#who knows she might skip january

[1296-very-good-year]

Could be the last D. Gray-man chapter of the year of the rabbit... Hoshino if there was ever a time to show us our boy Lavi it is now please I beg you 🙏 🐰

[1d1195]

Made to Be - Extra IV

Read Made to Be here | ~1.8k words

From me: I was just thinking about them (probs because I'm always thinking about school. This take place sometime between January and the second extra (pre-baby stuff). This is just a really quick little thing until I can write something of merit. I believe I'm almost caught up at work. I think I might be able to write something more substantial this week 💕 Thank you for being patient and kind.

Warnings: none, fluffy cute stuff.

Summary: Harry's not the only one who thinks she was made to be a teacher.

May

“I think we should outlaw field trips,” she mumbled sitting beside Harry in the front seat of the bus.

He chuckled. “It will be fun, kitten,” he assured her.

“Fun for you maybe. You got the good group of kids to chaperone.��

“I’ll give y’group a lecture before we split up, angel,” he promised. Harry snagged her hand from her lap and gave it a gentle squeeze. They tried not to be overly affectionate in front of the students because they didn’t want it to be weird...not that it was weird. But it was definitely something in their eyes. “Y’know they only gave y’a tough group because y’can handle it and they love you.”

She sighed. “I know, I know.”

They were dressed comfortably for the history museum trip. Business casual that made Harry think she was modeling for teachers in textbooks. She was so pretty it made his heart skip a beat.

She had been telling Harry how excited she was to go on the trip up until she got the names of the group she was chaperoning. She was especially excited because schools always got great discounts for museums that she generally hated to pay for. But not even the group rate was enough to make her enthusiasm spike. She fiddled nervously with her engagement ring dangling on her necklace. Harry truly outdid himself and wearing the ring on her finger in the city made her nervous so she opted for the necklace so she could tuck it away safely. (But she assured Harry the thought of taking it off made her feel naked.) Until it was tucked away, Harry smiled, self-satisfied as she twisted it on the silver chain. That pretty diamond glittering in the sun coming through the window of the bus made him so happy. The little symbol that they’d be together forever. She was made for him. He was certain.

He almost forgot he was supposed to be comforting her. It was loud behind them. Not excessive, but when forty something students chattered in an enclosed area, it always got a bit loud and also didn’t help his train of thought. “They’ll pull it together for you,” he draped an arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. The kids would have to deal.

“Aw!” Someone droned. Her cheeks heated briefly but Harry turned in his seat and glared so that the sound was cut off quickly.

“Jus’ show them all y’favorite things,” he shrugged.

“My nightmare is losing a student on a trip,” she sighed. “This is so stressful.”

“They’re not little ones, m’love,” he reminded her. “They can wander a bit and they’ll be okay. S’not like they don’t all go to the mall on their own and whatnot. Plus, I’d never let y’take the fall for losing one of them. We’d find them. M’sure a lot of parents wouldn’t either. But s’not going t’happen.”

She nodded. Then she sighed heavily and squeezed his hand back. “You’re right.”

“Mm, music t’my ears,” he grinned.

“Don’t push it.”

*

But Harry was right. Her group of students who were usually a rough and tumble kind of bunch really got into the trip. At first they were quiet, almost shy. But she acted as if she didn’t notice and told them all about the exhibits they encountered and explained as much as she could. She did her best to connect the displays to their own lives so they would care more.

As such, they walked right along with her and forgot their shyness. They asked intelligent follow up questions after she explained what they were looking at. They followed all her directions and even asked her for more information about the information she told them as they walked through the rooms. She was going to boost their grades when they got back to school with bonus points for being so good and learning at the same time.

The relief was exhilarating.

About part way through the morning, her group of eight needed a bathroom break. She waited outside the bathrooms and checked her phone for any kind of emergency. Harry texted to check in on her, so she answered to let him know how good her group was and how happy she was to be on the trip again.

“School trip?”

She looked up instinctively, the lanyard around her neck was the only thing that marked her as an adult in comparison to her students. Her slightly shorter frame didn’t compare to the boys she taught who often towered over her. She thought she usually looked the part of being a teacher. She felt it was written on her face (or maybe it was the headband with the Treaty of Versailles printed on the fabric and her pencil earrings that gave it away). The man before wasn’t one of her coworkers but he had a lanyard around his neck from a school she hadn’t heard of before.

She nodded. “Oh yeah, drove an hour in,” she cleared her throat awkwardly.

“Same here. About an hour and a half. You’re a history teacher as well?” He asked.

Her students were still in the restroom, so she cleared her throat again and nodded. “Yes, World History.”

“Same here, where are you in the curriculum right now?”

“We just finished up the Industrial Revolution. About to start Imperialism.”

“Fun stuff! You know, one of my students heard you talking about the Enigma exhibit. Said I left out a ton of information that you seemed to know a lot more about.”

She chuckled. “I see, sorry about that,” she smiled politely. “I get a little too into Bletchley Park.”

“Don’t we all.”

“Miss,” one of her students said suddenly appearing from the bathroom with two others. She glanced toward the men’s bathroom but didn’t see any of them just yet. “Can we pop into the giftshop?”

She glanced at her watch. “I think we have time for that, scope it out before everyone else at the end of the day. We have lunch in about an hour.”

“Are you all eating here, in the food court?”

“I think we’re eating outside,” she said. “Nice day and all... I think the boys are coming out now,” she smiled at her student. “Nice meeting you. Enjoy the museum,” she ushered her students toward the men’s room and sighed.

“Was he hitting on you, Miss?” She whispered.

“Shh.”

“Okay, queen,” she giggled. “Are you going to tell Mr. Styles?”

“He wasn’t hitting on me.”

“Miss,” she laughed. “He was so hitting on you.”

“I didn’t—”

“Who was hitting on her?” One of the boys asked.

“No one—”

“That guy.”

“Oooh, he’s cute. Wait until Mr. Styles finds out he has competition.”

“Miss, I think we have to intimidate him,” another one of the boys explained knowingly. “It’s what Mr. Styles would want.”

“Oh, my word,” she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we go to the giftshop?”

*

“Everyone please look in the seat next to you and check if the person you travelled with on the way here is still here! We’re doing a final headcount as soon as we’re all seated.”

“Mr. Styles!” One of her group members sang. She glared at him briefly with her best teacher stare before she sat facing forward in her seat. Harry squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

“Yes? Didn’t y’torture m’fiancée enough today?”

“I would never torture her! But your fiancée got hit on by a guy by the bathroom!” He shouted.

The resounding oohs from the entire bus made her blush. She looked straight forward at the seatback in front of her. “Really?” He smiled and glanced down at the pretty girl beside him.

She shook her head. “He was not flirting.”

“Course he was, Miss! You’re a total catch!” The girl in her group called back.

“She’s right, y’know,” he winked at her knowingly, his voice was low. Maybe only one or two students heard Harry say it and they were kind enough to giggle and not make a scene of it or embarrass her further. “Alright, alright, head count!”

She stayed put while Harry walked up and down the aisle. When he returned to the front, he told the bus driver that everyone was accounted for and they could go on their way.

“Hiding your affair from me?” He winked.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled and grabbed her hand from her lap and brought her fingers to his lips briefly. “S’no surprise, really.”

“It’s probably because my ring was inside my shirt.”

“Lucky ring,” he hummed.

“Harry,” she hissed.

“The man has good taste, kitten,” he shrugged. “M’not surprised at all.”

She sighed. “I wasn’t hiding it from you. I just didn’t want to make you jealous. I don’t want you to think you have anything to be jealous of, you know?”

“I know, I know,” his voice was so kind and soft. The way he sounded when they were falling asleep. It was quiet and warm. If they weren’t in front of forty something students, he probably would have held her cheek and kissed her the way he did every night. Would have traced her features and told her how much he loved her. “You’re jus’ so pretty, so nice, so lovely that anyone with half a brain cell can see it from across the room,” he assured her. Her relief was massive. The idea of hurting Harry’s feelings or betraying his trust was one of her worst fears. She pulled the necklace from its spot and twisted it again and Harry’s smile grew. “God,” he shook his head. Then he squeezed her hand three quick times. She squeezed it back four times in succession. Both knew what it meant. A not quite secret that they loved each other.

She was always grateful for Harry coming into her life. The day she left her old school and got her new job was so scary and sad. In hindsight, she would have told herself in her first year of teaching that a new school was in her future, and she was going to meet a man that was everything she wanted and more.

Someone who was made for her.

“What?” He smirked. The sun was setting and bathing the bus in a soft golden light that only highlighted how handsome Harry was.

“Just thinking about how jealous I would be if a girl flirted with you on a field trip. You have way more kindness than I do.”

“Oh, don’t worry, kitten,” he mumbled and brought his mouth to her ear. “M’going t’show you how crazy the thought of another guy chatting y’up makes me later. Remind you that y’don’t need anyone else. Ever,” he promised and pressed a chaste kiss that did not match the intensity of his words.

Her cheeks warmed once more but she smiled. Shaking her head she squeezed his hand three more times.

--

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[col0rlord]

Pool table 🎱

Jake Seresin x reader!

Summary: You like playing pool? Someone you know does too. This challenge might be a win, win for you either way you play.

~🎱🍒🍺🐆~

It was a typical Thursday at the Hard Deck around 7:30ish. Maybe a little later. You placed the pool balls in the rack, with the 8 ball right in the middle. A little warm up before the crowd came shuffling in.

There were a few older men sitting at the bar nursing their drinks. Too busy talking to one another before it was too loud to even hear the balls clinking off each other. They seemed like they were catching up and talking about the latest news in their life.

Regulars you have seen before.

Never got their names, but they know yours from Penny yelling it across the bar for you to retrieve the drink you get every time. A blue moon glass bottle.

Taking the rack away from the balls and hitting the first shot straight to the middle watching as the balls landed in their placement like popping open confetti on January 1st when the clock hit midnight. Feeling the heat from the heater roll of your neck after taking your hair and putting it in a ponytail.

Not playing anyone just practicing the hits and warming up when someone does come up and ask to play.

Warming up the little tricks you had. Put on a show for the people. They liked it. Sitting on the table and shooting from behind your back was the crowd favorite. Skipping the ball over the other and getting it in was a good one too. When you put the two together there was always someone coming up to you asking how you did that in the first place.

Slowly the bar became more alive and you weren't even halfway done with your drink yet. Downing the rest before people came over to watch you and some random play for money or anything really.

Walking to the bar to get a refill Penny looked you up and down as she was wiping a glass with a white rag she then flipped on her shoulder to rest for later use. “Y/n, those moves are going to get you in trouble one of these days.” She said as she grabbed my glass bottle, throwing it away and opening another one for me.

Shrugging at the idea of a man throwing a fit over losing to you in a game of 8 ball. “Maybe we will make the big bucks tonight. People love to see me as they try and win. I’m just too good at this shit. Nights like this seem to be busier anyways, so I came tonight instead of tomorrow night,” You told her as she placed the drink in front of you winking as you grinning knowing you are right.

“Watch out Y/n. We got some Aviators walking in soon. Might have a bit of a challenge up for you there.” She spoke out as you were walking away back to the table to finish what was going on, on the spread of balls.

Later on, around 8:30 now, you had some guy walking up to you wanting to play. This poor guy came in almost every night trying to win against you. You even went a little easy on him a few times. Trying to offer help but he always turned it down saying he ‘Could win against you without a female's help.’

We moved past that as I kept winning, he never said anything else about it after those first 4 times of me winning.

“That's game Logan.” you said bent the table over looking at him through your lashes as you hit the 8 ball into the far right pocket all the way from the other corner. Smirking as you watch it roll into the pocket. Looking back at the older ladies smoking a cigarette as they all high-fived me. Taking a swig of my beer. Feeling the condensation roll down my hands and between my fingers.

He rolled his eyes and placed the pool cue on the end of the table and walked off. The cue rolled over the edge and onto the ground with a loud clanking sound, as it tottered from the tip to the end about 3 times. The noise ended abruptly. Whipping your head around fast to watch who stopped it. You see this tall man in an Aviator uniform. Brown hair and green eyes. Face was sharp and square. Tan, buff. easy to look at. I could go on and on

“Y/n Y/l/n. heard of the name but never met in person. Saw your picture on the wall back there. I’m Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Pleasure is mine.’” Reaching his hand out for me to take it after he moved the toothpick in his mouth. Looking at you with a wink and a smirk plastered on his face. You placed your hand in his. You both shook as a greeting.

“Lieutenant?” you asked him up and down taking in the uniform and how it fitted him. Then moved your head to the side to look at the other uniformed people behind him. One wore glasses. One with his arms crossed and a shaved head, and a lady with a slick back bun.

He chuckled and looked to the right of him at the table. Then right back at you letting go of my hand walking around the table. “Want to go a round or two?” He asked, walking to the table and placing the balls back in the rack. Moving the rack around staring right in your eyes.

“Are we playing for anything or are you just testing the waters first?” You asked, walking back to the table you placed your cue to lean against the table and grabbing the blue chalk. The ego needed to be checked on this one and you were the one that was sweating to do so. Leaning it back against the pool table to spread your hands out to lean over and watch his moves at the other end.

He chuckled again pulling out his wallet. You raised an eyebrow watching his moves and he walked over to the table right next to him. “Oh Y/l/n. how I was praying you would be here tonight. Just! So I could get this opportunity to play against you. 200.” He said bending his knees and squeezing his eyes shut at the word ‘just’ pulling out four 50 dollar bills and placing them down with a hard smack.

“But for me. All I am asking for is one date.” He said walking back to the other side of the table.

You looked up from the green fabric table and up at him, smirking. Tapping your foot as you thought about it. He wasn't ugly. Like you said, easy to look at. You rolled your lips together and walked over to him placing a hand on his shoulder and leaned closely into his ear so he could feel your breath on his neck. A little teasing wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“You’re on Lieutenant Seresin” You whispered into his neck. He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes as he swallowed hard. Then stepped back as he got ready to take his shot right down the middle.

[mackeydoodledoo]

She Wears Short Skirts, I wear T-shirts: Chapter 4

Pairing: Bridget (Cheerleader AU) x (Fem!)Reader

Chapter Summary: Winterbreak has come. The both of you hang out whenever you can. Even inviting each other to your family's holiday gatherings. The both of you begin talking about what'll come at the end of the year for the both of you.

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, Light NSFW

Chapter Key: Italics = Thoughts, +*+ = Time Skip, F/n = Friend's name, B/n = Band Name, Bold/Italic = Flashback

Chapter Theme: Lover - Taylor Swift

A/n: Might be a little bit of a short read :) But, cooking date with Bridget? Big Plus!

------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Y/n's POV* You finish setting up extra Christmas decor in your living room.

Halfway through Senior year... Finally...

But, you had no idea where you want to take your life. Certainly you wanted to go to college like the traditional high-school graduate. But then there was your life being a musician.

You really enjoyed it... But your parents worried that you wouldn't be able to make a living solely being a musician, especially the fact that your band was still attempting to make it out onto the bigger stages.

You hear a knock on the door and you go to answer it.

"Bridget!" You smile

"Hey! Where's your parents?" Bridget asks

"After Christmas, they went up north for a secluded new years," You answer, "I'm kinda doing the same thing."

She comes in and sheds her warm, outerwear. The both of you sit on the couch as the both of you munch on holiday cookies.

"What are you planning to do once the year is over?" You ask

"Go to college, join their cheer team there," Bridget says, "I might study culinary."

"I knew you had a knack for baking, but cooking. I have yet to see you do it," You say

"Well then, come on, let's cook dinner together," She says, "Have you eaten yet?"

"As a matter of fact, not yet," You answer

You get up and follow her into the kitchen.

"Just, please don't burn my house down," You chuckle, grabbing some pans

"Are you already doubting my cooking skills?" She asks, smirking

"Not at all," You reply, reaching over and connecting your speaker to your phone, "Just tell me what to do chef."

She grabs some pasta and begins searching your pantry for any other food related ingredients.

"Get us started by cutting up onions please," She says

You reach over and grab an onion and begin cutting it up.

"Any song requests?" You ask

"Anything but hard rock, or whatever," She answers, "Only because it doesn't fit the mood."

You chuckle as you put on the first artist you see that's recommended.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January And this is our place, we make the rules

"Oh I love Taylor Swift!" Bridget sighs into your shoulder, "I'm lucky enough to see her before she decided to take a break."

"She isn't my cup of tea, but there are a small handful of songs I'm game to listen to," You confess, "Albeit majority of them you've heard on the radio..."

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

"Even though your parents instantly welcomed me into your house, it still feels awkward," You confess

"Are my parents doing too much?" She asks, "I can let them know and-"

"No it's not that," You say, beginning to cut up some onions, "It's just I've never been accepted by non-band parents. Majority of my life, most parents have been band parents. You parents are cheer parents. Yet, they've accepted somebody like me."

"Just because the student body doesn't favor the band kids, doesn't meant the parents don't," She says

"Oh I'm aware of that," You say, "You of all people should know I don't care what the other students think of the band. I'm not going to remember them well enough."

"That's true," She says, "But, you really only interacted with your band people."

"Yeah, because they understand my sense of humor," You chuckle, "Even if someone were to plan the 10-year reunion, I'd skip it."

"Why?" She asks

"I may be on tour," You answer, "Or elsewhere."

She nods.

"Are you going to miss me?" You ask, with a little playful tone

"I miss you when you're in the band room during lunch," She confesses, "I know you hate it but it would be nice for you to stay in the cafeteria..."

"you can always drop by the band room though, it's right next door," You say, placing the onions in the pan as Bridget begins to sauté it

"Yeah but the assistant principal cracks down people leaving the lunchroom early..." She sighs

"Well, he's an ass," You say, "Just head to the band room before you hit the cafeteria. That way, he won't catch you."

"I'll try to remember that when we go back," She says

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever? And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever) You're my, my, my, my Lover

You finish washing up all of the utensils that both you and Bridget used as she adds the finishing touches to the pasta.

"Ah! It's done. Y/n come sit!" Bridget calls you over

You heed her call and sit in the chair right next to her.

You take a bite of the food... Your eyes light up.

"Holy shit! Where has this been all my life?!" You ask, digging into the meal like a slop

Bridget only looks on as you indulge in the meal.

"You made the sauce yourself?" You ask

She nods.

"Man, any high-end kitchen would be lucky to have you," You say

"Actually, this might sound stupid coming from a cheerleader, but I might want to open up my own cafe..." She says

"Really?" You ask, "Well, keep me informed. I might just be your first customer."

+*+

Bridget lays against your side as the both of you lay in dark silence, attempting to spend the last few moments together.

"When are you leaving for your indoor camp thing?" Bridget asks, breaking the silence

"Tomorrow afternoon," You answer, "I'm going to be staying there past new years to hang out with my friends that are down there. My friend is going to look after my cat while we're all out."

"Hmm," Bridget sighs

"Something wrong?" You ask

"I kinda wish I was going with you," She says

"Then why don't you?" You suggest, "Despite you'd be chilling on the sideline most of the time, you'd get to meet all of my out-of-state friends. They're a really chill group of people. You'd also get a first look at our show. Only thing is you can't speak of it until after the first performance: secrecy purposes."

"I trust your word but my family is going up north for new years as well," She says, "I should be getting a text from my mom soon for her to tell me to come home... So, I've been trying to milk out whatever time we have left."

"Well, you can always text me," You suggest, "It isn't that hard."

"It isn't the same as seeing you in person," She says, "I have something for you."

"Oh, you didn't have to get me anything," You say

"Oh, but I wanted to," She says, sitting up

You sit up after her. She immediately holds up mistletoe above your heads. Your body stiffens and your mouth hangs agape as Bridget slowly brings the gap between your faces to a close.

"If... If you don't want to... I'll leave right now," She states

You didn't want her to leave, in the moment anyway: you wanted every moment you could get with her. Your brain couldn't process the fact that Bridget could have talked to anyone in the entire school... Here she is, with you.

She gasps as you lurch forward, kissing her first. Your arm wraps around her hips as the both of you continue to kiss.

The both of you pull away when Bridget's phone goes off. She sighs in frustration.

"I gotta go..." She sighs, "I'm leaving with my family for our new years trip..."

you nearly groan in frustration as she gets up off of your lap. You get up and follow her out of the door.

"Do you want me to walk you?" You offer

"That'd be nice actually," She smiles

You quickly throw on some warm clothing and follow her out the door. However gives you one last quick kiss before the both of you walk back to her house.

Chapter 5

[riaarivic]

HIS - KNJ x F!reader: 1 Into you

💗Pairings idol!NamjoonxReader

��� Genres idol!AU, Smut, Angst, Romance, Enemies to lovers

💗 Rating 18+ minors DNI

💗 Summary  Four years have passed since the last time you saw Kim Namjoon. But now he was right in front of you, with the same stupid warm smile that made your good judgment (and underwear) disappear without a trace. You haven't seen him for four years. But now here you were working for BTS again. Having to see his insufferably attractive face every day of your life again.

But there's something Namjoon doesn't know. The little girl with almond eyes and dimples in her smile clinging to his ex-girlfriend's hip, not only looked too much like him. But she was… His.

💗  Warnings for the series: Unplanned pregnancy (I KNOW BUT HEAR ME OUT) Unprotected sex, foul language, angst, miscommunications, pinning, SO MUCH PINNING, Hurt/comfort. Will update as the series progress. 💗  Warnings for the chapter: reader has very conflictive emotions about the news of her pregnancy at the begining. This chapter will have some back and forth time skips

💗 A/N: ⚠️ dialogue in BOLD is intended to be in English if not, they are speaking in Korean. ⚠️

Love, Ria

💗 Chapter wordcount 3,4k

💗 Series Index 1 2

His 01: Into you

"And baby even on our worst nights. I'm into you" Into you - Paramore.

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

You have to admit, you've been glued to your computer screen for a solid twenty minutes, utterly motionless.

Hyung-Joon, once your boss and now your business partner, just forwarded an email confirming your company's involvement in BTS's upcoming Permission to Dance on Stage tour. The whole team was buzzing with excitement about the colossal job ahead.

It would be the biggest job in your company.

It really was the opportunity of a lifetime, the pay was enough to take Hana on a Disney cruise vacation.

For a whole year.

Three years in a row.

Heck, you could buy the damn boat.

That's how good it would be.

You should be basking in the joy of this achievement.

Yet, the smallest detail casts a shadow over the happiness—precisely, the leader of the band. The young, talented, millionaire, successful, infuriating asshole Kim Namjoon is your daughter's father.

For the tiniest detail, it must be emphasized that he had no intention of being a part of her life.

Fuck him.

He couldn't even summon the decency to meet your gaze when he sent his mother and manager to deliver an envelope full of money, effectively kicking you and your daughter out of Korea.

The memory of it turned your stomach.

💗💗💗JANUARY 2017💗💗💗

An alien.

That's how all the people saw you when you entered Big Hit as if you came from another planet entirely. An alien who spoke their language perfectly, who had not come as part of a tourist excursion, but to work.

They all regarded you as if you had a second head protruding from your back. The security, while registering your information for your access card; the staff, makeup artists, hair stylists—all whispered things as you walked by.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

The chance of a lifetime, you reminded yourself. The pay might not be extravagant, but the perks of being part of a K-pop group's staff more than compensated for it.

You were going to travel all over the world, meet new people, eat delicious things and most of all… be as far away geographically as possible from where you came from.

