. If I couldn't be heard, was I even real? Did I even matter?

And it was J's earbud being placed in my ear, and the whispered statement that started my spider's thread escape.

"This song is about having a shitty experience in high school." He had said. "I think you'll like it."

And then I'm Not Okay (I Promise) by My Chemical Romance started playing. My life would never be the same.

I went home and listened to the entirety of The Black Parade while cleaning my room. It was good background noise, something that I could listen to but not need to focus on because it was new. I remember finding the time that Blood played (1 minute 30 seconds, a discovery that brought me much pride). After that, I put My Chemical Romance to the back of my mind, where I was aware but not truly into it, and wouldn't pick it up fully until early November of 2019, shortly after the reunion.

I can remember the reason why, too. I had, by that point, met Joey and remade my Tumblr to get away from the toxic online situation I had found myself in, and I found a post that said that MCR had gotten back together. I told one of my closer friends this, and their response was along the lines of "Why does that matter?".

The sudden turning down of what I had said sent me into a minor spiral. Why does it matter? Why do they matter to me?

I went back to the first song I ever heard, and it made more sense to me. I ended up playing I'm Not Okay (I Promise) for three days straight, before venturing into the rest of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge.

My journey from there was much more intense and streamlined than before. I listened to Danger Days next, and loved the more synth-pop sound and vocal performance (especially as a vocalist). From there, I listened to The Black Parade, and found that, of all the albums I had heard in my life, that was the one that fit my emotional state the best.

It went stagnant, and I wouldn't gain the confidence to listen to Desert Song or I Brought You My Bullets until a month after March 2020, when I started to make some of the most influential and closest friends I will ever have in my life.

Quarantine was what started my deep dive into the My Chem fandom, leading to one very important Tumblr post. I had made a fun post talking about a theoretical coming-of-age school drama TV show without the bad tropes based around the music video of I'm Not Okay (I Promise). My good and wonderfully talented friend Grody said that they were interested, and thus started a very fun writing project.

I won't speak on it long, it's not that important to the overall story, but the I'm Not Okay Projekt was the most fun and innovative writing project I have ever had.

I stopped listening to My Chemical Romance somewhere near the end of 2021. I don't remember why, it just happened, but it does bring me to today.

This past week I've been listening back to most of the MCR discography. I say most because I had been putting off I'm Not Okay (I Promise) because I didn't know how I would react to hearing the song that saved me from living in such isolation, a state where I probably would have ended up dead.

Today I listened to it.

I listened to it through headphones one of my best friends gave me when I lost mine a few weeks ago, running to my first and only class of the day, knowing that afterwards I would be hanging out with my friends.

Listening to a song that resonated with me so strongly that it single-handedly changed the course of my life three years after the fact, in a completely different situation, with completely different context, it still has the emotional weight. Not the same kind of weight, but the same weight nonetheless.

Instead of the weight of isolation and self-hatred and the shittiness that is high school (and that was my sophomore year), it was the weight of an old friend. Still heavy and draped on my shoulders, but this time it was spread out. Warm. The sensation of nostalgia mixed with waking up on a winter day.

Maybe I'm not okay. Maybe I'm lying. Regardless, I am a better person because of the domino effect that this song started.

[renaerys]

22. for reds 🤡

This is 100% not what you asked for (yet...👀), but I give you part 1 of what we're calling the Weird King AU. I'm turning this into a proper multi-chapter High School fic because I love you and I'd jump on any bandwagon for you.

xxx

Like most young, conventionally attractive Supervillains, Brick had made a bit of a habit of failing upwards. It was pretty easy in a town full of simpering morons content to project their own narrative assumptions onto him, and who was he to crush their dreams when they made his life a little easier?

For example, dating.

“You can tell me, you know.” His cute date, Tracy, sipped her milkshake across from him.

“Tell you what?”

She softened and reached her hand across the table. “Your tragic backstory. I’ll listen without judgment, I promise.”

Brick tried to think of something tragic, but it all seemed pretty underwhelming as far as Supervillain origin stories went. “You mean like how I was born in a toilet?”

She made an oh shape with her lips. “We all have those days where we feel like we were born in a toilet, Brick.”

He’d dated Tracy for three months before she broke up with him out of the blue in tears: sorry she couldn’t fix his baggage, she just wasn’t strong enough to handle all that tortured darkness, but she wished him nothing but health and happiness. Brick deleted her number from his phone and spent twenty whole minutes staring at the toilet in his bathroom, wondering what the lesson here was.

But everything changed when Mojo got out of prison and moved Brick and his brothers back to Townsville, where he enrolled them in the local high school alongside their former arch nemeses, the Powerpuff Girls.

Suddenly, everything Brick did pre-supposed ill intent. These people remembered him as the pest who had graffitied their local monuments and blown up their cars and endangered their children. They held no love for him, and at best they feared him. This was not Citiesville, where he’d been a tall, cold glass of Voss water in a sea of recycled Dasani.

He found himself thinking about his birthing toilet again as he stepped into the cafeteria alone and the conversation quieted down as his new classmates watched him from the safety of their tables. His next moves here were critical. He was no longer at the top of the food chain, but fear and mystery surrounding his origins and character gave him a certain power over his peers.

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of social suicide, I will fear no cringe,” he said to himself.

The jocks were out. Capable though he may be, Brick was not much of a team player unless there was a blood contract involved requiring his participation on pain of satanic torture. The drama kids were also a hard pass, not because he thought drama was lame, but because they had barely noticed him walk in, and Brick did not have the energy to deal with people more self-involved than himself. Some of the unaffiliated tables could be safe, but without a good understanding of the nuanced social dynamics in the high school, he could be heading toward irreversible doom, and that was a risk he was not willing to take.

He saw his salvation just ahead. It was the only option, all else being equal. In an environment where he couldn’t be certain of his baseline status and potential for upward mobility, there was greatness to be had only by association and certainty only in the devil he knew.

Brick helped himself to the empty seat directly across from Blossom Utonium to a chorus of gasps and staring.

Blossom did not startle like her table mates had. She watched him critically behind a head full of bangs as she balanced her soup spoon in her hand. “Really.”

Brick unwrapped the burrito he’d purchased in the lunch line and brandished it before him. “Really.”

He took a bite of the burrito. It was not hot enough. The two girls to Blossom’s left whispered to each other about that bad boy and he’s hot, though.

Blossom daintily spooned soup into her mouth without spilling a single drop as she continued to watch Brick for signs of his imminent dark side transformation.

The guy next to Brick was brave enough to ask him what his next class was. Brick had a mouth full of disappointing burrito, so he passed the guy the printout of his class schedule in lieu of answering.

“Wow, all APs, huh? Hey, we’re in U.S. History together next period, nice. I’m Mike Believe, by the way. Brick Jojo, right?”

Brick didn’t answer him immediately on account of the burrito currently occupying his mouth hole, and Mike took it the wrong way.

“Oh, yeah, we all know who you are. Blossom sort of filled us in.” He winced like he’d inadvertently revealed a terrible secret.

Brick swallowed his food and washed it down with a gulp of water. “Saves me some time.”

Mike looked super relieved. “For sure! Hey, I could lend you my notes if you want to catch up. Gershwin’s giving a quiz on the Progressive Era on Friday, and she’s a hard-ass who definitely won’t care that you just transferred…”

Brick chewed on his lunch as Mike continued to talk at him about classes and other vaguely helpful, albeit uninteresting, information. But Mike seemed normal enough, a little chatty but not in an overeager sort of way. Blossom was no longer clocking his every move and seemed to be absorbed in her friend’s latest swim team cheating scandal, until Brick reached for his water bottle and she suddenly laser-focused on his wandering hand.

Her keen attention to him was honestly flattering, if expected. It was in his nature to be noticed, and in this narrow respect she was no different from anyone else whose head he turned. If she chose to feed her interest with the flames of suspicion, then it was no difference to him.

But if she was anything like him—and on a chemical level she was probably the closest to him that a person could get—he suspected it took tremendous effort to hold her full and sustained attention. The world they inhabited was as vapid and mundane as the humans that surrounded them, and even the most gracious of gods grew bored of worship. Which explained all the smiting and fucking and generational curses upon entire households in everything from Greek mythology to the Old Testament.

Brick was pretty deep into a fantasy of Blossom going full Ixion and the Wheel on the swim team when Mike tapped his shoulder. “You ready to go?”

It took him a moment to realize the bell had rung and he had a class to get to—AP U.S. History with Mike, apparently. Brick gathered his tray and his bag and followed Mike. When he looked back at the table, Blossom was already gone.

xxx

That whole first week was painfully boring. No one bullied him, or pranked him, or picked a fight with him, of course. But no one really approached him, either. His brothers were more determined to make an effort. Boomer announced he was trying out for the soccer team because there was no rule saying a Super with extremely well documented ties to active criminals and the forces of Hell couldn’t kick a ball around a field. Butch had gotten himself invited to a midnight screening of Snakes on a Plane in some rich kid’s home movie theater, but only after that same kid had accidentally spilled milk on Butch and burst into tears in front of a cafeteria full of Juniors and Seniors. Brick declined the invitation Butch extended to him. He had that AP U.S. History exam to study for on Friday, anyway.

He shared all of his classes with Blossom. Even in the classes where her assigned seat was behind his and he couldn’t see her, he could feel her lobotomizing stare at the back of his head whenever she glanced up from her notebook. And while Mike’s notes were perfectly adequate and the friendly gesture counted for more than the content (a gesture Brick would not soon forget), there was a far more efficient way to accomplish his goal of murdering the class averages while also taking the edge off his loner doldrums.

“Can I borrow your class notes?”

Blossom rose from her seat and pulled her hair tie out to re-do her extremely long ponytail. She held the elastic between her teeth as she worked. Her teeth were very straight, he noticed. Some pretty nice girl-teeth, generally speaking.

“Which class?”

“All of them.”

He watched her wind the elastic around her hair with quick, adroit fingers. “That’s a lot of notes.”

“You’re the top of every class. No point in asking anyone else.”

She moved toward the hall. He followed her out. “Why would I help you?”

A legitimate question delivered without venom. Unlike her sister Buttercup, who’d “run into” Brick after school on Monday and told him to watch his back, Blossom didn’t have to do anything but maintain a general proximity to make her superiority complex known. Which was the kind of flex he could fuck with.

“Isn’t helping people sort of your mandate?”

They had arrived at her locker, which she opened with enough force to rattle the hinges. “I help the helpless. Are you helpless, Brick?”

Brick smiled at her baiting. Had she ever actually said his name at a normal volume before? It sounded good even in her baseline bitch timbre. “Critically helpless. I’m the new student who transferred in the middle of the semester, and you’re the only person who knows me.”

A couple other students clearly trying to get to the lockers Brick was blocking hovered just out of reach. They whispered to each other, but neither of them actually worked up the courage to ask Brick to move. He ignored them.

Blossom rummaged in her locker for the binder she would need for the next class. “Make friends.”

“Working on it.”

The locker door slammed and she faced him. There was something confrontational in the way she held herself before him that kicked him in the nuts back in time thirteen years to their more uncouth days when all he wanted to do was destroy her so he’d be the only one. Now they were older and wiser and he actually did need her notes to study, so destroying her was not high on his list of priorities.

“You want to be my friend.”

“We have so much in common.”

“So do lions and hyenas.”

“Both are apex predators, so.”

She took a step closer and peered up at him. Brick did not move, although he wondered what was so interesting about his face. She probably just thought he was hot. She was probably as bored as he was. She probably—

“You have lettuce in your teeth.”

Brick pulled back and covered his mouth on instinct. God fucking damnit.

Blossom was already walking away from him by the time he’d picked the food from his teeth. “I’ll expect my notes back in mint condition before first period tomorrow morning.”

Brick pressed a fist against the lockers and quietly fumed. “Dumbass…”

“Um, sorry, but do you mind…?”

The student who’d been waiting for her locker space to clear up had her palms up as if to assuage a feral stray. Brick pushed off the lockers, but his fist left a dent where he’d unleashed some of his impotent self-pity. He looked back at the girl, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine! It, uh, it happens sometimes.” She pointed a couple lockers down to Blossom’s, which was dinged up worse than the others.

Brick stared at Blossom’s locker, and then back at the girl. Her narrow, dark eyes were wide, but not out of fear. She was waiting for something, and like an idiot it took him a moment to catch up. “You’re trying to make me feel better about fucking up your locker.”

She laughed nervously. “I mean, it’s really fine! You just looked so miserable for a second there, and I just thought…”

Great, he was moping so hard he had an audience.

The five minute warning bell rang, and a flood of students rushed past them on their way to fourth period. Brick stepped aside so the girl could get to her locker.

“Hey, you’re the new guy, right?”

The new guy, yeah. How quaint. Except, she was waiting for a response, which wasn’t the absolute worst thing that had happened to him all week.

“Brick,” he said. But of course, she already knew that, and she was just being nice.

“I’m Kim. Kim Chan.”

“Okay.” He didn’t have anything else to say to her, so he decided to get his shit and get to his next class.

“Welcome back to Townsville, Brick.”

Brick shoved his hands in his pockets and stalked off. It didn’t occur to him until later that Kim was the first and only person who had properly welcomed him back home.

[got-svt]

all the boys you’ve loved and lost during the course of our lives, we meet thousands of people, creating either a seconds long moment or memories that last a lifetime. some of them you’ll have the opportunity to know beyond their names and faces, some you may even grow to love. unfortunately, not all of them have the luxury of staying in your life forever.

❥• two: the academic rival 

he’s the one that had you wondering how could you be so similar to someone, yet so different? he knew how to push your buttons and make a competition of everything, whether it was sports, academics or extracurriculars. he was the one that made steam come out of your ears and blood rush to your cheeks. but even you had to admit there was a certain rush that came with it, too bad he transferred schools just before senior year.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to ??? word count: 2292

→   you genuinely thought the universe had it out for you when you were placed in the same year level as yoon jeonghan, more so when it placed you in the same class. you first caught sight of jeonghan in your first year of middle school. he was the boy seated three seats behind you. he seemed unassuming at first, somewhat quiet, and — dare you say it — nice and sweet, angelic almost. he only conversed with the other boys that sat near him, not sparing a glance to most. however, it wasn’t until a few years later, when you both started high school that you learned his true personality.

→   it was no secret that you studied hard, spending hours in the library, sacrificing nights of sleep. the results of your hard work showed very clearly in classes, on the nearly perfect marks on each of your exams and essays, how the teacher praised your answers during recitation. you relished in the gold stars, the awards, the quiet envy of your classmates.

→   you had never seen jeonghan open a single book, let alone actually read it. there was not a single time you saw him set foot inside a library. multiple times you’ve caught him answering homework minutes before the teacher walks in the room. which is why your blood boiled when you saw he was getting scores just as good as yours, finishing exams before anyone else in the classroom, his hand shooting up just as soon as yours when teachers call for someone to answer their question. eventually, you both gave up raising your hands altogether, competing to be the one to get an answer out first.

→   you wished he remained that quiet kid in middle school, who only stared at you with wide eyes when the teacher announced you had been the only one in your class to get a perfect score, who acknowledged your existence with a small nod instead of a smirk. 

→  unbeknownst to you, your little rivalry was slightly one sided. you see, jeonghan didn’t care much about winning or losing. truly he didn’t mind much if you had gotten the higher score, or be the one to answer the teacher’s question first. but god, did he enjoy seeing the way your eyebrow furrowed when he did, how you bottom lip forms into a little pout, how you gripped your pen so hard he was afraid it would snap. he still remembered the first time it happened, the birth of your so called rivalry, when he corrected your answer to the class first day of freshman year. since then, you had always been determined to one-up him every chance you got. much to your dismay, he was not one to back down.

→   and unfortunately for you, academics was not the only place you and jeonghan seemed to compete in. while you were in the swimming team, he played on the soccer team. you even had a small notepad to keep tallies of whose team was winning more games. 

“nervous, yn?” jeonghan asked, coming up to you as you were about to prepare for a race. if anyone else had heard him ask, they’d think he was concerned. but you knew this was only the beginning of him getting you riled up. jeonghan had never missed a single one of your swim meets, each time he comes over to you before the competition would even begin. 

“not a chance.” you rolled your eyes, waving a hand to shoo him away to the stands. but he showed no signs of leaving, his feet firmly on the tiled floor of the rec center.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at your show of unwavering confidence, but he knew in the way your voice slightly trembled that you were not as assured as you presented yourself to be. fortunately, he knew exactly what to do to rid you of your nerves. “we won our game today, so it must be exhausting for you, huh?”

“what is?”  

he grinned, knowing the exact words to say to get your blood pumping just before a competition, “living in my shadow all the time.”

“if anything, you’re the one who’s living in mine.” you scoffed, more fired up than ever, determined to prove him wrong. suddenly, you couldn’t wait to get into the water, “i’m leaving now.”

