#and i will not be disclosing how many times i cried <3

[eversweetflowerpot]

happy New-Oversized-Merch day to all who celebrate <3

#me #my body #noah kahan #was such an unreal time #man sounded much much better live than i’d anticipated #and i will not be disclosing how many times i cried <3 #anyway this sweater is huge and so comfy hope yall like the colour green bc i live in this now

[v3nusxsky]

Hey! idk if ur still taking requests but can I ask for soft Lesso x Reader smut where reader does the deed for the first time since being s**ually abused pleae??? Thanks bestie x

Hey lovely anon! I hope you are well and this fic is what you desired thank you for your support <3

We will go slow 18+

*Authors note| this is a tough one that hits a little closer to home than I actually thought it would. So please if you want feel free to reach out unfortunately this is something that happens to many people*

Trigger warnings~ past sexual assault oral (r receiving) fingering (r receiving) thigh riding (lesso receiving) sweet loving smut

Prompt~ see the ask^^

Being with the Dean of the school for Evil was like nothing you expected or had ever experienced before. It was an unexpected love especially after everything you had been through, you swore off relationships of any kind for a long time that's why you found it so surprising how quickly you allowed Lady Lesso into your heart. You were quite surprised with how respectful she was of your boundaries, naturally being a forward and taunting women she had accidentally scared you once by her advance so changed her tactics to being more softer and relaxed in her approach. This seemed to work wonders and you instantly felt safe enough to confide in the dean.

When you told disclosed the horrors you had faced to the women she was in shock to say the least. Admittedly, you weren't together at that point but you were very close and Lesso knew of her feelings towards you but couldn't understand your reactions to her advances. So you sat down in her office and told her everything. Start to finish about what he did to you. You had to pause at certain points as the memories were too strong for you to deal with, but she was patient with you and offered her hand to you as a form of comfort which you took willingly. Some of the parts of your story had Lesso gasping in shock, she had no idea you had been through so much. She could always appreciate a true act of evil but what you had been subjected to was more than evil, it was down right cruel.

That night you cried holding onto her hand as if it was the last life line you had. And yet she remained with you and would for as long as you truly desired it. All she wished to do was gather you in her arms and hold you but she couldn't risk startling you so she waited for you to come to her. And you did. That was the night you and Lesso decided to give this ago.  And for the past 6 months everything has been utterly perfect. It was hard to believe that Lesso wanted you, out of all the people falling at her feet she choose you. Despite the most you had done together is shared a few kisses and cuddles. Lesso reassured you every opportunity she could that she would wait as long as you needed, and if you never even wanted to ever again then she would respect that. After all what you had been through was brutal so it was unsurprising that you may never wish to be touched again.

That was furthest from the truth though. You desired her touch, her hands and truthfully you wished to give all of your body mind and soul to her. But you hadn't been with another since him and it terrified you that you could potentially respond in the wrong way and she'd blame herself. He had called you "damaged goods" he had broken you beyond repair and no one would ever want you now. And you had truly believed his words until her. She changed everything. The way she held you as if you were glass, the way she whispered reassuring words when you were anxious and the way she told you daily you were beautiful and how much she truly adores you. Everything about her changed that mindset. Which is why you decided tonight you would finally give into your desire.

You and Lesso had retired for the night and were laying in bed, you laying on her chest as she read a book out loud, that you truly had no interest in but her voice was soothing and you enjoyed the intimacy of the situation. You were fidgety which was the first clue that you needed to talk, then it was the way you would flick your eyes up to hers before snapping them back down to the pages hoping to not be caught. Lesso marked her book and placed it to the bedside table before shifting to grab your attention.

"Little one, are you quite alright my love?" She hummed out hoping her tone would soothe whatever was bothering you. Her eyes carefully examining every little detail to ensure she wasn't the cause. "I'm um ready Nora" you mumbled embarrassed now. What had happened had taken all your confidence with it, but this was your Nora and she wouldn't hurt you. You were safe with her. You knew that. She turned to be able to see you properly "are you sure love? You don't have to" she reiterated to you as she had many times before. And you truly knew that this was all in your control. "I know Nora, I want you to help make this a good thing. I trust you Nora with my body, mind, heart and soul." This seemed to reassure the dean and she shifted to sit up. "At any point darling, and I mean this wholeheartedly, say Dove and I'll stop. Instantly and there won't be any anger or sadness on my part. I just want you to feel good darling"

This was like nothing you had ever experienced. But you nodded showing your understanding. And that was when her lips met yours in a sweet slow kiss. It was as if she had forever to worship you. You loved kissing her, it made you feel so many warm fuzzy feelings, and if you were completely honest she was the best kiss you'd ever had. Her kisses soon made their way to your neck and even just behind your ear which she knew you adored. Before removing any of the clothing you had one she asked for consent again, reassuring you that you didn't have to do this. But you wanted, no no need her.

Which is how you ended up stripped bare, lesso stripping down as well to make you feel more comfortable and less exposed before settling between your thighs. Her hands exploring your perfect breasts while her mouth laid kisses to the skin on your stomach and thighs. She could smell your arousal, driving her wild but she was determined to go slow and ensure you enjoyed this. Tonight would be all about you and the pleasure she could bring you. With another check of consent you finally felt her lips at your soaked core. Her hot breath just ticking you. And when her tongue brushed over your clit ever so lightly you couldn't control the moan that stumbled over your lips. Soon enough her licks became stronger and more skilled as she toyed with your aching bundle of nerves. You we're getting desperate now, not above begging for her so you did. And she complied instantly by finally letting her tongue explore your folds. If you thought you were a goner then well when she moaned against your cunt as eager fingers rubbed slow but firm circles on your aching clit, you were definitely in heaven. You came hard on her tongue as she helped you ride your orgasm out and licked up every last drop of her reward enjoying all the pretty sounds that tumbled from your lips.

Moving back up the bed she laid kisses to any bare skin in reach before kissing you thoroughly so your toes curled and you would taste yourself on your tongue. "How was that darling? Are you okay? Would you like to continue?" It was cute how concerned she was despite the fact she had given you simply what could be explained as the best orgasm of your life. Such a kind and thoughtful lover, you couldn't help but want more. Never one to leave you wanting for anything she settled back between your legs silently asking for the go ahead. Once you nodded Lesso allowed her fingers to trial through the slick now coating your thighs before slowly and carefully slipping in a finger. At the action you couldn't help but moan her name, "fuck Nora!"

That was all the encouragement she needed. As she quickly found a steady rhythm watching you in delight as you were riding her finger. You begged for her to add another and she did so watching as your face contorted in pleasure at the full sensation. Then it was the words tumbling from her mouth that shoved you over the edge once more. Praise ever flowing from the older women as you came with her name on your lips. You were her good girl and it was clear to see you enjoyed being told so. Only when you had ridden your high out did you whimper knowing you needed a break now. Lesso took the cue and joined you back in bed.

She noticed your pout and instantly inquired about it, "why are we pouting little one?" You blushed and mumbled "you didn't uh um" you trailed off but lucky for you your lover knew exactly what you were trying to say. "Darling you want me to cum?" She murmured watching your reaction and stroking her finger across your cheek in a comforting gesture. You nodded in a response. "Little one you've done so well tonight you don't have to touch me that could be overwhelming but if you truly desire I could always ride your thigh" she suggested watching as you processed what she had said. Lesso was right maybe too much would freak you out, and offering your thigh meant you'd still be able to kiss her. So you nodded and watched as she moved to straddle your thigh. Her lips finding yours as she rolled her hips slowly letting you get a feel for what was going to happen.

Your little moan is what fuelled her movements to become more needy and frantic as she worked herself to her own high. When she came it was you she cried out for. And all you could do is watch as pleasure ripped through her body. She was absolutely breathtakingly stunning in the day time but with this nothing would ever compare. After lesso was finished she hopped up to gather a warm washcloth and cleaned you up so you wouldn't be sticky before coming back to bed to hold you in her arms. She peppered kisses everywhere she could reach asking repeatedly if you were okay and if she did anything that made you uncomfortable. But all you could do is smile and remind her that everything was perfect before falling asleep in her arms.

Word count ~ 1857

#fanfic #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #smuttt #fan fic smut #asks #anon asks #anon request #anon reply #anons welcome

[degnarra-easelbox]

15 OC Questions (tagged long ago by @shanisims & @sheplayswithlifee, thx and apologies for the wait 😅)

for this one, Royce would like to respond!