This is the opportunity of a lifetime

After navigating several security checkpoints and maneuvering through what felt like a maze of boxes filled with the group's merchandise, materials, and clothing, you reached the office where they awaited you.

The global press department.

Though the term "department" sounded too grand for the small space—more like a converted broom closet with your boss's desk and yours side by side.

"Oh! Miss… um," you smiled as you saw him struggling with the pronunciation of your full name.

"Call me y/n. You must be Manager Hyung-Joon," the man let out a sigh of relief. Despite his imposing stature, dominating the tiny office, a friendly smile adorned his face.

"Miss y/n, you're just in time. They are about to finish a rehearsal, and we are going to start the first practice interviews for the US tour. Did you bring everything you need?" You nodded, and he motioned for you to follow him.

Probably, nothing you had read about this group could prepare you for what lay ahead. As Manager Hyung-Joon swung open the door, the first thing that struck you was the noise.

That room was pure Chaos.

What you'd expect if you left seven practically teenage men to their own devices. They chatted and laughed, appearing at first glance like a bunch of ordinary kids.

Not like the young men who would become the biggest musical act in history.

"Bangtan, can you please be quiet?" the manager shouted, capturing everyone's attention. "This is y/n; she will be your translator from now on." All seven pairs of eyes turned to you simultaneously, and once again, there it was.

That look that made you feel utterly out of place.

According to what you'd been told, it wasn't common for the company to hire young, let alone single, women to work with BTS. Yet, you excelled at your job, armed with a glowing recommendation letter from one of your college professors.

Fast and precise with translations, you also brought experience as a journalist before accepting this position.

And that you accepted the joke of a salary they offered.

The company deemed you useful enough to overlook the fact that you would be the only woman among these men most of the time.

But your integration into the staff didn't happen before their main manager warned them that any attempt at inappropriate behavior towards you would result in drastic consequences.

Not to mention the uncomfortably awkward conversation you had in the president's office, where terms like contraceptives, confidentiality agreements, and the ominous "If you have any kind of relationship with one of the members, we will sue you for everything you have" echoed.

Though you were sure the suitcase you brought to Korea wouldn't be much help to a music company at the time.

The message was clear:

Mess with one of them.

You're out.

It's not like you were interested in a workplace romance; true, they were all attractive, but you needed this job more than anything else in the world.

At that time, Bangtan was gearing up for their promotions in the United States, and they required someone to assist them in English communication.

So they wouldn't be overly dependent on him.

"Do you even speak Korean?" that was the very first words he spoke to you. He wore an expression somewhere between puzzled and annoyed for a moment before turning to speak to Hyung-Joon as if you weren't there. "Are you sure she's not a stalker?"

"I'm a communications major from Busan National University. I also speak Japanese, French, Spanish, and Portuguese. But my first language is English. I suppose that answers your question," you retorted, meeting his gaze challengingly, and he rolled his eyes as if your response bored him.

At the far end of the room, you heard an amused snort; you recognized him from the dossier—his name was Suga.

"Did that lady just shut up Namjoon-hyung?" the youngest among them stared at you as if you were a unicorn, a mythical creature, the weirdest thing he has ever seen, and the older one nudged him to stop staring.

"Nice to meet you all; my name is y/n. I will be your translator, and I hope you can take care of me." You bowed, and when you straightened, you smiled at everyone. He kept his stare locked at you, irritated and unimpressed by your initial response.

That was the beginning of it all.

💗💗💗DECEMBER 2018💗💗💗

Fool.

A complete fool is how you felt, your heart pounding in your chest as you found yourself on your bathroom floor holding a positive pregnancy test. Four years ago, your heart held a different kind of weight, the weight of a secret growing within you.

Two weeks after he had returned to Seoul.

Exactly two weeks after you had told him to get the fuck out of your life.

No. That's not true.

You know better now. He was already gone before you found the strength to let him go. You just hadn't realized it.

So, here you were sitting on your bathroom floor. The weight of your shared history hanging heavily between you. Looking at the abstract pattern on the tiles feeling like a complete idiot.

Feeling guilty for a child who will grow up without a father.

Because...

You thought you were strong enough to handle it. You believed you could navigate motherhood alone, but...

Should you tell him?

Would it be too selfish to unveil this reality now?

How could you shatter his world, now that his career soared to unprecedented heights?

And the company…

You knew The company would go to great lengths to erase you and this secret from existence if necessary..

Kim Namjoon the leader of BTS.

Korea's pride.

Fathering an unplanned child out of wedlock with a foreigner?

It could dismantle everything he had worked for.

And his group. It will destroy them and he will never forgive you for it.

Besides, did you even have the right to reenter his life?

After what you have said to him? After the wounds you carved upon each other?

You wanted to cry, but the tears remained trapped within your eyes.

Kim Namjoon, the man known as RM, the leader of BTS, was your adversary, your lover, the man who once held your heart, and the one who shattered it into irreparable pieces—

All within a year.

💗💗💗NOVEMBER 2019💗💗💗

This is a terrible idea

It took you too long to work up the courage to tell him that you had had a daughter. But you couldn't tell him by phone call or mail.

You mustered all the courage you had and took a plane from Los Angeles to Korea. You definitely did not imagine how extremely difficult 16 hours on a flight with a one year old baby would be.

You had to bribe Jungkook with buying him 10 cartons of banana milk to get his new number.

Calling him was much harder.

"Hello?" His voice, after a year, stirred emotions you believed buried deep within.

You had no idea what to say.

Hi Namjoon, remember me? I'm y/n, your ex-girlfriend, ex-enemy, ex-translator? Oh, by the way, we have a daughter. I'm in Korea. Sorry for not telling you earlier; I panicked, thinking the company might erase us if they found out. Congratulations on the new album.

Definitely not that.

"Hey, Joonie," you blurted, and somehow felt like worse alternative, "I'm in Korea, and I'd like to talk…"

"Yes," he interrupted, his voice as desperate as yours, "I'm sending a driver for you. Where are you staying?"

Two hours later, a black company van awaited you in front of your hotel. It transported you to a far more luxurious apartment complex than their previous dormitory.

They are doing so well.

That made you proud, they deserved every drop of success they had.

But he wasn't in the apartment.

Waiting for you in the living room was a face you'd only seen once—Namjoon's mother, Mrs. Kim Seolmi. Accompanied by bodyguards and a staff member, her gaze held the same mix of disappointment and anger as the first meeting. Her eyes shifted sourly when they landed on Hana, in your arms.

Hana was the vivid image of her father, every feature, dimples, almond eyes, pouty lips, and even her expressions. Seeing Namjoon in her.

It took Mrs. Kim mere seconds to deduce the baby in your arms was her granddaughter.

"He doesn't want to see you, neither you nor the bastard child you're carrying. Did you think you could pass off just anyone's daughter as my son's?" She pulled an envelope from her bag. You knew it contained money. "Take it and leave. A gold-digger like you, using men for money. How disgusting."

"Madam, I don't need your money. If Namjoon doesn't want to see me, he should tell me himself." You clutched your crying daughter, scared by the woman's shouts.

From a corridor emerged Sejin, BangTan's main manager. He always knew everything about them. And his presence here meant The company was already aware that Namjoon had a daughter.

Shit.

"I'm sorry, Miss y/n, but it's true. He asked us to give this to you," Sejin handed you a sealed letter with your name on it, "and this you must sign. It's the only way to prevent the company from taking legal action against you for involving yourself with a member."

"Ha! As if the half-breed was really my Namjoon's daughter."

Oh you were going to kill that woman.

Before you could unleash your thoughts, Sejin spoke again. "y/n, you know what it means to be in a relationship with an idol, let alone having a daughter out of wedlock. This could destroy him and Bangtan. I'm sure you don't want that." His voice carried pity.

"You don't want to go trough this, and we know you don't want to put your daughter through it." He took a breath and sat in front of you. "The company is willing to compensate you for your silence. It's your only option—"

"I don't want your fucking money, Sejin"

"Miss, if you go against the company, we'll have to fight in court, and you could lose custody of your daughter. I'm sorry, but it's true. He didn't want to come when he found out you were coming with your child."

He didn't want to come

When he found out

That you were coming with a child.

Your child.

That phrase echoed in your mind for years. You could still close your eyes and see Sejin's pitiful face—the same one he wore when informing an employee they could no longer work for them.

Because they spoke a second too long with one of them.

Because they smiled at them a little too much.

Because feelings started to emerge.

All were fired and forced to sign mountains of legal documents preventing them from ever speaking about what transpired.

Some were even offered positions at other agencies.

"You're fortunate Bang PDnim decided to compensate you. But it's your decision," he concluded.

Three hours later, you were repacking to return to Los Angeles, vowing never to set foot in Seoul again.

This should never have happened.

As you wiped away tears, your phone buzzed with several notifications.

Message from unknown number: Doll, it's Yoongi. Jungkook told me you were here and you were staying at a hotel in Myeongdon. Message from unknown number: I'm coming to see you.

Message from Cookie 🍪: Y/n Noona, Yoongi Hyung asked me to give him your number. Thanks for the banana milk, you should stop by the dorm and let's drink soju like old times!!!!

Message from NJ: I am so sorry. I hope you can understand.

The last message made you want to throw up.

The phone started vibrating with an incoming call…..

💗💗💗MARCH 2022💗💗💗

"Are you sure you're okay with this?"

Hyun-Joon regarded you with the same concerned eyes he had five years ago when you first met. He had transitioned from being your boss to your business partner and, eventually, one of your dearest friends. A few months after your departure from Korea, he called to share the news of starting their own management agency with a friend.

The startup funds came from the envelope Sejin handed you as compensation for never disclosing the identity of your daughter's father.

At least something good came from shattering your heart into a thousand pieces.

Today, you were the CEO of a flourishing company offering diverse services to music companies in Korea—translators, managers, staff, security; you had it all, and your agency ranked as the best in the market.

It was only a matter of time before you appeared on HYBE's radar.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself back in the same room as him.

"Of course, this is the best contract the agency has had since we started. We are professionals, and your CEO is no exception," you reassured yourself more than Hyun-Joon.

He scrutinized you, trying to believe your conviction. "Well, let's get ready; they are about to come in."

The sight before you differed vastly from the first time you saw them in the modest conference room at what was then Big Hit. Through the glass door leading to your meeting room, the bodyguards entered first, followed by the new individual managers.

You knew much had changed since your last encounter. Initially, it was just you and a handful of staff members.

Now, it felt as if the President of the United States or Beyoncé were about to make an entrance.

Scratch that, the president's secret service probably had fewer people.

The room was nearly full, yet they hadn't arrived.

Jungkook walked in first. The last time you saw him, he still wore his school uniform. Now, he appeared as if he had stepped out of a novel, exuding a bad-boy aura with tattoos and all-black attire.

Behind him, Taehyung, the shy boy with the innocent smile, wore a designer suit, exuding timeless elegance like the protagonist of an old Hollywood film. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him.

Jimin seemed unchanged yet transformed simultaneously—beautiful, elegant, with a hint of mischief in his eyes. When he saw you, he smiled discreetly, as if holding back many unspoken words.

Following him, J-Hope entered. His off-stage personality always intimidated you, yet he remained the kindest and most focused among them. That hadn't changed.

Yoongi walked in behind him, smiling genuinely upon seeing you. Among all of them, he was the only one you still maintained contact with. Nonetheless, seeing him in person brought a sense of relief.

Jin came in almost last, and you couldn't help but be amused. Despite not having seen him in person for four years, he hadn't aged a day. Serene as ever, he entered with a respectful bow.

A chill ran down your spine.

They entered in the official order.

From youngest to oldest.

And last.

Him.

Kim Namjoon, always entering last, responsible for introducing them all. Front and center, as always. His now-blond hair caught your attention first. Even beneath his clothes, you could see that he had grown. His arms filled his shirt just like his chest and legs.

Your mind instinctively wandered into territory you almost slapped yourself for entertaining.

You looked up, and he was looking at you. Whether he was surprised or not, his face revealed nothing. With almost a decade in the business, Kim Namjoon knew how to conceal his emotions.

Assuming he had any.

He obviously doesn't care to see you. And who were you to him?—just some woman he was fucking four years ago.

Just

The mother of his daughter.

Your ears buzzed, and you were so deeply lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice when he began talking.

"...it's a pleasure for us to work again with you and your agency," that damn voice, it could still stir emotions in you. "Miss Y/LN, it's also nice to see you again."

Oh, is he going to call you by your last name?

"It's Lee now," your voice sounded cooler than you thought it would, perfect.

"Congratulations, in that case," he stiffened his jaw, and you smiled at him. Simultaneously, several people in the room tensed up.

Ah yes, that was another detail Kim Namjoon obviously didn't know about you.

Eric Lee was your other business partner and your best friend. You had married three years ago so that he could obtain a visa and stay in the US with you.

Eric gave his last name to Hana and had practically raised her with you.

And also.

Eric was completely, totally, and utterly gay.

Your marriage was only on paper.

But that was a detail you weren't going to explain to Kim Namjoon.

By the way… where the hell was he?

Namjoon cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts. "In that case, I think we can start—"

"Mommy!" a little voice interrupted, entering the room. With so many people there, you could only see the top of her dark brown hair. "Uncle said to play hide and seek; can I hide with you?"

Almond eyes.

Dimples in the smile.

The same pouty lips.

Kim Namjoon who was almost 10 years in the industry and knew perfectly well how to hide his emotions, but he looked at the little girl in front of him as if he had just seen an alien.

His face showed a thousand questions.

How old was that little girl?

Why did she have the same eyes as him?

Why had she called you mom?

Did you have a daughter?

The whole room tensed up.

Oh shit, I knew this was a bad idea.

But things happened so fast.

For the first time in her life, Kim Namjoon looked at his daughter's face.

And you were looking at the consecuence of what once was a stolen kiss behind a closed door.

And then evolved to so much more.

A snarky remark.

An irritated snort after others spoke.

A heated argument in a press room.

A few stolen kisses behind the staff room door.

A night in a hotel room.

And despite your reluctance to admit it,

Despite everything.

You would always be

His.

💗💗💗💗💗💗

I KNOOOOOWWWW! Another fic and I haven't finished translating/editing/rewriting/posting Hate!. But Yes, I had to, I had a writers block and decided to pull this one out of the vault of prompts.

Pregnancy troupe? while I'm writing a dark mafia romance? I KNOW But hear me out with this one, it is A RIDE.

I REALLY wanted to write a short agnsty BUT filled with heart clenching romance and.. other things clenching smuttines.

Yes, I'll continue updating Hate! but i would love you a bit if you give this baby a chance... literal baby. AND KIM NAMJOON AS A GIRL DAD!!?? IM NOT GOING TO DEPRIVE MYSELF OF THAT

Ps. If you want to be on the tag list drop a comment below!! 👩🏼‍💻✨

As always love you guys,

Ria 💗

[lambilegs]

does it happen in a season? (part three: SPRING)

in her senior year of university, lee is ready for nothing more but yet another monotonous cycle of meeting her new roommate, adjusting, then living in separate spheres for the rest of the year. the last thing she's prepared for is: curiosity.

last chapter (WINTER) | next chapter (SUMMER i)

soundtrack: the closer I get to you - roberta flack and donny hathaway; the cutest pair - regina song; I like it - debarge; crush - ethel cain; fade into you - mazzy star; weak and I'm so into you - swv; april encounter - hen meiwei; k. - cigarettes after sex

(contains: 21K words of more pining (yeah you know I keep doubting the word count could go higher but then gay longing and yapping take over so I apologize 😔), college!au lee harker, set in the nineties, content warning for: smoking cigarettes, jokes about cigarettes, description of transphobic and anti-sex toy-historical ideas (sex wars of 1980s), more religious jokes ofc, internalized homophobia, religious trauma, depictions of homophobia + fetishization of lesbians, sexual content, depictions of anxiety)

important note about sexual content: the start of sexual content will be marked by ✩ (bolded green-coloured star) and the end of it will be marked by ✩ (bolded red-coloured star). minors, and anyone who doesn't desire to read nsfw content, please use these markers in order to skip nsfw content.

----

SPRING. SOMETIME IN THE 1990s.

“okay, I think we need to make a pros and cons list,” maria says decisively, taking out her notepad and pen. 

“stop that right now,” amaya interjects, ripping the pen from maria’s hand. “the only con is the roommate thing.”

“which, might I remind you, is pretty significant,” maria points out, stabbing her pen in the direction of lee, who watches the entire interaction in a conflicted mixture of amusement and frustration. “even if you two get together, sure, it’ll be a pro that you guys know how to live together, but still, if something happens, it’ll be messy.”

“or you guys could stay together forever, and it all ends happily ever after. and you’ll also have one of the sweetest meet cutes known to man,” amaya supplies, tucking her hands under her chin and wondrously staring at lee, who averts her gaze in embarrassment, 

it’s been around a month and a half since she admitted to herself that she likes you. 

at least back in january, she had two days away from you to process it at her house before returning to the apartment. the more she thought of it, the more it logically clicked together. the moments of tension and pausing to look at you – for too long. the way she sometimes felt the strong urge to do things unreasonable, nonsensical, or even against her character, just for you. the fact that she wanted you to know her. it all made sense in the framing of her having romantic feelings for you. romantic. even the world itself tasted odd in her mouth, and felt out of place. she had heard people say that once they realized their feelings for someone else, it felt natural to think romantically of that person. but, not for lee. it had felt awkward and foreign to think of you in that way, at least with intentionality. she was used to thinking of you as her roommate and her friend. it felt jarring, this new development. 

the train ride home had had each nerve of hers prickling with anxiety. she didn’t know how to proceed. things had finally started to feel easy, and now, there was this newfound feeling to account for. should she tell you? just the idea of that sent a nauseating sense of fear through her. should she hide it? the avoidant nature of doing so felt a bit more comfortable, but still, the idea of never telling you felt wrong. she felt the need to form at least some plan. it was never in her nature to simply go with the flow. but, the end of the trip had offered her no clear answers – every side had its pros and cons, its negatives and positives.

before pushing her key into the apartment, she had taken a moment to brace her back against the opposing wall, eyes fluttering shut and lips parting to release long, quiet breaths. she liked you, so things would feel different – she knew that. but, things didn’t have to be different. she didn’t want them to be different. at least not yet. what you guys had was good – it was a steady stream of support, care and, well, something comforting. she didn’t want to destroy that by confessing. or by letting her feelings take control of her.

of course, like a lot of propositions in her mind, that was easier said than done when she finally had to face you. when you scurried out of your bedroom to meet her, she was immediately hit with the thought of what if things were different? what if instead of pausing in front of her, breathing hard and smiling, you could leap into her arms? just like how a girlfriend would. her breaths nearly shuddered at the word. girlfriend. it also didn’t help how overcome with emotion she had felt in that moment. leaving you, and the apartment, three weeks prior, had been all too difficult, her mind urging her to memorize your face. the three weeks had had her thoughts mostly entrapped by her mother and her house, but, every now and then, they had strayed to you – wanting to share something with you, wondering how you’d like the snowy trees surrounding her house, or just wishing you could be near. seeing you after those long three weeks had felt like taking a breath of fresh air after remaining inside for too long. she was gripped with a strong sense of relief and comfort at the sight of your face, feeling like she was finally back in familiar and safe territory. 

she was also more anxious than usual in that moment. there was something new present, and it threw her off: her feelings – well, at least the realization of them. she supposed they had been there for a while, so technically, nothing was truly changed. but, still, looking at you and seeing not just her friend, but also, someone she… liked, made things feel different. it made her more self-conscious of her own actions and words, wondering if any could potentially indicate her feelings and cause you discomfort. the pressure of the interaction had felt like too much, so she had excused herself and slunk away to her bedroom. it took forty three minutes of lying on her bed and trying to steady her thoughts before she went back to you.

at first, she opted for remaining as quiet as possible, asking after your break, and listening intently while you ranted about being assigned to babysitting duty for your cousins when out, and how chaotic it was. by the time you were done, she had learned the name of three of your cousins. it didn’t seem all that significant a piece of information, but it had to do with you. that gave it some importance. 

her plan to remain quiet had crumbled when you paused after telling her about something you had felt was unfair towards one of your cousins, blinking at her, clearly awaiting an answer. stronger than her resistance towards saying something revealing was her desire to not disappoint you. so, she responded. and you did, too. and that gave her some assurance. maybe to avoid talking on her end would only make things worse. maybe if she took such a preventative measure to avoid saying anything awkward, she’d be shifting the dynamic prematurely, anyways. besides, above all, avoiding mutual conversation with you seemed… impossible. she wouldn’t last long, she knew that.

at one point, you had halted, staring at her, and she looked away from you, fidgeting with her hands, waiting for whatever it is you wanted to say. 

“I, um… I really missed you.”

now, her response to something like this no longer felt solely dependent on her natural inclinations and comfort levels. because now that she knew she liked you, her responses to such sentiments felt heavy with the weight of potentially being something you either do and don’t catch a hint from. and she didn’t want you to catch a hint, she didn’t want things to become messed up with you. 

but, how could she have said anything but the truth to you in that moment, when you were so open and waiting? “thanks.” she had paused, lips pressed together. “I missed you too.”

with time, as the crush – whatever it is – settled into her, things between you two had naturally gotten back to their usual routine and comfortability. every now and then, she still had the temporary moment of worrying over if a word or gesture could be indicative of her feelings. but, it wasn’t nearly as much as before. there was no use in resisting the feeling. it was there before she had even realized it, so she doubted she could do anything to change its existence. not that she really wanted to.

she was content to let the feelings linger. and to continue being your friend, and trying to proceed with how things had been before – how she cherished things being, as embarrassing as it was to admit it. and not act on the feelings, since she didn’t want to ruin things. after all, she truly had no idea of knowing if you felt even remotely close to romantically interested in her. 

however, she soon learned that not acting on it was a lot different than not wishing or desiring to act on it. 

a month and a half later, and she had decided to tell her friends, craving someone to confide in this secret to. she didn’t want to mince words, so as they waited on their orders, she bluntly, abruptly said she thought she liked you. amaya had nearly choked on her gum and maria’s water burst from her mouth. both were equally shocked, though amaya whirled into delighted bliss and maria into skeptical worry. 

“listen, I thought there was something there since the protest, but–”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

maria ignored amaya. “but, I thought of it more later that day, and it could be risky, lee.”

this led to where lee is now. listening as her friends make a pro and con list. she doesn’t really mind it – it is a structured way to objectively look at things. but, part of her doesn’t really care. she likes you, and that’s that. she also doesn’t plan to do anything about it, at least not in the foreseeable future, so listing the cons of her doing so feels fruitless.

when she says as much, amaya frowns. “why? your feelings might be reciprocated, lee.”

lee hesitates. it’s a nice thought… a really nice one. but, she doesn’t know with any certainty. sometimes, you do and say certain things that make her entertain the possibility for a split second, but she always labels it as wishful thinking, knowing her own feelings must make her at least somewhat biased. besides, the things you do that she questions could be done with solely platonic intentions in your mind. she truly has no way of knowing. 

“I don’t want to mess things up,” she mutters, picking at a napkin.

“and that’s fair,” maria replies. “it’s your roommate, and–”

amaya raises a hand. “shut up. lee, don’t listen to her. you experience a crush, like, once in a blue moon. please don’t let this opportunity slide. seize it for yourself.”

maria rolls her eyes. “god, you’re such an english major. there are consequences that could come of this, you know? if her feelings are returned, something bad might happen which can sour the living arrangements. if her feelings aren’t returned, then things might be awkward for both of them.”