“good luck, yn!” jeonghan called out with a smile, only to be met with a wave of your hand — you didn’t turn back for he would only see the blush that slowly formed on your cheeks. still it was more than enough for him as he looked for a seat in the stands with a soft smile. occasionally, he would send you a wink when his gaze met yours — though you only rolled your eyes at him when he did. 

and despite the fact that you seemed to be annoyed at his presence during your competitions, jeonghan always cheered you on, his voice clear and resounding even as you swam underwater.

→   but rarely were the two of you ever actively pitted directly against one another. you were always in the same class, and on the same team during activities that teachers found it somewhat remarkable that both of you were still able to find a way to compete against each other. it was always who could be the one to lead their team to victory, who contributed more points, who their own teammates liked better. 

→   it wasn’t until your phys ed teacher decided to make her two star pupils team captains in a friendly game of dodgeball that you were actually engaged in a direct, head-to-head competition.

“you totally cheated!” you yelled out as soon as the whistle was blown, signalling the end of the game. eyes ablaze with irritation and frustration, you pointed a single finger at jeonghan, recalling how you saw the ball lightly graze jeonghan’s leg but he made no attempt in leaving the court.

“i did not.” he held his hands up in mock defense, but a smile was on his face as he took in your angrily shaking figure. jeonghan wanted to burst out laughing, not even the least bit threatened or afraid as you stomped your way over to him. “my team just happened to be better than yours.”

you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, it didn’t matter how, you just desperately wanted to. your steps got longer and quicker at his words, cheeks flaming up both from being out of breath from playing and anger. your teammates swore they saw steam come out of your ears. “how dare you!”

your phys ed teacher stopped you just as you were about a couple of feet away from only lightly shoving jeonghan — you weren’t actually going to hurt him. grabbing you by your shoulders, she asked you to calm down and join your teammates in cleaning up the equipment, the agreed upon punishment for the game’s losers. 

but jeonghan wasn’t done with you yet, staying behind as his teammates went straight to the showers, “hey, yn.”

“what do you want?” you asked with a frown, not in the mood to hear him flaunting his win so soon. 

“maybe i did cheat.” he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

your eyes went wide, feeling somewhat proud that your suspicions were correct. but as you were about to open your mouth to retort, he leaned down so his face was level with and merely inches away from yours. you never fully noticed how good he looked, even though he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking down his forehead. with a confident smile and a quiet whisper, “but i don’t think anyone’s going to believe you.”

“bye, yn!” he moved away and leaves the gym before you could even reply. but you weren’t even mad, more confused than anything else, remembering how close his face was to yours and how quickly your heart started beating because of it. 

→  since the dodgeball incident that had you nearly injuring both yourself and jeonghan, most of your teachers decided that it would be best to keep you two on the same side as it would probably be the best way to keep you two from fighting. they also knew of the incredible potential you and jeonghan could hold if you actually worked together. you both were incredibly smart, talented, and resourceful. whatever you lacked, jeonghan made up for and vice versa. 

→  which is probably why your english teacher decided to pair you up for your final project during your junior year of high school. both of you thought it was unfair, since everyone else got to choose their partners. the rest of your class thought it was unfair too, why did you pair up two of the smartest kids in their year? but they were also kind of interested to see what the both of you could come up with.

→   this is how you found yourself in the library, working with yoon jeonghan of all people. you would’ve much rather be paired up with the girl that sat next to you — she was quiet, but sweet. you’d rather even be paired up with your childhood friend, chan. but he was not in the same class and you hadn’t been speaking much lately. so you’d have to make do with jeonghan.

“i’m tired, i’m taking a nap.” jeonghan yawned, stretching his arms out to further prove his point. 

“we’ve barely started.”

“and yet i’m already bored.” he sighed dramatically, making a show of hitting his head on the table with a quiet thud. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” you didn’t bother looking up from your book, knowing that seeing his disinterested face would only put you in a bad mood. 

his eyes light up at your question, thinking that you were actually asking him for a suggestion, “let’s go for a drive.”

“what? no—” was this boy serious? you had another class in thirty minutes, where would you even go?

jeonghan groaned, cutting off your words and your train of thought, “live a little, yn. not everything’s about being number one. you can miss one class.”

you told him that if he wanted you out of the library, he’d have to drag you out kicking and screaming. which is exactly what he did, much to the amusement of your fellow students and even the librarian. now, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, aimlessly driving around town — you were sure you passed the same tree four times. still, you found the drive somewhat relaxing; especially since you two weren’t arguing. 

but it was much too quiet for jeonghan’s liking. you were just staring out the window, arms crossed. he feared that he’d done something wrong. “hey, yn.”

“what?”

jeonghan chewed on his bottom lip, gripping the steering wheel tighter than he intended, “you don’t hate me, do you?”

you laughed at his nervousness. truth be told, you needed a bit of a break, so you couldn’t be too mad at him for taking you out of that stuffy library. you also knew he was asking for your opinion on him beyond this little trip. “on the contrary, i like that you keep me on my toes.”

jeonghan grinned, turning his gaze on you for the quickest of moments, “so you should be thanking me instead of grumbling in the passenger seat.”

you spent the rest of the afternoon talking, learning more about the other outside sports and academics. you were surprised at how much you had in common and he enjoyed the intense debates you had on your differences.

→  that was the car ride that changed your relationship from rivals to reluctant friends. though you were never really rivals to jeonghan to begin with. arguments became few and far in between. your cheeks tinting pink less out of frustration and more out of being flustered as he became as  flirty as he was teasing. 

→  unfortunately, he would be transferring schools the following year, just as you started to see him as more than a rival or a friend. 

→  and you didn’t find out about it until the first day of your senior year.

“wait, where’s jeonghan?” you asked your friend, noticing the lack of his usual teasing voice greeting you in the morning.

“didn’t he tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“he transferred schools yn.”

❥•  jeonghan knew he’d be transferring schools months before he even took you on that drive. he also knew he had grown feelings for you much before that. but with his father’s job needing them to relocate halfway across the country, he couldn’t find it in himself to confess. not when he knew he eventually would have to leave you. so when you bombarded his phone with texts, demanding that he explain why he couldn’t notify you of his move, all he could offer was an apology and another text telling you to check the last page of your english notebook.

you huffed as you looked down at your phone, that was all he had to say to you? after acting like he wasn’t just about to pack his bags and leave town for months on end.

still, you shook your head as you went to your closet, picking up the box where you kept your past notebooks. you shuffled past your science, math, art notebooks to find the one you used for english — still as neat and organized as you remember it to be. you flipped the notebook to its final page.

a quiet gasp escapes your lips as you read the words that were unmistakably in jeonghan’s handwriting,

don’t forget to live a little :) and don’t forget about me either. 

seventeen as all the boys you’ve loved and lost. next  ➤  vernon chwe, the first love

taglist: @t-secretpot @serenadesvt @chuu-soulmate​

ask/message to be part of the taglist <33

[sisterofsomeone]

Happy Birthday Noya

- Yu Nishinoya x fem reader, no warnings, fluffy and cute! Small references to making babies but nothing detailed, enjoy!

———————

“Noya?” You said tugging on the older boy’s shirt.

“Yeah y/n?”

“Do you really mean it? Like, pinky promise mean it?” He laughed and ruffled your hair.

“Of course I mean it! I’ll marry you when we’re all grown up and we’ll have a proper family together. We’ll have a big house and loads of animals and we can travel together and laugh and dance all the time!” He clasped your smaller hands in his and locked your gaze. His eyes sparkled and your heart sped up in your chest.

“I’ll be with you forever y/n!”

———————

That was ten years ago now and you hadn’t spoken to the libero in almost three years. He was a year your senior in school, and when he’d moved from junior high to high school his devotion to volleyball and his beloved Kiyoko drew his attention away from you for long enough that you just dissolved from his view. You weren’t close anymore, and he’d stopped proposing marriage to you when he’d turned twelve and learnt how babies were made, suddenly the promise of having children with you one day was a bit too much for his brain to handle. You’d promised yourself that you would move on too like he had, but no one could ever hold a candle to your Noya.

“Y/n!” Your best friend Yachi was waving her hand in your face as you gazed out of the window in a day dream. You were abruptly brought back to reality as she giggled softly.

“God you are all over the place today! What’s up?” She seemed concerned but masked it with a friendly smile.

“Nothing really, it’s just...” you sighed placing your chin in your hand and leaning on the table in front of you.

“I didn’t realise Nishinoya’s birthday affected you this much y/n.” Just hearing his name sent tears to your eyes, and you tried to blink them away before Yachi saw but it was no use.

“Oh y/n, you really miss him don’t you?” That’s all it took for you to break down at your desk. You really did miss that boy. Yachi pulled you to the girls toilet by your classroom and helped wipe your tears away and blot away the redness from your cheeks. You were thankful to have her in your life. She was the only one who knew about your past with him and the only one who’d you’d felt comfortable enough with to confide in about your love for Noya.

“You could always come to practise tonight and see him again?” She kept trying to get you to go to practise with her after school ever since she became the club manager. You’d met some of the first years, namely Kageyama and Hinata, but you would just feel way too awkward.

“No that’s such a bad idea. One, I have no reason to be there, and two he wouldn’t even remember me.” She scoffed at you and rolled her eyes.

“I can say you’re waiting for me because we have a project or we’re walking home together, and he’ll totally remember you. You’re gonna get married remember?” She teased, poking you in the sides until you let a giggle escape your lips. You tried pushing her hands away but it was no use, she’d gotten you to laugh so loudly that a teacher had to come in and tell you two to shut it and get back to class. You did as you were told, and both hurried back to class, but not before Yachi got you to promise to go to practise with her after school.

———————

You knew this was a bad idea, and that was only reinforced when Yachi pulled you into the gym and had all the players greet you. You smiled and said hi back but it was obvious you were uncomfortable. In the end though they didn’t even ask why you were there and the coach didn’t seem to mind so you just took a seat on the edge of the bench and watched.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Noya, you hadn’t even been able to say hi to him when you’d walked in behind Yachi, not that he’d even came over to say hi anyway. You were fiddling with your hands when you heard a familiar voice shouting your name.

“Y/n! Hey!” You looked to see Hinata waving at you as he rushed in late to practise.

“What are you doing here?” He offered you a smile and you gave him one right back.

“O-oh, I’m just waiting for Yachi. I’m staying at hers tonight.” He nodded and waved to Yachi.

“That’s cool! You said hey to Noya yet? I’m sure-“ He was interrupted by a volleyball to the back of the head and an icy glare from Asahi, silently telling him to back off. You went a little pale when he said Noya’s name but tried to act as calmly as possible. He ran off, throwing an apology Noya’s way and just shrugged at Kageyama when he asked him how he was so stupid. Yachi nudged you and smiled.

“Nishinoya is blushing right now.” You dared a peak over at the boy and sure enough he was. Kiyoko was slightly giggling beside you and there was an air of nervousness flowing through the boys. You felt as though just being there was making things way too tense, so you made an excuse and left despite Yachi begging you not to.

Stepping outside into the cold fresh air of October was relaxing. You’d always liked the colder months, being able to wrap yourself in layer upon layer. It was also an excuse to bring out the old scarf Noya gave you as a present when you two were younger.

“You still have that old thing?”

You were frozen in place, your hand reaching up to the scarf around your neck.

“Wow, I’m impressed. Thought you would have thrown that out years ago.” He chuckled next to you, the sound sending you hurtling back to your childhood together.

“Hey Noya.” It came out as barely a whisper, but he heard you.

“Been a while, hasn’t it?” He was fidgeting next to you, obviously uncomfortable with your presence.

“Look I’m so sorry for coming I-“ you stopped talking when you turned to face him and saw the rosey blush dusting his cheeks and the smile playing on his lips.

“Happy birthday.” He looked startled for a second, but his eyes softened into your gaze.

“You remembered?” Nodding eagerly you smiled back at him.

“I always remember, every year.” He let out a sigh and dropped his gaze to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.

“I’m really sorry for disappearing on you y/n. I shouldn’t have left you like that.”

“Oh, thanks. I mean, you were growing up and needed space. I get that.”

“But I didn’t want space from you. I still don’t. I just thought...” he sighed and kicked the ground again, his voice shaken.

“I thought you’d be happier with your friends in your own year. That I wasn’t fun for you anymore, that you didn’t enjoy my company.” In that moment you realised he hadn’t dropped you because he’d moved on, but the opposite. He’d felt that he wasn’t good enough for you.

“Noya.” Your voice was louder this time, but soft and warm. He raised his eyes back up to meet yours. The soft hazel seemingly melting under your gaze.

“How could I hate the company of the man I’m gonna marry?” You smiled at this, a playful lilt in your words. He blushed at you and a smile broke out across his whole face.

“To be honest y/n, when I found out how babies were made I kind of freaked out.” He playfully joked back, but there was a sense of vulnerability to him.

“Oh god, don’t remind me! When I found out my dad wouldn’t stop going on about how ‘Noya will never do that to his baby girl’” you laughed placing a hand on his arm for support. This was nice.

“Your dad actually asked me to stop talking about marrying you, you know? Said I was gonna stop you from living your life.” Your laughter stopped and you looked up at the libero. “He said I wouldn’t let you meet new people if I kept telling you that we were gonna get married, that you would get too attached and wouldn’t make choices for yourself.”

“He what?” Your voice was harsher now, the anger prevalent in your tone.

“He was just trying to protect you y/n, that’s all.” He raised an eyebrow at your sudden outburst and you felt silly all of a sudden.

“But, if he hadn’t of told me to back off, I’m sure I would have brought you a ring by now.” This caught you totally off guard. Noya had always joked about buying you an engagement ring, but the way he was saying it now you could tell there was no way he was joking.

“I really miss you y/n. I’m still up for marrying you, if you’ll have me?” You blinked at him, his cheeks now burning red and his ears turning a deep shade of pink. This was really happening.

You let out a soft hum and pretended to be lost in thought for a moment before placing a swift kiss on his cheek. His hand flew up to the spot and he stared at you with a mix of bewilderment and pure joy.

“Maybe we should go on a date first before we start picking out the baby names?” He smiled at this and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“I’m so okay with that y/n.” He leant in, his nose brushing against yours, silently asking for your permission. You nodded and his lips met yours. He was much softer and calmer than you’d imagined, but it still set fireworks off in your brain. He pulled back after a few moments, his smile wide and eyes sparkling like they did all those years ago.

“You promise you want me? Like pinky promise mean it?” He pulled you impossibly closer to his chest and kissed you again, and that’s exactly the response you needed to calm your nerves.

[cinanamon]

lies against your lips ⁠— njm

pairing | jaemin x reader

genre | angst, suggestive, (slight) fluff, badboy!au, exes!au, high school!au

word count | 12.1K

synopsis | He was your ex. You broke it off a year before, and it didn’t end on a very good note. Now he seemed that he was ready to reintroduce himself into your life, but you weren’t going to let him in so easily again, not after what he put you through.

warnings | cursing, drinking, smoking, bad homelife, romanticization, mentions of cheating, possessiveness. do not accept this kind of behavior from anyone irl

The minute you turned off the car, all of the doors opened and the girls scrambled out with shouts of gratitude directed your way before the doors closed again. You rolled your eyes and waved them off as you picked up your bag and stepped out into the parking lot. The rising sun peeked at you over the roof of the school building, and you instantly winced as you dropped your head to avoid the bright glare. It was way too bright for the headache you were sporting right now, though it was nice of the sun to wish you a good morning.

You shut your car door with a thud and locked it before heading towards the front entrance. Teenagers mingled around you until you found yourself surrounded by groups on either side as you started down the hallway, and though your lips twitched downwards at the loud volume they conversed in, you made sure to smile at anyone who greeted you. Your surroundings seemed to blend much like your muddled thoughts as you finally made it to your first class, where you plopped down beside a boy named Jisung. 

You were a year older than him, but you had sat beside him since the beginning of the year, so you had never thought of or seen him differently compared to the others at your table. Apparently, Jisung was part of a group of troublemakers, but no matter how much you scrutinized him, you couldn’t imagine it. The boy had bright blue hair at the beginning of the year for Christ’s sake, and he looked more like a blueberry than some e-boy.

And with how he talked to you and even gushed about Animal Crossing once with bright eyes, you concluded that he was just a nice kid who might potentially hang out with bad influences, if the rumor was true. 

You leaned back with a sigh and settled your bag down beside your chair after pulling out your notebook. Eyeing the strawberry milk carton on his desk enviously, a snort jerks your gaze towards the boy. With his quirked brow and the smirk stretched across his lips, it’s obvious he caught your stare.

“Do you want one?”

You perked up instantly, your headache retreating slightly at the offer. “Do you have another?”

“Yeah,” Jisung began to rummage through his backpack, his hand resurfacing with another carton in its grasp, “Me and my friend went to the convenience store before school this morning, and I grabbed an extra.” He met your eye for a second as if to size you up teasingly. “You look like you need it more than me though.”