1. Are you named after anyone?

My grandfather, actually! may he rest in peace.

2. When was the last time you cried?

At my last EDM rave, maybe? don't ask further about it...

3. Do you have any kids?

NO (not on the table at this moment)

4. Do you use sarcasm?

Certainly not with you I won't! 😁

5. What’s the first thing you notice about people?

What brightens their mood the most!

6. What’s your eye color?

warm brown, bright enough to decipher but not pastel like a hazel

7. Scary movies or happy endings?

SCARY MOVIES, ALWAYS!!! Both Marcell and I share this exact love for horror!

8. Any special talents?

Too humble to really disclose how MANY I engage in, haha!

9. Where were you born?

Just around the Harbor. Inner-city.

10. What are your hobbies?

idk... I did take up photography! Loved giving my friends random photoshoots for a moment.

11. Have any pets?

not yet...

12. What sports do you play/have played?

Leland and I joined weightlifting for a moment. I'm guessing he'd throw this under hobbies if it were him answering.

13. How tall are you?

(regarding this is not related to Sims territory) Same height as Marcell & Leland, 6'2". your average tall bois.

14. Favorite subject in school

Algebra, easily. I was a smartass in school.

15. Dream Job?

Next question lol. -- wait, we're done? Already?!

and once again, apologies to the taggers who tagged me to this OC meme long ago. i kinda shut down when i had this mainly cuz i haven't really messed around with my Sims or pushed my OCs extensively enough during that moment so it was hard to choose who to do for this. i'll try not to be too afraid to workshop them on the fly.

#simblr #oc info #evergreen rotation #apr23

[01281989]

It’s been a while...

Hi again.  It’s back to the beginning.  Well, at least that’s what it feels like to me.  Sometimes I look at it as a blessing and sometimes I look at it as a curse.  Bipolar II really sucks, like major balls.  I experienced my first real manic episode, or hypomanic episode as the doctor referred to it as, exactly a month ago today.  I checked myself back into Northern Westchester Hospital and was admitted for 12 days.  It was the longest 12 days of my life.  It felt so much longer than my first stay, which by actual longevity was much longer.  There were many reasons as to why I felt like it was longer, but I think two of the main reasons were the visiting hours and the other patients who were in at the same time as I was.

The visiting hours sucked.  Previously, the visiting hours were Monday through Friday from 5-8 p.m. and you could have as many visitors as you want.  On Saturdays and Sundays it was from 11 a.m. to 8 p.m. and same thing, as many visitors as you wanted.  This time was completely different because of covid.  The visiting hours were Monday through Friday from 1:30-2:15 p.m., with only one visitor allowed per day.  Then on Saturdays and Sundays it was from 12-12:45 p.m., and same thing, one visitor allowed per day.  The visitor who was coming to see you also either had to have the covid vaccine or show a negative test result within 72 hours.  This really sucked.  I was very, very, very grateful to all those who came to visit me.  I just felt horrible, because the drive was long and the visit was short.  When they left, it broke me, but I knew it was better than not seeing anyone at all.  I always felt so bad for the patients who had no visitors.  This made me sad, which brings me to my next reason as to why this stay was harder than the first two...

The other patients, oh boy.  They were fun.  I obviously can’t disclose any information about the other patient’s because of HIPAA, but I can say this... they were much sicker than the last two times I was there.  I know that the hospital itself can not be to blame for this, it is a psych unit after all, but it was just harder this time around.  I mean, I guess I was sicker than I was last time too, so dealing with the population of patients was harder than normal. I cried my entire first day there, and that is not an exaggeration.  I cried from the moment they wheeled me in through those big metal doors, until I finally cried myself the sleep at 3 in the morning.  I was a mess, but so was everyone else.  I did make one friend though.  He was more like a father figure.  He walked the halls with me ALL day and ALL night.  I couldn’t sleep and neither could he, so we bonded over movies, books, and all things mental health related.  We are still in touch to this day.  I have a lot of stories that I might share one day, but for now I will keep them to myself and save some stuff for later posts.

I feel like I’ve genuinely struggled since being home.  I sometimes wish that I was still there, because of the safety of the staff.  I know that sounds crazy, wanting to be in the hospital after I just went on a 3 paragraph rant about how hard it was to be there, but sometimes being home is harder.  Life really hits you like a ton of bricks when you leave, and that sucks (almost worse than being diagnosed bipolar).  I’ve been meeting with my psychiatrist and my therapist, and I am very hopeful that things will eventually turn around.  I am still working full-time and have an amazing trip to Italy planned for the end of the Summer.  I can’t wait, except for the flying part, but I’ll deal with that when the time comes.  For now, I am taking it minute by minute, only hoping that the next will be better than before.  I know this was a long one, but I feel like I still have so much more to say, maybe tonight I will post again.  So long for now, it’s good and bad to be back...

#Bipolar #MentalHealth #Depression #PTSD #Anxiety #MentalHealthAwareness #MentalHealthSupport

[wolframen]

15 questions 5 tags

except I'm not tagging anyone (tagged by @0sbrain)

Were you named after anyone? I used to be named after one grandma from each family, nowadays it's complicated.

When was the last time you cried? Genuinely I do not remember. I think I have cried a collective 3 times since starting T 3 years ago, instead of crying I just kind of scream internally.

Do you have kids? Good god no. No thank you.

Do you use sarcasm a lot? Yes, and stupidly it's the neurotypical people that are bad at picking up on it.

What's the first thing you notice about people? I don't fucking know, their outfit?

What's your eye colour? My lawyer told me not to disclose that information.

Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings for sure. I have a weirdly anxious emotional response to seeing (or even just hearing, fun,) real life actors on screen going through any kind of pain. Idk how to explain it but frankly I suppose it's no ones business anyway.

Any special talents? No.

Where were you born? Woerden, but I moved out of there when I was a baby and only visited once to get my name legally changed.

What are your hobbies? Many.

Have any pets? I currently have a cat, I used to have a dog and we had two really old cats when I was a kid.

What sports do you play/have you played? Soo many. I used to ice skate, I've done wushu and taekwondo, I recently finished an archery course and I go to the gym thrice a week. I love martial arts a lot but the dojo in my town sucks ass. I will probably formally join the archery club once I'm settled at university though.

How tall are you? 1,53m.

Favourite subject in school? I'm currently inbetween schools, and in college I didn't get "subjects" so much as random assignments. In secondary school I liked biology, chemistry, history, Dutch and German though.

Dream job? Fuck if I know.

#phew long post lots of typing much formatting #tag game #also no offence to you zero but these questions are kind of lame haha #and i am really not disclosing my eye colour on the website where people scream bloody murder about the subject. you've seen photos.

[gncrevan]

#31DaysofHorror Day 5: Hideous (2022, Yann Gonzalez)

horror and queerness have long been intertwined. the strange, the other, the monstrous all lend themselves to both homophobic fearmongering and genuine queer self-recognition. no wonder so many of us feel drawn to horror, and no wonder it can work so well as a lens for the queer experience.

oliver sim produced a full-on campy, stylish, silly and sad horror short film to disclose his HIV+ status, and if that isn't gay culture i don't know what is.

some of the dialogue was a bit clunky, lyrics on the nose and acting unnatural, but that only added to the charm of this extended music video and made it feel like a real made-for-TV production from the 90s a la elvira or tales from the crypt. and no matter how stiff and silly it felt at times, it was poignant too. i cried a whole 3 times during the 22 minute runtime which may be a record.

#31 days of horror #hideous 2022 #oliver sim #the xx #lgbt #horror #nor does film analysis #nor watches telly

[zyrenebasan]

Open Diary Entry #2

10/3/22 

       For today's entry I wanted to talk about struggles. All my life I never really experience being fully comforted by anyone because I hate sharing my struggles to someone else except to God. I  wondered what if I try opening up to anybody what would I feel, can I be relieved if I share my struggles with a person or will I regret it? I tried so many times to talk to someone but at the end of the day I always end up by myself and only talking to the Lord. Back when I was in high school I was at my friend's house talking about the struggles of our life and the things that keep us together. I remember me and my friends talking about how we fear losing the people that we love, that we were fighting for each other's lives because we fear losing people. Back then we were kinda tearing up and that was the very first time I shed tears in front of other people other than my family. When I got home I suddenly realized what just happened and I cannot believe I just cried in front of others. I was then assessing my feelings about what I feel after I share some personal feelings to others and to be honest, I don't really know what I really felt that time. After that happened I suddenly felt like never sharing some personal thoughts or feelings with others. I don't really think it's because I was uncomfortable with them or like I was disappointed with them, I was just struggling with something in me that I cannot explain. 