“guys–” lee softly says, trying to intervene.

“and you’re such a law major,” amaya bites back. “so pessimistic. like, what about a third option? one where they both like each other, and have an amazing rest of the year living together, with more to come.”

“amay–”

“and, and,” amaya presses on, “the roommate thing is the only con. so, I don’t see why she shouldn’t go for a relationship.”

“well, for one, we don’t even know if a relationship is in the books.”

it’s the truth, but a part of lee aches at hearing it. even if she knew it was in the books, she would still be terrified at the thought of shifting what you guys have. but, another part would feel at least a lot more assured in inciting such change.

amaya sighs. “which is exactly why she should confess.”

“guys,” lee repeats, a bit louder this time, capturing their attention. “I… I don’t think I’ll be confessing anytime soon, so, there’s no need for a list.”

as maria crumples up the paper, lee’s mouth twitches in discomfort, a twinge of regret curling in her stomach. she wishes she had at least taken the chance to tell them all the pros about you.

–

on saturday morning, you stand at the sink, scrubbing away at a bowl while lee makes sunny-side-up eggs. she brought a radio with her back from her mom’s, saying it’s one she found tucked away in the living room. when you had asked her if her mom wouldn’t need it, she said there was already another one at home, and the one she brought had been kept for a while. it was such a simple line, but somehow, the way she had said it felt laced with hesitation. you wondered at it, but she then turned the radio on, so you assumed she wanted to drop it.

a few weeks later now, as the news radio plays in the background, you carefully wash the kitchen utensils, gloves getting heavy and crinkled with soap. as the scent of eggs waft through the kitchen, you can’t resist the smile that tugs at your lips. this is sweet. this moment with her, quiet and relaxed in its domesticity. you feel like you could remain suspended in time forever, so long as lee is in the kitchen with you.

after ten minutes of the calming, repetitive motions of scrubbing and wiping, lee places a plate next to you on the counter, the white surface accompanied with a fried egg and toast. “eat. we can finish the dishes after.”

we. we, we, we. she won’t even let you do the dishes alone, sweet thing.

“you know, I think the weather is officially good enough to open the windows,” you announce, reaching for the latch of the window in your living room, pushing it open. a chilled breeze drifts in, goosebumps rising to your skin. your neighbourhood is showing the signs of winter’s last push before succumbing to spring, the skies grey, slush streaking the roads and snowflakes melted into cold rains.

“yet, you still insist on the tree,” she says flatly, curling into the couch, her plate resting on the plush arm.

you look back at her, smirking. it’s march, but still, you find yourself unable to part with the tree. you two had put it together so soon before the winter break, and had only gotten to really relish in it starting from mid-january. it’s so pretty, and it seems too little an amount of time to have enjoyed it before taking it down. “I know you like it too.”

“mm. maybe,” she quietly mutters as you sit on the other side of the couch. her tongue rolls in her mouth, eyes flicking between you and the cushion between you two. it makes you itch to move closer to her, but you don’t. 

“just ‘maybe’?”

her lips curl up. “if I admit to liking it, you might keep it up till summer.”

you chuckle with a shrug. “so? it’s our apartment, we can do what we want.”

“or do what you want,” she immediately replies, the lines near her eyes crinkling.

“even better by me,” you giggle.

“good to know my rights as co-owner are intact.”

you laugh. “no, no, but truly, should we take it down?”

she pauses, eyes resting on her lap for a few moments. “no.” when she catches a glimpse of your triumphant grin, she rolls her eyes. “shut up.”

your laughter slowly melts away, and your eyes ponder on the tree with a soft smile. “did you ever… I don’t know, have any odd shit like that in your past places? something equivalent to our post-christmas christmas tree.”

“no, not really. I was never friends with my past roommates.”

“why not?” you know you’re shamelessly prying by asking this, but you can’t even bother to care. if learning more about her and her life is prying, then so be it. you need it.

“I don’t know. we were either just amicable. or, well…” she guiltily glances to you, shrugging, “I didn’t like them. or they didn’t like me.”

your eyebrows furrow. as a roommate, lee is great. she’s organized, consistent with chores, she keeps to herself and doesn’t hog any rooms, and she never touches your food, even when you’ve told her she can. “why would they dislike you?”

“my second year roommate thought I was rude. she, I don’t know, made a lot of comments about how I act and how… off-putting it is.” she sucks in a small, shaky breath, head turned away from you. she seems hesitant to offer such a piece of information, and your mind becomes consumed with the task of ensuring her that she can trust you.

“that’s not true, though. yeah, you’re quiet and all, but that doesn’t mean you’re an asshole. you just take time to open up, is all.”

“I suppose she disliked the fact that I never did open up to her, though. I wasn’t the most receptive.”

“why weren’t you?”

she pauses on the question, eyes scanning her lap. “I don’t know. it just felt off. and from what I saw, I knew she wasn’t someone I’d be friends with. so, I didn’t see the point.”

the words are blunt, bordering on harsh. but, lee manages to speak them in a way that’s so earnest and raw that you don’t even flinch. she doesn’t say them maliciously, with bitterness or snideness prickling the edges of the syllables. she’s simply a person who trusts her intuition and knows what she wants. in a way, she’s admirable. your initial surprise morphs into something akin to impressed respect.

“yeah, but, even if she took it rudely, it was up to her to discuss it with you – not just assume you’re some jackass. especially if you never even did anything outright rude.”

“maybe.” she shakes her head slightly. “I didn’t mean to be rude,” she adds, her voice sounding small. “I just knew we wouldn’t get along.”

you frown, waves of sympathy rolling in. “hey, and it really isn’t rude. you just didn’t want to waste her time or yours.” it was an unconventional approach to have taken, sure, and against societal niceties, which so much of the time were fake, anyways, but it was just the honest way to proceed – a tact that not many people relied on. 

“yeah, maybe. she, um…” her eyebrows draw in, and her voice tinges with vulnerable embarrassment, “once, in front of her friends, she said something about me being unfriendly.” the admission is said in a low, shame-filled voice. 

“hey,” you coo again, hand instinctively reaching to her shoulder, you chest nearly bursting when that part of her relaxes at the touch. shit. she actually eases at your touch. that’s new. and it’s so good. you force your mind to remain on the task at hand. “that is horrible. seriously. to say that in front of other people, and humiliate you like that –  that’s messed up. I’m so sorry.” the more you think on it, the more rage begins to pulse in you. how dare someone treat her that way? you can imagine how timid she must’ve felt in that moment, the discomfort that must’ve choked at her, being spoken to like that in front of strangers. she’s already closed-off and reserved enough as is, and it makes you livid to imagine how much this stupid roommate’s comment had increased her natural inclinations to stay away from others. “you didn’t deserve that, lee. really.”

weakly, she mumbles, “thanks.”

“please tell me you know that.”

“I don’t, not really,” she says, sighing. when you give her a narrowed look, she says, “but, I’ll try to see it more that way.”

“good. and, well, you know, I’ll be here, too. to remind you.” your eyes flick over her face, feeling the skin of yours warm up at your own tentative offer.

she finally gazes at you. “I know. thank you.”

she knows. she trusts you to give her that comfort. that’s more than enough for you.

–

lee relishes in the soft padding of the rain against the window as she flips through her reading, scribbling down notes at each paragraph, highlighting important terminology. the noise is a soothing one, making her feel like the edges of her mind are softening and lulling her into a smooth stream of work. she happily loses herself to it, growing more and more satisfied as she progresses.

in the middle of it, her pager beeps and she picks it up. it’s from you, and the message consists of the number of your address. it’s your guys’ way of confirming if the other is home. she punches in the numbers back, sending it to you. 

moments later, the phone rings. despite your message having hinted at a call, she still starts at the blaring noise. she stands from the desk in the living room, and reaches for the phone. “hello?” 

“hey.”

she breathes in deeply at the sound of your voice, something stuttering inside her. what is wrong with her? she’s heard your voice countless times. “hi.”

“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll probably be home a bit later than five. the rain is getting kind of bad here, and I left my umbrella, so, yeah…”

she chews on her bottom lip, stomach stirring with worry. “are you okay?”

“yeah, yeah, I am. just don’t wanna get sick, so I’ll stay in the library till it ends. it’s okay, I’m okay.”

she nods at your reassurance. “okay. I’ll wait for you before eating.”

your following laughter makes her wonder if her words had been too revealing and needy. but, then, you say, “I’m glad,” and she sighs. she’s glad too, but to vocalize two such sentiments in a row feels like a lot.

when you both hang up, she seats herself back at the desk, continuing to do her work. two lines in, she stops, setting her pen down, listening attentively as the taps of rain harden. the more the rain pierces against the glass, the antsier she feels, shifting and picking at the spirals of her notebook. an idea swims in her head, one that had been present since you had notified her of your dilemma on the phone. but, she shouldn’t act on it. she has a lot of work. besides, she trusts you to be okay. you can handle yourself just fine, she knows you can. you waiting at the library, and returning home at a later time, is more than manageable for you. she knows this.

she lasts three minutes before standing up and retrieving the umbrella you had left on the counter. jesus, she’s losing herself.

when she reaches the campus library she knows you frequent, she slows in her steps at the sight of you sitting on the bench outside of it. you’re shielded by the roof, and your walkman is on, eyes languidly exploring the street shining with droplets. she sighs, coming to a full stop. you look… good. she blinks at the thought. you look more than good. you look, as uncomfortable as it is to admit, otherworldly, wrapped in your own private dream world, lost in the early spring day. what are you thinking of? do you like the rain? she wants to know these things with a desperation that catches her off guard.

and most of all, she wants to be near you.

she quietly approaches you, not knowing how to initiate conversation now that she’s here, having gone out of her way to do something for you. she supposes it’s not the first time she has, but this feels different. she can’t think of any clearcut reason for this moment, this gesture. you had required no support, no help. she’s simply here because she wants to make your evening easier and for you to be home sooner. the nonsensical reasoning makes it harder to know how to proceed socially.

you tip your head up in her direction, eyes widening at the sight of her. “lee?” 

she gives you a nod of acknowledgement.

your eyes flick to the umbrella. “did you come just to pick me up?”

she swallows hard. it’s interesting – how embarrassing it can be to just care. now that the impulsive seizing of the chance has been ridden out, and she’s facing you in the aftermath, she can’t help but feel the awkwardness of her own gesture. “um, yes.”

your cheeks lift and crinkle with a wide smile, and she bites her bottom lip at the sight, feeling her stomach turn. “lee, oh, my god, that’s so nice of you.”

she sighs, turning away. “it’s nothing.” raising the umbrella, she says, “let’s go. it’s cold.”

you two take the subway together, and as you walk home, she lets her eyes explore the surroundings of your guys’ neighbourhood. small, green buds have already started dotting the branches of the trees, and the sky is a dull, melancholic shade between blue and grey. the wind has lost enough of its itching chill that she’s gone back to her blue windbreaker, but still holds enough teeth to cause goosebumps to rise on her skin. she peers down at you and your short sleeves, frowning. “why are you wearing so little?”

“ah, slut-shaming me now, lee?”

she rolls her eyes, ignoring the joke. “it’s cold.”

“I know, I know, don’t scold me,” you practically whine, body racking with a shiver.

the small jolt of your body immediately sends her into motion, her next action complete, raw instinct. she silently pushes the umbrella into your fist, shrugging off her jacket when you clumsily catch the handle. 

“lee, lee, no, please, it’s okay,” you protest, your voice hooking onto a higher notch.

“mm,” she hums, awkwardly placing her jacket on your shoulders. her movements are stiff and she feels the flurry of unfamiliarity swirling in her stomach. this is a new kind of touch, one that feels strangely more intimate than her previous ones shared with you. it’s stupid, considering she’s laid her head in the crook between your shoulder and neck, has slept next to you, and has felt your arms hold her. but, this touch is the kind of typical thing you see in films, and it carries a distinctly romantic connotation. brushing her fingers on your shoulders, feeling your bare skin, encircling you from behind to drape the fragment of clothing on – it’s so close, but so fleeting, and she holds her breath for the moment it lasts. 

staring straight ahead, lee grabs the umbrella, resisting the urge to stretch her fingers out after having felt the dry texture of your skin. she inhales a sharp breath, eyes continuing to take in the buildings.

“thank you,” you murmur, and she gulps at the husk at your voice lowering, nodding wordlessly.

“so, how was your day?” you ask idly.

she tilts her head in your direction. “good. my new forensics professor is a really good speaker, and has a lot of knowledge on the topic.”

you beam. “oh, that’s great. better than your last one?”

“in terms of investment in the topic, yeah.” a small smile curls at her lips. “in terms of letting it slide if I miss an exam – let’s hope I don’t have to find out.”

“hey, do the cross just to be certain.”

she simpers, hand easily sliding into the gesture, years of practice refining the skill to perfection. it’s done out of humour, but the gesture still brings forward a burst of mixed emotions. to do such a gesture after months – it feels foreign as a movement. but, with it, comes a slew of memories of praying at church as a child, waiting for clarity abour herself as a teenager, and on what it was, who it was, she wanted. she doesn’t believe in her religion the way she once did, and her stance is that if there is a higher power, it’d be hard to know the facts about them. but, still, she sometimes sees something odd, hears about something miraculous, experiences something locking exactly into place, and she wonders if there’s a god behind it. and if there is, what if that god is ashamed of her? what if the fear she felt in high school was the right way to live, and everything she’s been doing since has been sin? the kind of sin her mother has fervently feared and despaired over ever since she was banished to their lonely, cold corner of the world, and the years of loneliness that ensued from this. when these thoughts occasionally come up, she tries to just ignore them. she’s worked so hard to get to where she is, and has gone through many back and forths. to be able to call herself a lesbian without shrivelling up is already an achievement for her. and she doesn’t want to go back to feeling like a sin.

at the same time, the movement of the cross isn’t unfamiliar. it’s estranged with how little she does it now, yes, but doing it feels akin to an estranged friend returning home. there’s a familiarity of it, tinged with the memory of doing the sign with her mom as a child, when her little hand would be held, and guided in which way to go. another memory is how lee would practice as a child, scared someone would judge her in the shadowed aisles of the church. the gesture carries history, even one she sometimes wants to forget. however, no matter what, it’s inexplicably tied to her mother and days of innocence. two things she can never let go of, and would never find in herself the ability to try in doing so.

you poke her arm. “c’mon, tell me more about the class. what do you like about it?”

she hesitates, but it seems you really want to hear, so she talks about it, going on an unintentional tangent regarding the information. it’s a course she’s already done, yes, but her new professor has sprinkled in so many details and facts that itch a part of her head in total satisfaction. and you listen attentively, asking why she likes this, and remarking on how cool a piece of information she offers is. it makes her warm with gratitude. 

you tell her about the projects initiated by the Gay and Lesbian Alliance group you’re a part of, such as an upcoming zine to mark the end of the year. lee listens as attentively as she can, nodding to your excited rambles. you hold so much passion, and to witness it is like basking under the warm heat of the sun. she twitches at the thought, the content of it a bit too poetic for what she’s accustomed to.

she also can’t help but feel appreciation for the community you’ve found, as well a glad you’ve secured it. she only has two close friends, and a handful of vague, or class-limited, companions, and rare and far inbetween have any of them been gay. in high school, it was nearly non-existent. not even in her school, but in her town. for a long time as a teenager, it had felt like she was the only person who knew what it was to feel those things. now, especially when attending a university that has an organization centered on people like her, she knows that’s not true. but, sometimes, just sometimes, she wonders what it’s like to be surrounded by people who she doesn’t need to describe her experiences to, who silently understand her. she wonders if such community would help in killing the last remaining bits of shame lingering in her, which are always aroused whenever she visits her house.

maybe some day.

when a car whirls by, spraying water in your guys’ direction, she mutters, “here, come here,” smoothly changing your places so that she’s walking closest to the edge of the road.

“no,” you nearly whine, tone complaining. “you already gave me the jacket, and how you’re also on the sacrificial side of the road?”

“‘sacrificial side’ is a tad dramatic.”

“no, no, not when you’re liable to getting sick.”

she shrugs. “no more than anyone else.”

“um, that is not true. you are definitely more liable when you’re skipping meals and up at odd hours of the night.”

she rolls her eyes, embarrassment creeping through her. of course you pick up on all of that. she can’t tell if the gentle scolding is something she likes, or something that makes her want to crawl into a hole. maybe both. after all, she so rarely lets herself be the subject of affection, so the experience of it, especially from you, is one that has her touched and wanting more of. at the same time, it’s mildly humiliating that the person she likes is aware of all her flawed habits. “it’s not that bad.”

“yeah, okay,” you scoff, tugging on her wrist. “come back to the other side.”

“no, just stay–”

“no, no, we each get something, then–”

in your tugging and her pulling, the umbrella drops to the ground, and lee immediately stiffens and winces at the sensation of the april showers soaking into her hair. you instinctively cover yourself with her jacket, your shirt underneath clinging to every curve and dip of your body. despite the cold, wet stickiness of her shirt clinging to her, she can’t help but quietly watch the sight, something stirring in her. you look good. really good. she feels her breaths get heavier. if you were hers, she could take you back to the apartment, and undress you, worship your body, warm it with her own, and kiss every one of those spots, over and–

she gulps down hard, averting her eyes. she distracts herself by picking up the umbrella, lifting it over you two. you’re laughing at the moment, hair soaked, eyes crinkled, and she bites back a smile. “stop. it’s not funny,” she gently chides.

“it is – just a bit,” you giggle. 

she shakes her head, a smile cracking through. “less than a bit. don’t get too ahead of yourself. you’re the one with the jacket, after all.”

“oh, yes, you poor thing, how could I be so inconsiderate?” you drawl in a mocking tone. “let’s get you home right away.” you don’t wait for her, continuing on your way home.

and she follows. like she probably always will.

when you two reach the apartment, and you take a good look at her beyond the chaos of the rain, your eyes widen. “oh, my god, lee, you’re drenched! go, go shower right now.”

before she can even process the words, your hands are on her back, pushing her in the direction of the bathroom. “but, my clothes…”

“I’ll get them, you just go shower.” your eyebrows are furrowed, mouth pinching down, and she wants so badly to brush her thumb over it and make it better. “where are they?”

she hesitates. she usually doesn’t like people entering her room on their own, and knowing this would be your first time doing it makes her a bit uneasy. but, it’s not because she doesn’t trust you – which is the reason she often dislikes the notion, paired with her privacy. it just feels a bit exposing. but, she wants you to know she trusts you, so she nods, and quietly confirms, “second drawer has my home clothes. third has… my intimates.” her voice lowers for the last words, feeling her face heat up.

you chuckle. “noted. I’ll hang it on the handle.”

she nods, shutting the door with a soft click. when she hears your footsteps quickly pad away, her forehead leans on the surface. god, what if you think her underwear is weird?

–

you burst into her room, again momentarily caught off guard by the meticulous cleanliness and lack of objects. as you step to her dresser, movements fast, you smile at the sight of a book on her bed, the remaining pages very few based on her bookmark’s placement. The Power of Myth. the book you got for her birthday. you will your mind to focus and whip around to the dresser.

in the flurry of rushing for lee, guilt gnawing at you for partially being the reason she’s now drenched, your movements work too fast for your brain and you open her first drawer, eyes scanning for her clothes. when the contents reveal themselves to your gaze, you suck in a sharp breath, reeling back with an abrupt, shaky step.

fuck. it’s a dildo and harness.

your stomach is a tornado of flutters and flips, and you feel almost light-headed at the onslaught of sensations. you gulp down nervously, and take one more peek into the drawer. after a moment, the guilt of snooping invades your senses, and you push the drawer shut with a loud bang. what the fuck is wrong with you?

with hands that feel lighter than usual, you tug her second drawer, and pick out sweats and the red sweater you sometimes see her in. you open the third drawer, and swallow down at the stack of plain bras, and comfortable, unpatterned underwear. she even has some men’s underwear, plain shorts-shaped underpants. you feel an embarrassing, feral, flustered sort of heat at knowing what she wears under all those modest clothes. 

☆

god, you sound like an absolute fucking pervert. you cringe, selecting a pair of grey underwear and closing the drawer with a heavy breath. you walk to the bathroom, neatly tucking them into the outside handle, trying not to rattle it too much, feeling almost as though she can sense the lust and shame through the door. you pause, listening to the shower run. without warning, images flash into your head of what she must look like, naked and wet, lean, gentle body coated in shining drops. fuck. you clench on nothing, backing away and to the living room.

your mind is swirling with thoughts. why does lee have the dildo? okay, well, that’s a stupid question. obviously, she’s using it for something – she didn’t buy it to study the damn thing. though, that does sound like an oddly lee-esque thing to do. your mind skitters with the possibilities. lee has always seemed so solitary that it was difficult to imagine her having an active sex life. of course, you had wondered about and considered it before, and you knew it was a possibility. but, this confirmed it more than anything. 

although, you suppose it could be something she doesn’t use on other people frequently, a thought that relieves you temporarily. because, truly? the idea of her frequently using it on different people makes something sink its claws into your gut – jealousy and childish anger. the notion of her using it on one specific person makes you feel even fucking worse. casual hookup, friend, girlfriend – you don’t care. you don’t want her to make love to someone else, especially someone who she wants enough to go back to, whether it be due to intimacy, an emotional connection or just good sexual chemistry. you don’t want her sinking it into anyone but you. 

it’s not the first time you’ve had such a thought. your feelings for lee have stirred and expanded like a lovely, permanent stain on a couch for nearly a half-year now. of course you’ve had the thought of what it’d be like to be hers, to be the person she carries on her arm, the one she kisses goodnight. of course you’ve thought, even fleetingly, about how she’d make love to you. but, the possibility of her potentially being with someone else – having a girlfriend, having someone who she might be going back to for sex and growing closer to – finally rearing its ugly head, and for the first time in a very grounded, very possible form of evidence, makes you squirm in what can only be described as devastated rage.

maybe it’s just something she’s saved from a past relationship, and is waiting to use on a future partner. but, why would she keep it in such an easily accessible spot? maybe she uses the dildo on herself. god, now that is a mental image that sends your body shifting on the couch. lee on her back, bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead, eyebrows scrunched in focus, lids wedged shut in pleasure, pushing that dildo in and out, set on pleasuring herself after a long day. god, does she use it when you’re out of the dorm? is she on the receiving end when or if she uses it with other people? at that last thought, the low burning embers of arousal are now washed out with ice-cold water. 

you still, focusing on the sounds ringing through the apartment. the shower is still on. feeling rather relieved at not having to face her yet, you sink into the soft cushions, head lolling back onto the edge. god, lee…

she’d probably be so patient pushing it in, just taking her time until it’s fully sheathed in your pussy, pushing your walls apart and filling your hole till it’s flush with the silicone material. maybe she’d hold your thighs apart, observant eyes drinking in the sight. or perhaps her shy, awkward nature would have her burying her face in your neck, holding you close and breathing you in as her hips thrust in and out slowly. you grind down on the couch without thinking, feeling yourself begin to grow sensitive. how else would lee have sex? would she relish sliding her fingers into your wet heat, letting the long size of them stretch you open? would that little satisfied grin she sometimes gets rest on her face as she watches you squirm and shiver? 

you freeze at the noise of the door creaking open before shutting again. she probably opened it to get her clothes. images flash in your head of a very soaked and wanting lee, pushing your back against the tiled wall as she pounds into you, soft lips skimming the skin of your neck. you rub your thighs together, feeling your center ache and dampen.