Your mouth twisted into a scowl but he must have known it was playful, for he laughed shortly and placed it on your desk. Your expression simmered into a smile and you punched his shoulder lightly. “Thank you, Jisung.” 

He smiled at you kindly and inclined his head—yeah, this kid was definitely too sweet to be a “bad boy”. 

Class started and even though the milk brightened your mood, it didn’t necessarily do much to keep you awake. The headache began to creep back behind your eyelids as you fought off the sleep from them, and when class finally ended, the bell seemed to increase the intensity of the ache in your skull. You began to pack up your things and with a grimace disguised as a smile, you waved off Jisung before heading to your next class. 

When that class ended and you found yourself with barely a page of notes due to your terrible headache still, you finally sent a subtle text to one of your friends you drove that morning that you needed an Ibuprofen stat, and to meet you in the stairwell off the English hall. 

As you left the classroom and started down the hall, you instinctively placed a hand against your temple to nurse the ache throbbing beneath it. With gritted teeth, you tried to ignore it as you stepped into the staircase alcove.

You swung yourself up onto the first couple steps without much of a thought, and you glanced down at your phone to check how much time you had left before the bell. Apparently someone else wasn’t looking where they were going either because you bumped into someone coming down and nearly dropped your phone. You caught it in a hurry and looked up to apologize before your voice died in your throat. 

It wasn’t so much someone not looking where they were going, but rather someone wanting you to bump into them.

And that person, my dear friend, was none other than Na fucking Jaemin. 

His eyes were widened in surprise, but the growing smirk on his face told you it wasn’t quite genuine. His hair was messy and his collar was askew, and the bags under his eyes gave away that he was a little worse for wear. Damn him, though, because he still managed to look hot. 

“(Y/n), it’s been a while; how are you?” 

And to think you thought your headache couldn’t get any worse.

“Fine.” You attempted a smile as you tried to dodge to the side, but he cut you off with a side step. 

“Not so fast,” he hummed, and you were wary of the pretty curvature of his lips as he looked at you, like he was a wolf and you were his prey. “I didn’t know you were back in town.” 

“Yeah, we moved back; my dad got re-transferred.” You bounced on the balls of your feet with a strained smile. “Well, I have to get to class! See you.” 

You went to hop onto the step around him but his hand reached out and clasped around your wrist. You stumbled at the sudden stop in your movements and after re-steadying yourself, you turned back to look at him with a disbelieving scoff. He must have recognized that look, the one you’d give before scolding him a year ago, but he only smirked at you. 

He shot you his signature grin as he let his grip slip further into the palm of your hand, a poor attempt at mimicking holding your hand. “We should catch up sometime soon, now that you’re back.”

For a moment, you were charmed by his smile like you were when you first started dating. He was still attractive, still captivating, and you found yourself beginning to agree to his proposal. He must have noticed the softening of your features for his smile spread wider, but the new angle showed off a splotchy purple hickey on his neck; he must have kept busy since you’ve been gone. 

All of his bad qualities came rushing back to you at the sight—the parties, the alcohol, the flirting—and suddenly his facade of charm fell away to reveal the devil beneath it, and your stomach lurched at the memory.

Your expression hardened and you snatched your hand back from him. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to happen,” He blinked in surprise at your sudden firmness, and his expression almost made you want to smirk. “I don’t really want to see you anymore than I have to.” And with that, you turned on your heel and continued up the stairs the rest of the way. 

You found your friend there with a raised brow and ibuprofen curled in his palm, and the sight of it alone brought the pounding in your head back to the forefront of your thoughts. “You are a lifesaver.”

“I know,” Hendery chuckled, but as you reached for the pill, he jokingly lifted it above your head.

You leveled him with a warning look. “Don’t you dare make me climb you to get to that.” He laughed but succumbed and lowered his hand for you to grab the medicine.

While you searched your bag for your water bottle, he placed his hands in his pockets and studied you, “Was that Jaemin you were talking to?”

“Yeah, it was. Just my luck, right?” 

He clicked his tongue, “So now he knows you’re back.” 

You looked at him pointedly before downing the pill. “I told him I didn’t want to deal with him again, though.”

His eyebrows shot up and his smile widened, “That’s what I’m talking about!”

You only shook your head as you fell into step with him, but you couldn’t stop a bright smile from crawling across your face. He was the only one who could always do that, and you guess you were pretty happy you were able to stick it to your ex. 

“By the way,” Hendery perked up as if remembering something, “There’s a party this weekend, if you’re down? I know you’re not a fan, so it’s okay if you don’t want to.”

That was true; you preferred mellow movie nights to big house parties, but you weren’t a stranger to a bottle of beer. You pursed your lips; you missed your junior year here so this was your last year to indulge and change things up.

“Why not?” With a tilt of your head, you grinned at him. Hendery seemed pleasantly surprised as he bumped your shoulder. 

“Who are you and what have you done with (Y/n)?”

You laughed. “She’s here, just new and improved.” He gave you a few more details, even as you came to your classroom doors and your teachers looked at you disapprovingly for pushing it to the bell. You waved him off and ducked into your own classroom with a puffed out chest and a spring in your step.

— — —

The weekend rolled by quicker than you expected with all of your projects and essays piling up by the minute, and you almost regretted agreeing to go to the house party. And though you feigned exasperation on the phone to Hendery, a nervous kind of excitement bubbled in your stomach at the thought of going. 

At your other school, you didn’t really get out much. You had a large presence in your home town, and so the idea of having to make new friends all over again sounded like a hassle, so you just focused on your grades. You were there for an education, after all. But now that you were back, you were eager to re-liven your old popularity and mingle with more people. You wanted to have fun, and if that meant sucking it up and heading to a potentially-unsafe-party, then so be it.

Hendery was adamant on driving you so you guys had an excuse to leave, and the seats soon filled up with your other friends, Xiaojun and Yeji, who made it easy for a smile to split your face and confidence begin to rise. Time slipped by quickly when you were with them, and so by the time you arrived, the party was in full swing.

You all climbed out of the car and their conversation was drowned out by your heartbeat as you approached the house. The first thing your friends wanted to do was dance, as so you entertained them by swinging your hips and bobbing your head for a bit. It wasn’t long before you grew tired though, and an itch settled in your throat. 

You tapped Xiaojun’s shoulder. “I’m going to go get a drink; do you want anything?” You had to semi-shout for the blonde to hear you over the music, but he only shook his head.

“No, I’m good! I think we’ll come and get drinks in a little bit too.” 

You nodded at him and ducked to the side. Your eyes ran over the room in search of the kitchen, and you awkwardly stepped down a few hallways before you found the right door. You had barely stepped in and placed a hand on the refrigerator’s door before you heard a voice behind you. 

“I thought you didn’t like to party anymore.”

You jumped and your hand slipped off the handle as you looked over your shoulder. Jaemin’s eyes met yours and he smirked as if that would prompt you to answer. You rolled your eyes but you weren’t going to let him ruin your mood; you’d be civil until he gave you a reason not to be. 

With a shrug, you turned around fully, a smile crossing your lips. 

“Well, I’m trying to change things up—get back into the party scene.”

He quirked a brow at your response, “Well the night’s not complete without a drink, right? Let me get you one.” Before you could shake your head and tell him that you’d really just prefer water, he was already making his way to the cooler and pulling out two bottles. He came back to you and pressed one of the cold beers into your hand. You pursed your lips in distaste as you studied its contents, and Jaemin snorted as he popped the lid and took a swig of his own.

“Don’t lie to me and tell me you don’t drink either.” 

“No,” You shot him a look before dropping your gaze to fiddle with the cap. “I just haven’t in a while.” 

You stared into the golden liquid before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip. As you retracted the bottle, Jaemin was leaning against the counter watching you with a corner of his lips raised. You swiped your sleeve against your mouth and furrowed your brows warily. “What?”

“Nothing,” he adjusted his posture and shrugged nonchalantly, “I just have a bit more respect for you now.”

Your eyes narrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You were such a prude when we were together; I mean, you hated even seeing me with a bottle.”

“That’s because we were sophomores—” The beginning of your rant was cut off when you noticed your friends paused in the corridor, their jaws dropped open. You wanted to roll your eyes to the high heavens as Yeji shot you a cheeky thumbs up. Jaemin glanced behind you at them when he noticed your exasperation, and he cleared his throat.

Jaemin pushed off from the counter in a fluid motion, his hand easily snatching up the beer as he straightened. “Do you want to go to the backyard?” You hummed questioningly, snapping your gaze back to him. He inclined his head towards the back of the house, “They’re having a little campfire—do you want to go sit down?”

Your friends became a distant thought as you found yourself nodding and almost subconsciously, his hand slipped into yours as he led you out. Old habits die hard, you guess. He reached his hand into a bowl of suckers on the way out, curiously, before pulling out one and stuffing it in his pocket. You watched your conjoined hands blankly as he slid open the door and brought you down the stairs, where you finally settled on a stone wall separating the firepit from the garden. 

You awkwardly set the beer bottle between your legs as you settled down beside Jaemin, who was unfurling the wrapper of the lollipop he snagged. The warmth of the fire curled around your legs even with the distance between you, and the heat climbed its way up your body. Jaemin was quiet as he watched the other partygoers, the lollipop bobbing side to side in his mouth. Looking at him now, you briefly wondered when the drinks in your hands had slowly changed from cherry iced colas to beer bottles, and the suckers in his hand became cigarettes.

He placed a hand on your thigh after a bit, and the heat from the fire took refuge under his palm as if his touch alone would burn through the skin; you jerked your leg away in shock, and you shot him a look out of the corner of your eye. 

He had yet to face you, and so you let your eyes wander over his features and settle on the lollipop stem. A lopsided smile crawled upon your lips.

“I haven’t seen you with one of those in a while.”

The sucker stopped moving in his mouth as his eyes snapped to yours. “What, do you want me to pull out a cigarette instead?”

“No!” He smirked good-naturally at your reaction and popped the sucker out of his mouth as he let his gaze fall back on the firepit. You tilted your head towards him curiously and kicked your legs back and forth against the wall. “Why are you so intent on talking to me again? If you’re anything like you were before I left, any of these girls are fair game.” 

Jaemin didn't reply right away; he pursed his lips and moved the sucker in a slow circle as he seemed to think, words beginning to form before he changed his mind. He placed the red lollipop back in his mouth. “They were never as good as you.”

You stared at him in surprise. What was that supposed to mean? As good of a kisser? As good of company? You darted your eyes over the way the light of the fire lit up his hair, reflected on the edges of his irises; why was he so damn unreadable? 

At a loss of what to say, you opted to bark out a laugh and shake your head. “Such honeyed words to win their hearts. Sometimes it's hard to remember even dating you.”

His lips twitched downwards and you almost missed his next words. “Oh I would disagree; I remember kissing you quite distinctly.” Jaemin glanced at you out of the corner of his vision, his eyes dragging along your jaw and over your lips until finally meeting your shocked gaze.

When you still sat in silence, his lips formed a light scowl that was quickly replaced by a confident, teasing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I have something for you.”

Words crumbled on your tongue and you fought to say something about what he was saying before, but nothing came to mind and so your response was swept to the new topic at hand. “What?” 

Without another word, he removed the red lollipop from his mouth and slipped it through your own parted lips. 

Instantly, your eyes widened and you choked, your hand flying up to grab at the stem. An angry flush crossed your face, and you stared at him incredulously as you waited for some kind of explanation, but his eyes only glimmered. “You asshole!” 

He laughed brightly, as if pissing you off was the highlight of his day. He winked cheekily, “It’s cherry flavored. Good, right? Or maybe you like it because it tastes like me—?” You abruptly cut off his question by jumping off the top of the wall and throwing him the middle finger with a glare, your beer bottle long forgotten on his other side. 

He was still laughing as you stormed back into the party and found your friends. Hendery was the first to notice you and he raised his brow, “What happened to sticking it to your ex?” 

You glared at him but chose not to answer, “Are you guys ready to head out? It’s getting late.”

“Party pooper,” Yeji mumbled, and in normal circumstances, you wouldn't have repressed the urge to grin.

“Yeah we can head out,” Xiaojun replied, “Where’d you get the sucker, though? I didn’t see them anywhere.” 

You didn’t realize you still had in it your mouth, toying at it with your tongue. Hastily, you pulled it out and coughed. “Ah, there was a bowl in the kitchen. Let’s just go.” You looked for the nearest trash can and disposed of it on your way out, and you didn’t look twice as it sunk to the bottom.

— — —

When you walked into school that next week, you weren’t in a good mood. You weren’t hungover at all because you only drank a little at the party, but the person you were with still plagued your mind, leaving you frustrated because he was the last person you wanted to be thinking about. 

You made it to your science class and gratefully sunk into your seat. You placed down your things and shut your eyes, hoping to rest for a few moments before your teacher walked in.

“Jaemin, huh?”

Forget that idea. 

Your eyes snapped open and you whirled around with a stinky eye to find Jisung’s smirking face, but he took on a jokingly defensive stance at your sour look. “Yikes, did I hit a nerve?”

You watched him unpack his things for a few seconds, and if you were in a better mood, you would have laughed at the return of the strawberry milk on his desk. Finally, you sighed, because you could never be mad at your boyish seatmate. “What do you mean?”

Jisung met your eye and raised a brow; he must have thought you were joking. When he realized you were serious, he plopped down in his seat curiously. “People are saying you’re dating again.”

“Where’d they get that idea?” You gaped. “We ended on a terrible note; I’d never do that again.”

Jisung quirked a brow at you. “Mhmm, sure. From what I’ve heard, you guys got cozy at a party this weekend.”

You rolled your eyes, “Not like that; can people not be friends with their exes anymore?” His blank look seemed to tell you no, no that wasn’t possible but you just sighed. “Why do you care anyways?” 

“He’s one of my closest friends.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You have a shitty taste in friends.”

“Well what does that say about you, then?” He smirked at you and bumped your pencils, “Jaemin’s not all that bad, you know. He’s just...hard to figure out. He makes things harder for himself.” 

You wanted to snort and tell him that Jaemin was pretty bad from when you knew him, but Jisung wasn’t the type to lie to you, so you paused. Maybe Jaemin had changed since you’d been gone. 

“How so?”

But before Jisung could elaborate on Jaemin’s behavior (what you’re trying so damn hard to figure out), your teacher finally came in. He gave you an apologetic look but you just sighed as you opened your notebook. 

The next two classes went by without a hitch—boring and yet managed to distract you with algebraic expressions and essay topics. You knew life couldn’t be perfect though, and so you accepted what life threw at you when Jaemin came your way during lunch, a dashing grin on his lips. He sat down beside you at the table, and you cursed that the two girls you sat with normally were making up a test they missed in math when they went on a band trip.

“Hello, baby,” You almost gagged on your sandwich and pressed a hand to your chest when he leaned in to kiss your temple. You frowned, and it was a stark contrast from the object of your damnation, a boy beaming at you with perfect pearly whites. 

“Knock it off,” you grumbled, glancing around the lunchroom to see a few wandering eyes. You leveled a pointed look at him, “Come to apologize for this weekend?”

Jaemin stared at you for a moment as if to register what you meant before he burst into a brilliant grin. “About the sucker? Not at all; it was a good flavor.”

You scoffed,“Bastard.”

“You were always the sweetest to me,” his eyes crinkled as he pretended to sigh dreamily, and you felt the sudden urge to pick up your lunch and leave.

“What do you want, Jaemin?”

He dropped the facade and titled his head your way. You stiffened slightly when the angle revealed a few new hickies along his collar, but you didn’t think it was your place to point them out. “People are saying we’re dating.”

“I heard,” you rolled your eyes and took another bite of your sandwich. “I don’t know why people are thinking that from us sitting together once.”

“It could’ve been the sucker,” Jaemin pointed out, but at your unamused look, his grin became cat-like—devious, and almost too friendly—as he leaned forward so his face was inches from yours. You did not like this at all.  “Well you know me, I can’t keep secrets.”

Your hands froze around your meal as you slowly drew your eyes up to his. “You did not try and tell the school that we’re back together.” He shrugged smugly and you scoffed as you pushed away from the lunch table and began to pack up your lunch. “It’s not happening.”

“Why not?” He was already following your lead, only a few steps behind you as you began to walk out of the cafeteria. 

You looked back at him over your shoulder in disbelief. “Do you not remember why we broke up? I can’t stand you sometimes, and you can’t stand me.”

“I think we’ve been rather friendly so far,” he teased, and you gasped when you felt his hand slip into your back pocket. You whirled around and slapped his arm harshly so he’d retract it, but it did little to wipe the smirk off his face. You scowled. 

“Cheeky little shit.”

“Come on,” He whined until you finally paused in the empty hallway. “Don’t you want to give it another try?”

You wanted to tell him quite frankly that no, you didn’t want to even entertain the idea, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say it because you weren’t sure if it was entirely true. You looked at him helplessly. “Why do you even want to?”