     Entering my 20th year as a human I made a lot of realization, one of it was I am more comfortable struggling alone. Yes it is exhausting struggling alone but the fact that I don't really feel being comforted by others makes me think and feel that I am better off by myself. But of course I still talk to my friends and my family but not including those struggles that I don't think they need to know. If I feel like I'm actually fine if I keep it to myself then I will keep it. My mama would constantly be angry at me everytime she felt like I had a problem and she wanted me to share it with her but everytime she tried I eventually disclosed it to her with no answer. I know and I can feel that people really want to help me and are constantly giving me assurance but the pain that I have feels more heavy everytime I share it with others than opening it up only with God. I feel like everytime I spill the more it hurts, maybe I have emotional problems or what but I promise y'all I really tried my best to change and be more open that is why I made this open diary. Maybe I'm just afraid of others' opinions or like what they would think about me, I really don't know but I'm really, really trying my best to change for the people around me. Not only that I struggle sharing but I also struggle in giving comfort and advice to others but I always tried my best to show affection through other things. For instance, one of my friends was struggling about this certain problem in her life and she badly needed someone to comfort her and give her some advice for her to feel at ease. That time my other friends were super busy and I was actually the only one who was free to talk to. So when I reached out to her and tried to give her some inspirational talks and provide everything that I could to help her even if I knew it wasn't enough. After we talked she told me that I'm actually a bad comforter though she's actually very thankful for my gesture but never mind the inspirational quotes that I search in Google (lol) and I can't agree more. I am well aware that I'm actually bad at speech. 

        They said no one is an Island and I agree a person cannot be an island. Even though I keep my struggles to myself I still wanted to to show my affection to others even if I'm actually no use in advising but at least I tried diba? I ask God na Lord why do I have this attitude of not asking for help, everyone knows I struggle asking for help when I'm in need but more likely would not ask for one. Is it because of pride , Lord? Or is it because I'm shy? I actually often Settled for the later. Opening social media I often see inspirational quotes that connects to what I feel. Then I talk to God saying "Lord I wanted to help myself in growing with you but also I wanted to have people besides me that I can surely talk to. I feel like people wanted to help me O God and I wanted to help them also but how could I help them when I myself does not even receive help with others. I pray Lord that you will help me open my heart to others and accept whatever means they would give". Days after, God told me to stop overthinking things and start making a move to express myself not just overthinking stuff. So then, I made this diary. I may not talk to people by speech but atleast y'all can still read my feelings and thoughts through writing right? 

#zyOpenDiary #Struggles in life #Affection #Family #friends

[noeticprayer]

Scripture Readings for Sunday August 14 2022

1 Corinthians 3:9-17 (Epistle)

Brothers and Sisters, you are God's fellow workers; you are God's field, God's building.  According to the grace of God given to me, like a skilled master builder I laid a foundation, and another man is building upon it. Let each man take care how he builds upon it.  For no other foundation can any one lay than that which is laid, which is Jesus Christ.  Now if any one builds on the foundation with gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, straw -- each man's work will become manifest; for the Day will disclose it, because it will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test what sort of work each one has done.  If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward.  If any man's work is burned up, he will suffer loss, though he himself will be saved, but only as through fire.  Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you?  If any one destroys God's temple, God will destroy him. For God's temple is holy, and that temple you are.

Matthew 14:22-34 (Gospel)

At that time, the Lord made the disciples get into the boat and go before him to the other side, while he dismissed the crowds.  And after he had dismissed the crowds, he went up on the mountain by himself to pray. When evening came, he was there alone, but the boat by this time was many furlongs distant from the land, beaten by the waves; for the wind was against them.  And in the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea.  But when the disciples saw him walking on the sea, they were terrified, saying, "It is a ghost!" And they cried out for fear.  But immediately he spoke to them, saying, "Take heart, it is I; have no fear."  And Peter answered him, "Lord, if it is you, bid me come to you on the water."  He said, "Come." So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus; but when he saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, "Lord, save me."  Jesus immediately reached out his hand and caught him, saying to him, "O man of little faith, why did you doubt?"  And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.  And those in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God."  And when they had crossed over, they came to land at Gennesaret.

[fizzyxcustard]

Covert Eyes (7)

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Fandom: Spooks

Pairings: Lucas North x OC (Amy Holland)

Warnings: Stalking behaviour, anxiety, language, sexual references.

Summary: Lucas takes notice of a young woman, Amy, but his obsession and want to get to know her begin to spiral out of control. Lucas has decided to take a step back from his and Amy's relationship, feeling that his job will always bring about a risk in her life. But he can't seem to keep away from her. Can she forgive him for his actions?

Comments/Notes: If you wish to be tagged in any of my tag lists for fics or characters, please let me know, and stipulate what you want to be tagged in. The above image was located on Pinterest, with no link back to the original source.

“Okay, I’ll listen. On one condition: we do it at your flat,” Amy demanded. “You’re not coming anywhere near my personal space until I know exactly what is going on here.” The words shocked even Amy herself; being assertive was not something that came naturally to her, but the anger and crippling insecurity that Lucas had made her feel spurred her on. 

“Fine,” Lucas replied, agreeing to the simple term. 

The two of them walked in silence. Amy remained a good few feet from Lucas, keeping distance to remind herself that he owed her an explanation. She could not let her attraction and feelings get in the way, no matter how much she wanted to make up with him. She would not be seen as weak; too many times in her life and she had been cornered into the vulnerable spot. Adam had worn her down until she had felt useless, unwanted, disgusting. No one would make her feel that way again, and certainly not this beautiful bastard who could have the pick of anyone he wanted, but somehow chose her. 

Around fifteen gruelling minutes later and Amy arrived at Lucas’ block. It looked a little rundown from the outside, a couple of the windows having no curtains. An old, rusty bike was propped up against the wall next to the glass doors which led into the building. The right hand glass door had been smashed at some point and was now filled in with a piece of board. 

Lucas’ flat was somewhat cleaner than the outside. The kitchen was spacious, so much more than Amy’s cramped one. The main preparation area was a counter in the centre of the room. The bedroom was off to the side, with only a widened doorframe for the entrance. No living room. 

Amy stood by the counter in the centre of the kitchen and leaned her arms on the top, watching Lucas as he put his coffee machine on and flicked on the overhead light. She continued watching him as he took his coat off, his back muscles and shoulders flexing under the navy blue shirt he wore. For the rest of her time here, she knew she would have to consciously stop herself from doing something stupid. 

Lucas approached and stopped on the other side of the counter, his hands both palm down on the marble surface. “You’re going to make this awkward for me, aren’t you?” he asked, a smirk curling his lips upward. 

But Amy didn’t smile. “I don’t want things to be any more awkward than they have to be. You wanted to talk to me, so let’s talk.” 

“You’d probably guessed by now but I don’t work for the police,” he began. 

“I think that’s a given, considering you told me that there are things you couldn’t disclose. I assumed your real job title is one of them.” 

“Amy, will you stop with the attitude? I’m talking to you about this because I want to put things right between us. I think you are trying to make it hard for me. I get that you’re pissed off with me and upset, but please just let me explain.” 

A sigh passed Amy’s lips and she looked down at the floor. “I cried over you. I shouted at myself over you. Because all I could see was that I wasn’t enough. You’d move on and find someone who really would be worth telling the truth to and someone who would be worth the risk and the effort.” 

“Amy,” Lucas cooed. He shifted over to her and brushed his hands down her arms. “It was never that. I wanted to protect you. I work for MI5, and we’re always putting friends and family at risk because of what we do. When I work on an operation, I can’t have contact with anyone outside of work. I was protecting you.” 

Amy looked at Lucas and fell into his arms. “I just wish you’d have at least given me a choice. You took everything away from me; I had no say or control in anything.” Right there and then, Amy had done the very thing that she promised she wouldn’t do, and that was to give in. 