☆

when the door opens again, and you hear lee head into her room, you force yourself to sit still. you try to think of something else, but your thoughts keep straying. it’s impressive, in all honesty, that she has one. you remember being in high school, and hearing your peers’ debates regarding if the use of dildos was too phallic-centered for feminists, and if using sex toys was a betrayal of the cause. the sex wars were all you guys spoke about for a long time – reading articles and engaging in long talks about the dissections regarding ethics and what was considered sex that did or didn’t align with feminism. for a long time, you had been overwhelmed and conflicted with all the ideas. now, you know better. not every penis is aligned with, or even remotely related to, heterosexuality or being a man. not every phallic-object is either, and there’s nothing shameful in taking pleasure in it. it’s relieving in a way, to know lee probably feels the same way. after all, you still knew some people in your feminism class who avoided sex toys. despite being involved in the same movement, you're very much on an opposing side there -- clearly, considering your reaction to lee's toy.

when she walks out in her fuzzy, red sweater, brown hair lying damp along her back, bangs combed back, you curl into the couch, praying to some invisible force that her observant eyes won’t catch any telltale signs of where your thoughts had been. she glances at you, and you look away. relaxed, fresh from a shower and barefoot – she’s the picture of casual domesticity, and you gulp as she brings a glass of water to the couch, sitting on the other side. 

she nods at you. “you should shower too.”

“mhm, yeah, in a sec.” you pause, a deep ache in you yearning for some answers. you know it’s forward of you, too forward of you, to pry into lee’s love life. but, you’re desperate to know, for the fear of her being with someone else, or just as bad, wanting someone else, gnaws at you like a bitter virus. “lee, can I ask something?”

she tenses up. “okay.” 

“I was just wondering because, you know, you haven’t mentioned it before, so I just got curious…” you force yourself to continue, ignoring the whirling butterflies in your stomach almost triggering a nausea in you. “do you, um – are you dating? like, anyone?”

her eyes immediately widen, blinks alert and intense. “why are you asking me this?”

damn her curiosity. “I’m just wondering. we never spoke of it, you know.”

she sips her water slowly, as though the question demands caution. that scares you, and you hold your breath in anticipation. finally, she mutters, “no, I’m not dating anyone.” 

you nearly release a sigh of relief, pinching your lips together to keep it trapped inside. still, there’s one more inquiry drawing a finger of temptation along your throat. “but, um, do you want to? date anyone?”

her dark eyebrows, soft and striking, draw in and crease her forehead. “are you asking if I… like someone? or if I generally want to date?”

you pause, not even certain of which you desire to know. both are important, despite having initially meant the former option. you swallow hard, trying to force the tone of your voice to be casual and light-hearted. “well, you can answer both.”

she sighs, the noise short and sharp. you hope you’re not annoying her, the idea of such a thing sending a wave of insecurity rolling through you. but, still, you remain silent, needing an answer.

“I’m, uh, open to dating if it’s the right person. but, it’s not something I’m actively pursuing.”

“like, you’re not actively pursuing someone, or the very concept of dating?”

she looks at you, puzzled. “I don’t understand. what do you mean by ‘the concept of dating’?”

you suck in a heavy breath, starting to feel frustration build up. “I mean, do you mean you’re just not actively pursuing anyone right now, or are you also not actively pursuing dating in general – blind dates, set-ups, that kind of stuff?”

“oh.” she shakes her head. “I’m doing neither.”

your shoulders slump, unable to tell if you’re relieved, or conflicted even further. if she isn’t actively pursuing a specific person or dating, then that means she’s not committed to anyone – and perhaps that she doesn’t have her heart set on a singular person. but, her vagueness and lack of answer for whether or not she likes someone begs the question of if she really does want someone. which, in turn, would make any pursuit of her from your side fruitless. but, you can’t find it in yourself to pry more. she already seems uneasy with the line of questioning, and you yourself don’t know how you’d proceed with any answer she has to give. if she says yes, she does like someone, you deal with the gruelling clash of wishing it’s you, not knowing if it’s you, and dealing with the sour possibility of it being someone else. if she says no, there’s the relief that her eyes are reserved for no one, but then, does that mean she doesn’t see you in that way? of course, you have wished for her to like you back, and have pondered on the possibility. so, if her answer no means the latter, does that mean you have no chance? that you ought to give up? no. asking her directly would be too tumultuous, too confusing. 

“are you… dating anyone?” she asks, her voice small. you wish it could be because she doesn’t want you dating anyone – but, it could just as much be because it’s a vulnerable topic and lee is, well, lee. you try to ground yourself through these little pockets of hope that open for you.

still, you’re eager to make it known that you’re extremely single. “I’m not.” after a pause, you can’t resist asking, “why?”

lee shrugs, eyes trained on the ground. “you asked me, so I just thought of it.”

you sigh quietly. could she be any less interested? you feel petulant suddenly, wanting to remain silent until she finally admits something, anything. but, maybe, there really isn’t anything for her to admit. maybe she isn’t interested. you’ve known this the entire time that she might not be. you’ve pointedly reminded yourself of it when getting too lost in your daydreams, and too tightly gripped by the conviction that maybe she returns your feelings. the possibility of her not seeing you in that way always strikes a deep, burning sting into your mind. still, it’s not her fault. and summer is fast approaching, as is the end of your guys’ lease. if you’re going to be losing her in this close, intimate way, inevitably so, you’d rather the loss not occur early due to your own childish irritation and stubbornness rooted in your feelings.

and, so, you talk. but, you cannot find it in yourself to completely move on from this topic, not when you’ve managed to bridge the awkwardness in approaching it and may not have the nerve to do so again in the future. “you said you would date if you found someone right, right? what does – well, what makes someone right for you?”

her lips tighten together, forehead’s lines deepening as she momentarily ponders the question. “I just want understanding, is all.”

you cock your head. “what do you mean?”

“I don’t need… something, you know, really grand. someone right would just be someone who knows and accepts me. someone who understands, and who I feel comfortable with understanding me.”

the admission is tenderly spoken, her voice low and hushed, a sweet blush to her cheeks. her jaw is clenched, revealing the tension she feels at such a topic. but, her words, like always, are honest and pure. it makes sense. she’s someone who takes so much time to open herself up, someone whose every, miniscule layer counts for something as it’s pushed away to reveal her true self. she wants someone who knows her beyond those reservations, who knows and sees her for who she is. someone who has the patience to travel through the outward impressions until they know her through and through, and who will embrace the parts of her she chooses to trust them with. with someone as private and solitary as her, it makes sense that the person she wants to love is the person she doesn’t have to explain herself to. does she feel that way with you?

you grow curious as your mind wanders to her lack of lovey-dovey language. it’s lee, so it’s not surprising that her language is so somber and objective. but, you want to dig into her brain a bit more, see what she thinks of romance, soulmates, love – the whole lot of it. you’re sure your feelings for her are also instigating the burning itch to know more, but it’s also the fact that lee never seems to talk much about this stuff. up until this point, she’s seemed totally indifferent to romance, and it makes you long to know more. “but, love? what about love?” does she maybe not care about that? does she only want companionship, but without all the heavy emotions?

“for me, what I described and… love are the same thing.” she sucks in a sharp breath through her nose, then moves her head up, eyes suddenly latched onto you with unwavering focus. “it’s what lasts longest.”

“past all the passion and heat?”

she clears her throat, eyes darting away. “yeah.” after a moment, she asks, voice tentative, “what do you look for?” she watches you carefully, sharply, from the corner of her eye.

you hesitate. what do you look for? it’s not like you have zero experience, you’ve definitely had your fair share of getting-to-know-you stages and dating. but, it almost feels like those past experiences, rather than leave you sated in singlehood, have only increased your want of something new. your conception of love, and learning what it is and isn’t, has been a winding, directionless journey for years. from fleeting, mind-consuming, temporary infatuation, to heartbreaking obsessions, to mild attraction in what was better off as a friendship – you’ve experienced a range of it all. a share of good experiences, but definitely a lot you would’ve forgone if it hadn’t served a lesson. it’s made you tired and worn, and scared to try again, but you’ve always known that as soon as affection and its power worms its way into you, the doubts you have pale in comparison. perhaps you’re young enough that your past experiences, and their eventual failures, haven’t totally crushed your hopes. in fact, they’ve just made you overly eager for something that’ll last, something that’ll feel completely right this time.

“well…” you shuffle in your seat, suddenly on edge with the weighty question and her complete silence. “I guess my answer is a bit different than yours. I’ve had good experiences, for sure, but also a lot of mediocre ones. and I guess after having experienced heartache more than once, I just have even more of a, like, longing for something that’s really romantic and long-lasting. like, the mediocrity and breakups have only made me crave something that’s both right and will be forever – even more.”

“so, you’d like something special?”

you can’t help but smile. special is exactly what you need. “yeah.” 

“and long-lasting?”

your eyebrows furrow. “uh, yeah? why?”

her voice is so quiet, continuing to drink her water. “just asking.”

in the silence that follows, you feel the need to explain yourself further, just so she doesn’t feel put off by your answer, in case she, well – you push away the possibility. “I’ve just had experiences that have all ended.” you huff out a humoured scoff, realizing how badly you’re stating the obvious. “I just mean, well, I’d like to not go through heartbreak again, so I want a relationship that feels right when I enter it. you know, no doubts. the other stuff is just me being tired of things ending or not feeling right, and just wishing for something that could be romantic, right and also just last long.” as you keep speaking, your tone shifts to one that’s more heightened in both passion and frustration, hand gestures flailing.

lee’s nostrils flare, and a muffled laugh leaves her mouth. “yes, I can tell.”

you roll your eyes. “you know what I mean.”

her smile softens before melting away. “yeah. I do.” her head angles in your direction. “you deserve it.”

you swallow, feeling your legs tingle from the anticipation of her saying something like that. “you do too.”

she hums, and that’s that.

–

when lee decides to accompany you to a party on a friday night, she truly wonders what’s become of her. you two aren’t even dating, and she’s practically putty in your hands. when you had asked her about attending a party hosted by a friend who had in last semester’s mythology class, you did it with a laugh, and she knew it was because you expected her to give a resounding no. your head had snapped in her direction when she muttered a quiet “sure,” eyes wide. at first, she herself wasn’t even sure why she said “yes.”. all she knew was that you were going to be somewhere, so she’d rather be there than at home by herself. jesus, what a weird thing to feel.

maria practically burst into laughter when lee called her to confirm her attendance, and after she joked about how amaya would have a field day, lee rolled her eyes and hung up. It’s been so long since she last felt this way, and frankly, she had forgotten just how humiliating it is for her friends to see her in such a state.

on the subway ride there, you plug both yours and her headphones into your walkman, an offer of sharing music that she quietly accepts. you two sit like that, side by side, in the rumbling movements of the subway, silently listening to SWV together. other than the initial tension she feels at listening to something as romantic as Weak with you, it’s rare for her to feel so comfortable like this, so at ease with sharing a lack of words with someone else. she often won’t instigate a conversation if she doesn’t need to, but she will be cognizant of the way the other person might be reacting to the silence, and that, in turn, makes her feel uncomfortable too. it’s always just been easier to be alone than to have to grapple with the subtle and inescapable expectations of interacting. it always takes a while before she can truly feel comfortable sharing the emptiness of a space with someone, even longer to totally stop worrying. but, she’s at that place with you now. and you’re there with her, too. she can feel it, in the way you slump next to her, shoulder brushing hers, and in how your head leans back on the seat, eyes wandering along the cart. she wants to ask you what you’re thinking of, but she doesn’t want to interrupt this moment.

when you two reach the party, she sighs in relief at the sight of it less packed than the one she had attended in october. still, her mind scans her surroundings as soon as you both enter, trying to gauge just how many people are present and how stifling it may be.

in the middle of this, she feels your hand, warm and soft, slide into hers. her stomach tightens at the sensation, and she breathes in a shuddering inhale. she knows why you’re doing it, and the knowledge of that makes her feel only more exposed and pulled at the seams for you to stare upon. she wonders if anyone looking this way suspects that the two of you are a couple. a pleasurable tingle simmers in her stomach at the thought. images flash in her mind of you guys dating, and this sort of hand-holding being expected everyday, on every walk. it’s a nice thought, and she grinds her teeth together at the aching longing she feels inside. she can’t help but admit just how good it feels to think of having you in that way. but, she knows she shouldn’t become hopeful. not when she has no intention of pursuing you.

when you two start moving through a narrow hallway, making your way to the living room, people crowding in, she grips your hand harder and gratitude floods her chest when you return the squeeze. 

her eyebrows suddenly furrow, eyes darting to your interlocked hands. when had she stopped tensing at your touch? her mind searches for the moment, but she cannot place it. the realization makes her equals parts awed, surprised and uncomfortable. it has been that gradual, she supposes. her hand flexes in yours. how did you do this?

as you two approach the fireplace, she tenses up at the sight of maria and amaya, prematurely cringing at the earful they’re going to give her at this sight. her suspicions are confirmed when she catches the eye of maria, who smiles at her, then, after glancing towards your interlocked hands, whispers to amaya, who’s suddenly alert, very obviously seeking you both out.

when you guys move close, lee’s lips firmly press down, sending her friends a sharp look that she hopes shuts them up. 

of course it doesn’t. “hi, mr. and mrs. lee harker,” amaya drawls out, her pink cheeks clearly indicating how tipsy she is. lee’s eyes flutter in exasperation as maria whacks amaya's arm. why couldn’t have two extremely awkward people have adopted her into their group? why did it have to be amaya and maria?

she glances at you warily, immediately taking note of how embarrassed you are, your laughter trembling more than usual and quiet in volume, eyes flicking along the room. protectiveness immediately kicks in, and she says, “we’re fine,” not wanting to bring more attention to their teasing.

your hand suddenly flinches in hers, and a surge of anxiety pulls through her gut. was that the wrong thing for her to say?

amaya seems to notice lee’s tension, for she pats your arm down, saying, “sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“no, no, don’t worry, I know,” you respond, nodding, though lee notices that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes. her mind whirls with possibilities. are you upset that such a joke was made? do you feel uncomfortable? are you upset with her for not correcting them? did lee assume wrong in believing you were fully public about your sexuality? she feels her chest begin to get heavier. 

“here, come,” maria cuts in, waving you both over. “let’s play beer pong.”

as you two walk behind maria and amaya, lee’s breaths feeling shorter and more shallow, you turn to her suddenly. “hey, you okay? I can feel your pulse.”

she gulps down, self-consciousness pushing her to release your hand. it surprises her just how wrong it feels to do so, the feeling becoming more apparent when your eyebrows draw together. in her state of unrest, she can’t tell if it’s confusion, hurt or anger. jesus, this is exactly what she feared. that her feelings would make things unsettled between you two, and shatter the total comfort it had taken months to achieve in your friendship.

at your lack of response, you move closer, and she steps back. “I– lee, what’s wrong?”

your eyes, wide and focused on her, make her feel cowardice, and she looks away. she takes a few moments to collect herself. she doesn’t want to confide in you about a worry so small, so miniscule, and so meaningful in its relation to you. but, she knows if she chooses to start dismissing and hiding her feelings with you, it could very much just become the start to a chain of similar events. this instinct, this automatic kick to hide what she’s feeling – that’s what’s natural to her, that’s the reflex she’s leaned into all her life. returning to it could prove itself as all too easy of an occurrence, and who knows how long it would take to undo that? she doesn’t want that to happen. her nose makes a scratchy noise as she sharply breathes through it, and with that, she says, “I just– are you uncomfortable? because of what amaya said?”

she watches the way your throat moves as you swallow. after a moment, you shake your head softly. “no, of course not. I felt a bit… shy, but I’m not uncomfortable.”

she nods tightly, the relief overwhelming her in a long wave of lightness. 

“is that what you were nervous about?”

she stares at your docs, and silently tilts her head in the affirmative. 

“lee, even if I was uncomfortable, I’d never take that out on you, you know? you didn’t make the joke. but, besides that, I wasn’t uncomfortable or upset or anything, okay? just a bit… shy, is all.” it seems to take some effort on your end to say those last words, and she hopes it’s not because you’re downplaying the weight of your feelings. but, you said you weren’t uncomfortable or upset, and she doesn’t know how to proceed other than accepting your words. 

“okay?” 

she glances up at you, shifting under the heaviness of your attentive gaze. “I’m okay.” and it’s true. your assurance has helped ease her breath, and other than the discomfort she feels at the crowd of the room, her body is steady. 

“okay, now, let’s go play beer pong,” you drawl with a grin, tugging her by her arm. she wants to ask you to hold her hand again, but she resists, knowing it’s too forward.

though it takes a ridiculously long amount of time to convince the already drunk host to let lee play due to her abstinence from alcohol, despite her telling you, amaya and maria that she really doesn’t care, she finally is at the edge of the table, ball poised in her hand. she suddenly feels like she’s in high school again, the pressure of watchful eyes assessing her athletic ability making her tense. the fact that you’re there, on the other side of the table, cheeks lifted in bright grin, doesn’t help whatsoever. she supposes most people would feel supported, but your unwavering gaze only makes her feel even more unnerved. just like she did in high school, she focuses her attention to the task at hand, eyes skimming along the open gaps of the cups before lightly tossing the ball into one. when she gets it in, the host, derek, amaya said his name is, whistles. 

she ends up being the only one on her team to get every ball into the other team’s cup, which in all honesty, is probably because she’s sober. you miss two of your five shots, but even in those moments, lee twists her mouth to resist smiling, shy at the idea of being so plain in her affection for anyone to see. though, perhaps she speaks too soon, for as soon as she spots derek laying a friendly hand on your shoulder, she feels her jaw clench. she forces herself to look away. you’re not hers, you’re not someone who it makes sense to be possessive over. she has no right to. despite repeating this to herself, her stomach burns at the sight of derek continuing to keep a hand to your back as you guys play.

luckily, you slide from his touch when your eyes catch the sight of the girl lee met in your feminism class. you run over to her, swinging your arms around her. it should help, but it really does nothing to quell the simmering envy in lee’s stomach. she wishes she could touch you so easily, and vice versa. she knows it doesn’t make sense – you probably hesitate to touch her sometimes because you know her aversion to it, but she can’t help but irrationally wish you’d forgo all the consideration. see, this is why crushes are so anxiety-inducing to her – they make the sensibilities she always depends on wane for more personal pursuits and fulfillment.

she’s shaken out of her thoughts when your friend beckons everyone to the ground. “everyone, get into a circle! let’s do spin the bottle.” at her side, you’re grabbing her arm, fervently shaking your head, but she drags you to the ground next to her.

lee grits her teeth. great. 

“if it lands on you,” amaya whispers as the bottle swivels around, “just say you don’t want to kiss anyone. besides, I’ve played this game where people fucked if the bottle landed on them – this is nothing.”

“cold comfort,” lee whispers, pointedly staring at her.

she watches in a complete lack of amusement as the bottle lands from person to person, instigating a range of pecks to make out sessions. not that she knows from watching, she can just tell based on the time it takes and the noises. she simply stares at her lap when a kiss occurs, too uncomfortable to invade on such an intimate moment. not that there’s much to invade on, considering how many of them were encircled on the carpet of derek’s shared house. at least fifteen, while the rest of the guests mingle on every floor, playing games or taking shots together.

everytime the bottle blends into a blur from how fast it turns around, lee freezes. she’s afraid of it landing on her, but terrified it’ll land on you. if it does, she isn’t sure how well she’ll be able to control her body’s show of discomfort. she might just have to excuse herself to the bathroom. yes, that’s what she’ll do. 

when amaya and some other girl kiss, lee nearly leaves prematurely when one of derek’s friends wolf-whistle. she chooses a spot on the carpet to hone her gaze in on, and tries to reign in her annoyance. idiots. from her experience, the men who are most eager to watch any form of intimacy between women are the same ones who find it unbelievable that a woman’s attraction may not include them. they existed in high school, and they still do in university, it seems. she looks up at you, wondering if you’re thinking the same, blinking in surprise when you’re already watching her. when the two of you lock eyes, you playfully roll yours, and her lips fold into a forced smile. even in this moment, her stomach can’t handle looking at you, knowing what might come. she wishes she had just stayed at home tonight.

of course, the bottle eventually lands on you. she tears her eyes from you, choosing to focus on the feel of amaya’s hand softly rubbing her back, mentally choosing which words she’ll use to excuse herself. she leans into amaya’s ear, whispering, “I’m going.”

“um, I don’t think you can.”

lee glances at her in confusion, then moves her eyes to the bottle, nearly closing them in equal parts relief and aggravation when she realizes where it’s pointed, her stomach dropping so hard she feels light-headed for a second. jesus christ. 

derek chortles, clapping his friend’s back. “is there a lesbian goddess looking down on us or something?”

“yeah, it’s telling you to go fuck yourself,” maria sharply says, glaring at him. “stop with the fetishizing.”

derek raises his hands. “it was a joke, relax. jesus. can’t say anything these days.”

“lee?” amaya tentatively asks, her hand on lee’s back stilling.

lee glances to her friend’s thigh, shoulders heaving as she takes in a deep breath. she knows she needs to look at you, to see what you’re thinking, what you want – even if she already knows what her decision will be. her gaze slowly roves past your form before carefully landing on your face. your eyes are wide, lips parted and quivering, staring at her in clear nervousness. and what might be expectancy.

she swallows hard, piercing, relentless anxiety plummeting down to her abdomen. she doesn’t know what you want from her, and even if she did, she doesn’t know what your reasons are. but, it doesn’t really matter, because she knows she’s not comfortable with this. part of her is tensing with the curiosity and desire to kiss you. to let the intimacy that’s taken months to grow between you two progress even more, to feel the softness of your mouth. but, she can’t. not when it might mean nothing to you. not in front of all these people. 

and so, she shakes her head. “no.” 

“awe, c’mon, don’t be like that–” derek’s friend coos. 

“I said no,” she firmly repeats, staring at her hands. she can’t bear to look at you. what if you see it on her face? what will she see on yours?

“why not?” the question comes from the friend she met in your feminism class.

irritation springs in her. why can’t anyone just respect her answer? “because I don’t want to.”

she realizes how it comes off moments after saying it, especially when silence rings in the group. she can’t bear to look at you, fear gripping tightly at her. what if she’s hurt you? the pressing need to know overpowers the sense of alarm she feels. she looks up, nearly flinching back when she sees your mouth curved tightly, eyes cast down, hands wringing together. when you meet her gaze, your eyes are bouncing around, not remaining on her for more than a second at a time. you can’t even meet her eyes. she doesn’t know if this is due to embarrassment, shame or pity. she’s not sure she wants to know.

she lasts two more rounds, before excusing herself quietly and leaving.

on the porch, she lights a cigarette, wanting nothing more than to escape this party and lock herself in the refuge of her bedroom. how did things go downhill so fast? she wants to go back in, and tell you how she doesn’t dislike the idea of kissing you, not at all, and that she’d kiss away every frown that makes it onto your face if she only had the courage to take a risk. but, there’s too many people inside, too many eyes that’d be trained onto her as she approaches you. and who is she kidding? even in privacy, she could never say those words.

five minutes later, she guesses, she hears the screen door open, and she knows from the silhouette it’s you. her head tilts in your direction, taking a slow drag. “game finished?”