He blinked at you for a moment with parted lips, and your brows furrowed as you momentarily wondered if the question caught him off guard. He seemed to debate with himself before he quickly covered his second of pause by breaking into a charming leer. His expression simmered into one more serious as he brought his face close to yours, and his voice became softer, lower. “Because I miss the feeling of your lips on mine.” 

The inhale you took was sharp.

Jaemin has never been “trustworthy” by any standard definition; he’d broken countless girls’ and guys’ hearts, shared secrets that were meant to be kept in close confidence, brushed off warnings, and consistently left others hurt in his wake. So what’s to say that he was pulling your leg now? That he wasn’t serious, or that he’d turn around and cheat with some girl after he has you in his clutches again? You hesitated and searched his gaze for anything to grasp onto, but they were oddly guarded for someone who was usually so reckless.

“Y-you’re funny,” You scoffed, but your voice was strained, and you knew he knew it too. Quickly, you stepped out from under him, and it was as if a pressure lifted off your chest and you could breathe again. 

Jaemin had yet to move as you looked back at him. It seemed to prompt him to, and he straightened with a tight grin as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “I am known for my humor,” he joked, but it fell flat between you two. You both just stared at each other, and you desperately tried to find something to fix the silence in the air, the uncomfortable feeling stirring in your gut as you watched his face, but he seemed to put back on the mask of a smile.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch,” he tried again, his tone light. You waved him off; it wasn’t a big deal, and you didn’t think you could eat much more anyways. He nodded to himself and cleared his throat. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Jeno in a bit, but I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah. See you, Jaemin,” And you watched him walk off, but you felt a frown still tug at your lips at his lonesome figure. 

— — —

You jolted awake at a loud sound. Your face contorted in confusion as you lifted your head, and you winced when you felt a kink in your neck. Bringing a hand up to massage the back of your head, you realized you had fallen asleep at your desk. You cursed yourself as you shuffled through the sheets but you pursed your lips at the math problems in front of you. The variables were beginning to become jumbled together where you hardly even knew what the equation wanted. With a heavy sigh, you dropped your head into your arms; maybe you could take a shower and come back to it, though internally you already knew that wouldn’t do much to make the problems make sense. 

Just as you went to stand up, the loud noise from earlier resounded outside your house: a honk.

Your body straightened in alarm and you looked towards the front of your house in confusion. Hesitantly, you stood and made your way to the window to peek out of the curtains.

You squinted past the headlights to try and see who would be honking at you at damn near 11 o’clock, but your eyes widened when you saw the culprit. You slipped the blinds shut and hurried to your front door before flinging it open. 

He parked the car but when he must have noticed you weren’t coming out right away, he stepped out. He was awkwardly shuffling his feet when you stepped onto the porch. “Jaemin?” 

He perked up and turned to you with a bright smile. “(Y/n)!”

“What are you doing here?” You approached him in disbelief as you looked between him and his car. He smirked at you and tapped the side of his nose. 

“I wanted to apologize for the other day by interrupting your lunch; I want to take you to a party.”

A laugh escaped your lips. “You’re joking, right? It’s a school night! I have so much homework and it’s so late already—”

“So you don’t want to go?” 

You stared at him and weighed your options. You really needed to do that schoolwork, but you were so frazzled that you’d probably sit in front of the equation for the same amount of time you’d be partying. “I didn’t say that...but I don’t know if my parents would even let me.”

“If we leave now, they won’t even realize you’re heading out.”

“I’m sure they heard you honk,” You rolled your eyes, but your mind was already made up. If you got in trouble when you returned home, then you got in trouble, whatever; hopefully they’d take it easy on you since you didn’t break any rules while at the other school. “Just let me change real quick.”

You rushed back inside and changed into more party-appropriate clothing. You wrote a little note for your parents and left it on your sheet of homework before heading back to the front door in hope that you wouldn’t run into them to stop you. 

When you came back out, he peered at you through the front window, as if to silently question when you were going to hop in. You hurried to the passenger side, but there was a noticeable pause as you hesitated on opening the door.

This is stupid, you thought. You shouldn’t get in the car with people you don’t know or trust anymore. But you found yourself grasping the handle anyways and smoothly sliding into his passenger seat.

His car smelled overwhelmingly like smoke. You instinctively wrinkled your nose at the intensity and glanced at the tree air freshener on his front mirror, but it must have been old because it did nothing to clear the air.

Jaemin cleared his throat and raised a brow at you as he shifted the car into gear. “You good?” 

With a nod, you willed yourself to relax into the leather of the seat. “Yeah, I’m fine.” You let your gaze wander over his features onto the rest of his car, which for the most part was actually rather clean. Your eyes traced along the center console and the dashboard, but they stopped short at the area by your feet, where several beer bottles laid scattered. 

You straightened in alarm and turned to him, your eyes wide and voice tense. “Do you drunk drive?” You remembered him being irresponsible and drinking, but drunk driving was serious and you were prepared to make him stop the car now and let you out. 

“No, I’m not an idiot. I only drink when I’m the passenger.”

Your shoulders unstiffened slightly but you scoffed, your teeth gritted together. “Don’t your parents—?”

“I live alone.”

You blinked, your expression falling. “...oh.” The car fell silent and though Jaemin didn’t seem bothered, you suddenly felt uncomfortable. When did he move out? Before you moved, he was still staying with them, you knew that. Did they kick him out? Hesitantly, you looked up at him, but then you prompted your lips shut; you weren’t his girlfriend anymore, so it wasn’t your place to ask. You bit the inside of your cheek and turned away. Propping your elbow on the windowsill, you dug the bottom portion of your face into your palm in hopes to ride out the rest of the drive with less awkwardness. 

“You look pretty,” he said to you after a moment. 

“Oh shut up,” But your tone held no wrath. You dropped your hand from your face and looked to the road ahead of you. “Where are we going anyways?”

Jaemin was surprisingly a very responsible driver, and he only spared you a second moments of eye contact with a shrug. “Yangyang is hosting a party tonight—I like to be at every one.” 

You didn’t reply but nodded slowly, and the rest of the drive was in comfortable silence. 

When you two finally pulled into the driveway, the first thing you heard was the loud music that drifted down the street and only grew louder at your approach. Now, as you unbuckled your seat belt and stepped out, it was deafening, and you felt bad for his neighbors. Maybe they’d call the cops on him, and then you would have an excuse to leave the party faster. But if there was alcohol involved, you didn’t want to risk getting grabbed by the cops, and so you uncomfortably cleared your throat and hoped tonight went well. 

Jaemin came around the side of his car and tilted his head at you questioningly, the lights of the front porch casting him in pretty shades of yellow that mimicked a halo. You resisted the urge to snort and quickened your pace to his side. 

Gingerly, he slipped an arm around your waist and you tensed. He glanced at you, a silent question of your comfort level. It was just a hand on your waist; it didn’t have to mean anything, and you guys were walking a thin wire between friends and exes, so this kind of contact was familiar to you. You cautiously met his eyes but gave a curt nod, and his hovering hand settled on your waist firmly. The two of you walked inside, and the minute you stepped through the threshold, you felt winded. 

There were way too many bodies for comfort, all pressed together as they danced sloppily to the latest rapper, stereotypical red cups in their hands that sloshed with each movement. It was a lot bigger and more imposing than the one you went to a few weeks ago. 

You subconsciously pressed yourself closer to Jaemin, which prompted him to look down at you with a quirk of his lip. Instantly, you created some distance between you again, at least as far as you could with his hand still perched on your side. 

The two of you hung out in the larger room for a little bit and drank from the solo cups, but after an hour or so, he pulled a lighter and cigarettes from his pocket. You stared at him wordlessly as he lit one and took a drag, blowing out the smoke into the crowd of teens around you. He must have noticed your grimace because he tilted his head your way, his fingers kneading at your waist. “What?”

You shook your head, “You’re going to smoke here? In this guy’s house?”

His brows furrowed, “Yeah? What, do you want me to go outside?”

“Yes; it’s common courtesy.”

He exhaled another puff of smoke but he looked over the heads of the crowd before tugging at your side, “Come on, then; I think I know a quieter area.”

You accepted and let him lead you out of the throng, but you didn’t expect him to bring you to the secluded backyard. It was quiet compared to inside, and no one mingled around the pool’s edge. There were fairy lights strung up across the overhang, and you couldn’t help but admire the way the lights danced upon the water. 

“Are we allowed to be back here?” You asked absently, but you knew you didn’t want to leave the back patio now. 

Jaemin slipped his hand from your side to your own palm, and he gently pulled you towards the pool with a shrug. “I don’t really know. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

He sat down on the rim on the shallow end, and he beckoned you to sit beside him. You placed your solo cup behind you before dipping your feet into the cool water, and a shiver traveled all of the way up your body. 

With a glance his way, you inquired, “can you put the cigarette out now?”

He met your gaze briefly, “Yeah,” He didn’t put up much of a fight against you like you thought he would; he simply pressed the lit end to the stone and left it by your drink.

With a stretch, Jaemin sighed from beside you and leaned back, and you felt one of his hands settle behind you when he slid them back to support his weight. You quickly lost yourself in the odd tranquility of the moment; the party’s music and laughter were muffled from where you sat, and you only heard the water lapping at your calves and the comforting sound of your ex’s soft breathing. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a moment, to take in the mood of it, and you were more than thankful you let Jaemin drag you away from your homework.

“Do you want to go swimming?”

You cracked one eye open to give Jaemin a pointed look, but the mirroring of his smirk gave away your amusement. “We don’t have swimsuits.”

“Skinnydipping, then,” he shrugged and leaned his shoulder against yours, his bright eyes and warm skin leaving you dazed. “I haven’t seen you naked in a while.”

“Ever, actually,” you laughed and leaned up to push him away, and he nearly toppled into the water from the force of it. He pouted at you but then shook his head as he went to stand up.

“Suit yourself,” He stripped off his shirt and your mouth went dry as your eyes widened; you didn’t realize that your eyes were drinking in every groove on his torso until you shook yourself out of it. Momentarily, you panicked, thinking that he was actually going to fully strip to swim in the pool, which would not go over well at a stranger’s house at a packed party.

You calmed when he draped the shirt on the ground behind you and dug his belongings out of his pockets to place atop the article of clothing. He left his shoes and socks beside it until he was only left in his pants.

You stared at him in disbelief. “You’re crazy.”

He grinned flirtatiously and winked at you, “I would say spontaneous,” and then he launched himself at the deeper end before jumping in.

You found yourself gaping at the cannonball he took, the leftover splash of water and resounding waves the remnants of his zany actions. Your slack jaw morphed into a large, open smile and then you were laughing with unabashed glee as he resurfaced, slicking back his hair and wiping at his eyes. He took in your happy form and his eyes softened, but his smile widened as he swam towards you in the shallow end.

“Was it that funny?” He asked, the smile on his face still distinguishable as he shook out his hair like a dog. He came up to you and stood between your slightly spread legs, his arms landing on either side of your thighs to cage you in.

“It’s just so stupid,” you were calming down from your laughter as you tried to settle down enough to scold him for his boldness, but you found your grin faltering as you stared at him, only now noticing how close he was.

He was just as pretty as your surroundings. His smile was radiant, his eyes were crinkled, and water droplets were finding their way along the curve of his cheek, down the slant of his nose, the red ridge of his lips. As water settled on the parting of his mouth, you absently wondered if they were still as soft as they looked.

“If you wanted me to kiss you, you could’ve just asked.” 

Your eyes snapped up to his and you scoffed. “I don’t want to kiss you.” 

He raised a brow. “Then why were you looking at my lips?”

You opened your mouth to give him a fitting retort but no words came out. You met his eyes and they were serious this time, no trace of the humor you both were sporting only moments before. You swallowed harshly as he leaned in closer, his head subconsciously tilting to the side.

The feeling of his breath fanning over your face sent you back to the beginning of your relationship with him, when a genuine grin wasn’t hard to draw out of him, and his laugh was liquid sunlight to shine upon you and only you. Instinctively, your eyes began to flutter shut at the memory, the warmth of his lips that you cherished before he broke your heart. 

You tried to fight your eyelids, tried to keep your eyes trained on him, but his eyes were dark and you couldn’t read him, and you were left drowning, fighting his charm to stay afloat.

Your eyes only closed when his lips sealed over yours, and his hands came up to cup your face, leaving wet splotches in their wake. Your lips pressed against each other’s gently, and something in you wanted to scream, beg you not to give in like before, but it was overshadowed by the affection building in your heart as your fingers trailed over his ribs, the appreciation of the difference in his approach to you this time around.

You felt him begin to smile into the kiss as his hands tightened slightly over your jaw, and that same mirth from before began to bubble in your stomach as you parted. Both of you were breathing faintly in the silence of the patio, and his mouth trailed down to you neck, where he began to kiss and bite gently as you stared at the overhead fairy lights. You made a small sound that spurred him on to explore your collar with his lips until you drew his attention back to you with a steady hand under his jaw. Your breath hitched when you met his heated, dazzling gaze, and you stared at each other in mesmerized shock. 

It was him who made the first move after, breaking you both out of your trance. He barked a laugh, a bright, genuine smile crossing his lips as he stepped back, his hands sliding off your face to grace over the pool’s surface. You sat watching him as he climbed the pool’s steps and stepped back onto the stones.

“Are...are you cold?” You managed to ask around the shock still rendering your vocal cords unusable. Water was still clinging to his skin, his eyelashes, his pants, as he reached down and pulled back on his shirt. It clung to his chest as he shook his head. 

“A bit but nothing bad,” he stuffed his socks and shoes back on and returned his belongings to his pockets before reaching a hand out towards you. “Are you ready to go?”

You had almost forgotten you weren’t alone in the house, and that just inside there were groups of people dancing and mingling. The longer you thought about it, the more you realized you didn’t want to join them again. “Yeah,” you said and placed your hand in his, letting him pull you up and back under his arm.

He steered you around the house this time instead of re-entering, and you climbed back into his car as he turned it on and pulled out of the driveway.

He gave you another brief kiss when he dropped you off at your house, and though your parents laid into you about sneaking out so late at night, their words did nothing to make you feel regretful. For the only thing on your mind as their words muddled into the background was the lingering feeling of Jaemin’s lips on your own.

— — —

Your parents had not been happy about your rendezvous with Jaemin, and so you had been grounded for two weeks from hanging with friends or going out. Though it had been boring, you had still enjoyed talking with them in school, and especially your interactions with Jaemin.

Neither of you had brought up the kiss, but it was evidently on both of your minds. You did not dare say you were exclusive again in fear that it’d all go wrong again, that your past would haunt you and ruin whatever it was stirring between you. Both of you would flirt and laugh together, but underneath it all, something was aching in your chest, but you squashed the fear and dread down everytime. You would cross that bridge when this lull couldn’t last any longer. 

Your parents only relented on your sentence of being grounded when Hendery begged that you hang out after two weeks. Thankfully, he always had a good reputation from your parents perspective; they couldn’t say no to him, and they thought he’d be a good influence for you. Or, better, anyways, since they didn’t know he was bringing you to another party that night. 

You both chuckled to yourselves when you slid into his car, but waved politely at your parents so they wouldn’t suspect anything was amiss. 

“I can’t believe you convinced them”

He snorted, “I’m always my friends’ parents’ favorite. You just have to know how to be friendly and mature.” 

You flicked his forehead as he began driving down the street and he gasped. “Hey, I’m driving! Stop being jealous.” You laughed at him but relaxed back into your seat with a hum. He looked at you out of the corner of her eye.

“So are you back with Jaemin?”

Your humming faltered as you looked to him but cleared your throat. “Not necessarily.”

Hendery scoffed, “Mm sure; you haven’t stopped smiling when thinking about him,” he went to face you but then the stoplight turned green and he was forced to stay focused on the road. “Yeji said she hasn’t seen him with any other girls since you came back.”

“He had hickies on his neck for the first bit. New ones,” You didn’t say it crossly; it was simply fact, and you weren’t necessarily in the situation to be jealous.

“Well I mean messing around, kissing, whatever. He hasn’t been doing it for almost three weeks.”

“Wow, what a record.” 

He sighed exasperatedly and gave you a brief stink eye, “Shut up. We think he’s actually trying to be serious this time.”

You pursed your lip but didn’t say anything, and so the conversation fell into a lull of comfortable silence. You didn’t know if hearing his attempts to be serious made you happy or anxious. Even if he was serious about trying to make it work with you again, what’s to say he wouldn’t fall right back into his old habits? Cheating, smoking, drinking—they were still major threats to the line you were walking with him now.

You pushed it to the back of your head as you arrived at the party. Hendery and you walked into the party and before you could follow him to your other friends, you saw Jaemin with some guys and he was already looking your way. Instantly, you perked up, and Hendery rolled his eyes, waving you off. You gave him a thankful look as you split off towards him, and the smile spreading across your face was subconscious.