A few minutes later and the two of them were sat side by side on stools at the counter, drinking coffee. “You can’t tell anyone what I do, Aim.”

Amy chuckled. “I gathered that,” she said. “You can trust me, Lucas. I think I can keep the story up if anyone asks. That’s if…”

“If what?” 

“We go back to how things were. And make a go of something.” 

Lucas cupped her cheek, moving in, and kissed her. They kissed hard for a minute, then Lucas’ lips delved down onto Amy’s neck. And he stopped. “I missed you,” he sighed. “So much. Forgive me, please.” 

Amy kissed his head and held it against her. “Please don’t cut me off like that again. I know we’re not serious serious or anything, but…”

“What? You’re not serious about me?” Lucas replied, looking up at her and grinning. “I’m deeply offended by that.” 

“No, you know what I mean. You know that I have feelings for you, and I’m trying not to get ahead of myself.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that you think about things way too much? But it’s what makes you so wonderful.” Lucas looked at her for a second, his gaze locked with hers. He saw a  hint of something negative, her brow furrowing slightly. But she seemed to realise that he was right and the furrow disappeared, and she reciprocated his smile.

“I don’t have work tomorrow, so does that mean we stay here or you come back to mine?” Amy asked. “Oh, and it was because of you, I might add, that I had three days off work sick.” 

Lucas chuckled. “I do apologise. Shall I pay you for the trouble?” 

“Depends on what currency you’re paying in, doesn’t it?” 

Fuck! He wanted her. 

***

Amy woke early, as she normally did. The clock on the bedside table showed that it was half five. It was still dark, and Amy’s eyes scrambled through the blackened room for something to grab hold of. In her mind, she could vaguely remember where the doorway was back into Lucas’ kitchen. 

She pulled on her underwear and the blouse she had been wearing the day before, and walked into the kitchen, feeling around the wall for the light switch. Her feet became cold on the tiles and she winced, growing accustomed to the feeling. Finally she found the light switch and went on to make herself a drink and check her phone which was in her hand bag. 

Amy flicked through her phone apps and drank half a glass of water. When suddenly the sound of groaning alerted her. It was coming from the bedroom. 

Lucas was tossing and turning, calling out in his sleep. His words were incoherent. 

“It’s okay,” Amy cooed, sitting on the edge of the bed. She took his hand and held it, her thumb rubbing along his knuckles. “Shhh.” 

Slowly his eyes opened, and he felt peace wash over him at the sound of that voice. “Amy,” he whispered.

The sound of her voice being whispered made her think back to the night previously. For the first time in her life, Amy had heard her name be spoken with such want and lust. This whole experience of being so wanted was alien, but exciting. She wanted to please him, bring him to the brink, just so she could hear him say her name like that and be the reason he toppled off the edge of such primal pleasure. 

Lucas smiled at her, trying to focus on his features through the dark. 

“Do you want me to get you anything? A drink? Something to eat?” Amy asked. 

Lucas pulled himself up more fully and flicked on the bedside lamp. “Just a glass of water please, love.” 

Once Amy had fetched the glass of water, she sat beside Lucas on the bed. He gulped most of the glass of water down in just a few seconds. “Do you normally have nightmares?” 

“Most nights. I’ve, erm, never told anyone outside of work, but I…” 

“It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me right away if it bothers you,” Amy replied. She nudged up to him and put her head on his shoulder. “We don’t have to tell each other everything in one night, you know?” 

“No, I want to. I was in a Russian prison for eight years, on a mission. Hence my tattoos,” he said simply. There was no other way that he could tell that part of his life. It was as simple as that. He swallowed hard and looked at her, surveying her reaction. He watched as she looked down at the bed, and then her green gaze lifted back to him. 

“Really, it’s okay,” she said softly. “You’re home now and we’ve got plenty of time to talk about it. One step at a time, yeah?” 

***

Lucas joined Amy back at her flat, preferring to spend time in a place that was all about her. He wanted to be surrounded by her favourite things, the aesthetics that matched her personality, and her sanctuary. 

And that was how their relationship fully began. Amy cooked for him, soothed him at night when he woke from nightmares, pressed his clothes. In fact, for the first two weeks, Lucas only went home twice. Work had quietened somewhat, only making him step out on deployment once for an overnight stay in Portsmouth, keeping a look out for a potential subject coming into the UK by ship. Nothing came of it, which meant that Lucas could get straight back to Amy. 

Lucas remembered a time in his life, only months previously when he couldn’t feel any emotions. His inner being felt numb, still living in a constant reminder of the torture in Lushanka. It was as if all that pain had completely burned away his nerve endings, emotionally and mentally. But Amy made him wake up with a smile, and gave him a want to continue on living. She had made him feel. 

One morning he sat on the end of Amy’s bed, watching her brush her hair and get ready for work. He was already dressed, in his usual jeans and a black shirt. “I love you,” he said softly. 

Amy turned around, her face moulded into an expression of disbelief. 

“What?” he asked with a smile. “You weren’t expecting that?” 

“Not exactly, no,” Amy giggled. 

Lucas reached for her and guided her to sit on his lap, facing him. He brushed his fingers through her hair and kissed her brow. “I feel like I fell for you as soon as I saw you,” he whispered. 

Amy blushed and giggled. “I know you’re a spy and everything, and lying is part of your job, but you’re getting good at it with me.” 

“Why would I lie about that?” Lucas asked, his face stern and straight. 

The smile dissolved completely from Amy’s face as she could see that she had hit a nerve somewhere within him. Her self-deprecation had always been a natural self-defence mechanism, so no one could hurt her. If I say I’m ugly and fat, then no one else can tell me. No one else can have control over me and tell me what to believe. I believe it through my own words. 

Lucas shifted off the bed and turned his back to her. “I’m sick of these remarks, Aim. You’re accusing me of being a liar and that this is all a joke. You say that you feel something for me; I don’t know if you really do.” 

“Now who is accusing someone else?” Amy retorted. 

“See? So, stop it!” This was the only time that Lucas had ever been demanding with her, telling her to do something rather than asking. 

Amy looked down at the cream carpet, feeling ashamed at causing such an outburst in Lucas. He had always been gentle with her, reassuring, and confident. But now that had changed. With only a few negative words about herself, she could make him flip in complete contrast.  

They went for breakfast that morning, in their usual place, where they had first met. But now they sat side by side, not opposite each other. Lucas would lean his elbows on the table and get as close to her as possible, his shoulder touching hers. He would look at her doodles in her ring-bound notebook. 

“You need more materials, Aim,” he said. She was still using a biro and lined paper. “You need a proper sketch pad and pencils for stuff like this.” 

“I have bills to pay,” Amy giggled. “It’s just a little pastime I do in a morning anyway, nothing too serious.” 

“Your drawings are brilliant though. You’re wasting your talent.” 

***

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[deltas-writing-corner]

No regrets

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Sukuna x reader (reader is referred to with gender neutral pronouns, but there are slight implications of them being AFAB)

Author note: At a whooping 11.5k words, it’s finally here! Thank you all for your patience as well as those who gave feedback during the initial interest check! I hope the wait was worth it and you enjoy this long piece! A bit of forewarning, this piece is rather dark, so please read the content warnings carefully and only proceed if you are comfortable doing so.

Revisions made on 3/30/2021

Warnings: Implications of noncon | abusive behavior | unhealthy obsession | death | slight gore | Please ask to tag additional content warnings that I have failed to disclose

Minors do not read/interact with this post!

Heian era

It was only a matter of time before the king of curses came to your village and slaughtered you all. It was inevitable, but the village elders were determined to hand over every last scrap of fabric and goods if it satiated the cursed being for a short while, knowing the all powerful curse was an indulgent one. Your village was a well known trading settlement, so gathering and setting aside the best of the best on the market was rather easy with all the merchants coming in and out of the town nearly every day.

Your family specialized in sword crafting, often forging or repairing swords for soldiers or aristocratic families who merely collected them as works of art. Your father taught you a bit of the craft and a few seasoned samurai humoured you and taught you some forms while they awaited repairs, but you mostly spent time helping your mother around your quaint home. Your days with them were peaceful, even with the ever looming and expected arrival of Ryomen Sukuna blanketing your people with constant fear.