“no. I just needed a break. and I…” she hears your pause, the sentence hanging in the air, “... wanted to check if you were okay. those guys were being dicks.”

she screws her eyes shut. you’re still so nice to her, even after she said something that might have embarrassed you, and that definitely caused awkwardness. she wonders if there’ll ever be an end to the gentleness you distribute to her. “they were.” saying it out loud, remembering their obnoxiousness, sparks another dose of anger in her. so entitled they were, to seeing whatever forms of affection they felt content to turn into their own plaything. the kind of guys who are content with only accepting lesbianism in dosages that are self-satisfying to them. anything that doesn’t have to do with the permanent removal of them. anything that they feel can be put away in a neat box after their temporary engagement with it. almost as though it’s so incomprehensible for attraction to exist separate from men that they always need to be involved in some way, even as a voyeur.

“lee?” 

she snaps out of her impassioned, internal tangent, eyes flicking to you. the moonlight coats your face in blue light, and she’s suddenly struck with the thought of: I should have kissed you. but, as soon as it runs its course, she looks away, knowing she’d never have had the nerve, or sense of ease, to have done such a thing. 

“are you upset?” she mutters.

“no.” you pause. “why would I be?”

you both know why. she wishes you could just bring it up directly instead of tossing around vague questions. now, it’s on her to bring it up and address what’s going on. but, then again, how many times have you done that for her? is it really so unfair that she should now? her eyes trace the nearly-bare trees, lined with the sprouts of small, green leaves, which shine as emerald in the darkness. “because I didn’t do what the game asked of me.”

“well, I–I was upset, at first.” 

she flinches. she always knew it would, but it feels terribly hollow to know you are, or were, upset with her.

“but,” you continue, voice riding on the smooth whistle of the wind, “I know that’s not fair. you’re more than allowed to not want to kiss me – or, or anyone.”

she nods. she knows this already. “then, why were you upset?” she supposes it’s because of how embarrassing it might’ve been to not be kissed in front of others, to have it publicly declared that someone doesn’t want to kiss you. she nearly winces at the memory of her words, wishing she had chosen more carefully.

“um, because…” she hears your fingers rasp on the railing she’s leaning on. “I felt kind of, like, insecure? I don’t know. I mean, did you not want to because, like, there’s something wrong with me?”

her head darts up, shoulders stiff and nearly strained in tension. a small groan rumbles in her throat. “no. not at all.” god, something being wrong with you is the absolute last thing on her mind. and it’s one of the least likely reasons she’d ever refrain from kissing you. she’s sure there are some things flawed about you, there are with everyone. but, that’s no reason she’d ever decide to avoid or postpone anything with you. she’s ready to accept you. “that’s not the reason,” she whispers.

she can hear your breaths becoming shaky, unsteady. “then, why?”

she squeezes her eyes shut, debating on what to say. she doesn’t want to lie, but the fear of how you’ll perceive her honest answer gnaws at her. 

finally, she shakes her head. she wants, so badly, to reassure you in this moment and make it clear just how, well, not wrong of a person you are. even if it means you catch wind of her feelings, she can deal with that later. if amaya was here, she’d tell lee to do the romantic thing, to say something wholly honest. to admit, something, anything, that sheds a bit more light onto her feelings. lee doesn’t think she’s quite ready for that, but she’ll tiptoe on the precipice of it if it means making you feel better.

“I didn’t want to kiss you in front of all those people. because…” she pauses, thinking on how to ensure you it has nothing to do with you as a person. she straightens up, turning to your wide, curious eyes. “because if I kiss you, I don’t want it to be in front of an audience.” even the mere words I kiss you have her mouth tasting different. it feels like a reverent trifecta of words, like some sort of prayer. 

she gulps down, needles of worry poking her insides at your silence. she shifts her body away, and watches the grass on the lawn, wet with the afternoon’s rain, the deep breaths of cigarette smoke soothing her slightly. and she waits.

–

and you still your breathing in shock. if she fucking kisses you? if? as in that’s a possibility? the idea that that’s what she means feels too far-fetched and too good to be true. if this was someone else, you could convince yourself that those words just slipped it out without them thinking or realizing. but, lee always proceeds with caution. she pauses before talking, she speaks calmly. if she says something, she means it. so, if she means this, then what does that indicate? that kissing you is a possibility? it’s something she has thought of before? or does she just mean that in some completely hypothetical, alternate universe where she’s aligned to very specific feelings, then she wouldn’t kiss you in front of others?

you watch her as she continues to lean along the railing, elbows propped onto it and eyes observing her surroundings, grey smoke whirling around her as she exhales the smoke. she looks beautiful, and you want her so bad. you want to ask more, but you’re scared. scared her answer will prove of her indifference to you, and you’ll be forced to figure out how to abandon these long active, aflame feelings. if anything, you’d prefer to swim in these feelings then submerge only when forced to, like if you’ve done nothing to pursue her by the time the lease is up, and then, you both part ways, and you’re forced to endure the heartache. the idea is a sour one that causes a swell of pain in you, like some internal bruise. but, what could you do other than that? confess to her like some nervous high schooler? try to subtly pursue her with flirtation and gestures? even if you did that last option, you doubt it’d give you answers. you can’t see lee confidently flirting back in such instances, and she might not even register your words as flirting. and confessing… it can so easily cause damage to what you guys have and your own heart.

for so long, you’ve been content to carry these feelings for her, but not act on them. but, a culmination of things – the semester approaching its end in just a matter of three months, the jaunting reality check of realizing the chances of her dating and being with someone else, and her saying this kind of stuff – is starting to make you itch for more than a friendship. the idea of not even trying to seize a chance with her makes you sick. but, the idea of doing so and getting your heart shattered makes you just as disoriented in fear.

it’s why you still can’t say anything now. even though you want nothing more than to shake her body and ask her if she wants to kiss you, if she wants you even half as badly as you’ve wanted her, because even half that amount would leave you feeling so fulfilled. because that’s how much you crave her.

“thanks,” you whisper, not wanting to completely ignore her efforts to reassure her.

she nods.

“do you want to get out of here?”

“I do.” she taps the cigarette against the railing. “but, if you want to stay longer, I’ll wait.”

your stomach swells with a bleeding sort of affection that drowns out any other emotion. when she’s this kind, how can she not expect you to like her? 

“we can go.” in all honesty, your mood for a party has been doused by the liquid heat of her words and your subsequent pining. you want nothing more than to digest what she said in pure silence, lest for the music in your walkman. 

she pauses, head cocking to you. you think she’s about to say something, but she just quietly raises the cigarette to you. you carefully take it from her, gulping when your fingers brush her cold skin. “wait here,” she softly says, then heads in, probably to tell everyone of your guys’ departure. 

behind you, you can hear the Debarge song your cousin used to be obsessed with playing. you still remember some of the lyrics – I like the way you comb your hair, I like the stylish clothes you wear, it’s just the little things you do that show how much you really care. you think of lee, suddenly feeling that you, too, would like to write a song listing the things you like about her. there’s so much. she also makes you feel so unnerved just by a look, and has made your ability to feel passion for another person, an ability which had been in slumber for so long, awaken with a great start. you're still afraid of what might happen, of the future, of potential heartbreak, but liking lee, and wanting her, is something you're powerless against.

a few days pass, and things feel quieter than usual. you can tell lee feels some amount of hesitation around you, from the way her shoulders tense when you enter the room, to the way she takes longer than usual to respond. you don’t know if it’s out of guilt, or fear that you’re upset, or something else, but you hate the stilted tension you both have become ensnared by. so, one morning, after taking some deep, calming breaths, you approach her with a peace offering. 

“hey.” you wait for no answer, immediately continuing. “so, if we take the subway up north, we can see those cherry blossoms that everyone’s been talking about. do you want to go today?”

her lips part with a quiet, wet sound, and you try very hard to ignore it. after her eyes dart between you and the papers in front of her, she nods. “okay.” 

an hour later, as you two walk up the path leading to the park’s cherry blossoms attraction, surrounded by lime green buds sprinkling the branches and hugging every crevice and curve, you ask, “were there cherry blossoms where you grew up?” 

lee looks at you sharply, as though surprised that you spoke. you nearly smile – did she expect you to carry on in complete silence? of course you wouldn’t. you want things to go back to usual. 

“yeah, we did.” she stares ahead.

okay, complete silence it is, then.

that is, until lee sighs, then continues with, “my house is surrounded by trees. it looked nice this time of year. my mom, um…” her mouth flinches. “my mom once knitted me a blanket of the blossoms.”

something in you throbs in adoration at the idea of a young lee cuddled in such a tenderly made gift. “that’s so sweet. so, she knits?”

“knits, crochets – she made us a lot of stuff growing up.” you see the bob of her throat as she swallows. “she was a nurse, so it was her way of relaxing. plus, easier to afford than buying those things.”

you absorb this information. with how independent lee is, it makes sense that her single mother worked so hard, and that lee was probably left to fend for herself a lot of the time. you wonder if lee took inspiration from her mother growing up, and used her as a guidepost in forming her own steady, assured habits. and in light of this information, you suppose lee’s lack of spending might’ve also taken root in how she seems to have grown up financially. 

your fingers reach into your pocket, skimming along the camera she had bought you.

“it’s also just more personal,” you add. “you know, a homemade thing like that is always going to beat store-bought.”

“why do you think so?”

you shrug. “because, you know, it’s something physical that a person poured hours into creating, just to make you happy. and there’s something sweet about it, isn’t it? having a physical, like, product of someone’s affection, being able to hold it and know they did too.”

her lips fold in tightly together, and she blinks hard at the path ahead. “yeah. but, she doesn’t do it anymore.”

you frown. “no?” 

she shakes her, the corner of her lip pulsing. “no. she doesn’t have it in her to do it.”

“what do you mean?”

“my mom…” a loud exhaling puff of air slips from her nose. “she’s not well.”

you feel the downwards pinch of your lips deepen. does she mean it physically, mentally or emotionally? either way, you wonder if it has something to do with why she dreads going there so much. as the only daughter, is she over-relied on? “what do you mean?”

“she sometimes becomes… well, disconnected. to me, her surroundings, even the stuff she says. at least, it feels like she’s disconnected. and she’s, um, really scared for me – because I live away. and I think she’s scared for herself too.”

“because she’s alone?”

her eyes flutter shut momentarily. “yeah.” her voice is raspy, heavy with responsibility.

sadness surges through you. she looks so pained in confessing all this, so wounded over being away from home, away from a mother who clearly is struggling. but, from what lee has said, it feels like she was struggling in her own ways too. “that’s not your fault,” you try to gently remind her.

“it is, in a way,” she mutters. “I could’ve stayed closer to my house. but, I wanted to leave.”

“why? why did you want to leave?”

“because I was tired of it all.” her voice is hushed, breathy with the shame of the admission. anyone could tell how bad she feels to admit this. “tired of her holding on so tight. of feeling guilty for always leaving – guilty for a lot, really. of her paranoia… for the world and about sinning, and–” she cuts herself off, lips claiming together, turning away from you as though she’s aghast at having admitted so much.

but, it doesn’t feel like so much to you. her vague descriptions of her situation only further your confusion and curiosity. “why is she so paranoid?”

“she’s gone through a lot – when raising me on her own. and that just made her scared of everything outside our home. and even before those things happened that caused that fear…” she bites her lip. “she was cut off from her family before having me, and criticized a lot. I guess she was made to feel like a sinner, and she was scared of me becoming the same. or, I don’t know, just feeling the same. but, it was too much, her reminders and pressure. even when she was barely saying anything, I was scared. I couldn’t take it.” her words begin to waver at the end, and a piece of sympathy stabs you in the chest. you can see the great effort it’s taking her to confide in you about this. sure, it was clear since that first visit back home in october that whatever her and her mom had, it was complicated. and the more her facial expressions became decipherable to you, and the more she spoke to you about her mother, the clearer it became just how much the visits strained her, and the total, utter weight they placed upon her shoulders. but, it also became revealed just how much of a necessity they were for her, and despite all the discomfort, the intense amount of care and loyalty wrapped in those hours and days for her. but, this is the first time she’s given such a specific account of what her and her mom struggle with. just hearing all the layers to it is enough to make you falter in your steps, and you marvel at how much she must have gone through to lead up to her departure for university. most of all, you feel a pain for lee – she deserves to have a bond with her mother that is steady and comfortable, and to hear just how disarrayed it is in reality makes a longing stir within you. a longing that is purely for her sake, solely to secure her some more peace after all she’s clearly undergone in life and continues to carry with her.

“I’m sorry. that she was cut off, and that it led to, you know, you receiving so much pressure from both her and yourself. and for all the other stuff, like the paranoia and you feeling like you couldn’t leave her.” your apology feels so weak. all you can do is really just comfort her with your words and provide her some empathy. but, it changes nothing. she has still suffered through her life, and your words won’t erase the aftereffects it has on her. the lack of action you can really commit to makes you feel pathetic. but, you suppose that’s part of being her friend, someone who care so much for her. being there, even if you can only do a bit to help. because giving her any help takes precedence over any self-satisfaction you can wring out from accomplishing something bigger in assisting her. “you didn’t deserve to go through that. I wish you had had things easier, really. I can’t even imagine how hard it was – how hard it must still be.”

“thanks,” she mumbles, hands stuffed into her pocket. her eyes skim along the ground before latching onto your face, and she tilts her head in acknowledgement.

your hand itches. how badly you wish you could hold her and tell her everything will be okay.

when you two arrive at the cherry blossom trees, you’re immediately swept into immense awe, the feeling making you afloat in delight and admiration. the small flowers are an array of white and cream, small peaks of pink scattered about through the army of them. students surround you and lee, many of them sitting on the ground and playing card games together, eating food or drinking from a shared bottle. other people walk about, taking strolls or walking their dogs. the thing interlocking all of you together is the collective spark of joy and curiosity from the cherry blossoms, children being lifted by their parents to tug some from the branches, while other people reverently touch the petals.

you try to take a peak at lee, eager to see what her response to the scenery is, a satisfied thrum running through you when you catch a glimpse of her small smile, eyes scanning the park in her careful, unfaltering way. 

“see? aren’t you glad we came?” 

she huffs with a noiseless laugh. “you’ll really use even a natural phenomenon as a chance to brag?”

you feel your shoulders loosen at her response. thank god. things finally seem to be easing up. “well, if I won’t, who will? you certainly don’t give me compliments,” you mockingly say with an exaggerated frown. 

“mm,” she hums, pretty brown eyes drawn up as they skitter over the branches. “it just takes a lot of effort to come up with them.”

you burst into a loud, offended round of laughter. “is that statement meant to indicate social awkwardness or a lack of good traits in me?”

she shrugs, her smile widening. “I’ll let you guess.”

“if I do so correctly, will you tell me?”

“I shouldn’t spoil the fun.”

you snort at just how fucking deadpan she sounds saying that. “fun? I’m sorry, but who is it that leaves every party early again?” you taunt teasingly, bumping her shoulder. secretly, you harbour the wish that mentioning the party in a moment of banter will ease whatever tension and awkwardness has been caused by it, and any hesitation you felt at your choice fades away delightfully fast when she only rolls her eyes, responding with, “who is it that returned with me last time?”

“listen, in my defense,” you drawl, pointing an accusatory finger at her, “derek and his friends would’ve spoiled the rest of the night.”

“yeah. they would’ve.”

you falter at the quieting of her tone. “you didn’t like them either?” you already know the answer, of course.

“no, I didn’t.”

you smile at her bluntness, then wave a hand to a spot under a particularly large tree with winding, crooked branches that provide some shelter from the surprisingly bright afternoon. “here?” 

she nods, but continues to stand with her hands in her pocket. when you cock your head in confusion, her eyes awkwardly skip between you and the ground. oh. oh. she’s waiting for you to sit first. your mouth quivers with the temptation of a grin, stomach a whirlwind of butterflies. yeah, you certainly did good picking this one. 

when you sit cross-legged on the ground, lee shuffles to a spot a safe distance from you, stretching her legs out, and you nearly groan. you’ve been close to her numerous times by now, sure, but in her presence, you feel practically touch-starved, never being able to relish in enough of the pleasant tingle of her arm brushing yours. if you were together, maybe lee would brace her back against the tree, and you could lie between her legs. or lay your head on her lap. you feel a pleasure at thinking of these spots on her body you’ve never had the pleasure of touching before, seized by a desperation to know what they feel like. her thigh against your cheek, shoulder against your ear, wrist against your lips. 

she pulls a pack of cigarettes from her pocket, nimble fingers easily tugging one out. she carefully scans the grounds before taking out a plain silver lighter and lighting it. you could practically bury your face into the muddy grass. how does she look so good doing everything? how does lighting a cigarette, when it's in her hands and between her muted pink lips, turn into the most angelic of actions?

when her eyes sharply capture your gaze, you nearly flinch, immediately forcing yourself to linger on the small family walking by on a nearby path. 

“what is it?”

you ignore her intense eyes. god, why did her sparing doses of eye contact serve to do nothing but unnerve you? “nothing…” you fumble for something, anything, really, to say that can take the focus off you. “just thinking about what a great anti-cancer campaign you’re making for the children here.”

she laughs lightly. “yeah, well, I try.”

you raise an eyebrow at the cigarette. “very hard, apparently.”

her beam softens into a gentle tilt of her lips. “I’m glad it’s paid off for some recognition.”

“at this point, just admit you’re an attention whore, lee,” you tease. lee’s the farthest thing, you know that. she’d probably be content to slink into the background for the rest of her life.

you pull out the camera she got you, pointing it at the trees, the sunlight bursting through the edges of the leaves in a way that sends them into lime jewels, glittering under the sun’s heat. a thrill runs through you. spring really is here, warmer days to come.

when you direct the camera to lee, she glances at you from the corner of her eye, but says nothing, continuing to smoke. your hands feel like they could tremble in this moment. it’s your first time photographing her, and if you get the film developed, it’ll be your very first photograph of her. the knowledge of it all – capturing her in permanence, keeping her secure in this physical memento that’ll always exist somewhere, no matter what happens – makes the moment feel heavy on your heart. even just making it clear to her that you want her locked – no, that’s not right – kept alive in this way, is a vulnerable admission in and of itself, even if it’s declared silently through the simple raise of your camera. you can’t help but feel relieved she says nothing.

you snap the photo, her pose relaxed, torso leaning back on her palms, which are planted to the ground. behind her is a flood of white and pink flowers dotting the world, the grass alit with the flaming light of the sun.

you set the camera in your lap, thumb stroking the shining black surface. how powerful this little box is, to be able to retain and express a single moment forever. you know it’s a blessing to have such power available through the technology of these days, but how apparent does it make the sentiment that a moment only lasts for as long as a singular shutter. the way the petals litter the ground, how the kids’ laughter sways along with the wind, lee’s closed eyes as a particularly fresh breeze kisses that spot between her brow – you’ll only have these moments before your eyes for a few minutes or even a few seconds. and then, they’ll be gone. it leaves you with a bittersweet ache – how the witnessing of something can mean so much, and instigate such a flood or silence of emotions, and then, in a matter or minutes to hours, be gone and faded into a memory tucked away. sometimes, even though it’s silly to admit, you sometimes feel like you’re running out of moments to actually live on, scrambling to fill your time with things that can make for good memories rather than just trusting your life to naturally supply them to you.

you suppose part of that is due to the pressure of being in your youth. so many people frame university as the peak of their life, an amazing couple of years that simmer into oblivion the older a person gets, which apparently ends up being for the best, since they claim life never ends up quite matching up, anyways. you’ve heard this rhetoric so many times that you feel like there is a ticking clock constantly pricking at the back of your mind, reminding you pointedly of just how much time you have left before graduation. you feel like you need to keep doing more than before, and truly seize this apparently opportune, once-in-a-lifetime experience.

but, you don’t like the thought that things end here. that after university, or one’s twenties, life is just a downhill slope that you have no choice but to roll down the steep shape of until finally dropping into an abyss. you’d much rather life have the directionless shape it’s possessed so far, when happiness and good phases strike you with resounded and delighted force, and when hard times cause you to plummet when you least expect it – all without warning. your so-called “youth” surely hasn’t been all that ideal, and it hasn’t aligned to any exclusive feeling or experience. so, why should you subject the rest of your life to such a bleak, single-dimensioned expectation? sure, with each new year, each new stage of one’s life, more complications, complexes and dilemmas arise. that just seems part of the territory of having more time on earth, and so, more experiences to amplify the nuances and contrasts of life and struggle. but, surely, that cannot mean life simply ends when the number “two” leaves your age. because you’d like to think that in your thirties, and forties, and however many decades, even if life becomes more of a confusing jumble to map out, the lingering time on earth has only provided you even more experiences to dance and experience contentment in. you hope life is like that, for the idea of things becoming a slow, dull tug downwards as soon as you enter the real world is one that is too heartbreaking to face.

“what are you thinking about?”

you pick at a blade of grass. “wouldn’t you like to know?” you don’t even know what compels you to say such a thing. if it’s because you simply want to tease her, or if it’s a desperate attempt to seek out confirmation for her care for your thoughts.

“I would.”

you feel your face warm at the earnest declaration. “I was just thinking about – I don’t know, do you ever feel pressured to, you know, live it up at our age? have all these experiences because people say this should be the best time of our life?”

“no.” she takes a slow drag, pondering on your words before continuing. “I know what I do and don’t like, and I… don’t have the energy to pretend otherwise.” she shrugs lightly. “I just like doing what I know I like.”

“that must be nice.” that sense of security in herself, in the passage of time.

“you feel differently, though?”

“I don’t know.” you feel embarrassed now to confide in her about such a thing, knowing that she cannot relate. “there’s all this pressure about living out your twenties, and life ending once you depart from that age, so I get scared I’m not doing enough.”

“yeah.” she nods. “but, it’s not really true, is it? your life won’t end in your twenties. I think the people who say that are probably just… I don’t know – going through, like, recollection, nostalgia or some kind of monotony.” 

“that’s what scares me, though. that that sentiment of, like, missing your youth, is so common that it might indicate that those feelings – that emptiness – are inevitable.”

“and maybe they are. but, that doesn’t mean you have to deal with it if you don’t want to. if you ever feel that way, change it.” her eyes raise to you, honest and bright under the sun, shining to a light brown. “and don’t spend time on anticipating those feelings. that’s counterproductive.”

you huff out a small laughter. you don’t know if it’s her logic-driven thought process, or discardment of common social dilemmas, but her blunt words are so structured that you cannot help but chuckle in a mixture of amusement and endearment.

“if I do ever get in that slump, promise to help?” you ask, raising your hand to hers.

she blinks at your hand before enveloping it in hers. she’s dry and cool in your grip, and you wonder how cold her skin would feel under your lips. “promise.” 

–

lee feels pride simmering in her at the sight of you using your camera, but she hides her smile behind the cigarette, wanting to keep her happiness at watching you to herself, like a private secret.

when you aren’t looking at her, she watches you, eyes taking in how you bend in all different kinds of angles to get particular shots. at one point, your shirt runs up your back and she very intentionally rips her eyes from the patch of skin and faint hairs she saw. she’s more than thankful that you’re occupying yourself when her mind begins to race with images of sliding her palm along that spot and feeling its warmth.

after you lean in close to photograph her hand with the cigarette, so close she can smell your shampoo, she finds herself compelled to ask, “did you used to photograph?”  she can’t tell if your eagerness is due to a dormant passion getting awoken, or if this is your first time engaging with it.

you nod, smiling down at the camera. “yeah. I used to have a lot more hobbies as a kid. you know, photography, reading, drawing, writing. I was always interested in those things.”

from your class choices, to the kind of work you do in your organization, lee could always tell that you leaned towards creative work. but, rather than feel any sense of curiosity satiated at your answer, she feels it only fold in on itself and heighten. “what kind of things did you write?”