Jaemin was glaring over your head but when you reached him, he tore his gaze away to grin at you. “(Y/n), babe, hey!” He slid an arm around your waist and drew you forward to stand beside him, and that’s when you took notice of who you were around.

Jeno offered you a kind smile that morphed his eyes into pretty crescent moons, and his arm was draped over the shoulders of his girlfriend (of a year, you think; you can’t remember the details) who took refuge in his warmth, but her smile was just as gentle. Renjun was beside them but you were surprised to see more piercings lining his ears and the tips of his hair to be dyed pink, but he gave you a brief smile and nod before reverting back to his colder countenance. 

You knew these guys; you were friends with them when you dated Jaemin the first two years of high school, and you heart squeezed knowing that they seemed to remember you. You lifted your hand in a wave. “Hey, guys.”

“Hey, (y/n); we haven’t seen you in awhile! We didn’t know you were back until Jaemin told us.”

You glanced at the boy in question, but nothing on his face gave him away. You slid your gaze back to Jeno, “Yeah, I was trying to keep it on the low.” So Jaemin didn’t know, but you didn’t need to tell them that since that thought was thrown out of the window by now. 

“By the way, Jaemin, can you drive me home tonight?”

Jaemin’s arm tightened around you, “Of course, whatever you need.”

You smiled and turned back to face the group before you perked up. “Oh!” You turned back to Jaemin and poked at his chest, “you didn’t tell me you were friends with Jisung.”

“You know him?” His brows furrowed but he laughed lightly. “Yeah, nice little sport.” You saw Renjun’s and Jeno’s eyes flicker up warningly at Jaemin, as if to watch out for anything he’d say and you hesitantly went for a smile before directing your voice to Renjun, “why isn’t he here?”

Renjun’s eyes flitted to you. “We’re trying to keep him out of,” he shrugged his shoulders vaguely but they seemed to gesture to Jaemin and the party around you. “bad influences.” 

Your lips formed a wary ‘o’ but Jeno rushed to fix the tenseness of the situation. “He’s hanging with a different friend right now. Have you met a boy named Chenle?”

“Ah, no, I don’t think so.”

Jeno nodded but his smile came more easily now. “Yeah, he just moved here. Jisung’s been trying to make him feel comfortable.”

 You couldn’t help but grin at that. You almost opened your mouth to ask about Hyuck, but you quickly bit the question back. You knew the answer to that, and you didn’t want to ruin the mood. Instead, you grinned. “That’s good.”

Conversation flowed between you all for a bit then, possibly an hour or so until you noticed Jaemin’s and Renjun’s empty bottles. 

“Do you guys want another drink?” 

Renjun shook his head side to side and placed the bottle down on the table, but Jaemin smiled at you. “Yes, actually; thank you, baby.” He leaned up and kissed your cheek and you felt yourself flush at Renjun’s and Jeno’s stare. You weren’t sure if you wanted them knowing that you and Jaemin were getting that familiar again.

You cleared your throat and stood up quickly. “Well, I’ll get on that. Be right back.” And you hurried to the kitchen.

It was a different home from the other two, but you were getting used to how people congregated in different rooms, so it didn’t take you as long to find. You had grabbed two beers but before you spun and left the kitchen, there was a nudge on your arm.

You turned questionly until you met Hendery’s eye, Yeji slung over his shoulder, half unconscious. 

“Oh my God, is she okay?” You gasped, reaching a hand out to brush over her shoulder.

Hendery sighed irritatedly as Xiaojun came up behind him. “Yeah she got into a drinking contest and threw up before passing out. We’re going to head out; are you coming?”

You hesitated, “I actually asked Jaemin if he was okay taking me home. Will you be okay taking her home?” 

Hendery sighed but nodded as he readjusted Yeji on his side. “No, it’s fine; I just don’t know how I’m going to explain this to her mom.”

You winced, “I wish you luck.”

Hendery handed Yeji off to Xiaojun, and he began to tell Xiaojun to drive Yeji’s car behind his so after they drop her off, he could take Xiaojun home. Xiaojun agreed and began to head out of the house, but before you could wonder why Hendery wasn’t following, he turned to you. “Do you know what her purse looks like or something? She doesn’t have her phone or keys.”

“Oh! Uh, I think it’s purple? I can help you look.” You placed the two bottles back on the counter and started for the hall. 

“That’d be great, thank you.” 

You both filed back out into the living room and began to search around the couches and dining table. Him and you were lifting your heads from looking under a chair when Jaemin was suddenly at your side with a stormy expression, his eyes darker than a rain cloud and jaw taut. Neither of you had no time to greet him before Jaemin’s hand clasped around yours tightly and he was tugging you towards him. “Excuse me,” He said, and then he slammed his lips against yours.

You made a muffled sound of shock, your eyes still wide. This kiss was unforgiving, unlike the kiss by the pool. That one was gentle, whereas this one was brutal, bruising; in this kiss, he was pouring forth anger and possession over you, he was claiming your lips as his. You didn’t even get a chance to kiss back (though you were unsure if you wanted to) before he separated and yanked you after him as he exited the house party, partygoers’ eyes on you. You stumbled down the front steps after him, watching his back in shock before you finally processed the situation and tore your hand from his. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The words tumbled from your mouth before you’d even thought about them, but they were the perfect mixture of what you were feeling right then. 

Jaemin’s eyes were narrowed as he drew them back to you, and it shocked you how tense he was, all former relaxation gone from his muscles. “What the fuck is wrong with me? He was getting too close to you; I was getting bad vibes.”

Your brows shot up. “That was Hendery! He’s my friend; even before I moved!” 

He stuck his tongue against the inside of his cheek, but the anger in his disposition was still present. “Doesn’t mean he couldn’t have changed.” 

“Have you?” 

He looked at you, his brows unfurrowing for a moment but then he was looking away again, steaming in his anger silently, potentially to not say anything he’d regret. “He could’ve done something to you.”

“But he didn’t, and he wouldn’t. You had no right to step in like that, to do that in front of everyone when—“ You grasped for the words as you began to shake with anger, your hands trembling. “We’re not dating, Jaemin. So don’t act like we are.” 

He pursed his lips and jaw locked, his hands coming up to grasp at his jaw, rub at his collar, like there was nowhere safe to rest. “That’s not what I’m talking about, I’m saying that he could have touched you when you didn’t want him to—“

“You just kissed me when I didn’t want you to!” You hissed at him in disbelief. With a growl of frustration, you ran a hand through your hair before gesturing towards him. “This is exactly why we didn’t work out! Because you’re so fucking possessive!”

His eyes flashed. “That is not why we broke up!”

“Oh, then what was it?” You snarled. “Was it because you were flirting with other girls? That you were being unfaithful while restricting me, that you went out drinking and smoking when you were only sixteen—“ 

“Shut up!” He shouted at you. “Shut up!” 

“Am I striking a nerve?” You jeered. “I told you this is what was going to happen! Do you still want to try again? Do you really want screaming matches every fucking week again?”

“You’re the only who started this fight,” He was shaking, eyes on the ground but you knew they had to be on fire, and if he lifted his gaze to yours, you would surely be burned. “We don’t have to be fighting like we did before.”

“But we will because you haven’t changed!” You stared at him helplessly, pointedly, your arms spread to each side. “You’re still the guy you were before I left! It’s just been so long that I fell for that exact same charm that reeled me in the first time.”

“You haven’t been around long enough to know if I’m changed or not!” he seethed. Jaemin finally looked up and his eyes were ferocious like you thought they’d be, but his expression was pained. “You’re so fucking afraid it will be the same that you’re not even looking at me!”

You blinked at him wordlessly. Are you the one afraid? Are you the one reading this wrong? You gritted your teeth; you didn’t have the patience to doubt yourself now, and if you gave in now then he’d always get his way.

“Oh, so you’re going to tell me that that kiss wasn’t because of jealousy then?” You snapped. You glared at him, waiting for him to argue, to prove his point but he didn’t; Jaemin only met your gaze evenly, his jaw raised and fists clenched. You crossed your arms. “Get out of here, Jaemin. I’m not getting in the car with you.”

He didn’t push you; he didn’t yell at you, he didn’t come near you to lift you up and force you. Jaemin simply kept his eyes trained on you for a moment longer before turning on his heel and briskly walking to his car. The door opening and slamming shut was resoundly loud in the sudden silence of your yelling match, and you watched him pull out of the driveway alone. 

You stayed there for another minute, letting everything you both said sink in and it wasn’t till then that you realized you were still shaking, from anger or sobs you didn’t know. You tried to breath in the fresh air to steady yourself before going back inside.

You went to say goodbye to Hendery, but you shot down any attempt he made to give you comfort or get you to speak. He seemed at a loss, but he respected you and headed out the door to drive Yeji home.

You hurried back to Jeno and Renjun to gather your purse in hopes that you could duck out quickly, but Jeno placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Where’s Jaemin? Where are you going?”

You didn’t look at him as you replied, “He left.” 

“Without you?” He drew in his brows and looked back at Renjun. “Who’s taking you home?”

“I’m walking.”

“No you’re not; we can drive you.” Jeno didn’t remove his hand from your arm as he nodded at his girlfriend. “We don’t mind.” 

You hesitated before giving in. You didn’t want to bother him, and quite frankly you wanted to be alone, but you knew it wasn’t safe this late. All of you said goodbye to Renjun before you followed them out of the house, and you sat in the backseat as he began to pull away. 

It was silent for a long time before Jeno spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

You peeked up at him. “For what?”

“For Jaemin,” he turned the wheel and glanced back at you. “That he’s struggling to change.”

You snorted and looked out the window. “He hasn’t changed.”

“He’s trying,” Jeno’s confident tone made you stiffen and you looked back up towards the front of the car at him. He met your eye through the rearview mirror. “He is, I’m not lying to you.”

“I know, Jeno,” The words came out in a sigh as you dropped your head in your lap. Jeno had always been consistent, honest, reliable; he would never tell you this if he didn’t believe in Jaemin. Your fingers trembled against your purse. “I just wish you were.”

— — —

You didn’t go to another party after the fight with Jaemin. Your friends tried to convince you, giving you unamused looks when you gave an excuse or waved them off, but ultimately they stopped offering. You smiled at Jeno and Renjun and Jisung, but you avoided Jaemin again; you couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

You tried to tell yourself he didn’t deserve to hear from you anymore if he was just like before, that it was for your own best interest to drop him. He made no attempts either; he didn’t look at you in the hall or try to sling an arm over your shoulder to joke with you. You scolded yourself every time you wished he would.

To occupy your mind, you tried to invest yourself more into your schoolwork as weeks passed by, and things seemed to go back to normal—at least, for you.

Jaemin has gotten worse. You had tried to ignore it, but you couldn’t help but take notice of the bags under his eyes, the underlying smirk on his features that wasn’t genuine. Some days he’d show up with lovebites all over him, other times he reeks of smoke, and sometimes he didn’t show at all. 

You were worried. You knew Jeno and Renjun were too; their frowns were evident as their eyes followed him and then slid to you, a silent plea of you to see what your absence was doing. 

But he wasn’t your responsibility. He hurt you twice, he wasn’t a good influence, and you’d probably forget about him once you went off to college. 

But after a few more weeks and he only looked worse, you couldn’t take it anymore. You approached Jeno after class and didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at him pointedly with a clenched jaw, and then he was writing down Jaemin’s address on a slip of paper and handing it to you.

And when you drove up to the apartment complex that night, you still weren’t quite sure what you were doing. You parked your car and started going up the outdoor stairs in a daze, the cold air of dusk nipping at your forearms. What were you going to say? Did you even want to see him? Did he want to see you? 

You paused on the top of the stairs of his floor. It was like a cement motel, just a little cleaner. If he had moved out on his own, he probably couldn’t afford much better. Your heart clenched at the thought. 

With bated breath, you stopped before his door. You were here; you couldn’t go home now without at least knocking. You raised your hand and rapped at the wood lightly.

There was a brief commotion of the other side and muffled shouts before you heard footsteps approach the door. 

“Jeno, I don’t want to go out tonight; go away.”

You felt winded hearing his voice after so long. It was hoarse, scratchy, and he sounded tired and irritated, which was a large contrast to when he hung with you.

You cleared your throat. “It’s not—it’s not Jeno.”

It was silent on the other side of the door. The longer the quiet stretched out the more you thought he didn’t hear you and you might as well head home before the door opened. 

His hair was a mess as if he just woke up, and his eyes were dull. His clothes were a mess and dangling from his hand was a lit cigarette. When you drew your gaze back up to his face, a trail of smoke puffed from his mouth as he stared at you. 

“(Y/n).”

You tried not to let your face twist in disgust as the smoke blew towards your face. “Jaemin.”

You both awkwardly stood there taking in each other’s appearances before you heard a familiar voice shout in a slurred voice, “Jaemin, where are the other bottles?”

Jaemin grimaced but turned away from you enough to shout back into the apartment, “You've drunk enough tonight; I’m not letting you into my stash.” He faced you again and he seemed uncomfortable under your cautious gaze as he took another drag of his cigarette.

“Is—is that Donghyuck?” Jaemin hesitantly nodded and breathed out the smoke again.

“Yeah, he’s—he’s spending the night. He crashes here often.” You peeked over his shoulder at Donghyuck, curled up on the couch with beer bottles littering the coffee table as he mumbled to himself; hopefully they just didn’t clean often, and all of those bottles weren’t from today only. 

You felt something twinge in your chest seeing the former class clown so...dreary, pulled down so far from happiness. You may have been gone for a year but gossip always traveled fast when Jaemin was around, so you had heard about Mark and his girlfriend and the betrayal that broke the honey-skinned boy the year before.

 You frowned but looked back up at Jaemin. “Are you letting him drown himself in alcohol?”

“What else could he do to get his mind off of it?”

Your frown only deepened. “You’re feeding an addiction—has he been like this since it happened?”

“You’re not a doctor,” Jaemin scowled, his grip on his cigarette tightening. “What’s it matter if he wants to drink to forget? I’ve done it plenty of times.”

“And look where that’s gotten you,” You knew you shouldn’t have said it as soon as the words slipped out. His eyes widened before they narrowed to two slits. “Jaemin, I—I didn’t mean to say that.”

“No, I think you made yourself very clear,” he spat. “If you’re only here to criticize me then politely fuck off.”

“Jaemin—“ but the door was suddenly slammed in your face. You stared at the grooves in the wood in shock before groaning in regret. You turned around and pursed your lips as you studied the concrete floor. With a sigh, you took a few lazy steps to the stairs before sitting on one and leaning your elbows on your knees so you could plant your chin in your palms. 

You looked up at the sky glumly, conflicted. The moon shone back down at you, as if to comfort you but remind you that it couldn’t help you solve your problems. You shook your head and let your gaze wander over the dark blanket of the night taking over the leftover bits of day, the purple mixing with the blue to create a beautiful array of colors too dark to be sunset anymore.

A door creaked open behind you but you didn’t look back; it would be awkward to lock eyes with another resident who would only see you as some strange girl sitting on the steps outside their home. You winced; maybe you really should head home soon. 

You didn’t have much time to contemplate it before you felt a heavy weight fall over your shoulders and movement to your left. Your hands instinctively flew up to catch at the fabric of a coat around your back, and when you looked to your side, your eyes widened to find Jaemin settling down beside you, a cigarette still perched precariously between two of his fingers. 

He didn’t attempt to make conversation at first as you watched him, he only tried to become comfortable by leaning his back against the step behind you and stretching his legs down over the steps below. He took a gentle inhale of the killing machine in his hand before he exhaled and put it out against the cement of the stair. 

It was oddly comforting sitting beside him outside his apartment, his coat around your shoulders and his face contemplative. Finally, he spoke up, his tone mellow. “I was trying to change.”

You looked away from him, your eyes settling on the moon. “I know.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before giving a heavy sigh, one that seemed to release all of the tension in his limbs. “I was chasing a high for a long time. I hit low after low and after messing up so terribly with you…” you met his eye briefly to study him, but he only chuckled at himself. “When you came back I thought that maybe I could be happy again, that I could make up for it. I can’t even do that right.”

You were quiet for a while, but he didn’t seem to mind as he let his eyes wander over the sky; he seemed entirely at peace in the night, the moon and low-quality light fixtures with moths flying about them the only source of light to encase him. Your voice was low when you responded, “Why weren’t you just honest with me?”

He guffawed at that, looking at you with a relaxed disposition but raised brow. “You kept rejecting me, what did you expect?” You bit your lip at the meaning of those words, but he continued as if he didn’t notice, “It’s hard to be honest when you didn’t want to hear the truth.”

“I didn’t,” you admitted. You turned to face him again, and you made a promise to yourself that you wouldn’t look away from him now, so he’d know you were honest and listening. He watched you wordlessly. “I didn’t want to be open to the idea that things could be different. I’m sorry.” 

He raised a hand and graced it over your cheek, gently grasping your jaw in his palm as he looked in your eyes for any discomfort, any lies, any sign for him to pull away and go inside and forget you came tonight. 