The day finally came, yet all the preparations you and your people took to secure a better chance of survival still didn’t feel like it was enough as the four-armed monster of a man easily destroyed several houses with a mere flick of his hand and cut down several innocent individuals who fled last minute due to their anxiety getting the better of them. He was at least willing to see all that was being offered to him when it was made clear your people were not going down without trying their luck, but that sadistic smile of his was all the proof everyone needed to know that their careful efforts meant nothing.

Your village elders remained determined, and to the shock of you and your parents, they grabbed you and offered you up as one final offering. You were young, the youngest in the village in fact, and unmarried too. A perfect candidate for Sukuna’s harem and they knew this when they turned and grabbed you without a second thought. You still remember the way your mother began to smack your elders with her shoe when they yanked you away from her and your father’s side. Bless her heart.

Perhaps a part of you knew that your status as the youngest would be taken advantage of if things weren’t working out. Sukuna’s harem was only a rumor, scary gossip whispered amongst the housewives. Yet the idea of a monster like him having a harem didn’t seem so farfetched. You knew better than to question the validity of the lucky few who got away and were displaced because of Sukuna’s village razing and massacring.

Whether he accepted the last second addition to the offer pile or killed every single one of you right then and there, you accepted that your life would never return to how it once was before he came. You didn’t make so much as a peep of discomfort when the brute began to manhandle you, pulling back parts of your clothes away from your body to inspect you in front of the entire village, in front of your distraught parents. You didn’t wince in pain when he roughly grabbed your cheek between two of his meaty fingers and examined your face like you were merely a piece of art, an object. You just went completely numb.

Everyone, including yourself, was shocked when he agreed to take you along with all the goods your village offered, but not without ordering them to prepare another pile for his followers to collect every following month from now on. He made it clear that if they held back a single grain of rice or gave him anything else but the best, he’d send your body back to them in a bloody sack before reuniting them with you in the afterlife shortly after.

As the king of curses hauled you away like a sack of potatoes, your emotions came flooding back in. You kicked, scream, cried and begged like a moody toddler for your mom and dad to help you, to not let this monster take you away and do know who knows what to you. The last you see of them before you’re forcefully knocked out is your mother suddenly collapsing on the ground like all the energy she had just left her body instantaneously. Your brawny father seemed equally at a loss as well.

When you were brought back to Sukuna’s temple, you were hauled away by servants after he unceremoniously dropped you on the ground and retreated to his chambers. You were thoroughly bathed, skin rubbed raw of outside filth and dressed into a fresh new robe before being whisked away to Sukuna’s quarters by his demand. 

That first week under his roof was meant to break you, but for some reason you kept fighting back because of something a bit stupid. You wanted to keep your old clothes the maids forced you out of and you wouldn’t shut up or keep still under him no matter how much he harmed or degraded you. You don’t know why you kept pushing back against him over something so meager. The fabric wasn’t anything that fancy. The color was faded and you were even beginning to outgrow them. It’s the only memento you have of your home, so maybe that’s why your mind zeroed in on it and refused to yield to his torturous ministrations until you made certain it wouldn’t be taken away from you.

“Again with those rags you call a kimono?” he clicked his tongue with annoyance. “You want to keep them so badly? Fine, but don’t think I’ll be so accommodating next time.”

Living in a merchant town, you know how to tell when someone is trying to swindle you. As much as you hate the man who has been violating your body for literal days now, you can tell that he means what he has stated.

When you finally relax your body, he lets out a disgustingly child-like cackle, but before you can express any sort of rage that bubbled up within yourself, your mind goes numb once more if only to alleviate the pain you’re in just a bit.

There are two types of fates for those in Sukuna’s harem. There are the favoured concubines, who live relatively better than the disfavoured, who are made into servants. Of course, this is all a meticulous set up by the king of curses himself. Those he shows higher favoritism towards are desperate to remain in his good graces if only to make their way of living that bit easier to bear. Those he turns into lowly servants and brushes aside are desperate to rise above their rank and gain the privilege and spoils he grants to the selected few. It’s all an elaborate plan to instill discord between members of his harem so he can sit back and watch them tear each other apart without lifting a finger.

Your fighting back was what earned you an automatic spot amongst his favoured. He thought he had broken you, but just as soon as you yielded to him you flared up and began to fight back once more. It was invigorating, seeing the rage and desperation in your eyes when you were quiet and had a distant, blank look just moments before. How long had it been since a human raised their fist against him? Far too long for him to remember.

You were an outlier. Where all would refuse to meet his gaze whenever he passed through, you would always meet and hold his gaze without fail or hesitation. You talked back, cursing him a thousand ways into the next phase of the moon. You never bowed when others did. Never.

Your disobedience gave him plenty of reasons to drag you to his chambers and attempt to break you once more, only for you to shut your mind down as soon as you were thrown into his bed. Perhaps it's a defense mechanism? A way of trying to disassociate from all the rough treatment you endure under him? A part of him is grateful you aren’t like the others, that you’ve come up with a way of protecting yourself while the others around you, who give into the despair and hopelessness he brings them or lie to themselves that he holds some sort of affection towards them, if only to find some sort of hope through this hell even if it means lying to yourself. Both of which bore him immensely as well as annoy him greatly.

It’s sudden and neither of you can recall when it began, but after he was done having his way with you and you regained your sense of reality and would devolve into the usual episode of flailing rage and crying, he began to hold you against him and whisper soothing phrases like “good job” or “It’s over, you did well”. He kept his many arms wrapped around your shaking figure, waiting for you to eventually exhaust yourself and pass out before doing so himself. When the sun rises you are always gone from his chambers. How you manage to escape right from under him is a mystery, but he doesn’t have much of a desire to ask you about it. He likes waking up surprised. Hardly anything surprises him anymore.

It becomes clear to everyone that Sukuna acts differently towards you, treats you differently than the rest of his concubines. There are even periods of time where the rest of his harem is given little to no attention because he’s completely focused on you. The time he spends with you isn’t anything kind or relieving. He purposely says things that offend you and have you screaming at him. Should anyone else say what you say to him in return, he’d rip their tongues out and swallow it before their very eyes without any remorse. But you? He’s smiling down at you, as if you were an actor entertaining him with an elaborate and well-rehearsed performance.

“Damn you! Damn this temple! Damn your ancestors for existing and bringing you into this world!”

“Yes, that’s the spirit!” he gives you a toothy grin, his sharp canines glinting under the light of the sun. “Damn me and damn the rest of the world for that matter!”

His encouragement only infuriates you more. Without a second thought you began to throw whatever it is you can get your hands on at him. Your comb, your shoes, your untouched makeup products, anything in sight is hauled at the deranged man who dodges everything with ease. Just as you throw a jar of ink at his head and it shatters against the way, bathing the wood with dark ink, he grabs you and you both tumble back into your unmade futon.

As usual, you thrash and voice your disdain as he presses his lips against your neck and aggressively undresses you. He’s high off the adrenaline from earlier, making his ministrations much more excruciating than they normally are. 

To him, it feels like a passionate session of lovemaking and he’s left light headed when he finishes.

For you, it’s just another day under his reign and body, your mind going numb as soon as he puts you on your hands and knees.

Just as quickly as he gave you most of his attention, he turned away and left you in the dust.

You have been his concubine for over a year when it happens. Your village continues to uphold their end of their deal and provide him with all the luxurious goods they can get their hands on each month. You’re not sure if he’s trying to torture you more or genuinely thinks he’s bringing you some sense of comfort and calm, but he personally brings you a small bunch of fabrics and trinkets that your father specifically went out of his way to get for you, hoping you would receive them somehow as a reminder that he still thinks of you. It’s during these small moments of Sukuna passing on these items that you learn that your mother passed after you were taken.

You didn’t shed even one tear when this information was given to you, as a part of you knew that was the case after you saw her collapse. Sukuna expected you to fly into another fit of rage. That was the only reason he told you if he’s being honest. He’s caught between feeling disappointed or worried when you just hummed in acknowledgement as you rolled up the soft, intricate rolls of fabric and stored them away. You never did anything with them, so they were sure to collect a layer of dust like the rest in due time

No one, not even Sukuna or even yourself, expected your village to take up arms and fight back against the followers he sent out to collect his offerings. When word came back of what transpired, Sukuna was tempted to take you with him and force you to watch as he slaughtered your village in retaliation for breaking the accord. He didn’t, nor did he send back your disfigured corpse like he promised he would back then. He simply went out, killed them, and then came right back to wash off all their spilled blood. All within the same day. 