“I went through so many phases, I can’t even pinpoint one.” still, you bring your knees up, thoughtfully wrapping your arms around them. “for a while, I was really into fantasy. I loved writing stories on, you know, magical swords and daggers, characters who fit into all the archetypes. and imagining myself in those stories, too. when I hit puberty and started having back to back crushes, it was romance.” lee picks at her sleeve when you say this. so, romance had been something on your mind for a while. she wonders if any experience you could ever have with her – romantic, that is – would automatically be a disappointment. 

“I also had a sci-fi phase,” you add as an afterthought. “I loved, and well, still do, imagining myself in different stories.”

she hums. you seem to have a world of tales available to you, lost in your mind. she wonders what’s that like, to have so many universes and worlds to transport yourself to. she wants to learn about them all. she wants to know what exists in the ideal worlds you’ve spent your life travelling to. “what, um… drew you to those kinds of stories?”

“I guess it all depended on what I craved at the time. or what the media I was surrounded myself with caused me to crave? sometimes, I’d get through a fantasy series in a week, and real life would feel so boring in comparison. and so, I’d write stories, and through that, could at least temporarily live in that world, you know?”

she nods. she really does know. as a child, she had partaken in such little fantasies, imagining herself to be in the films she often watched alone when her mother worked long hours at the hospital. it gave her a sort of solace from what often felt like a lonely existence. 

“that sounds nice,” she admits. “that your thoughts felt believable enough that you could transfer to another place.”

“did you not have that?”

“not really. if I did, I don’t know, daydream, it’s not something that would last long. even with wanting to act – I thought it was a logical way to escape real life. I don’t think my thoughts were enough to convince me.”

“I get that. in a way, it might be a blessing.” when she raises her head to you, you smile. “sometimes, the daydreams being so convincing made it all the more heartbreaking when I came back to reality. I got to experience this beautiful fantasy, and then, it just shattered.”

 when lee had realized things would probably not work out for her as an actress, she supposes she had also felt shattered in a way. her escape plan had been broken. to you, the escape plan must have been your fantastical refuge. she can understand why it would have caused pain. “yeah. I mean, like you said, maybe it was a good thing? did it help you… like your life more?”

you chuckle. “not really, considering I always escaped back to it. now, though?” you glance at her and when she tilts her head, you continue. “now, I’m better with it. I also just don’t really do much creative stuff anymore. it never feels like I have the time.”

“maybe you should make a schedule.”

you giggle. “thank you, lee.”

she blinks. she doesn’t really know what’s so amusing, but you’re laughing, and she’s content with that.

–

“who would’ve thought there’d ever be a day where lee harker is the one who extended an invitation to a public place?” 

lee huffs slightly, backing away as you make your way through the bathroom, shoes softly tapping along the cream tiles. “yes. to the bar, not the bathroom.”

“they said you were in here!” you weakly justify, knowing the only real reason for being here is having wanted a moment alone with her before heading back out. 

not that it’s so unbearable outside. after all, it is a bar that lee willingly agreed to attend, so you knew from the get-go that it’d probably be quite soothing in comparison to some of the other places in this area. the part of the bar with the tables is alit with colours of pink and red, a soft flush to every object in the room, almost as though every inch is tinged with love. the streams of colour swarm even into the bathroom, casting everything into a hot, ethereal glow that seems to make your surroundings hazy. like a faraway dream.  

you and lee had spent the afternoon pouring over your work together, and due to her lighter load, lee left earlier to meet her friends, since maria had wanted to see the local band performing. she had initially bid you a goodbye, then promptly left, but not even ten minutes later, she returned back to you and fumbled out her notebook and black marker, quickly scribbling the name of the place down and handing it to you.

and now, here you are. when you found amaya and maria, amaya gestured for you to ignore maria, who was watching the performance in a trance, saying into your ear, “lee’s in the bathroom. the one downstairs, the guy here said it’s barely used.”

the music is muffled in the confines of the bathroom, and it feels like a private utopia. the warm light wraps around lee’s skin, and she looks iridescent, something spun out of flame and ash, eyes impossibly darker in the dim light.

“hm, avoid making that joke with them.” her lips quirk up. “I think two parties in a row have already started convincing them that I’m okay with more.”

“two in a row?” you scoff. “lee, the one you went to before the last was in fucking autumn. october, to be exact. that’s, like, a seven month gap.”

“well, my gaps in this circumstance tend to align more to seven years.”

you snicker. “fine. fair enough.” her words give you pause and you roll them over in your head, like a dice, trying to determine any possibility, before asking, “why did you come last time, then?”

she leans on the edge of the counter, and two sinks down from her, you perch up on the ledge. “I, um… well, I didn’t want you going by yourself.”

perhaps you’ve gotten too accustomed to her friendship. back in fall, a confession like that probably would’ve had you jumping in ecstasy. now, it just brings in a wave of embarrassment with a pinch of annoyance. so, she only came because she felt you’d be a loner there or something? self-consciousness and desire for more from her make an ugly pair, and you feel the bitterness of their combined powers.

“I wouldn’t have been alone,” you mutter, looking down. “my friend was going to be there.”

“I hadn’t realized.”

“so, if you had, you wouldn’t have come?” you can hear the petulant, undignified lilt to your voice. you know you sound irrational right now. it is damned sweet that lee came to make sure you weren’t by yourself. but, you pine for something more, and you know it’s selfish, but it’s been months, and you’re wanting.

“um, I don’t know.”

you sigh sharply, turning your head from her even further.

“what’s wrong?”

her voice quietly echoes in the bathroom, and you hear the soft trepidation lining her words. you hate that you’re the one to have caused such uncertainty. again. you debate perhaps lying, but the idea of that makes you wince. even if the ordeal of exposing the truth is a tad humiliating, the idea of starting to lie to lee is worse. you two have finally built to a friendship that is easy and vulnerable – how could you ruin that? and you can’t bear being dishonest with her. besides, she’s said something before that was… questionable, what with the night of the party. perhaps, you also have a one-use pass to say something questionable.

“I kind of wanted to hear you went just to… I don’t know, because you wanted to hang out with me.”

“I went for that too.” the admission is immediate and gentle, and you start at the lack of hesitation in it. perhaps you seeming off is compelling her to do it to assure you.

her response should sate your desires, and in some ways, it does. but, the mention of the party, the reminder of what she said about if she kisses you, only instigates a newfound desperation for answers. what did she mean when she said that? before, you were so concerned with having your friend back that you didn’t care to try to investigate, and fear of what could happen if you did only held you back more. but, what if this was your only chance? what if lee never says anything like that again?

trying to subtly pry, you ask, “did you, um… regret going?”

you watch her eyes flick up, glancing at the stalls across from you before going back down. “why would I?”

“you know…” you gulp down hard. just out with it. do it. “spin the bottle. the guys being jackasses,” you add, trying not to shine the spotlight entirely onto the potential kiss.

she shrugs, tilting her head in your direction. “I did regret it for a bit. I felt – I don’t know.” she shakes her head, and you hear the sharp breath of her singular inhale. “I felt worried I had embarrassed you.”

your mouth curves. god, she’s so sweet and darling. how no one has currently captured her heart, you don’t know. “I was a bit embarrassed. but, it’s not at all your fault. you had – have – every right to say no. I just, I thought it had to do with me.” you rub your palm on your neck, feeling your face burn at the admission. fuck, it could be so goddamn anxiety-inducing to practically lay out on an emotional autopsy table, insides spilled out for her to scan.

“it didn’t,” she says in a hushed tone. you can barely even look at her. “if anything, I would’ve…” a soft tapping noise emerges in the bathroom, and you know it’s her nervous fidgeting against the cold counter. “... preferred you over anyone else.”

you freeze at the words, feeling your nails dig into your palms. god, does she even realize how big a deal some of the stuff she says is? she tosses it around as though it’s nothing, even though you know she gives careful consideration to every sentiment spoken. what does she even mean by that? your body is still feeling weightless from the bolt of pure shock, as though you’re far away from this moment. there were awfully attractive people in that circle, people you had felt great anger at the thought of lee kissing. and she had secretly preferred you above anyone else, even her close companions? but, you suppose it wasn’t truly such a secret, since she just told you. and maybe that’s because there’s nothing to truly hide – maybe her desire for your lips in that moment had hinged on nothing but comfortability, friendship, and maybe shared sexual preference.

there’s only one way to find out. “why? because we – we have, I don’t know – we’re both gay? or because we’re friends?”

“mm,” she hums, nodding.

disappointment strikes at you like a harsh, ringing bell, the waves of the impact sending rolls of hurt through you, your stomach aching at the sudden emotion. “that’s it?”

from your peripheral vision, you see her shift. “‘that’s it’? did you… want there to be something else?”

fuck. she’s catching onto you. “I… I, well, no, I just wondered if there was.”

“why are you wondering?”

your stomach flips, her very direct questions shattering any semblance of control you thought you had on the situation. it leaves you horribly unsettled, and you readjust yourself on the seat, trying to ease the weight of your words with some distracting movement. “I just, I don’t know, I would just like to know.”

“but, why? any other reason could make things… different.”

your head whips to her, holding your breath without realizing. surely, she must be talking about romantic feelings. no other admission having to do with the almost-kiss could cause discomfort. only something having to do with having wanted the kiss could cause things to change. nothing else. right? you’re sure of it. but, again, she’s speaking in a hypotheticals – she’s not confirming she has these reasons herself. perhaps she’s just truly curious about why you’d want to know. it feels too good to be true, to think she really could want this kiss.

but, the part of you that itches, and longs, and feels like raw flesh under her gaze, wants to hope. and if you hope that she has those reasons, then you hope some kind of assurance will help. “different isn’t bad. and you know, if something one of us said ever did cause, I don’t know, change, then I think we could get through it.” hypocritical words, considering you had been hiding your feelings for months out of fear of the heartbreak and change that could be aroused from a confession. but, it’s true – at least, it feels true when you think of lee confessing. because you’d ensure that anything she does, or says, would never cause a strain on your end. when you think of her being the one to initiate something, a sort of protectiveness takes over. you’d never let her words lead to a severement of the friendship, not if you can help it.

she’s silent.

your fingers cling onto the edge of the counter, the nausea of anxiety swimming in your throat. “please, lee, is there anything else?”

her eyes meet yours, and they’re practically shining in the shadows of red. “there is.”

your fingers ache. “tell me.”

“I wanted to kiss you. I want to, still.”

your eyes burn, and you grind your teeth together, trying to will away the sudden urge to burst into tears. you didn’t realize just how badly you had wanted her, and itched for her to touch you, until now. just the confession from her is enough to make you want to crawl to this dirty, tiled floor and sob against it.

“I want you to, as well.”

she breaks the eye contact, her breaths shaky and heavy. you see the slow rise and fall of her shoulders, and your hand flinches. 

“lee, come here.”

she glances at your knee before nodding quietly, lifting herself from the edge and slowly making her way to you, not stopping until she’s right in front of you. her hands fiddle at her sides, and her sense of nerves is an odd sort of comfort to you, your own stomach still prickling with the anxiety and anticipation of the moment. hands trembling, palms sticky and sweaty, you gently take ahold of her wrists, and tug her closer. she lets you lead her, just as she had that day in the subway station. god, what would have happened had that day never occurred?

her face is impossibly close to yours. you feel the smooth coldness of her watch, and you nearly shudder at the warmth of her nearness. you can feel the weight of her so close to you, and with just another tug, your chests could easily press together. you feel your mind go numb, slightly delirious, at the exhilaration of being so close to her. you could count her long, beautiful lashes if you so wished it. her gaze lifts to you, and your eyes skitter down, stomach turning at knowing she just caught you watching.

her hands carefully slip from your grip, and you feel your gut tighten in momentary panic until she places the flat of her hands on either side of your thighs. seated on the counter gives her a few inches over you and she leans down so your faces are levelled. you gulp, feeling your body taken captive by an indescribable amount of flutters and whirlwinds.

“can I kiss you?”

your lips part, the entire moment feeling far from real life, wrapped in the hazy veil of a dream or a fantasy. you’ve thought of this moment so many times – and to experience it feels like something far from the bounds of everyday life.

but, it also feels extremely real. the soft guitar of a Mazzy Star song streams through the walls, you can hear the tremble of lee’s breaths, you can feel the sticky, wet sweat of your armpits, causing your shirt to cling to you. you smell the cigarette smoke on her, and you wonder if she can smell the musk of the long day on you. the counter isn’t comfortable, and presses too harshly against you, and your lips are still dry from the chill of the rainy afternoon.

It’s painfully real, and the last thing you’d ever want is any alteration, no matter how minor.

you nod, trying to still your breaths.

lee’s eyes scan your face, just as it has so many times before. has she wanted to kiss you every one of those times?

her lips close in that hard, determined line, and you know she’s ready. those dark eyes remain on your lips, and she slowly moves in, eyelids shutting as she presses them to yours. 

the two of you meet with a small, wet sound, and your eyes close on instinct, red and blue spots clouding your vision. her mouth is soft, so soft, like every other part of her she hides, and you shiver at the feeling of them tenderly cushioning yours, wrapping around and exchanging the tenderest of touches with your bottom lip. lee kisses like she does everything – with focus, hesitation and a slow build to comfort. her lips move with careful slowness, small wet noises coming from her ministrations, and your stomach aches with how gentle her movements are, as though your mouth is a place to study and commit to memory.

☆

she cups your face with one hand, thumb gently smoothing over the bumps of your pimples, and you nearly groan at the touch. fuck, how long you had wanted her this way, how much you had craved and hungered to feel these little touches that only resided in fantasy – those long fingers along your jaw, the pad of the thumb on your cheek, those pretty, pink lips moving against yours. every small touch has you feeling a new burst of agony, excitement and arousal, all mixing together to replenish and answer the longing questions that had accumulated over months of wanting this girl.

this girl who can’t keep away from your mouth, who is starting to move faster and harder, her mouth massaging against yours with wide, firm movements. the tip of her tongue skims across your bottom lip, and you feel yourself clench at the cold touch of it. without meaning to, a soft gasp pulls from your lips, and lee’s tongue pushes into it, brushing against yours once, twice, before breaking from hesitation and beginning to stroke it with gentle laps. you squirm against the counter, aching to push down on it and grind against it, the spot between your legs aching. 

her other hand raises to your back, and you marvel at how big it feels, the touch sending you into a long, painfully obvious shudder. lee’s lips twitch, and you know she’s smiling. her fingernails skim along your back over the fabric of your shirt, and you moan softly at the tickling sensation. another puff of air hits your lips, the movements of lee’s mouth stilling for a split second, before the velvety sound of her laugh rings in the bathroom.

☆

god, she’s laughing against your lips. laughing against your fucking lips. her tongue is out of your mouth, but her lips still brush yours, upturned in a wide smile. the realization feels like the most important, cherished discovery of your entire life, and it being a true reality, one that you’re experiencing, makes you feel like you will remain locked in this moment forever, never able to move on. how could you, when this moment existing, truly occurring, is the one thing to be made real from months of private dreams and pining thoughts? you will never move on.

as the heat of the moment sizzles down, and the fog clears, lee continues to smile against your lips. you mumble, “shut up.”

your eyes wander from her nose to her eyes, and you’re frozen at how fond she looks. laugh lines creased, under eyes more defined from the lift of her smile, blinks slow and gentle, so different from how harsh they are when she’s deep in thought – she looks at you like something to treasure, and you’ve never felt so desired and exposed. not that your memory is reliable right now – every sense, every thought, is wrapped up in the kiss.

“mm,” she hums. “okay.” then, she leans in again. 

–

when lee calls her mom that night to check in, and she’s asked the usual question of: did you say your prayers?, lee doesn’t feel like it’s a lie to say yes, even though she doesn't say her prayers, and never has. it's because she held you tonight, for the first time, and that felt so close to holiness. 

she feels like she's running on a high. she feels like she could almost commit herself to belief again, so long as the scripture is written on your lips. 

[cowplant-pizza]

meet: benjamin 🧡🐱

ben is the reason i have been semi active the past few weeks. he’s the latest addition to my family, and although i technically adopted him, i feel like this situation was really more of a rescue…

i want to preface this whole situation by saying 3 things though

- ben was adopted from a very ill lady

- i did not know that ben might have health issues and was actually told the opposite

- he’s booked into the vets for thursday morning

ok so bens story is a bit of a weird one. i became good friends with the lady who fostered george (my kitten) for the charity who i adopted him and nora from. she’s known that i’ve been on the lookout for another cat, and messaged me as soon as she found out about ben, previously named fluffles.

he was being rehomed for free from a lady who had become too ill to care for him and his brother. her brother adopted bens brother. however, the story didn’t *start* there. apparently back in january of this year, ben, then fluffles, and his brother plus another cat were found in bad conditions on the streets. a neighbour was feeding them and offering them a makeshift shelter in their garden, and the charity took them in as strays. the cat they were with was in such bad condition it had to be put down. when finding out ben and his brother were microchipped, they had to legally return them to the ill owner after a short stint in a foster home.

skip forward to now and the lady realised that she was being neglectful due to her illness and wanted to rehome them. upon meeting them they seemed like lovely people who really cared about the wellbeing of the cats and i hate to think otherwise, however…

the way ben acts is genuinely as if he has never felt love. he seems so grateful for the warmth and safety of our home. he didnt leave his plush bed by the radiator for almost a whole week and needed his food and water brought to him.

he is covered head to toe in scabs. and he spends a lot of time grooming and itching. luckily they flead him before he left with us but my heart breaks feeling all the scabs over his body. they are literally everywhere. we also constantly find skin and fur that he has scratched off, so he is obviously uncomfortable, itchy and probably very sore.

to me, he seems a bit skinny. he isnt eating consistently but he does eat a little bit, and he loves treats. his poops and pees seem fine so hopefully thats just him adjusting to our routine.

the most worrying part for me though is that he has lumps on his belly. we tried to leave him be for a few days before really fussing him as not to overwhelm him, but amazingly it seems like he loves belly rubs! and when he was getting lots this evening, it feels as if his nipple areas have bumps beneath them. i have my fingers crossed that its just the glands that are infected, and will be fixed with antibiotics. i am hoping and praying it isnt cancer. if it is… i dont know what i’ll do. his backside area also looks slightly swollen.

i’m mad because either the family i adopted him from knew about these bumps and didnt tell me, or they just failed to notice them altogether. apparently he visited the vets about 3 months ago. shouldnt they have been picked up on then??

i just hope this is a “simple” case of neglect, and with the right love and care and medication, benny will be okay 🧡 however any advice leading up to his vets appointment is much appreciated!!

[livingmydreamlife5555]

MCU dr: Daughter of Heimdall

Name: Astrid Heimdalldittir

Birthday: January 24

Height: 5'8"

Appearance: I have natural white hair like above, but it will be short like in the second picture. I have orange-brown like eyes like Heimdall, my dad. It also glows like his too.

Backstory: So long story short, I was born in Asgard to my father and my mom (who was a Valkyrie. We all know what happens to them. I might script she also survived). But anyways, Hela had been targeting me because of my powers that I got from my mom's side. It skipped a generation and got to me. Because of that, my dad teleported me to Earth, where I was taken to an orphanage. I grew up there, all the way until I was 15.

One day when I was 15 and walking through New York, the avengers were fighting a villain and a big piece of debris was flying my way. And me not knowing I had powers, I put my hands out to defend myself (my dumb ass would've died anyways) and my powers activated without me knowing. I had froze the debris to save myself. Me, being the scared teenager, ran back to the orphanage to hide from attention. But most of them noticed who I was. Next day before I knew it, I was getting adopted by the avengers and living with them 💪🏾

Powers: I will be able to control all the elements (more like tech, metal and others) but I first start off with Ice, Fire, Water, and Lightning. I also have super strength, super speed, y'know all the Asgardian stuff since I'm Asgardian. I also scripted to have the same Omni-senses like my father. My fighting will be like how the elemental benders fight in the Avatar ☺️. In the future I will learn how to use Asgardian magic too. I have like two pages for powers 💪🏾🙄

Extra info:

Kinda funny how I had this script for a long time and the official name of Heimdall's first child in the canon MCU is also named Astrid. He's a boy though 💀

I'm gonna be the Norse Goddess of Nature.

I can play multiple instruments, just like in my other realities. It's the one thing that I always keep

I scripted that Asgard isn't destroyed (duh) and that Loki doesn't die. So he will also be there with the avengers (I'm so excited to see him)

I based off my mom's appearance from the marvel hero Storm (she's so pretty please-)

I'm still going to school with Peter, and we'll be out own hero duo (like ladybug and cat noir. Love myself for scripting this).

I can talk to animals 🤭

I am able to control all the elements, including electricity, technology, and I can also do Energy Absorption, Solar manipulation, moon energy manipulation, water bending, earth bending, fire bending, airbending, blood bending, metal bending, lava bending, i can also control plants, techno manipulation, flora and fauna manipulation, matter manipulation, crystal manipulation, allspeak

This was one of my first scripts lol. Still glad I'm shifting here. It was also where I first shifted. I had scripted to have one of the children to wake me up, and I saw her. She was wearing a pink dress too 🩷🩷

-Honey out 🍯🍯🍯

[serial-serializednovelreader]

What other novels to your inbox do you recommend? I have done Dracula Daily for years and I want to expand my horizon. War is pretty much the only thing that I don't like. Thanks

Hi!

So funny story, contrary to my username and bio…I have not been keeping up with the classic novels in my emails lately. BUT. That does not mean I don’t have some recommendations for you!

Also, since you did mention you don’t like war, I made sure not to recommend any novels that heavily involve war (War & Peace & Emails, for instance). However, I do know some characters in these recommendations have history with war (e.g. Watson was a war doctor) and I’ve made sure to make mention of that wherever possible. So, I apologize if that comes off as annoying or stating the obvious, I just want you to be fully informed before you read. I’m also listing general content warnings as a rule to inform anyone who might be interested in these Substacks. :)

On to the recommendations!

If you’re looking for mystery…

Learn about the greatest detective of all time from his faithful partner — that’s right! Read Letters from Watson to get the scoop on Sherlock and solve mysteries alongside the legendary duo. I thought this was such a cool concept and I wish I had been able to keep up with it. But it was very fun for the time I did. It goes through the entire chronology of Sherlock stories (which is a lot, by the way) and they just started going through the “more complex cases” (aka, the 4 Sherlock novels) back in January. So, it might be a good time to start! There isn’t war in these cases (at least as far as I know, each email does have a list of content warnings for specifics), but Watson was a war doctor and this does come up frequently, just as a heads up.

If you’re looking for epistolary stories…

Literary Letters takes obscure epistolary novels from the public domain and puts them into your inbox! Right now they’re reading The Sorrows of Young Werther, which is about a guy who’s in love with a girl who’s betrothed to another and writes very passionate letters on the subject.