He found nothing.

“I’m going to change. You know that, right?” He stroked your cheek and tilted his head, drawing his face closer to yours. 

You found yourself nuzzling into his palm as you nodded. “I know.” I’m not scared that you won’t anymore. The discarded cigarette on the stair behind you seemed to stand as a reminder of his oath as he lifted his other hand to cup the back of your neck and pull you closer. Right before your lips connected, you brought a hand up to block his mouth. “No more being jealous, okay? No cheating, no heavy drinking, and no more smoking.” 

Though you couldn’t see the lower half of his face, his eyes crinkled like they did when he smiled. “I promise.” With a nod, you lowered your hand, and your breath hitched as your lips connected.

Your lips moved together unhurriedly, almost leisurely. You found yourself growing lost in him, the smoke on his tongue and interwoven into his scent, and you subconsciously drew him closer to you by the collar, to minimize any distance left. When you pulled away, you didn’t feel overwhelming passion or affection, but that was the beauty of it; the kiss felt commonplace, and it felt familiar. It didn’t feel like it had to mean anything, and that’s what made it matter to you.

You slid your head down onto his shoulder without even meeting his eye, and his hand came down to rest around your waist and pull you closer. Both of you gazed up at the night sky and basked in each other’s company, and the crisp air felt refreshing in your lungs as you interlocked your fingers with his. 

[heliads]

I’ll Protect You

When a mysterious death threat shows up at your front door from Gerard Argent, you know who you have to go to if you want to survive- Scott McCall.

masterlist

Things were going perfectly fine up until the moment you found the death threat on your front door. It was a pleasant, sunny morning. You had actually woken up without feeling exhausted, which was nice. It was shaping up to be an agreeable day. Then, you had heard the sharp knock on your door.

Yawning, you stumble blearily to the front door. Your parents, tired after long days of work, were still blissfully asleep and so the responsibility for answering whatever insistently knocking early-morning caller fell squarely on your shoulders.

Oddly enough, by the time you pull open the plain wooden door, your would-be guest has vanished. You poke your head out of the door, blinking in the bright light of morning, but you can’t see anybody. Strange.

You’re just about to head back inside and dismiss the whole venture as one of the younger neighbourhood kids playing a prank on you when you spot the folded paper lying a few feet away from the doorstep. Frowning, you pad over to it and pick it up, but your confused look turns into a troubled stare when you unfold the plain, unwrinkled note. It doesn’t say much, just a few words typed onto the stiff white paper. 

We know what you are. We will be coming for you.

This alone spells danger, but it’s the grey heading at the top of the paper that really starts to worry you. This threat is sent by the Argents, legendary hunters of people exactly like you. And if they know what you are, you’ll be dead by morning for sure.

Checking the empty streets one last time for possible messengers, you quickly hurry back inside, slumping down into a nearby chair. Your parents don’t know you’re a werewolf, hell, neither do any of your friends. You’ve kept your supernatural identity a locked-away secret that only you know. You’ve never breathed a word about it, never gone wandering on full moons, and barely even used your supernatural abilities at all. How do the Argents know?

Of course, it’s not how they know that you should be focusing on. Regardless of what they did to find out your secret, they’ll be coming for you. You stare out of the window unseeingly, turning things over in your mind until you arrive at one last-ditch plan to save yourself.

Just as you’ve feared, there are people watching you from the second you walk through the doors of Beacon Hills High School. You’ve suspected for some time that there are a few junior hunters attending your school, and your theory is proven correct when they watch your every step. No one else seems to know about the fact that you’re a werewolf, but there’s a definite group of four or five people shadowing you no matter where you go.

Thankfully, the one class you need the most is your first period of the day. You head gratefully into your AP Bio class, nodding a distracted greeting to your teacher, who announces that you’ll be starting a partner project. Careful to avoid suspicion from the few potential hunters in the front, you slide quietly into a seat next to one particular dark-haired boy.

When Scott McCall notices you sitting next to him, he looks at you in confusion. “Not to be rude, but don’t you usually sit next to-” You cut him off briskly, pulling out your textbook and turning to the assigned page. “Yeah, but Ms. Finch said partners so I figured it would be alright.” You lean over the book as if starting to work on the assignment, but speak instead in a hushed tone.

“I need your help. It’s something really important.” Scott nods slowly. “Okay, what do you need help with?” You hesitate for a moment, deliberating on how best to explain your situation. “It’s the Argents. I know you’re a True Alpha, I need your help so they don’t kill me.”

Scott looks stunned for a second, then turns to you. “You’re a werewolf. How did I not know about that?” You laugh lightly. “I’ve been trying to keep it under wraps, but I found a death threat at my doorstep today from the Argents, and some of the wannabe hunters have been trailing me all day. I don’t know what to do.” Without attracting too much suspicion, you fish the note out of your backpack and hand it to Scott, who reads it quickly before giving it back to you.”

“That’s definitely a problem. Tell you what- head over to my house tonight after school. I'll get Stiles and the others to show up too, and we can all figure out what to do to make sure you’re alright.” You flash him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I mean it.” Scott returns your smile. “Hey, no problem. We’ve been needing to take care of the Argents for a while, anyway.”

The end of the day cannot arrive quickly enough, and you’re more than happy to quietly depart for Scott’s house. The hunters in the school have been eyeing you all day like you’re a prize pig they can’t wait to slaughter, instead of the fearsome monster that they all seem to fear.

By the time you manage to shake your followers and arrive at Scott's house undetected, the rest of the McCall pack is waiting for you. Scott ushers you inside, where everyone is gathered around the kitchen table, ready to help you with your little problem.

You pull the note you found earlier from your backpack and place it on the table, unfolding it so everyone can see the threat as well as the unmistakable logo of the Argents. Malia looks at it, thinking. “Chris Argent is still our ally, so this has to be Gerard’s doing. I thought we scared him out of town, though?”

Scott sighs. “I doubt we’d ever be that lucky. He’s probably trying to make his way back into Beacon Hills slowly, by taking out a wolf here and there.” Stiles squints up at you. “Also, Y/N, why didn’t you tell any of us you were a werewolf? We could have kept you more safe. I thought lone wolves were always unprotected.”

You tilt your head in acknowledgement. “Lone wolves face a lot more risk, that’s true. The thing is, I was trying my best to keep the whole werewolf thing a secret. I figured it would be easier to pretend to be a human if no one knew, and if I hung out with you guys, it would be pretty obvious that I was a supernatural of some sort.”

You look around the room, registering the confused looks on the faces of Scott and his friends. You spread your hands out in front of you, feeling slightly defensive. “Look, everyone who’s been associated with your friend group is either a supernatural or has been one at one point. If I wanted to make the hunters think I was a human, I probably wouldn’t be hanging out with the group that’s like 90% supernatural.”

Lydia nods, trying to hide a smile. “Y/N’s not wrong. I mean, Scott was a werewolf, then Malia was a werecoyote. Kira was human until she was revealed to be a kitsune, Liam was human until he was bitten, I thought I was human until I found out I was a banshee, Hayden and Corey became chimeras, Mason was host to the Beast, and even Stiles had to become the Nogitsune for a short while. Basically everyone in the pack has been a supernatural at one point.”

Stiles nods slowly. “I mean, I guess. I never thought about it that way.” Scott clears his throat. “Can we get back to the issue at hand? If Gerard Argent is coming back, then that spells bad news for Y/N. I’d like to make sure she lives long enough to graduate high school.” You laugh at that. “Me too. That sounds good.”

After a lengthy discussion, you and the McCall pack figure out what to do. You give them each directions to your house, and then the plan is set into motion.

By the time you make it back to your house, the sun is just starting to set. You toss your backpack into a corner of the room and make yourself a snack. Your parents are still at work, so the house appears deserted to any onlookers.

Just as you had feared, there’s another knock on the door. A voice calls out to you- “Come on out, Y/N. We know you’re there.” You give yourself a moment to collect yourself, then square your shoulders and walk to the door. When you pull it open, you find yourself face to face with at least half a dozen hunters, Gerard Argent at the front.

Gerard fixes you with a glare. “Did you really think that you could live freely and not be found out? We do not tolerate werewolves, a lesson you’ll be learning tonight. Beacon Hills is for the humans.” He gestures to one of the hunters, who hands him a crossbow. “Lone wolves do not survive for long out here. It’s a shame- you really should have known better than to be alone in a town like this.”

Gerard points the crossbow at you, an arrow aimed at the center of your throat. Before he can fire the weapon, however, a voice comes from behind you. “She’s not alone.”

Scott McCall steps out of the house, standing in between you and the hunter. The rest of the pack appears out of nowhere, encircling the hunters, who now look tense and afraid. Scott folds his arms over his chest, staring down at Gerard. “Do you remember the last time we spoke? We made a deal, one that is in your best interests to keep. The promise was that if you and your hunters left the supernaturals of Beacon Hills alone, we wouldn’t kill you on the spot.”

Scott gestures around to the pack. “We have weapons and powers that will allow us to take all of you down in the blink of an eye. So I’ll remind you, one last time, to honor our agreement. It’s as much for our benefit as it is for yours.”

Gerard maintains the eye contact for a moment longer, then looks away, nodding at his hunters to stand down. As they file out, Scott speaks one last time. “Y/N is with us. We have her back. If you even look at her again, I will slit your throat with my own claws.” Gerard spits out a few last words about how this is going ‘just as he had planned’ and that he is ‘warning you, Scott McCall, pride goeth before the fall’ before stumping away with the rest of his hunters.

Scott turns to you with a smile as the pack files inside your house. “See, that went pretty well. I don’t think they’re going to bother you again.” You laugh. “No, I think most of those guys looked like they’d rather move to Antarctica rather than have to deal with any of the pack again. They looked terrified.”

Scott laughs as well, but turns serious. “If you ever feel threatened again, please come find me. I know we just met and all, but I want to keep you safe.” You raise an eyebrow, smiling. “Man, I’d heard about Scott McCall’s need to save everyone, but isn’t this a little much?” Scott can’t help a smile. “You’re important to me, Y/N. I want to protect you.” You grin and nod. “Sounds like a plan. We’ll keep in touch.”

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 10: pen pal

Character A and Character B both sign up for a Christmas Pen Pal project to exchange post cards,, percabeth. not just letters I promise

01/04/2008

Hi! My name’s A, and I’m eight years old. Well, my name isn’t actually A, but I don’t know you yet so I can’t tell you my real name. I don’t know your name, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.

I don’t know why I’m doing this whole pen pal thing. I just thought it would be fun, but I don’t really know what to expect either. I guess I should tell you a little bit about myself.

My favorite color is grey, like my eyes. I like to read a lot too. I don’t have many friends, but that’s just because I don’t like talking to people. They start to talk, and it makes me feel like I want to hit them, so I prefer to just be by myself. I wouldn’t mind being your friend, though. I don’t have to hear you talk.

Hope I get your response soon! Goodbye until then!

Love, A.

,,

01/27/2008

Dear A,

I guess you can call me P then. I’m eight years old too, so that’s cool! We’re practically best friends already. I’m doing the pen pal thing because my teacher says I should practice writing. I’m not very good at writing, but I promiss prommis promise I’ll get better for you!

I like to swim. The water is cold where I live, but I still go in anyways. My mom says I’ll get hypothermia, but I do it anyways because it’s fun. I wonder if you like the water too? You’re crazy if you don’t, but it’s okay. I’ll be your friend anyways. I have one friend, but I don’t really like them very much. They’re mean to me a lot. You seem much nicer.

I’m so excited to get to talk to you!

From P :)

,,

05/07/2012

Hey, P! It’s been a couple of months since we spoke. I’ve missed my mystery-stranger-pen-pal-person. Hope you’re doing well.

Honestly, not much has happened with me. It’s the end of sixth grade, thank god. I actually hate all of my teachers. Especially the history one. She makes something that could be so interesting so dull, and it’s upsetting. There’s so much to tell about the past, and she’s ruining it. I’d consider saying something to her, but you know how it is.

I’ll just complain to you instead ;)

I remember you said you were applying to the swim team, and I think that’s so exciting! I know the try-outs passed, so let me know if you got in! (and if you didn’t, don’t worry about it. You don’t need to explain it to me if you don’t want to.)

Anyways, eagerly awaiting your response (but not that eagerly. It’ll be a couple of weeks, if not more.)

Love, A.

,,

05/20/2012

A! I’m insulted that you would think I didn’t make it onto the swim team. I am one with the fish. I am living my dream of swimming around the water like a turtle. It’s been pretty fun actually, except for when I ran into a wall and nearly bust my head open months ago. We don’t like to speak of that moment.

And yes, your history teacher is absolutely bizzare bizarre. I’m not the best with grades and spelling (clearly. I mean, look at my spelling of “bizarre”) but history is one of my better subjects, surprisingly. I think that it’s because the past is so important. My mom always likes to tell me that without the past, we wouldn’t learn for the future, so I try to pay attention to that class. I’m sorry you don’t like it :(

I really missed talking to you too. I don’t even know your name (cue frown), but I feel like I’ve known you my entire life. A person I can talk to when there’s no one else.

You’re my best friend (though I do love the term “mystery-stranger-pen-pal person).

Sincerely, P.

,,

10/7/2016

P! Get ready for my rant because I’m about to go off, and you’re going to listen.

People always say that you lose friends sophomore year. I didn’t think that was true. BOY, was I wrong. I’ve lost, like, twenty friends. I thought I’d be more upset about it, but honestly, I’m relieved. They always made me feel excluded, and without them, I’m not going home near tears every day.

I did meet a guy. His name is Luke, and he’s a junior. We’re not dating, but I wouldn’t mind it if we did. Not that I think it’ll ever happen because I’m too focused on school, but it would be nice to at least be friends. He’s really nice.

Also! The last letter was two months ago (?) and you said your school placed second in the state competition! Does that mean you’re going to nationals?

If you are, I am so proud of you. You seriously have to let me know how that goes.

Until next time.

Love, A.

,,

10/27/2016

A, my love!

As your best friend, I am obligated to say that you must not let the man be an obstacle to your schoolwork. I say this because I want you to do well. (Also because I’m in love with you)

Really though, I’m happy for you. I hope everything works out and you’re happy. That’s all that matters.

As for the sophomore thing, I felt that. I’ve never had all that many friends, but a lot of them changed. Change isn’t a bad thing I guess, but I wasn’t willing to stick around for them destroying themselves, so I didn’t. I’m always here if you need me.

(And I did place at states! Nationals was actually a few weeks ago! I didn’t place there, but I apparently got pretty close, which is awesome)

Love, P.

,,

04/03/2017

A! It’s been a while. I haven’t heard from you since October, and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. Is that weird? I don’t know you but I’m checking in?

Oh well. I just really missed you. Not much has happened. Just wanted to say hi. Hope all is well.

Love, P.

,,

12/25/2017

A! Babes! Where are you? I’ve sent a few letters but haven’t gotten any responses. You’re kind of scaring me haha. Is it something I said?

I totally get if you don’t want to do this anymore, but just let me know please? I’m checking the mail every day and I keep getting more and more worried, so… Just let me know, please.

I miss you.

Love, P.

,,

06/01/2018

Dear A,

You never responded to any of my last letter. I get the feeling you’re not going to respond anymore, so I guess this is my last letter.

I graduated. Finally. It was a struggle, but I managed to bring my grades up. I even got accepted to a pretty good school. It’s not Ivy League, like I’m sure you got into. You’ve always been so smart.

I’m going to school in New York. I don’t think I’ve ever told you that in any of the 126 letters we’ve sent. I counted.

Anyways, I just really miss you. I hope you’re okay, and I really wish you the best.

My name’s Percy by the way.

Love, Percy.

,,

12/24/2023

Percy jumps as his girlfriend wraps her arms around his shoulder and nips at his ear. He turns and gives her a playful look.

“You want to take me to the ground?” he asks.

Annabeth rolls her eyes, sliding her hand into his. She feels really warm, even in the cold air outside of Rockefeller Center. “I’m not that heavy.”

“What if I told you you’re wrong?”

“You would get no more kisses for today.”

“Oh, we can’t have that.” Percy’s arms slide to wrap around her waist and tug her closer to his. She doesn’t resist, hugging him back. Percy nudges her jaw with his nose until she turns her face up so he can kiss her. “You’re not heavy at all. Super light, actually.”

She hums, kissing him again. “Good answer.”

Percy laughs, letting him detangle himself from her. His hand goes back to hers, and they begin walking around the plaza, taking in the beautiful decorations. It’s really pretty outside. He’s always had a thing for Christmas and its sparkling lights. He loves the smell of the pine trees and the feel of the light snowflakes against his face.

Annabeth swings her hands between them, and he thinks she looks so cute with her hair down in the cold and nose turned red that he can’t help but kiss her on the cheek.

Percy catches sight of a large sign at a random booth sitting along the edge of one of the buildings. It’s decorated horribly in the most adorable way — no doubt done by children. It’s what it reads that really makes him doubletake.