After he killed all the villagers, he attempted to locate your father amongst the scattered corpses, but they were too mutilated and disfigured to discern who was who. Even if they weren’t, it’s not like he remembered what your father looked like. Did you even bear any resemblance to him? He overheard you speaking with one of the other concubines that your father was an armorer and was tempted to grab one of the expertly crafted swords the villagers were carrying and bring it back to you, blood and all staining the scabbard. He decided against it.

He’s demoted many concubines, all with the purpose of watching them try to regain the meager luxury and privilege they grew accustomed to. He did the same for you, eager to see you break character and come crawling back to him with pitiful desperation. 

A part of him knew that it wouldn’t take much effort on your part to have him changing his mind. He’d easily forgive you for the betrayal of your village. All you had to do was put on a show and give him the entertainment he wanted from you. You can kick and scream and deny him all you want, but he’s broken many people like you before. He’s had you under his spell since day one.

Except, you didn’t do anything. When he sent you to live within the overcrowded servants chambers near the far end of his temple, you never put up any sort of fight or caused a scene. Not even when he gave away all the fabrics your father sent you to the other favoured concubines, going as far as to force them to wear the garments whenever and wherever your presence is at. He waited with giddy for someone to inform him of how you lashed out at another girl and attempted to rip the cloth off of her body because they were wearing the fabrics meant for you. But there was nothing from you.

When he dragged you to his quarter and began to violate you like normal, he forced himself to brag and even fabricate details of the day he slaughtered the people from your village. He even lied about how your father asked about you before he was killed, falsely stating that the man had a smile on his face when Sukuna told him that you received all the goods he selected just for you.

Like always, your mind went blank until he finished. There were no twisted words of comfort afterwards like before. He simply ordered you out once he was done, one final attempt to invoke something out of you. You merely redressed and left in silence. He nearly got up and dragged you back, but once again, he decided against it.

One day he ordered a few men to build a crude looking home out back, detached from the main temple, and have you moved in it upon completion. If his normal efforts won’t elicit the usual reaction out of you, then he’ll take a different approach. He’ll deprive you of everything, social interaction, decent and consistent meals, and a stable shelter. He’ll have you isolated for a short while, after which he will visit you out of pity and revel in the sight of you crawling back into his arms. If the time he forces you alone is not enough to break you, he’ll simply extend your stay until you either give him what he wants or die because of your own stubbornness.

It hasn’t even been a day since you’ve been moved from the servant's chamber to your new quarters, and already he’s come to visit you. Within the same breath that tells you that your only other option besides begging for his forgiveness is to rot away in this poorly made shack, he gives you one final chance to change his mind, to beg him to take you back into his good graces.

The tatami is poorly crafted and discolored. The rafters used to construct the frame of the house already show signs of rotting and water damage. Before he allowed himself in, the tiles on the roof appeared to be hastily made and were not properly laid out. It was lightly raining outside, yet you already have a wooden bucket set up to collect leaking water.

“Can I help you?” you ask without glancing over your shoulder. He smirks at the thought of you knowing who he is by presence alone.

“No,” he smugly answers. “But maybe I can help you?”

You look back over to him with a mean glare. “You’re the one that put me here in the first place.”

“No, I didn’t,” he shakes his head to further cement his point. “You’re in here because your people thought they stood a chance against me and broke our agreement. Killing you would be an act of mercy to them. So long as I keep you alive and slowly torture you in both mind and body, they will never know peace.”

“You’re lying,” you say with certainty, with no fear. “I’ve never lied to you once. I would appreciate it if I can at least be given the same courtesy in return.”

He hates when people demand things from. Most importantly, he hates that you’re right. Your neck is always so small within his grasp, his fingers able to meet and fold over one another without strain. He keeps you suspended in the air just enough to where you can balance yourself on the balls of your feet. Whether you were tall or short, it mattered not. He always towered over you like the predator that he is.

“You want to know why you’re in this shitty home?” he sneers down. “You’re in here because you’ve begun to bore me. You amused me so much before, but the moment you started depriving me of my source of entertainment on purpose is the moment I decide to deprive you of your basic needs in return. I take what I want, when I want it, in whichever quantity I desire.

“You want out of here?” He makes a sweeping gesture around the room. “Then you better press your forehead all the way to the floor and beg for me to take you back. I’ll even tell you the exact words you need to say. ‘Please Sukuna-sama. Please allow me the privilege of sleeping under the same roof as you. Please let me breathe the same air as you.’”

He lets you go and grins when you prostrate after regaining your breathe.

“Please Sukuna-sama,” you beg.

“Please what?” he mocks. “Use your words.”

He feels a vein pop out on his forehead when you dare to look up and look at him with yet another angry grin. Without an ounce of hesitation, you say, “Please get out and leave me be.”

He nearly breaks the door from how hard he slams it shut. He abruptly turns around when he hears a roof tile fall over and splat into the muddy dirt. Those followers of his really built you a shitty home, exactly like he ordered them to do.

He feels the urge to gather them and wring their necks one by one, but he doesn’t know why.

Sukuna can’t sleep during those weeks apart. Not because of you, but because right as he drifts off into slumber he’s abruptly woken up by an intense source of cursed energy flaring up out of nowhere. But just as quickly as he feels it and wakes with a startle, it vanishes without a trace. He’ll go out onto his balcony and try to locate where the energy is coming from, but for some reason he can never pinpoint it despite his superior senses. He tries to suppress his own energy in the hopes of tricking the source into thinking he’s asleep and unsuspecting, but it would seem that they’re smart enough not to fall for the bait.

He doesn’t need sleep in the first place, so he’s tempted to just stay up and catch whoever is trying to scare him red handed and be done with them. The idea of someone getting the upper hand at him and forcing him into a position of defensiveness doesn’t sit well with him, so he decides to just let the unknown person have their fun for now and continue this little back and forth with them. Eventually they’ll grow cocky and slip up and he’ll confront them when it happens.

Because your little shack is located near the back of the temple, completely out of sight from Sukuna’s view from his balcony, Neither he nor the others notice the plumes of smoke that rise during the dead of night. No one also takes notice of the bits of metal that go missing throughout the temple.

The rise of the next full moon indicates the end of the month. Sukuna sends for someone to go retrieve you, but they never return and he’s left waiting long enough for the moon to reach its highest peak in the sky. When he orders someone else into his quarters he’s met with more silence that only further enrages him.

Just as he’s about to call for Uraume to figure out what the hell was wrong with his servants, he feels it. The cursed energy that he’s been trying to catch off guard the last few weeks. It’s willingly making itself known, practically begging him to follow its trail and meet with him. Just as quickly as he is able to identify and figure out which direction it’s originating, he notices that it strangely leads him in the direction of your poorly built home.

It’s impossible that it’s you. Cursed energy is born from negative emotions. He’s sure you still have an abundance of negative feelings towards him. Yet never did he feel even a speck of cursed energy resonate off of you. His mind immediately wonders if the individual knows of his strange obsession over you and is using you as bait. It’s foolish on their part, thinking the king of curses would yield for a mere human. 

His pace quickens despite his internal dismissal, failing to notice that everyone is hiding and waiting in anticipation. 

When he discovers that the cursed energy is indeed from you, he can’t help but to laugh like a crazed hyena. The sword by your side further amuses him and he’s genuinely curious as to how you got the proper materials to craft it.

“It took a bit of convincing,” you willingly answer his question. “I made everyone believe I could stand a chance against you and they gave me all the materials and tools I needed and looked the other way. I guess watching all those traveling merchants try to hype up their goods came in handy after all,” you look out in the distance as you briefly reminisce on the bygone days of your former life.

He begins to slowly clap with one pair of hands, the other crossed over his chest in amusement. “This is by far the most entertaining performance I’ve ever witnessed. Bravo. You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“I’d gladly accept the compliment, except this isn’t a show,” you stand to your full height and get a better grip of the hilt of your sword. “It’s the real deal.”

He erupts into yet another cacophony of wild laughter. “Do you seriously think you can kill me?”