For a content warning, I’ve included the publisher’s note on this one: “There are passages where the book discusses Werther’s depression, despair, rationalizations for suicide, and the suicide itself at length, so please take whatever precautions you need to read the book safely, which may include buddy reading, mental health breaks, or skipping it altogether.”

So with that being said, the reason I got into this email chain was actually for their first novel they emailed - The Lightning Conductor. I absolutely loved this novel and I heavily recommend going back into the archives to read it and its sequel if you can (that one is in the “Side Stories” archive). It’s a very lighthearted read and a romance, told in epistolary format! Basically, it’s about this smart (yet a bit scatterbrained — not judging, because, same) woman who goes to Europe for the first time and she ends up meeting a gentleman when her car breaks down. Said gentleman is mistaken for a chauffeur and he goes along with it, just because she’s dreamy and he’s already smitten with her. Then there’s her “best guy friend” and her mom trying to throw a wrench in their plans. It’s utter chaos and I love it. I could go on for hours about this novel, but I won’t! I do highly recommended reading it if you ever get the chance.

If you’re looking for a read in verse format…

Check out Divine Comedy Weekly! It’s telling Dante’s Divine Comedy every Tuesday and Thursday. There’s not much to say about this one because I dropped out pretty early in the game, unfortunately. For some reason, stories told in a lyrical/verse format don’t seem to be my thing, but maybe they’re your thing! I think it’s a great concept and for that reason, I will recommend this.

If you’re looking for an all-new read…

North and South by Jane Austen is coming to your inbox this June! It’s apparently a bit like Pride and Prejudice but with the Industrial Revolution and labor relations. I actually just subscribed to this one and I’m excited to see how I enjoy it!

If you’re looking for a long haul read…

Buckle in! It’s time for Whale Weekly! That’s right, you’re in for a THREE YEAR TRIP with this bad boy because Ishmael is emailing you the tale of Moby Dick. Life has gotten in the way and I’ve fallen behind (though this is motivating me to catch up again), but this is actually really good as an email read because this guy goes on so many tangents, it’s more fun for me to absorb his thoughts in spaced out emails, rather than if I tried to read the book.

The memes are very fun with this one, but please keep in mind there is racism and foul language in this, as well as other heavy topics I can’t remember off the top of my head. Also, this does not take place in a war setting, but I do believe some characters have been in war in the past, so that is probably something to keep in mind with this one!

This one is coming to an end fairly soon (I didn’t realize we were on chapter 113/135 OOF), so I don’t know if they’re going to do another round after this or leave it. I imagine it would probably be hard to catch up at this point, but I’m going to link it anyway because I typed all of this up before realizing how far along we were and I do still recommend the read in email format rather than a novel format.

If you’re looking for horror…

I would recommend “The Beetle Weekly”. I wasn’t able to finish this one because LifeTM got in the way, but it is, for sure, one of the reads of all time. Probably the best and worst thing you could read ever tbh. It’s not very enjoyable and I’m not pitching it well at all, but for some reason, I am legitimately recommending this because it is hilarious to read with Tumblr memes by your side. As a heads up, this book does include racism, gore, sexism, transphobia (iirc?) and likely more content warnings I can’t remember. The reason I’m recommending it at all is because it does carry some of the same themes as Dracula and the characters are interesting. Plus, love it or hate it, I reacted while reading this book - a lot. Did I mention I have a bug phobia? Also, fun fact: it was published at the same time as Dracula and was actually MORE POPULAR than Dracula for a while before fading into obscurity.

The only thing is, it did just end last April so you might have to wait until December for it to crawl back into your inbox if you’re interested.

If you’re looking for a thriller…

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly. I absolutely LOVED THIS ONE!!!! Very much vibes of Dracula Daily. Immaculate stuff right there. This one has a lot more comedy than you’d think and was very enjoyable. Content warnings for violence against a child (mentioned, not shown), body horror, and there is one more I can’t say without spoiling the book (feel free to DM me if you’re interested in knowing).

Again, this is pretty short and it’s not currently active; it runs November through January, so that’s when you can look out for it!

I was hoping to recommend some more via a masterlist, I know someone made a post waaay back in 2022 when this serialized email novel thing first got started, but it looks like it got deleted, so if there is a new one, I would love for anyone to share it just for future reference!

I do have a couple of honorable mentions I’ll link that I haven’t read and know next to nothing about, but just so you can have even more recommendations. Please feel free to share your favorites!

[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 16: Castles Crumbling

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: Castles Crumbling (feat. Hayley Williams): Taylor Swift

A/N: Sorry in advance for breaking hearts with this one, guys. Be prepared for some angst...sorry Jess! (@footprintsinthesxnd) Remember, this is all according to the master plan. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Unexpected events threaten to send members of Easy past their breaking point.

JANUARY 11, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 2200HRS

The cold seemed to seep into Lewis’ ODs as he sat in his freezing foxhole. The only semblance of warmth that clung to him came from (y/n)‘s shaking figure in his arms. Earlier that day, Nix finally reached (y/n), and her pure anguish broke his heart more than he thought possible. Each cry was like a stake being driven further and further into his chest.

The couple spent most of the day relaxing in (y/n)‘s hole in silence, just taking in each other’s company. She sometimes spoke of Skip and Alex if a certain memory came into her mind, and tears often accompanied such stories. Nix held her close and listened intently, hating the helpless feeling that filled him. There was nothing he could do to ease her pain other than be there with her, and it was hard for him to bear.

If there was one thing Lewis Nixon was not, it was someone who sat back and did nothing. Was he a borderline alcoholic? Maybe. But would he ever sit back and watch those he loved struggle alone? Never.

The January day had ticked by slowly, and by late afternoon, Lew convinced (y/n) to move to his foxhole for a little bit of space from the line, hoping it would help distance herself from the shelling that had stolen two of her best friends. With her head slouched against Lew’s shoulder, she slept soundly, her mouth open as soft snores left her lips in small icy clouds.

Ice crunched nearby, and Nix looked up to see Dick crouching beside their foxhole. “Hey,” he whispered, looking down at the (y/h/c) with a concerned frown. “How’s she doing?”

Lew quietly sighed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. “Better. Not great…but better. She agreed to go back to the hospital tomorrow.”

Dick nodded softly, “Good. I talked to Doc today while you were gone. He said it might take up to a month for her arm to fully heal.”

Eyes flicking up to the redhead’s, Nixon’s heart dropped into his stomach. Of course, he was more than happy that (y/n) was finally getting the help she needed, but a lot could happen in a month.

“I know.”

“She’ll be okay, Nix,” Winters urged, his voice slightly shaking as a harsh gust of wind swept through his thin coat. “And she’ll be back in no time.”

Lew shook his head and leaned it back against the frozen dirt wall of his hole. “I don’t know if she’ll make it in a hospital by herself after losing Skip and Alex. She won’t know anyone or-”

“Lew,” Dick interrupted softly. “She can’t stay here and we both know that. The best thing for her is to go tomorrow.”

“I know that. It doesn’t stop me from worrying, though.”

Before Dick could respond, a voice called out from behind him. “Captain Winters.”

Lieutenant Dike.

Nix and Dick shared a loaded glance, and both Captains had to refrain from rolling their eyes. Dike hadn’t reported to them in almost four days, and in those four days, the Company had lost two of its most important members. As the lieutenant approached the trio, his eyes drifted down to the woman in Lewis’s arms. He seemed to be momentarily confused as he stared with narrowed eyes.

Catching his glare, Dick stood and ushered him toward the tent with a hand on his shoulder. “What can I help you with, Lieutenant?”

Nix’s eyes followed them as they disappeared into the makeshift shelter, and anger swirled in his stomach. A good leader should respect their men, lead by example, and try to keep up with how each one is doing. Dike did none of this. In fact, he did the opposite. Men in his company had been killed, and their deaths greatly affected company morale, but he couldn’t care less. The lieutenant was away more than he was around, and when he was, he didn’t do much. It was a well-known fact that the NCOs were the ones holding the company together.

In the silence, (y/n) stirred, a low groan escaping her lips.

“Hey,” he murmured, his fingers gently tracing soothing circles on her back. “You okay?”

She winced, her eyes fluttering open with a hint of discomfort. “My head’s pounding and my throat feels like sandpaper,” she rasped. “It’s probably from all the crying.”

Lew reached for his canteen, unscrewing the cap. “Take a sip and then try to go back to sleep. It might help.”

He held the canteen up to (y/n)‘s lips, guiding it gently as she took a few sips. Leaning back against his shoulder with a sigh, she nuzzled into his warmth. “What time is it?”

“10:30. Dike just showed up to talk to Dick,” Nix replied, checking his watch.

(Y/n) rolled her eyes with a scoff. “Now he shows up. After all that’s happened? What a joke.”

“Yeah, I know,” Lew sighed. “I’m glad you won’t have to deal with him during the assault.”

Her swollen eyes peered up at him. “I’m worried for the guys,” she said softly. “He’s gonna lead them to their deaths, Lew, and I know don’t think I could take it after…”

“Dick will take care of them the best he can,” he replied, rubbing her upper arm gently. “They’ll be alright.”

“I hope so,” she yawned, laying her head back on Nix’s shoulder. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now.”

He chuckled lowly and leaned down to place a kiss on her hairline. “Goodnight. Wake me up if you feel any worse, alright?”

(Y/n)‘s eyes were already drifting closed as she mumbled, “Yes, captain. Love you.”

“I love you, too. Now go to sleep.”

JANUARY 12, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 0300HRS

When Lew woke up, the air surrounding the foxhole was silent, and the covering atop the hole kept any unwanted snow from falling on the couple as they slept. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and looked around blearily. Everything seemed to be alright, but he was surprisingly warm.

He had not been warm in almost a month.

As soon as the thought circled in his brain, he realized with a start that the intense heat was coming from beside him. Looking down at (y/n) curled into his chest, Lew cursed, noticing the way she seemed to be radiating so much heat that he was sweaty just from being pressed against her. (Y/n), however, was drenched in sweat. Her (y/h/c) hair was plastered to her forehead and neck, and uncontrollable shivers wracked her body, causing her to tremble even in the unusual warmth of the hole.

“(Y/n)?” Lew mumbled, wiping the sweaty hair off her forehead. Her skin was hot to the touch, and it was then that he knew something was very wrong.

“Sweetheart? Wake up,” he said more urgently, shaking her shoulder gently. Panic gripped him when her only response was a weak groan and rapid eye movement under her closed lids.

Lew’s heart clenched in his chest as he tapped her cheeks lightly. “(Y/n/n), come on, wake up,” he begged, his mind racing. “Please wake up.”

No response.

The night air was pierced by Lew’s urgent call, “Dick!” His voice carried the weight of his panic as he threw the cover off their foxhole. Within seconds, Winters ran into view and dropped down into their hole with a thud.

“What’s wrong, Lew?” Dick asked, concern etched across his face.

“I don’t know, Dick! She’s burning up and completely out of it. Something’s wrong,” Lew exclaimed hoarsely as he sat (y/n) up against the side of the foxhole.

Dick swiftly assessed the situation, and a sudden realization flashed across his face as he reached for her arm. He removed (y/n)‘s sock glove, revealing a swollen and red hand adorned with a speckled rash that extended from her cast down to her fingertips.

Lew’s reaction was immediate, a string of curses escaping his lips as he almost pushed Dick out of the hole. “Go get Roe, Dick, now! And hurry!”

As he hurried away, Lew continued to try and wake her up. He cupped her face softly, his thumb running over her cheekbone. “We’re gonna get you help, alright. You’re gonna be fine.”

(Y/n)‘s eyes fluttered open for a moment and Lew could see the cloud of fever in her usually lively (y/e/c) irises. “Hey, (y/n/n). Can you hear me?”

“Lew?” she muttered shakily as her teeth chattered together from the chills racking through her body. Her mind was in a state of delirium as she called out for him, and even in her feverish state, she longed for his comforting presence.

“Yeah, it’s me, sweetheart,” he whispered, his throat closing up with emotion. “Dick’s getting Doc. They’ll be here soon.”

The sweat beading from her forehead was a stark contrast to the frigid temperatures around them, and Lew noticed her trembling getting even worse. Without a second thought, he began to take off his coat and wrap it around (y/n), along with his beanie and anything else he could find to keep her warm.

The cold bit at Lew’s skin as he stripped off his winter clothing, but he didn’t seem to feel it. His only concern was the woman before him in dire need of help. His mind involuntarily flashed back to the last time they were in this position…

“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me?” Nix’s voice quivered, but he fought to keep it steady. “You’re gonna be fine, sweetheart.”

Roe skidded next to her and shoved Lew aside as he began to assess and treat (y/n). Her trembling hand shot out, desperately grabbing onto Nix’s.

“Lew,” she croaked through her tears, her voice filled with fear. “I’m scared.”

He cupped her cheek gently, his touch tender. “I know,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers. “I’m here.”

The similarities were eerie, and Lew found himself doing something he didn’t do. He began to pray.

“Please, God…” he whispered into her neck as he tugged (y/n) close to his body. “My mother says that you listen, and I’m depending on that right now. Get her through this. I love her…please. ”

It was a raw, emotional plea that came from the depths of his heart. If there was one thing he cared about in this stupid war, it was her. If she was taken from him, he didn’t know how long he would last.

She would be his breaking point.

He didn’t get to finish the thought because Dick returned with Roe. Eugene’s eyes widened as he took in the scene: Nixon, clad in only his thin ODs, shivering alongside (y/n), who was covered in his clothes. Gene exchanged a glance with the Captain, his expression a blend of worry and disapproval.

“I woke up to her shaking and burning up. She complained of her throat and head hurting earlier, but I didn’t think anything of it,” Lewis interjected quickly, his words rushing out in a mix of frustration and worry.

Without hesitation, Roe hopped down into the foxhole, swiftly gathering all the extra clothes that were attempting to warm (y/n), and tossed them back on Nix.

“Put these back on. The last thing we need is you getting hypothermia,” Gene urged, his breath coming out in rapid puffs, winded from the sprint to the couple.

As Lew quickly complied and layered himself once again, Gene set to work. He first started his examination by gently lifting (y/n)‘s eyelids. The pale moonlight revealed the redness of her cheeks, the pallor of her skin contrasting sharply with the usual warmth that marked her complexion.

Lew anxiously watched every move Gene made, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. Gene pressed his fingers to (y/n)‘s uncasted wrist, checking her pulse, and then moved on to feeling her forehead once more.

Gene muttered to himself as he worked, “Fever is high, and her pupils are reactive but sluggish. She’s probably dehydrated, too.”

Dick and Lew shared a helpless glance, and the redhead placed a steadying hand on Nix’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

Roe looked visibly frustrated as he carefully examined (y/n)‘s hand. “Damn it, I knew this would happen!”

“What, Doc?” Lew questioned anxiously.

“She’s got an infection, and it looks like a pretty nasty one, too. We need to get her back to the hospital and get some penicillin in her system. I don’t have any here,” Gene explained, his diagnosis sending a pang of guilt through Nix.

He shouldn’t have let it get that bad. He should have made her go back sooner.

“I wish I could take this thing off, but I don’t think my scissas' will do it,” Doc grimaced, gently prodding the skin around the end of the cast. “The infection’s probably from moisture stuck under the cast. With this fever…”

The Cajun looked up at Winters with wary eyes that said everything the Captain needed to know. “We need a jeep…now,” Gene called out, and Dick jumped up and ran for the nearby radio. “Without antibiotics, she could go into septic shock, and there’s no recovering from that.”

Lew’s hand instinctively reached for her good one, wrapping his gloved hands around hers. He rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of her hand. He didn’t know whether it was for himself or for (y/n), but what he did know was that his insides were twisting with guilt, the pang growing into a constant ache. The fears he had quelled the previous day came raging back, and all he could see was the worst-case scenario in his mind. The vivid images almost stole his breath.

They were the same ones he’d had since she was first shot: Nix standing above a blanketed figure lying on a cot in a dark and bloody aid station, feeling like his heart was being ripped out of his chest. He closed his eyes and brought her frail hand up to his lips, the same way she’d done the day before as he reminded himself that she was alive…for now.

“This is Captain Winters. I need a jeep to 2nd Battalion CP for casevac, now!” Dick yelled into the receiver. A few moments passed, and then he was beside them again. “They’re on their way.”

During the whole interaction, Lew was frozen. The voices around him faded into background noise, and his gaze was stuck on (y/n). The situation weighed heavily on him, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have acted sooner. A hand on his shoulder brought the voices back into focus.

“Help me get her out of here,” Doc said quickly, breaking Nixon from his trance.

Taking a deep breath, he nodded, his eyes not leaving (y/n). “Yeah.”

His hands trembled slightly as he reached down to carefully lift her from the foxhole. Gently cradling her in his arms, he could still feel the heat radiating from her fevered body like he did when he first awoke. He quickly carried her past the shelter to the area where the jeep would arrive.

“Fight, sweetheart,” he whispered down to her. “Fight for me, alright? I love you.”

The trio heard the jeep before they saw it. There was the hum of an engine, followed by headlights in the distance that cut through the darkness. Nix rushed to the jeep as Roe ran past him and hopped into the back of the jeep beside the awaiting stretcher. Lew’s jaw tightened as he carefully placed her on the stretcher.

The engine hummed to life as the jeep prepared to depart, and Nix reluctantly stepped back, his eyes never straying from (y/n)‘s prone figure. Gene’s eyes briefly met his, and the Doc nodded, sharing a silent agreement that she would be taken care of.

Nix stood there, numb and motionless, staring at the fading lights of the departing jeep. The crunch of the ice beneath its tires was the only sound filling the night air. The bitter cold gnawed at his exposed skin, but it was the icy grip of guilt that truly chilled him to the core. Dick approached cautiously, trying to offer comfort, but Lew’s anger erupted before he could utter a word.

“I should have made her go. If I did she wouldn’t ha-” his voice cracked with regret, the weight of guilt pressing down on him.

“Nix,” Dick attempted to intervene, but Nix cut him off.

“No, it’s my job to keep her safe, Dick,” he yelled, pointing at himself. “And I can’t even do that.”

“You can’t control everything-”

“But I could control this,” he interrupted. “I could have ordered her to go back and we’d have avoided all this. She’d probably be back in a few weeks, but now I-,” Lew cut himself off as he placed his hands on his hips, trying to keep his composure. His eyes lowered to his boots, and the fury disappeared in his voice. “I don’t even know if she’s coming back. If she doesn’t, Dick-”

Winters placed a comforting hand on Nix’s shoulder as he interrupted him. “She will.”

Eyes rising to meet Dick’s, Lew found more worry than he’d ever seen reflected in the stark blues. Although he was a master at disguising his true emotions, especially in front of the men, Lewis could see right through it.

Would Dick put on a show for the men?

Sure.

But he never put one on for Nix.

For once, the redhead’s words were not as strong and resolute as normal. Doubt flickered in his pale irises, and the sight made Nix question everything. The two things he could always count on were (y/n) being by his side, and Dick being the reliable word of advice and honesty. At that moment, both the pillars of Lewis Nixon’s steadfast support system began crumbling around him.

Contrary to Dick, Lew was accustomed to shielding his every thought from others…a side effect of his affluent but rocky upbringing. It was mainly a result of his father’s constant anger and need to lash out at his family, which Lew often took the brunt of for his mother and sister as he got older.

“Yes, sir,” became a hollow phrase in the Nixon household, and the young Nixon children became masters of masking their expressions with whatever was needed to get through the situation. It was a skill that Lew used daily as an intelligence officer, but this time, he hated the fact that he had to use it on his best friend.

“Yeah,” Lew nodded slowly, his emotional exterior hardening slightly. “She’s tough. She’ll be alright. Thanks, Dick.”

Slapping him on the shoulder lightly, Nix took a deep breath and made his way to his hole, regret filling him for more than one reason. He plopped down into the hole roughly, throwing the cover over it a moment later. Once out of view, he dropped his face into his hands, trying to calm his racing heart. Every time he closed his eyes, his fears made themselves known, and he longed for the one thing that could numb the growing storm inside of him. Eyeing (y/n)‘s discarded helmet in the corner of the hole, he grabbed it and held the cold metal in his lap. He stared at it for a moment as he contemplated his decision.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, placing the helmet back in its place in the corner. Nix removed the cover and went toward the radio. He brought the receiver up to his mouth and ear, ignoring a few confused looks from Dick.

“This is Captain Nixon,” he began. “I need a jeep to Regiment at the 2nd Battalion HQ.”

That night, Lewis Nixon found himself in the lonely officer’s mess, his only company the empty whiskey bottles scattered on the old, beat-up table in front of him. The familiar burn momentarily took away the pain, and the numbness welcomed him back like an old friend finally coming home from a long absence.

Tag List: @softguarnere @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @merriell-allesandro-shelton @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic @starlordsatellite @blvestxr @iceman-kazansky @bucky32557038ww2 @sofietargaryen @liptonsbabe @footprintsinthesxnd @xxluckystrike @krispybearbouquet @valhallavalkyrie9

[ecargmura]

Tadaima, Okaeri Episode 4 Review - The Sparkling Star's Little Baby Sun

A new member joins the Fujiyoshi family! There are some people that are a bit upset that Masaki’s pregnant belly didn’t show, but that’s the case of some omegaverse stories; they skip the belly and go straight into the post-birthing time skip. Why is that? Risks, perhaps.

A little fun fact about Hikari in this episode. Did you notice how his face looks chubby and round in the first half? Now take a look at him in the second half, his face is less chubby and round, but it’s still babyish. Hikari was two years old in the first half of the episode but after the time skip, he’s three now. How do I know? The official website lists Hinata’s birthday as January 7. Hikari’s birthday is April 14. The time skip was 6 months after the cute scene with the family before her birth. While Masaki said that he had Hikari in his womb for 10 months, Hinata seems to be around the same? The pregnancy announcement was exactly on Hikari’s birthday on April. Count 10 months later, it’ll be January. That means the first half took place around July. The second half is probably several months after Hinata’s birth, meaning that Hikari’s birthday had already passed and now he’s three. Hinata can crawl, meaning that she’s around six months? Hikari’s growing too fast, honestly; look at him! He can speak more articulately now, albeit still having the baby lisp.

Hinata is adorable! I love how each baby look like one of the parent but not completely. Hikari looks like Hiromu, but has Masaki’s hair curls. Hinata looks like Masaki, but has Hiromu’s straight hair and long eyelashes. I love that they’re not a 100% carbon copy of one parent, but maybe like a 98% copy? I love how Hikari was the one who inspired them to name her Hinata. The scene where they were in bed and Hikari explains how the sun is the baby and how the baby would pop from the sky and come to them was super adorable. It’s also very innocent in a way! His innocence moved Masaki; it was a sign that told him everything would be alright and that Hinata would be a healthy baby regardless of her type.

Hinata is voiced by Konomi Kohara! If you watched Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End, Kohara voiced the little mayor girl from the Sword Village. Hikari’s voice actress also voices Frieren, they’re reunited in a way. Kohara is actually doing a really good job with the baby babbles. She was in Gakuen Babysitters as Kirin, so she’s like a professional baby voice actress alongside Tanezaki!

I do love that there are ups and downs in this episode. While the entire episode is diabetes-inducing, there are some dark aspects like Masaki considering abortion for a brief moment. He doesn’t go through with it, but just having such thoughts is rather surprising because of the things he had endured growing up. I like how human this is. No one knows what their child looks like inside the womb and how it’ll grow up. He has human worries and it feels realistic in a sense, but sprinkle in omegaverse. There’s also the part where that acquaintance of Hiromu told Hikari in front of Masaki “Aren’t you glad you were born an alpha?” Argh, conservative old farts are just the worst.