He just barely manages to make out the words, Christmas Pen Pal Exchange.

It makes his heart ache. He hasn’t heard from A since sophomore year of high school when he was sixteen. He’s twenty-three now. He can’t believe it’s this close to ten years since he heard from her.

He misses her so much. It’s not that he necessarily needed her because he has Annabeth, and he wouldn’t trade that for the world. He’s in love with Annabeth. He thinks he’s going to marry her someday.

A helped him get through difficult times. He wishes he could at least know that she was okay, or why she stopped talking to him. He doesn’t care why it happened anymore. He just wants to know, and to tell her things he was always too scared to say.

Annabeth bumps his shoulder as they pass the booth. “You okay?”

Percy swallows the small lump in his throat that formed. “I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look like you’re about to cry.”

A part of Percy doesn’t want to tell her. He wants to keep it to himself because he has for so long. What he and A had was different.

The other part, and the bigger part, does want to tell Annabeth. He loves her and wants her to know every piece of him. Annabeth is Percy’s best friend now, and there’s no reason for him to keep something like this for her.

“It’s just.” Percy pauses, looking over his shoulder at the booth. “I did one of those when I was young.”

He expects her to tease him, so he’s surprised when she says, “I did too.”

Percy looks at her. “You did?”

“Yeah. I was eight, I think.”

Percy breaks into a smile. “So you were that kid with no friends in elementary.”

“Okay, mister, you wrote them too.”

“That’s how I know you were a loser back then. I was too.”

“A match made in heaven,” she says, wrapping herself in his arms to block the wind that’s begun to blow harder. “Do you still talk to them?”

“Not anymore,” he admits. “We just stopped talking.”

“Aw. Why?”

Percy breathes deeply. “I’m honestly not sure. She just stopped talking to me.”

“What an ass,” Annabeth says.

“Right?” Percy laughs slightly. “I miss her, to be honest. Is that weird? I just used to talk to her all the time, and then — nothing.”

“It’s not weird at all,” she tells him, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. “I miss mine too.”

“Why’d you stop talking?”

“I moved here. I lost their address, and I got a new one. It just didn’t work after that.” She smiles, thinking of a fond memory. “They used to call me their best friend. The only one I had.”

Percy turns his nose up. “Well now you have me, so forget that guy. No man dares hurt my baby.”

“If I ever meet them, promise to beat their ass.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises.

“What was their name?” she asks. “Of your pen pal?”

“I never found out,” he says. “She didn’t tell me her name. Only that it started with an A, so I called myself P, and we just kind of went on like that.”

The atmosphere suddenly turns cold as Annabeth stiffens in his arms.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You called yourself P? And the other person was A?”

Percy thinks to confirm before saying, “Yes. Why?”

“Did this person also meet a guy named Luke?”

Percy pulls away slightly. “How did you know that?”

“And you told them about your love for history at one point?” Percy suddenly feels lightheaded. “Annabeth…”

Annabeth’s lower lip trembled, and when she speaks, it comes out cracked. “I’m A.”

It hits him like a train, and Percy suddenly can’t breathe. His mouth opens for air, but his lungs fail him. His mind races, he doesn’t know what to say, and he feels like he’s going to pass out, and… “Oh my god,” is all he manages.

“Percy.”

“You’re A.”

Tears are falling from her eyes, and he doesn’t know how to feel. He doesn’t feel anything at all at first. It’s a weight off his chest, and he’s finally able to take a wrangled breath as it settles inside him. He feels something dripping down his face and realizes it’s tears.

He feels like he should be mad, but he’s not. He can’t be mad at Annabeth because he loves her so much, and he knows what happened, and it’s not her fault, and it’s not his either, and he’s in love with her.

Percy tugs her close. He doesn’t kiss her because right now, this is him seeing A again. His face is in his neck, and he can hear her sobs, and he’s sure his are just as bad. He pulls away, and he lets himself kiss her this time.

“I missed you so much,” he whispers into the kiss. He can taste the tears falling, but he pays it no attention. “I missed you, and I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry,” is what she says.

“Don’t,” he says, pulling away sharply. His voice is wobbly. “This is not your fault.”

Annabeth whimpers. “It feels like it.”

“It doesn’t matter. We found each other, and that’s all that matters, okay?” He wipes the tears from her face gently and kisses her forehead. “We found each other.”

“A twisted way of fate.”

Percy lets out a wet laugh. “It is, but it’s okay.”

“I love you,” she whispers.

There’s so much he wants to say back, but he would never have enough time to say it. “I love you too, mystery-stranger-pen-pal-person,” he whispers. He stays like that, her wrapped in his arms, and he doesn’t know how much time passes like this.

He kisses her, but this time it is as more than her boyfriend.

They are P and A.

Percy and Annabeth.

They are best friends and lovers in one.

He’s going to marry her. His best friend.

Percy and Annabeth.

P and A.

[allegra-writes]

"TKN"

Peter Parker x Anti-hero!Reader

General audiences

Warnings: None

Part XIII of the "Mercy" Series

SERIES MASTERLIST | MY MASTERLIST

"Secrets only to those you can trust.

You better not break the Omerta..."

TKN - Rosalia f. Travis Scott

72 hours. That's how long you and Peter had been on the run. And in those 72 hours, Peter had gone through more new experiences than in a whole year as an avenger: He had joined the mile high club, only to five minutes later jump from said plane at cruise speed. He had illegally entered a country, broke into a department store and even shaved his whole head to completely change his appearance. He had celebrated his and yours new freedom with sangria, and more lovemaking at the beach under the stars... 

But this? Being held at gunpoint by a tiny girl with murder in her eyes and superhuman reflexes? That was, sadly, nothing new. 

It was like watching a dance, the way your high kick sent the gun in her left hand flying, as the blonde rolled out of your reach too fast for you to get a hold of the other gun on her right. You avoided a punch to your midriff, as she jumped away from your knife. And your boyfriend saw, helpless, as it was shot out of your hand by a bullet fired with millimetric precision to its blade. But he had been instructed under no uncertain terms to stay out of the confrontation, and by now he knew better than to disobey you. 

"Don't you know what they say about bringing a knife to a gunfight?" The girl quipped, heavy ucranian accent lacing her words.

You smirked,

"They only say that cause a knife is only as good as the one who wields it, тетя Lena… Are you sure you're better with a gun than I am with a knife?"

She rolled her eyes at your cockiness, knowing full well you had several more sharp weapons hidden in your body. 

"Ты менг раздржаешь... So," Lena inquired, eyeing Peter up and down, "Who's the boy toy?"

Your smirk intensified, a barely there twitch, an almost imperceptible movement of your fingers, was all the signal your boyfriend needed,

"His name is Peter," A web shooter went off, and Lena found herself suddenly unarmed "and he's not a boy toy" 

"No, he's an avenger" She spat the word like an insult, "You know the rules, Likho. We don't fuck with strangers"

"And we only share secrets with those we can trust" You finished for her, "I trust him, Lena" 

She huffed, still sizing him up, but you could see a new glint of curiosity, if not respect, in her emerald eyes. 

After a minute, she finally relaxed, dropping her defensive stance. Without another word, she turned away from you, opening a cabinet, taking out three glasses and a bottle of vodka. 

"What's the story, then?" She began pouring the drinks, "I assume there is a story there, last time I saw you, you wanted to kill the avengers. Now here you are, with one as a pet…"

"I'm not- I'm not a…" Peter stammered his protest, "I'm not a pet" 

"Then why are you trailing after her like a lost puppy?" 

"Lena," Your tone was warning, as you grabbed your glass "play nice"

She rolled her eyes again,

"You sound just like your mother. The blonde widow made a face, downing her drink in one gulp, only to immediately refill it, "I miss her"

"Yeah" you sighed, "me too…" 

Peter fidgeted uncomfortably next to you.

"Everything ok, Peter?"

Your boyfriend hesitated: His spider sense was still on high alert, but he couldn't really tell if it was because of the assassin, or another threat you were unaware of.

He decided to play it down for the moment.

"Yeah just… don't want to be rude or anything but I'm not really the vodka type"

"I guessed that already, Spider-Boy. Is why I didn't pour you one…"

"Then who's that one for?" He questioned pointing at the third one.

"That would be for me" 

You looked up, your face breaking into the biggest grin Peter had ever seen on you at the sound of the new voice.

"Alex!" 

A pang of jealousy hit him, as he watched you throw yourself into the arms of the tall, handsome stranger.

Because this Alex guy was handsome, there was no denying that: Bright hazel eyes on top of the sharpest cheekbones Peter had ever seen, pale face framed by dark, shiny long tresses almost to his shoulders.

"Nice hair" You teased, running your fingers through his luscious locks and Peter had the sudden impulse to stick bubble gum to them like Flash had done to him once, back in junior year. He self consciously rubbed his own head, too aware of his buzzcut.

"Nice bangs," the Alex guy shot back, messing your hair like one would to a little child, "you look like a schoolgirl" 

That earned him a rather painful looking punch to his shoulder.

"Punch like a girl too"

"Train a little harder and you will too" You winked. Peter cleared his throat. "Right, of course. Alex, this is Peter. Peter, this is Alex" 

They shook hands, Peter impulsively squeezing a little too hard for a human. But the skinnier boy simply smiled a wolfish grin, all sharp white teeth, returning the grip with just as much strength. 

"Welcome to the spiders' den, Peter"

…

An hour later found the four of you satiated and relaxed, amongst empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. 

"... So, there we were, completely surrounded by both Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, that were actually also Hydra agents, outnumbered and without any exit points in sight" Lena was retelling, Alex nodding enthusiastically beside her as he chew yet another slice of pepperoni, "So I reach inside my boot for my hidden glock, smirky hydra son of a bitch goes 'You looking for this, blondie?' Shaking my knife in front of my face…"

You fidget uncomfortably next to Peter, his eyes going from your beet red face to an Alex that seemed to be choking.

"And that little brat" she pointed at you, "Barbie pajamas, ice cream cone in one hand, my fucking gun in the other goes 'No, fart knocker, she was looking for this'" 

Alex finally snorted, little crumbs escaping his mouth and hitting you in the face as he started coughing. You wiped your face with as much dignity as you could muster.

"You're just salty because a nine year old saved your ass" 

"A sick nine year old" Alex managed to get out between barks, "With pink eye, she could only see with one eye. And using just one hand. Is why we call her Likho ever since" 

"Wait, you still had your ice cream?" 

"She never let go of that ice cream" Lena replied to the question Peter had directed at you, and you felt the temperature of your cheeks rise even more. 

"Literally single handedly took out 7 agents" Alex added, "and then demanded another scoop" 

All three of your companions dissolved in laughter, as you felt your stomach churn. Alex wouldn't look back on that particular memory with such fond eyes if he knew what that little incident had initiated, how it had snowballed until the consequences had reached a girl on the other side of the world, another red room experiment, just like you. 

They said a butterfly flapping its wings here can cause a typhoon in China. Well, your hurricane had levelled Ava Orlova's life.

You weren't one for guilt. Guilt had no place in survival. You did what had to be done in order to preserve yourself and your freedom. Just like your mother had taught you. Just like she had done. But being with Peter, loving Peter… well, that was having unforeseen consequences too, as you were coming to realize. 

Because now you understood. Now you understood Alex and Ava's bond, because Alex had felt for Ava the same way you did for Peter. Probably still did, since it was with trepidation that you realized his death probably wouldn't change your feelings for peter. 

After all, your own hadn't. 

"What about you, spider-boy? Any embarrassing stories to share?"

Peter smiled, for a minute forgetting where he was or why he was there,

"Actually, I do. It involves a barn, an overly friendly goat and hay in places hay should never…" He trailed off, his smile falling when he saw the look on your face.

"No! Why did you stop? That sounds like a great story!"

"Yeah, you got me at 'overly friendly goat'!"

Peter simply interlocked his fingers with yours, silently offering his support. It was time. You took a deep breath

"Because it wouldn't be fair to tell you a story that I don't remember" 

Silence fell over the small kitchen, as Lena and Alex processed your words, the later being the first to break it,

"S.H.I.E.L.D?"

"The T.A.H.I.T.I. protocol" you confirmed. He leaned back on his chair, chuckling, but there was no humor behind it.

"Well, well, well… ain't karma a bitch" 

"Alexei," Lena's tone was warning, "that was the Blank Slate project. You can't blame Likho for what Natasha did"

"Can't I? Really? Cause in over twenty years, our sister never cared about my 'trauma', but we find out about her" He pointed, accusingly, "and suddenly she is all about giving us a normal life. As if we could ever be normal. As if new memories could erase the Red Room from our bones"

"Alex…" You tried, weakly, but you didn't know what to say. Not when everything he was saying was true. 

"And now what? You want me to help you break through it? Now you need us to get back the memories they took from you, just like your mother stole memories from us?" 

"Alexei!"

"NO, YELENA!" Three figures automatically jumped into a fighting stance when his fist met the table. Alex closed his eyes, attempting to get his breathing, and his emotions, back under control. 

"If you want to help these Avengers, go ahead" He finally said, eyes fixed on his sister's, "but don't expect me to be a part of this." 

Without another word, he got up and left the room, leaving Yelena to pick the pieces of the broken bottle that had rolled off the table. And you, to pick up the pieces of your broken heart. 

"Shhh, it's ok, y/n" Peter, sweet, loyal Peter, tried to envelope you in his arms when he heard the first sob leave your throat, even if he didn't quite understand why it had hurt you so much to be called an Avenger. But Lena was there in a heartbeat, throwing him a dirty look, and taking your face in her hands to force you to look at her instead. 

"Don't listen to him, Likho. You're not an Avenger, you are a widow. You will always be a widow, and always will be a part of this family. Just like your mother."

You nodded, buring your face on your aunt's shoulder. 

"I'll help you, both of you" Yelena declared, eyes meeting Peter's, "Us spiders ought to take care of each other" 

To be continued… 

[annaktheslightlygay]

The One Where She Closes the Door (pt. 2)

What happens if Beca never worked up the courage to ask Chloe how she felt, in her doorway at 12am. What if Chloe came to her door instead?

Dread filled Beca’s veins. 

“Can we have a conversation?” Chloe said, shutting Beca’s door. 

“My suitemates aren’t home,” Beca said, in response. 

“Okay,” Chloe said with a little laugh. “Is that supposed to be an innuendo?” Beca watched as she went over to the bed. Beca stayed where she was, suddenly feeling like this room wasn’t possibly big enough for the both of them.

“It’s supposed to be a fact.”

“I see.” Chloe heaved herself onto Beca’s bed, settling down on the end with the pillows as she waited for the younger girl to join her. 

“I- sorry,” Beca began. “Let me change.” Chloe had made some comments before on how it was Beca’s room, and how she could change whenever she wanted. Beca always felt like she wanted to run out of the room though, away from Chloe’s prying eyes– not because she felt uncomfortable, but because she knew the older girl would look at her, and she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that. Still, Beca stayed in the room, pulling open the drawer near Chloe’s overhanging feet to grab a t-shirt. 

“That’s a cool font.” 

“Thanks,” said Beca, slowly, showing all of her teeth. Chloe tried not to compliment her, she’d noticed. Mostly just not in public, maybe behind closed doors was a whole different story. Beca gave the other girl a smile, as she pulled the shirt over her head, not bothering to take off the one underneath. 

When Beca had gotten dressed this morning, she hadn’t been thinking of changing in front of Chloe. But Chloe, like she always did, said that she needed help on a class project that she simply couldn’t do by herself. Which like– to be fair– she couldn’t. It’s not like the Bella could film herself; she needed an extra pair of hands, and Beca was happy (okay, willing) to provide. 

“I’m nervous, now,” Beca said as she pulled her hair out of her collar. “What did I do?” 

Chloe simply shrugged. 

“You’re not talking...” Beca said, struggling to get on the bed. Her natural inclination was to sit near her (she loved it when the two of them would touch, just a bit) but something about this conversation felt different. Beca scooted to the end of the bed, moving her body a bit to make sure she wouldn’t fall off the end.

Chloe smiled, and looked away. 

“Is this something I should be nervous for–”

“I’m nervous, Beca,” Chloe interrupted. Beca’s ears perked up with that. Primarily because Chloe called her Beca and something about the way she used her name was so intimate, so real, though Beca had a hard time placing it. And second– because Chloe was nervous. Chloe was never nervous. Okay, she was– and Beca knew her tells (twisting her hair up and down, walking around the room, shaking her leg off the side of the bed, like she was doing now.) But Chloe hardly ever admitted to it. In fact, Beca didn’t think she’d ever heard Chloe admit it aloud. It made Beca sweat. 

Despite her racing heart, Beca kind of knew what was coming. Or rather, she’d hoped the conversation that they were about to have was the one she’d been trying to start for the past week. 