“No,” you answer, truly throwing him off guard by the way he goes still so suddenly. “But that’s alright. I’m fine with never being strong enough to put a permanent end to you. Only one of us will be walking away from this fight, and I assure you that it’s going to be me.”

You draw your blade out and get into a low, defensive stance. Even under the lackluster light of the moon, he can see how well crafted your weapon is. He’s reminded of the craftsmanship the weapons your people carried when he slaughtered them, no better than a bunch of wooden sticks against him either way. Immediately, he regrets not bringing back one of their weapons and forcing you to expose to him your knowledge of swordsmanship and blacksmithing. Perhaps then he could have had you brandishing your blade under his command rather than against him.

Oh well, it’s better this way. It’s just as exhilarating and head swirling as those instances where you damned him with all of your being and threw things at his head. No, it’s more than exhilarating. It’s downright intoxicating seeing you readying yourself for his first move. How sweet of you to allow him the honor to make the first strike.

“You truly are something else entirely, beloved,” he dreamily sighs. “Did you honestly think you’d have the upperhand against me just because I gave you a little bit more of my attention?”

“Never,” you reply. You press your eyelids shut for a moment, and the moment you open them up the layer of dissociative numbness vanishes into a look of total focus and emotions he cannot discern. “But whether I live or die, I have no regrets about tonight.”

You really didn’t have enough strength to kill him. However, you did have enough to dismember all twenty of his fingers and seal him away. For the first time in years, the sun rises and bestows its warmth to a world in which two-faced Sukuna does not instill fear upon humanity or stain the earth in their blood. You and those who were under his servitude walk out of his temple as free people, hopeful people. As an act of gratitude for becoming their savior, nineteen others take one of Sukuna’s fingers each and swear to scatter them as far as they can so he cannot be brought back into the world.

As for yourself, you set out to rebuild your destroyed village and take up your father’s legacy as a maker of swords. Eventually you meet and settle down with a loving partner and raise children together. You pass on the family trade, your self developed cursed technique, as well as the memories of your time as Sukuna’s concubine. Those who come after you continue to carry on your will, to ensure that Sukuna can never be reborn into the world. Your sword and the old robes you kept after you were taken away are passed down as family heirlooms, but they are never used by any of your descendants.

That is until the year 2018, when Sukuna is resurrected within a compatible vessel.

Modern era

You bear not only a striking resemblance to your ancestor, but many of their memories as well. The family sword that was used against the king of curses is bestowed upon you, now dubbed the next in line to claim the title of clan leader, their preserved kimono now fashioned into a sageo that wraps around the scabbard.

Your family stays out of most affairs within the jujutsu world, but your birth and the strong connection to your ancestor eventually reaches the ears of many prominent figures within this hidden society. They think your birth a bad omen, a sign that the king of curses may return to the world one day. Most are scared, but your family pays them no attention. Even if the damnable curse did find a way to revive into the world, you and most of your family members who have inherited your ancestor’s technique will oppose him just as they did a thousand years ago.

“You don’t look too concerned,” Gojo makes his observation known to you as soon as the two of you settle in the small private room you ushered him to when he came to your family estate. He wanted to confirm the news of Sukuna’s resurrection to you himself. “None of you do, actually.”

“We all knew this day would come,” you calmly tell him as you poured him a cup of tea. “This is the risk our ancestor took when they developed their technique. In exchange for the strength and ability to seal Sukuna away, they willingly gave up the ability to deliver him a fatal and final blow against him.”

“I’m not well-versed when it comes to binding vows and heavenly restrictions,” he takes a moment of pause to sip his now cooled tea, visibly showing his disdain over it’s bitterness. “But is giving up the satisfaction of killing him really a fair exchange for a specific technique and a bit of cursed energy?”

Your lips pressed together in a grimace. “You have no idea what it was like living underneath that monster’s reign. Even if the binding vow had odd conditions skewed against their favor, every bit of what was given up was worth it if it meant regaining their freedom.”

Gojo isn’t moved or even impressed by your admittance. He simply shrugs before taking another sip of his tea, face contorting in displeasure once again as he forces himself to swallow the green liquid. You’re tempted to ask him why he keeps sipping if he hates the flavor, but he begins speaking again before you can voice your thoughts.

“So, about the vessel,” he leans against his closed fist, propped up by the low table underneath him. “The higher ups are willing to postpone the kid’s execution in favor of the opportunity to kill Sukuna, but they want someone from your family, preferably you, to be his second shadow so to speak. You’re the failsafe in case the plan doesn’t play out like I promised and the curse needs to be sealed again.”

“Sukuna’s vessel...is a child?” you ask incredulously.

“He’s about your age,” Gojo admits with a displaced smile, but it soon falls once you suddenly erupt into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“That’s priceless!” you say while wiping away a stray tear. “The king of curses, Ryomen Sukuna, stuck inside some teenager’s body? I bet he’s pissed off and swearing up a storm inside the kid!”

You’re not sure who exactly is getting the most amusement at the turn of events, you or your ancestor from beyond the grave. After your laughing fit subsides and you straighten yourself out, you turn back to Gojo to ask him the burning question.

“So when do I get to meet him?”

Itadori Yuuji is the polar opposite of Sukuna. While Sukuna had a smile that both angered and scared your ancestor and those around him, Yuuji’s was like a literal ray of sunshine. He’s nice, energetic, strong willed and even humorous. You’re honestly surprised he can act so hopeful despite all that’s happened to him and has been forced upon his shoulders.

You’re not going to lie, but you honestly expected a timid and somewhat gloomy kid. Someone easy to manipulate to put it bluntly. Yuuji’s friendly personality is welcomed in your book. Though you admit that now that you’ve exchanged a few words with him, you feel bad and pitiful that he’s been marked for death and likely has to deal with Sukuna on a somewhat regular basis.

As Yuuji rambles to you about some childhood incident, the slits underneath his eyes open up and a familiar pair of red eyes meets your gaze. “It’s you,” the manifested mouth on the side of his cheek morphs into a deranged, toothy grin that is so painstakingly recognizable. 

Your heartbeat picks up and your palms are coated with an instantaneous layer of nervous sweat. You contemplate saying something or simply ignoring the curse, not wanting to give him any satisfaction of hearing the voice of your ancestor acknowledge him in any way. Before you can come to any consensus, you’re amazed at how Yuuji easily slaps his hand over his cheek and tells the curse to buzz off.

Itadori further cements that he is Sukuna’s antithesis as he goes out of his way to apologize to you for the inconvenience the curse caused you (How could he tell you became nervous when Sukuna spoke only two words at you?) He even brings you a can of soda as a sort of peace offering/token of forgiveness! You’re grateful for the gesture, but you feel bad for letting him think that he’s at fault for something that wasn’t even that big of a deal to begin with.

“Still, I made you upset,” he looks down to his empty can and pouts. “If you don’t want to be around me-”

“Yuuji,” you interrupt him. “I’m fine, really. My ancestor stood their ground against him once. Surely I can do it again a millennium later.”

“Gojo-sensei was telling me about that!” his eyes sparkle with recollection. “That’s so cool! You’re basically his arch nemesis!”

You awkwardly laugh at his enthusiasm. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“So, Senpai,” he looks at your with a hopeful gaze. “Gojo-sensei seems pretty certain this plan of his will work, but what do you think?”

“Well,” you take a quick sip of your drink before continuing. “Before I tell you what I think about this whole debacle, I need to make a few things thing clear regarding the two of us.”

He obediently nods, face now serious, though it takes you a considerable amount of effort not to laugh from how innocent he still looks. It’s hard to believe he’s housing the king of curses within himself.

“First and foremost, don’t call me Senpai! ” you firmly say. Don’t call me by my family name either. We’re about the same age, so just call me by my first name from now on. Understood?”

“First name, got it!”

“Second,” you put up two fingers. “This is the most important point, so pay attention,” you look at him to make sure he’s ready to commit your words into memory. “Whether the plan works out or not, you must never forget one important fact of the matter. You are not Sukuna.”

He flinches, clearly not expecting such words to be directed towards him.

“I’m sure Gojo whipped up some epic tale about my ancestor’s grudge against that two-faced monster. I not only inherited their technique, but also many of their memories during their initial life. In a way, I suppose I hate Sukuna as well, and based on my reaction from earlier when he popped out, I’m not exactly going to handle moments where he gains control with as much poise as I should.