The Hiromu and Masaki scenes are so wholesome. They’re seriously an ideal couple. Seeing Hiromu just scooping Masaki into a tender embrace was super sweet. Just seeing them lovey dovey makes me feel like I’m third wheeling as hard as Hikari and Yuuki. I also liked the part where Hiromu pops up and pins Masaki to the bed as the latter was lying down. It shows that Hiromu really likes spending time with Masaki whenever he can without the kids whether it be brief. Hiromu is seriously an ideal partner to have. He’s not a green flag or a forest, he’s an entire meadow. Why can’t be real men like him? 

As someone who was super into this story back when it was still just a manga, there are a few little details that casual viewers and BL fans that just got into this story might not know, so I’m here to fill them in for you. These were just things I remember reading on the author’s Twitter page a long time ago. I don’t know if these are still true on the author’s part, but they most likely are.

Masaki’s parents. I don’t remember if the manga ever pointed this out, but the author did mention that Masaki’s parents were females and most likely beta because his relatives, who will appear in a few episodes, are betas. Whether this will be told in the anime is unknown, but hopefully because the anime does make some changes from the manga like the Matsuo and Yuuki scene in the post-credit scene.

Hinata’s type. While Hinata’s type is speculated by Masaki while she was still in her womb, her type is not specified at all. I assume that if babies turn one years old, they’ll know their type? Because Hikari was specified to be an alpha and he was turning two at the time. The author reveals on their twitter that Hinata is also an alpha.

The post-credit scene with Matsuo and Yuuki shows the start of a romance flag. What do you think about this ship? I think they’re cute in a way like how Yuuki isn’t all shy and nervous around Matsuo from the moment he met him.

I feel like I wrote way too much for this review. Um, I hope you enjoy and what are your thoughts on it?

[wishiwaskidding]

Here is 500-ish words of something I've been working on. Hopefully it'll be done by the end of this month or else I will just. never finish.

Duncney high school one-shot.

Courtney skips school for the first time with a month left until her high school graduation. She’s never so much as taken a sick day, and here she is, missing school to wallow in her self-pity.

Three letters sit on her desk: one rejection and two waitlists. The music programs at Queens University and MacEwan aren’t sure if they want her, and the Victoria Conservatory doesn’t want her at all. She’s gotten into other programs at other schools, and the conservatory was a stretch, but she can’t help but feel her life is over.

Music is the only thing she wants to do, and she’s not good enough. She could try to change her major, but she’d have to audition, and then, inevitably, get rejected again. Her parents were right. Music school is a waste of her time; she’s not talented enough; she just needs a sensible undergrad that will help get her into law school. The thought makes her want to cry.

Her phone dings with another message. It’s almost three, and the last period just started. She’s gotten several worried messages asking where she is and if she’s okay, but she hasn’t answered any of them. This one will be no different.

She picks up her phone, and her stomach flips when she sees the name. It’s from her ex, and he might be the only one with whom she’d want to share this. He’s the only one who knew she was even considering music, and he’s who pushed her to try in the first place, not that he knows that.

Hey C, missed u today. If u wna tlk Im here. -D

It’s enough to get her out of bed. She slips on some shoes, grabs her keys, and starts seven-minute drive to his house. He has early release and should be home already. She knows she can’t hide forever, and Duncan’s always had the incredible talent of settling her – a feat no one else has ever accomplished.

Here’s the thing: they’ve known each other since the first grade and been best friends since the third. When he asked her out at the beginning of freshman year, it was a dream. They were each other’s first everything. Their breakup at the beginning of January was a blindside, but he did the work to maintain their friendship. It hurts all the time, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, it was probably for the best. They’re not heading in the same direction.

Never mind that she’s loved him for years and can’t imagine a future without him.

[silverfoxstole]

OK. Right. I've sorted my panel photos, which I'll start posting tomorrow (I won't bombard you with them all at once!), so I can get my thoughts straight about yesterday. This is going to be long; sorry! I'll divide it into two parts so that those who want to skip my wittering and just see the pics can.

I hadn't actually thought I'd ever go to a con again; my last one had been back in 2009 and they've got a hell of a lot bigger since then, which sort of puts me off as I don’t really like crowds, and living as I do right down on the south coast they're usually too far away. However, when back at the end of January an ad popped up out of the blue on my Facebook feed informing me that Paul would be appearing at Portsmouth Comic Con (less than ten miles from me) my heart skipped a beat and I started wondering whether I'd be able to go. Of course, there was nothing stopping me but I wasn't keen to go on my own, and I knew my DW-and-anything-else-related-to-scifi-fantasy-etc-hating sister would never agree.

When not long later I saw Sylvester was going to be there as well I mentioned it to my friend P (with whom I’ve attended cons in the past), lamenting that I had no one to go with and not really expecting her to suggest that she try to come down from Manchester so we could go together but to my surprise she did and so the tickets were duly booked. Fast forward to about three weeks ago, unfortunately, and things started to go - literally in this case - off the rails thanks to a driver's strike and then engineering work that meant no trains into Portsmouth for the 11th and 12th and P very reluctantly having to drop out because she wouldn't be able to get down here and back in time for work on Monday. Still wanting to go but not really wanting to do it alone I had no choice but to ask sis to come with me, which she very gamely did and I owe her. Big Time. It’s really not her thing and I know she didn't enjoy it at all. She works in town and made me stand on the outside in the queue in case she saw anyone she knew!

I had been worried about how I was going to react as I do suffer from anxiety and I've not been amongst crowds since before Covid, but much to my surprise I was completely relaxed, even when talking to the guests; I'm obviously long past my 'OMG it's Paul!' phase (thank goodness!) and instead it was a case of 'Oh, yeah, there he is, and Sylv and Sophie (a later addition, and one I'd been hoping for) too.' I don't know whether it's because they're so familiar or I just got used to actors popping in when I worked in a shop near a theatre, but it was easy and I'm so glad! The reflexology session I had in Thursday might have helped keep me calm, too; if you’re feeling tense I recommend it!

I had only previously visited the Guildhall for concerts (sis knows it better as she's had to do presentations to the city council in the past) so it was rather odd to be in there during the day. I have to say that I think they could have put aside more room for the guests as it was difficult to work out who was queuing to see who (ho ho). It was very warm and the setup also made taking photos a bit awkward with people having to dance round each other a bit. We went to see Paul first (of course), and when he clocked me in my NotD cosplay he leaned back, smiled and announced 'It's like lookin' in a mirror!' I honestly can't remember exactly what I said in response to that! Probably nothing that coherent! He asked if I'd made it myself, which gave me a neat opportunity to present the gift I'd made for him: an Eighth Doctor bear and Mr Bush bear.

I think i've wanted to make bears for Paul ever since I put together the first one nearly three years ago, but I never thought I'd get a chance so when I knew I'd be going to the con I started planning. I was originally just going to do the Doctor, and make a Seven bear for Sylvester, but as they were coming to Portsmouth I decided to do Bush as well since I can’t imagine Paul gets a lot of Hornblower-related gifts. Of course, when it was confirmed that Sophie would be there I had to make an Ace bear too and here they all are before I packed them up yesterday morning, sitting on the bags i'd also run up to put them in (not pictured, my terrible embroidery name tags to help me tell who was who):

I'll do some more detailed posts so you can see them properly another day, but I was so pleased with they way they turned out that it was really hard to give them up! At least I knew they'd be going to good homes!

When I gave Paul the bag he just looked at me in surprise and went 'Is that for me? Can I open it now?' and there was a smile on his face as soon as he saw what was inside. 'That's my career! Doctor Who and Hornblower!' He absolutely loved them, couldn't believe I'd made them and told me 'I have a room where I keep all the gifts I've been given, and these are going to take pride of place.' I couldn't wish for more than that! Well, maybe a photo of him with them but it was busy and I didn't like to ask and possibly hold things up. I hope he's found the alternative Dark Eyes outfit that I added for Eight bear as I had some fabric leftover from my jacket; the sonic for that one took a bit of ingenuity!

He asked about my costume again while we were getting into position (for want of a better term) for a photo and commented that so many people are paying someone to make their cosplays now and spending a hundreds of pounds, something I'd guess he finds quite astonishing given the incredulous look on his face when he said it. I could be wrong, but I got the impression that he likes to see what different fans have come up with; there are a lot of people who seem to be patronising Steven Ricks since Paul got his remade costume last year, which I can understand because the man is a brilliant tailor, but sometimes it must be a bit like seeing clones.

Jen took the photo and we were about to leave it there but then this strangely confident person I found inside me asked Paul a question:

‘Can I be cheeky?’

‘Sure.’

‘Can I give you a hug?’

‘Of course!’

Well, if you don’t ask, you don’t get! (says the woman who hates asking for things in shops) He gives very good hugs. 🥰

I did manage to let him go (it wasn’t easy!) and he thanked me again for the bears before we moved on to see Sophie, which involved going round to join another queue in the same small space. Confusing? Yep!

I don't know who here has met Sophie Aldred but you should because she is so, so lovely. Ace has always been one of my favourite companions and I was so pleased when I saw she would be coming. I'd already started an Ace bear with the intention of giving it to Sylvester with his, but of course that got changed and Sophie was smitten. She looked really closely at it, remarking on the little details - 'Oh, it's even got the plait. And a rucksack and baseball bat!' - and sat it proudly on the corner of her table, where I assume it stayed for some of the day. Apparently it's the best Ace bear she's ever seen - you can't get a better accolade than that! (My head was swelling somewhat by this point, by the way. I don't like to blow my own trumpet but I don't often get so many compliments, and never in such a short space of time, so i hope you can forgive me for including them.)

Last but not least, of course, there was Sylvester, which meant another queue in the same space, which was just daft as because their tables were next to each other you didn't know whether people were waiting for him or for Paul. I'm sure that could have been organised much better than it was. In the same section there were also two chaps who had somethng to do with Star Wars who weren't getting much attention at all which was a bit awkward. They haven't gone back today and I can't blame really them.

I've wanted to meet Sylv for years and he didn’t disappoint. He liked the fabric the bag was made from because its starry night pattern was similar to his waistcoat, which admittedly was why i bought it in the first place. When he got it open and saw what was inside he said 'Oh! I'm a little bear! That’s lovely!’ and when I said I'd made one for Sophie too leaned round trying to see it on Sophie's table. I half wish I'd made a set of both for each of them now but that might have been overkill, and I would have needed a rucksack of my own to transport them all; my bag was full to bursting as it was. Maybe if I see them again I’ll give Sophie a Doctor bear and Sylvester an Ace. As it stands I am so, so pleased that all three of them liked something I'd made so much, and Sylvester and Sophie were both also taken with the cartoons of the Seventh Doctor and Ace that I asked them to sign.

Phew! If you've reached the end of this, well done! I know I have tendency to ramble on and I commend your stamina! I'll put the photos in a separate post but I was one happy camper, especially as just afterwards i got another compliment on my costume and was asked to pose in the TARDIS! We didn't stay the whole day as it was hot, I'd pretty much seen what I wanted to (the Doctor Who 'exhibition' was just a few monster replicas, most of which weren't that good, unlike the really impressive experience they had last year for the 60th and which I would have loved to see. And there were no daleks! My ambition to hug a dalek sadly remains unfulfilled *sniff*) sis had developed a headache, but I'm very glad I went. 😀

[villainsandvictimsalliance]

Hello. Okay, so I'm going to start this off with 'this might be an crazy thing to ask'.

I just saw your post from January about Nana Shimura, and I feel like I'm insane.

I'm legitimately not trying to be belligerent here, but can you please explain to me, in your opinion, why you think that it is Nana's fault for anything that has happened in relation to her? I'm just trying to understand, because I don't see how anything could necessarily be her fault solely. Specifically when talking about the 'creation' of Tomura.

If AFO had wanted to get his hands on someone from that bloodline, if only to be a bastard or whether it was for an actual reason, he would have done it regardless of what Nana's choices would have been.

And I can't help but notice the fact that all of this skips an entire generation. Everyone is so quick to blame Nana for doing what humans do, I.E. having a husband and a child, and I feel I'm not really qualified to speak on that front because I never have wanted children and I don't foresee that changing at this ripe old age I'm at, so I'm not even going to go into whether or not I think it was wrong of her to have a family.

I just find it very interesting that people are blaming Nana for something that happened literal years after her own physical death. Things that happened at the hands of her own son. Things that would have never happened had it not been for her son, that she had no part in.

It's just that the way I see it, that man had years upon years to come to terms with what his mother had done in order to protect him, but in the end he failed anyway. Whether he knew it or not he failed more than his own mother did. He failed and he gave his fucking own child over to this horrible person, and he couldn't have been completely ignorant of that, let's be honest. Whether or not what she did was the right choice, Nana gave him up for a reason, and the fact that he couldbut possibly put himself in his mother's shoes, after how many years? Is more telling of him than it is of her.

Even if what Nana did wasn't the right choice, then what WAS the right choice? How was there a wrong or a right choice when you could never possibly predict the outcomes of whatever you chose to do? In my opinion, people are trying to pin everything on Nana when all she was doing was doing the best she could with what she was given, and I think that's unfair and stupid.

I haven't been following you for long, but I've seen your posts for quite a while, so I actually do respect your opinion, which is why I am asking you.

I really don't like the way Horikoshi writes women as a whole in this particular story, and I don't know if that's a track record of his or if this is his only work or whatever, I don't really pay attention to that sort of thing. And that's a whole other post for another time. But I just find it really weird that everyone seems to be coming after Nana while simultaneously defending her son, when her own son is the one who is committing these atrocities long after she is dead?I find it very weird indeed.

Sorry for the long post, I have far too many feelings about MHA.

First of all, sorry for taking so long to answer and thank you for taking the time to write this ask 💜

Nana Shimura is one of my favorite bnha female characters because of how complex and flawed she is!!!

Here's the short answer:

Regardless of the actions of the people around her, Nana Shimura had a responsibility with her son as a mother and with the world as a hero.

We all have to make decisions without knowing the outcomes. That's life. It doesn't absolve us from the consequences of our actions. It also doesn't mean we are evil, but simply human. It is in our nature to make mistakes and make bad decisions sometimes.

It seems extremely harsh to judge a woman for doing her best against an enemy that was so much stronger than her, but that's the whole point of writing a character like Nana. There are no easy answers.

What was the correct thing to do instead of abandoning Kotaro? How could she have won against AFO? How could one (1) woman do both and do it well?

Nana isn't responsible for what Kotaro did so many years after she left him, but she did leave him. She had a son and then left him because she needed to be a hero. We don't know the exact circumstances of how she had Kotaro, but many fans ask why she had him if she knew her hero job would put him at such risk. Or why she chose to be a hero over being his mother.

Logically, we know it was to save the world. It's just that her choice isn't black and white. She caused a lot of pain in doing what she did, even if she contributed to a lot of joy.

AFO defeating her was inevitable. Like her OFA predecessors, they were alone on their journey. See, it took Deku an army to fight AFO and his influence.

There's also the fact that Nana took Toshinori in after she left Kotaro. Of course she only did it because the kid meant to sacrifice himself for the cause just like her, but it doesn't erase the parallel between Toshinori and Kotaro. One got to enjoy her company until she died because he had the right conditions to be her heir while the other lost her forever because she loved him.

Sadly, her love didn't save Kotaro and didn't make All Might's life easier.

Any person with responsibilities is a person with failures. That rings true for every single bnha hero and villain.

The way I see it, people either have a reason to hate her or not.

Some dislike her 'cause she left Kotaro. Some are unreadable in their judgment and hate her just because she is a woman. Some just dislike her general writing or don't enjoy her type of character.

At the end of the day, Nana Shimura is still a tremendous female character. She inspired All Might himself (he who is hailed as the best hero of all times). She faced AFO alone and she died mocking him with a smile. She sacrificed her happiness and all the things dear to her in order to save the world. Nana passed down OFA and kept hope alive in a time full of violence and chaos. She is one of the best female pro-heroes to have existed and the only female OFA user. He was freaking jacked with muscle because her quirk was float.

Her flaws depict her greatness and the weight on her shoulders. Nana Shimura, everyone.

[soparklgc]

                                                  "Not all who drift are Lost"

#  Park Seo Nam  ━━   a 24-year-old trainee.  specializing in rap and lyric writing (penned by Yvette. she/her. 21+).

Hazy mornings tangled in heavy curtains, camera rolls full of blurry cityscapes and faces he’ll never remember, sneakers scuffed from nights that never ended, thrifted hoodies draped over tired frames, half-crushed cigarette packs shoved into jacket pockets, mixtapes buried under layers of doubt and late-night ambition, Polaroids pinned to cracked walls like forgotten memories, lighters flicked just to watch the spark fade, playlists shuffled into oblivion until they feel like lifelines, notebooks filled with stories that stall mid-sentence, cigarette smoke curling like thoughts left unsaid, a quiet gaze that says more than he ever will.

Park Seo Nam: The Full Rundown

3+ year trainee with no real direction or life plan. He’s doing what feels right in the moment but hasn’t quite figured out where it’s leading.

Introverted but paradoxically known for being a legendary partier. If there’s a party, he’s either hosting it or knows exactly where to find the afterparty.

Smoker. You’ll likely catch him behind the Legacy building, chain-smoking several times a day, earbuds in, avoiding eye contact with staff. Drinks often and encourages others to drink—"just one more" quickly turns into six shots.

Born and raised in Busan, Seonam lived there until halfway through high school, when his family had to move to Seoul after everything fell apart. He’s the oldest of three siblings, and all of them share the same birthday—something he likes to mention just to see people’s reactions. Life used to be comfortable, but that changed when his dad was arrested for embezzlement, and their wealth disappeared overnight, forcing them to start over from nothing.

Reckless teenage years—he skipped school, partied, attended underground raves, and developed a taste for trouble. It was at one of these raves that he discovered his passion for rap and briefly pursued it under the name p.Haze (stylized with a lowercase “p,” pronounced “Phase”). Even released a mixtape on SoundCloud, though the page has been private since 2022. No one really knows why—he claims he’s “over it,” but it might just be self-doubt.

Scouted in January 2021 for his height , initially with a modeling career in mind, which he declined. Reluctantly auditioned in July 2021 and has been a trainee ever since.

BIG Crystallis fan. ~ dark secret.

Notoriously blunt and hard to befriend. He doesn’t sugarcoat anything—if he thinks you're being stupid, he’ll tell you to your face.

Thinks he’s the smartest person in the room and isn’t shy about letting you know. His confidence can feel like arrogance, and it’s easy to rub people the wrong way.

#BadInfluence—he’ll try to convince anyone to take shots or sneak out to a club without a second thought.

Loves street food and makes it a point to find the best vendors wherever he goes. His personal favorites are tteokbokki and fish cakes.

Terrible with time management—always late, always making excuses, and somehow never apologetic about it.

Prefers texting over calls and will usually leave people on read. The only time he calls is when he’s drunk or bored.

Not a fan of social media, though he lurks on Instagram and TikTok under an untraceable burner account.

Collects random trinkets—old vinyl records, lighter cases, and keychains he finds on his nights out. His room is full of clutter, but he insists it’s “organized chaos.”

[celestie0]

Ooof, sorry if come across rude or anything negative. Just saw your post ihm ex wife asks and how people were being rude or weirdly jealous. I hoped that my ask about knowing more about ihm ex wife, didn’t come off as being weird or rude person. ( I’m the that mention Lana del Rey)

It Seems at one point she’s going be added into the story? Correct me if I’m wrong but that’s really exciting!

Your whole au is my obsessed anyways apologize if came off ass weird/rude :(

hi love! mm yea, i think your ask did contribute to those feelings, mainly the part where you said you entirely block the ex wife part of the story out of your mind because you can’t imagine him w someone else other than reader

i don’t know, i have actually gotten similar asks for kickoff when i had a couple people tell me they skipped all of the scenes with kai in it bc they didn’t want to read about any other guy other than gojo

thing is, those are just things you don’t have to tell an author. if you do block things out or skip things, that’s fine. but just because you have access to communicate with a fanfic author doesn’t mean you should share those things with them. readers forget that we, fanfic authors, have a much more deeply invested personal interest in these stories as the creators of them, than a reader might have. it’s different from texting your friend “oh i dislike xyz ab this story”…because you’re literally sending those words to the person who put all their hard work n time into writing it lol

i try to put this into perspective, but for the whole kai thing for example: i spent a great deal of time planning those scenes out, spent a great deal of time writing & editing those scenes, n ultimately believe those scenes contribute greatly to the dynamics of the story. for people to straight up tell me they skipped those scenes, it’s odd and upsetting for sure.

i’m also like, what are you accomplishing by telling me that you skipped like half the chapter, or that you entirely dismiss parts of my story?…i have thought about this sooo much in trying to understand why tf i get asks like that, or why people think it’s appropriate to share those things with me, and the conclusion i can think of is that people are trying to subconsciously push me towards writing a story that THEY want by telling me the exact parts of my story that they entirely disregard/will disregard. and that makes me feel so icky, like i’m lowkey being manipulated into people pleasing people just cuz i post stuff for free. same goes for pressuring asks i get about writing more smut. those feel even more gross to me tbh, and it entirely kills my drive to write

i’m already struggling to find motivation to create stories among all the other insanity of things going on in my life. so yea words like that definitely do affect me, esp when it’s not just from one person, which i could probs write off as some internet troll, but from like 15+ different readers saying the same thing over n over n over again. and i KNOW i have so many wonderful readers n i’m endlessly grateful…but i’m starting to feel like chappell roan rn where i’m starting to realize maybe i’m just not cut out for this lmfaooo. it’s strange i’ve like literally seen people d** in real time but stan tumblr is what breaks me 💀💀 this shit is nottttt for the weak bahahah i see why so many authors leave

since i started posting here in january, i’ve dealt w people who would shame me for not posting updates at the time i said i would, i’ve dealt w people who would pressure me for updates, i’ve dealt w people who would pressure me for smut, i’ve dealt with people who have reduced my stories to nothing but smut, i’ve dealt with people who have made death threats against kickoff gojo for having commitment issues, i had a person straight up tell me they were “disappointed in the direction” of all of ch7 of kickoff, i had someone comment “he should’ve done ___ instead. will not be reading this fic anymore”, i’ve dealt w so many people belittle n disregard the whole ihm ex wife plotline. i’ve literally cried over some of these asks/comments, n i’ve felt embarrassed over some of them too. i’m just a person.

and i know i know i know i shouldnt focus on the negative interactions, i should just focus on the positive ones. but yknow how much mental real estate that takes to do? i’d consider myself to be a pretty mentally healthy person to be very honest, but even i have a hard time w doing that lmfao.

and then, to make things worse, i get scared that calling readers out for this kind of stuff will just make people fearful to interact with me in the future. and then im like damn i suck lol

in any case, i accept your apology. it’s not that deep at the end of the day i suppose, and i don’t want you to feel bad about it. there are bigger issues in this world rn than fanfiction on tumblr. also sorry i kinda used your ask to say all of this but i just wanted to share my perspective plus i’m pmsing so i’m emo lol i’m just waiting for my estrogen to rise at this point so i can feel human again n i might end up regretting posting this but anyways thanks xxx