“It’s just me, dude,” Beca said, resisting to place her hand on the other girl’s thigh. “Don’t worry about it,” she reiterated, following her words with what she hoped was an easy smile. She could imitate a calm person when she needed to– she just hoped Chloe didn’t see her wipe her palms on her sheets. 

“I– I think we need to talk,” Chloe started. 

Is that not what we’re doing right now?

“I,” Chloe looked at Beca, who smiled. “I really want to kiss you.” Beca looked down, lips turning into a smile. She could not imitate a chill-and-totally-cool person at that. Still, she looked up at Chloe as she felt her breathing increase. 

Chloe looked at her, eyes flicking down to her lips. 

“Ughhhh,” Chloe let out a groan, falling forward, nearly into Beca’s lap. Beca placed her hand on the other girl’s head, smiling and laughing too. 

God, this was awkward. Somehow, Beca couldn’t bring herself to respond. She just smiled as the other girl sat up. 

“I just... this is really hard. I thought when I became your RA.. there’s just a power dynamic and I... don’t ever want to pressure you...” 

“I don’t really see that. I mean- I know you’re my RA and stuff but when we’re hanging out, I just don’t see that. I don’t really see that until we have to do those awkward meetings with my roommates even though you’ve been over here every night this week...”

“You know I tried to get you out of that.” 

Beca let out a little laugh. “Really?”

“Yeah, tried to schedule it when I knew you had another meeting going on. And yet, you still showed up.” 

Beca laughed shaking her head. She remembered canceling her prior meeting. Any excuse to see you.

“God, I was so nervous to be your RA. I just– I didn’t know how to handle it.” 

I think you were nervous to see me again.

“I don’t think that changes things– for me, at least.”

“I just never want to pressure you, and no offense, but we met when you were a freshman...” 

“I’m technically a junior now, if that makes any difference.” 

Chloe shook her head, smiling.

“It makes me nervous, too. Because between the two of us...” Chloe stopped, trying to word her point without offending the other girl. “I really bring up our average of innocence. Like is that fair to say?”

Beca’s face flushed a bright red. “Yes,” she practically grumbled. It was a bit of a sore subject, she had to admit. It wasn’t her fault no girl actually wanted to date her, so she brought nearly no experience to the table. Is that the dealbreaker?

“I have to admit... when I thought about what I want in a relationship, and what I saw in you...” Beca took a quick glance to her photographs on the wall, wanting to look anywhere but Chloe’s eyes. “Some things did align.” Not everything. Like the fact that you smoke, or that you think stealing is okay, or that you have to have the most attention on you of anyone in a room. But some things - like your passion for music (and for anything really,) your ability to work through your emotions...

“You keep saying the word ‘relationship’.”

Well saying I want to fuck you just seems a little bit crude. 

“I am open to things that aren’t a relationship... I just.. I don’t know what I don’t know, ya know? Like I won’t know if I like things until I try them.”

“But emotionally...”

“I trust you,” Beca bagan. “I... don’t really know what I want to say yet. But just know I have a very positive reaction to this,” Beca said, with an attempt at a shy smile. Meanwhile, her brain was screaming: ‘ARE WE HAVING SEX? DO YOU WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH ME? I WANT TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU. I THINK! UNLESS IT’S AWKWARD?’

“I uh, I haven’t been in a relationship since I was 17,” was the only thing Beca could manage to say.

“Yeah, but that’s not that long. Like what– senior year, and then you had a semester here before everything went to shit...” Chloe stopped. “And now we’re here. You know, for all I talk about in high school, I only had seven relationships.” 

Beca deadpanned. 

“But I’ve only had two in college. Unless you count that Bernie Sanders girl,” Chloe added.

That was the girl you stopped seeing right after you met me. (Beca didn’t want to read into things.)

“Plus, global pandemic,” Beca added. Chloe gave her a nod. 

“Plus that.”

“I... I also don’t want to take that away from you, though. Like... they,” Chloe gestured to Beca’s wall, indicating her would be suitemates, “can’t know.” Would this be an awkward time to say that when I was mad at you/ the universe at the beginning of the semester that I told them you were my ex or no? Because I did? But I’m *pretty* sure they don’t care. 

Beca chuckled nervously. 

“I don’t want to take away you not being able to talk about your first relationship with a woman.” 

“That’s fair,” Beca said.

“And the girls can’t know....” Chloe stopped, her body wiggling against the pillows. “I, again, I don’t know. This seems unfair.” 

“I don’t know either, if that helps.” Chloe gave her a look like ‘it doesn’t, but thanks.’

“You just... you put your hand on my thigh...” Chloe started, a cheeky smile. 

Oh god, I’m going to die.

“Sorry, I’m not going to say that I’m not obvious. You know that I like you.” It was Beca’s smoothest response yet.

“We barely knew each other when we left. And I– at the time– Aubrey told me that she liked me, too.”

Suddenly, all the Snapchats from the summer that Chloe sent from Aubrey’s bed were threatening to make Beca retroactively jealous. If there was such a thing.

“But she’s dating Stacie...” 

“Yes, now she is.”

“I- in the summer,” Beca started. “I didn’t know how to feel. Fat Amy was always telling me that you liked me, that you had a crush on me, all those things. But I didn’t know how much of it was true, and how much of it was just Fat Amy being Fat Amy, you know?”

 Chloe nodded. “I tend to have crushes on a lot of people, Beca.” 

That hurt a bit, but at least it was honest.

“You make this hard, though, like I don’t know what to do.” There was a beat of silence, and Beca used it to look around the room, once again resisting Chloe’s eyes. 

“I don’t know what to say.” Beca wished she could say something bolder. But right now she was just trying to process. “Do you... is there something you want me to say? Like something you want to ask?” Beca asked.

Read: I have no idea what this means or what to do now or how to end this conversation but just like know I’m really attracted to you and would fuck you if asked. 

“No, I just... yeah,” came the response.

Beca couldn’t meet Chloe’s eyes; she glanced over to her desk instead. 

Chloe followed her gaze, a bit amused. “What are you looking at?” 

“I– nothing. I just wanted to know what time it was.” (It was barely 10 pm, and Beca knew this. She just needed something else to say.) 

“Here,” Chloe hopped of the bed, and handed the younger girl her phone. 

“Ten ohhh-five.” Beca said, reading the time like an idiot. 

The bubble they’d created was nearly broken. 

--

Chloe must have left the room at some point (no doubt somewhat of an awkward goodbye, on Beca’s part. Because all she remembers from that point onward was reeling for the rest of the night. She remembers waking up at 2am, and texting Jesse that she was freaking out. Then waking up at five and working on her mixes for the next 3 hours before class. 

Somehow, she doesn’t know where she landed with Chloe– so she sends her ill-written text at 3pm the next day.

[a-shakespearean-in-paris]

I was in a toxic friendship

I want to preface this by saying I am so much happier right now and I am no longer friends with this person. Haven’t seen or heard from her in over a year. I also want to be clear this was a friendship I had in real life, not tumblr. I think however this story’s lessons can be applicable across the board to online friendships and even relationships with family members. Please, if you ever feel belittled by your “friends,” and you bring it up to them and they brush it aside and think you’re overreacting, it’s not a friendship. 

I was friends with this person, let’s call her Stacy, for about ten years before I realized I no longer wanted to speak to her or be her friend. I met her in the ninth grade and we bonded over Disney World and other things and I could talk to her about anything, including this huge crush I had on a twelfth grade boy. She came over to my house sometimes, though not a lot, and as high school wore on we started going to the mall together, stuff like that. I went to college in a different city and she came to visit me sometimes, and we even worked at the same theme park, though different departments. For all intents and purposes this was my best friend, though Stacey got upset when I also called my cousin my best friend, even though she spoke of her sister as her best friend.

She got a boyfriend when we were both around 21/22 or so, I think we were both juniors in college, though she took a semester off because she hated school and thought it was weird I was a double major. She told me her boyfriend was thirty and she met him at work. I thought the age gap was a little big, but I wasn’t one to judge. Later on I found out he was 36 and she told me she lied because she was worried how I would react. I met him and I thought he was nice, but when she got engaged when we were both around 23, I had only met him that one time for a birthday dinner she had, and my mom and dad told me they thought it was kind of strange. They also said it was weird to them whenever I hung out with Stacey it was only for like an hour, two at most, especially since my cousin and I could spend days and day together at sleepovers, chilling and being ourselves, interpretative dancing, lol. Privately I also found it odd I could talk to Stacey about anything, but when I asked questions about her life and her thoughts she’d barely talk. Her grandma passed away, she loved visiting my grandma because she could have one through me. One day I broke down and admitted my grandmother is a narcissist, and she is different behind closed doors. she berates me, used to call me fat, berated me. Stacey didn’t believe me. I can’t say when she started not being such a good presence in my life, but these were some seeds, and it got worse--slow at once and then all at once as they say.

Anyway, I was a bridesmaid of hers and her sister was the maid of honor--a mutual friend was another bridesmaid and there was one more (super sweet girl and I don’t even think Stacy talks with her much anymore either LMAO) and at this point in my life I was really into my first fanfic IWD. I was consumed with it, to put it bluntly. This is another story entirely but I spent so much of my college career as an English major writing for academia, and when I was finally writing something for me, I bloomed. I talked to her about it and she kind of laughed about this Cullen person but she liked to read fanfic herself so was whatever about me doing it. I shared with her my first piece of commissioned art and she laughed at Lydia thinking Lydia was just me, and I told her, no, she wasn’t, she’s based off of several old hollywood ladies and I actually made her avatar in game, but she wouldn’t believe it. I actually ended up saying “would you think this if I were white and she were white as well” and she laughed and didn’t understand. Needless to say the whole incident rubbed me the wrong way. I ignored it. Her wedding happened, her sister made a good speech, then when all the groomsmen did a speech for the groom the other Bridesmaids and I thought we had to do something, so we got up there and made an impromptu speech. I called her my sister and I told her I loved her. I didn’t know it then, but I didn’t believe her when she said “love you too.”

I wanted to go back to school, and I ended up in a Masters program after the wedding. My summer semester, my first, went well, starting in June and ending in July. I finished IWD and went to another fic, Stacey making fun of Sophie, my OC for that fic too, because I just straight up made her part Hawaiian like I am. When I told her I had little representation growing up other than like Lilo and Stitch and now Moana, (which I don’t like TBH but another story lol.) she asked me what the big deal was about that. Why did it matter that no main character ever looked as I looked? I couldn’t explain to her how much writing a character who was like me in a fanfic mattered. We planned on going to Disney World, me, her, her sister, and the other bridesmaid, but don’t post anything on facebook because she didn’t want to invite the other other bridesmaid. I wanted to go to a nightclub with her for my birthday but she didn’t want to go because her sister couldn’t enter, so after my whole family, plus her and her husband ate at my favorite restaurant, she went home even after I begged her to come with my and my cousin. She said it was stupid. Also, her husband was a huge ass to wait staff. Alarm bells went off for all of us.

But I was looking forward to Disney in December that year. (2018) I didn’t have a job at the time but was actively looking. Well, I got a job after interview after interview at restaurants that wouldn’t hire me, my dream job researching Shakespeare. It fell through. (I was promised to actively help the professor research, it fell through.) She paid for the trip without me knowing and I had to pay her back 800 dollars on writing commissions which I severely underpriced. because I was worried no one would pay otherwise. School wasn’t going well. Put it simply I felt really dumb and stupid and like I didn’t belong, (we were reading Ulysses!!!) which I later learned was a common sentiment with my classmates who began the same time as I. I will admit my relationship with academia is rocky at the moment, but I genuinely do love to write, love to research, love to make discoveries about new texts. Stacey saw how stressed I was and sad and got angry I was so sad, and asked why was I in school anyway Am I going to be on my deathbed and wished I studied harder? I didn’t have the energy to tell her it wasn’t about “studying harder,” it was that I loved writing and reading and wanted to be a part of academia. Learning makes me happy, expanding my mind. She belittled me anyway, thinking getting a Masters was dumb and I wouldn’t get a good job.

At Disney World I was so happy. I hadn’t been there since I was a child. She made fun of me for wanting to meet Ariel, for wanting to ride Soaring and being afraid to check grades when a classmate said they were up. I got so stressed I cried at the Japan pavilion at Epcot and stress ate sauerbraten at the Germany pavilion (Amazing by the way, I love German food.) She basically dictated the entire trip--we went to Universal for Harry Potter World at her request and refused to ride the spider man ride with me (it was fucking fun too-girl missed out.) All she wanted to do was stand around in Harry Potter world all day, (LOL now right?) I wasn’t that big of a Potter fan anymore, even at that point, and she told me I was going to stay there anyway and like it. She dictated the entire trip and when I questioned her about it she said I wasn’t listening to to her--we were following the agenda. Our last day there we went to a “Hawaiian” restaurant and made a comment about my “Hawaiian privileges.” I just didn’t have the heart to tell her that the crap we ate didn’t hold a candle to real Hawaiian luau food.

When we got back I was mentally drained and melancholic because I wondered why Stacey was so cruel to me. She always had a biting wit, but before it seemed playful. Now it was cruel, mocking. She made me feel so incredibly stupid. At this point my cousin got engaged and I cried because I wanted so badly to be in love with someone and get married. I was angry and I lashed out at people I shouldn’t have. I was later diagnosed as depressed. I felt like my life was at a standstill and matters with Stacey didn’t help. I also had a huge writing crisis--I told Stacey something I will always remember and always regret because she doesn’t deserve to know: I write the romances I want because no man wants me.  At this point, Stacy turned me into her project. She didn’t like how sad I was at Disney World, it put a bummer on her trip, and when I told her she seemed off she brushed it off. Her plan was to get me on dating apps and basically settle for anyone, even though I had used apps before and don’t like them, but when I got back on Bumble she basically patronized me and told me she was proud of me and “small steps.” On bumble, I wanted to vomit. (for the record, I am not against dating apps, I know success stories, but at that time I was not emotionally ready to date.) Also, she would teach me to drive so I could go on dates, but only in my Dad’s truck. 

I wish I could say I broke it off, that I told her not to talk to me again, but Stacey stopped talking to me first. However. the day she stopped was when I told her she was wrong and I wouldn’t listen to this anymore. What happened? I mentioned I was demisexual.  She said it wasn’t real. I said it was real to me--I don’t experience sexual attraction unless I have bonded with someone. Sure there are people I like to look at, but it’s not a sexual attraction. She asked about my crush on Tom Hiddleston, Cullen, “that robot guy” and was like yeah you’re sure demi, and lol it’s not real. It wasn’t just her words, it was the mocking indifference. 

I went off. I told her she didn’t have the right to tell me what was in my brain or how I felt. I knew who I was and who I am. I should have also told her I wasn’t her project, but I left her that day and it was the last time I saw her.

I talked to my dad that night and mentioned it to him, being demi, and you know what he told me? I think I’m the same way. I think I almost cried. 

I tried to talk to her again but she didn’t want to see me. She had “personal issues and was busy” I pissed her off. Good, I say now. But after this happened in March of 2019 I thought I had no friends. She was my only friend, and I lost another mutual friend (one we went to Disney with) because she knew Stacey longer than she knew me. But you know what happened in April? My cousin asked me to be her maid of honor and I fucking wept, because there was my best friend--my sister all along. Just because she lives in another city and we are growing up and it took me longer to figure out my career than her doesn’t change the fact that we have a bond that can’t be broken. My cousin is one of my favorite people and if you know her you love her--it is impossible not to. And when I told her about my fanfic and about being demi she wanted to know, wanted to listen. School got better too--I started chatting in class more and come to find out, one of my classmates also broke up with a toxic friend. God I love her and I miss her--wish I could see her. (thanks COVID) 

There was more, but this was a lot, and I spent more time writing this than I thought I would. I wanted to write it because seeing a few posts float around made me remember, and I want ya’ll to know, leaving a friendship is scary. Sometimes it can be worse than leaving a lover. But it is a brave thing to do. Part of me that knew I should have left at the first racist comment (oh yeah, she called me a pineapple one day before the Disney trip, did I mention it’s a slur for Hawaiian people? If my grandma were there she would have clobbed her.) but I stayed because I didn’t think I had any other friends. Well, I did and I do, and I know now friends lift each other up, not belittle or talk behind your back. They listen to me when I talk about how important my writing and my characters are to me. 

Sometimes I still miss her--but mostly the high school her that I knew before she met her husband. I don’t know if he changed her or this was her all along, perhaps both. I got fired from a job in November 2019 (which now I’d like to thank them because I got a better and more fulfilling job with a boss that respects me.) and when I cried outside the place, humiliated, I wanted to call her and vent like I used to. I didn’t. Now I don’t want to call her anymore or talk to her. I’d rather spend time with people who care, people who don’t kick me when I’m down. Since then I am so much stronger, in so many ways. The worst times in my life yielded the greatest lessons I have ever learned. 

If you made it this far, thank you. I did tear up a little writing this, but please know: it can be hard to walk a new path, but it is brave. You are brave. You don’t deserve to be belittled *hugs*