But remember Yuuji. My discomfort will never be towards you, but the curse you are now bound to,” you reach out and pat his head in assurance. “As the saying goes ‘the enemy of my enemy is a friend.’ Which brings me to my final point!” You excitedly profess. “I want us to be friends!”

“Wait, really?” he sounds almost unsure over your insistence. “I mean, I don’t mind, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to put up with me for my sake.”

“I’m not saying we have to be the best of friends” you explain. “Since we’re going to be around each other so often, I at least want us to be on friendly terms. I want your time left in this world to be as enjoyable and carefree as possible.”

“I guess we can be friends,” he crosses his arms and stares off in deep thought. “I’m just trying to think of a good starting point to get to know you.”

“You can always keep it simple and ask me what I like,” you say, laughing at the way he suddenly has an “ah hah!’ moment and looks at you like an excited puppy.

“Do you like Jennifer Lawrence?” 

Yuuji is almost offended that you didn’t know who Jennifer Lawrence is. He was utterly flabbergasted that you haven’t watched any of her movies either (“I don’t even know who she is Yuuji how the hell am I supposed to know she was in movies?”). He went on and on about every single film, but if you’re being honest his 2 minute summaries (infodumping, really) of the plots didn’t really do them justice. Out of nowhere he proposes that you and him have a movie night so he can show you exactly what you’re missing! Of course, it’ll have to be after the two of you settle into your dorm rooms.

It’s true that you were offered immediate admission into Tokyo Technical college due to your lineage, but no one but you and your family knew about this. Gojo also knew. He was the one that brought up the idea in the first place… 

Oh, Gojo told him. Well now you just feel stupid.

That’s how you found yourself in the dormitory’s common area with Yuuji and your other classmates, Nobara and Megumi. Meeting them wasn’t that bad. Just kidding, it was terrifying! Megumi looks exactly the way your family often describes members of the Zen’in clan to look like, blank and unnerving. You honestly thought Nobara would beat you up just from the way she was looking at you with such an observing glare, completely forgetting the fact that you’re a descendant of the person who single handedly sealed Sukuna away.

Oh yeah, Yuuji told them that! Was he not supposed to?

“Hah?” Nobara scowls at Yuuji, who puts his hands up in defense. “You mean their old ass grandparent turned that ugly ass curse into bite sized pieces?”

“I did,” you answer, but you quickly catch your mistake and correct yourself. “They did. Along with the sword they used to cut Sukuna down I also inherited most of their memories which is...It’s not as pleasant as you would think.”

Her expression softens up a bit and she steps in front of you. She holds out her palm and makes a beckoning gesture. “The sword,” she clarifies when you look at her with confusion. “Let me hold it.”

You make a quick trip back to your room to retrieve it. She nearly doubles over into you once you pass it over to her.

“Damn! How much does this thing weigh?!” she looks at you with disbelief

“It weighs next to nothing whenever I hold it,” you explain, taking it into your hold and tossing it in the air and twirling it around to further drive your point.

“Bullshit! It’s like 50 pounds!” 

“It can’t be that bad,” Megumi comments.

“Oh yeah? Here!” Nobara grabs and tosses it at him, much to your dismay. “See?” she shrills when he nearly doubles over himself. “It’s heavy!”

“Yeah, ok. This is definitely the sword that took down Sukuna,” Megumi gasps.

“My turn! My turn!” Yuuji makes grabby hands, but you push yourself between him and Megumi who’s still holding onto it before he can get too close.

“It’s probably best if you don’t touch it. Y’know?” you point back and forth between him and you.

“Oh, right,” he sheepishly remembers. “Crap, the popcorns gonna get cold!”

You sigh in relief when his attention goes elsewhere before quickly heading back to your room to put the weapon away. When you reenter the lounge, Yuuji greets you with a cheery smile before patting the empty space next to him. He wants you to sit beside him, but Nobara seems to have other plans as she sits right in your intended spot and tells you to sit next to her instead. You were honestly scared and a bit reluctant, but your fears subside once you sat down and she locked her arm with yours and leaned her head on your shoulder for the rest of the night. 

She and Megumi eventually retreated back to their rooms before they could fall asleep on the couch after the second movie concludes.

“Do you want to keep going?” Yuuji asked, hands fidgeting with the next DVD case he had at the ready.

“Sure,” you nod, not tired in the slightest just yet.

“Sweet!” he gave you a toothy smile before standing up to head towards the dvd player. However, the moment he stood to his full height he went deathly still. His body contorts before swiftly relaxing. He rolls his neck a few times and lets out a relieved sigh. Before you can ask him what’s wrong, that’s when you feel that disgusting familiar aura and your heart starts beating like you just did a triathlon in a few short minutes.

“Finally, some fresh air,” he sighs in relief as he arches his back and his spine lets out a few crisp pops. His voice hasn’t changed in a thousand years and neither has your fear and disdain for it. When he turns and looks at you with those familiar blood colored irises, you involuntarily reach out to grab your weapon, but you only grab at empty air.

“Hey,” you flinch when he addresses you. No, it’s not you he’s talking to. Given your identical appearance and even your cursed energy that you manifested out of habit, in his mind he must think of you as your ancestor themself, not a distant descendant. “It’s been a while.”

“What do you want?” you somehow manage to stutter out.

“Nothing,” he admits. “’Just want a good look at you.”

If your ancestor or even your family were to see you now, you’re certain they’d be disappointed in you for going still before your greatest enemy. All those years of hating and experiencing all those horrible memories feel like a complete waste when you can’t even muster the strength to bat his hand away when it takes hold of your chin and turns your head over for him to thoroughly inspect you.

“Did you miss me?” he strangely inquires.

Finally. You feel some control over your body come back and answer with an affirmative, “No.”

“That’s too bad,” he clicks his tongue with mocking dissatisfaction. “Because I missed you.”

His face begins to lean into you, lips slightly parted, and you know that he’s going in to press them against yours. Just as you’re about to gather all the strength you can muster and push him away, his body seizes once more and the black markings cross his face and wrists begin to fade and crumble away. An in-control-again Yuuji blinks a few times before checking his surroundings to regain his bearings.

“What happened?” he looks down at you and asks, not registering the fact that he was kneeling over you and firmly pushing you back against the couch with a painful grip.

A part of you wanted to punch Yuuji and run back to your room so you can wait out the slight panic attack that overcame you once Sukuna vanished, but you had to remind yourself that you would be hurting Yuuji if you went through with your action. In all honesty, that second point you told him of remembering to never think of himself as Sukuna was more for you than for him. While your ancestor would willingingly strike down any and all who have the slightest bit of affiliation with their tormentor, you are not them. Therefore, you will not stoop down to their discriminating level, no matter how justified it may be.

The night ended on an expected awkward note. Yuuji, bless his heart, went out of his way again to make it up to you. How? He bought a bunch of snacks from a convenience store in the city and gave them to you in a pretty, gift wrapped box. Nobara and Megumi, who helped him put together the forgiveness present, thought the gift itself was dumb and lackluster, but he reasons with them by stating how you also come from a countryside town as well and how you’d definitely like to try some of the Tokyo-exclusive goodies.

Well, the way towards another’s forgiveness is through the stomach, or something like that. The exact quote is a bit lost to you since you’re too busy savoring all the odd flavored chips and candies you’ve never had the chance to taste back home. Nobara and Megumi feel the immense urge to punch you in the back of your head over how easy you are to win over, but you look so happy eating your second bag of potato chips and Yuuji looks very relieved that he’s earned your forgiveness- 

Oh wow you’re offering to share your snacks with them? Don't mind if they do!

While all of you try each and every snack Yuuji gifted to you and rate them like you’re all a bunch of snack experts all of a sudden, Sukuna is brewing in his own satisfaction as he watches you through the eyes of his vessel. Nevermind the fact that you sealed him away all those years ago. He’s back now by a stroke of luck that only seemed to strike again when he saw your familiar figure through Yuuji’s vision. The cursed energy that radiated off of you, the sword you carried by your side, even your face, there was no doubt in his mind that it was the work of fate that you and him were reunited in this new era.

He made the mistake of letting you out of his sight back then, and he isn’t going to let it happen again. He wants to take control over his vessel's body each and every time he’s anywhere within your vicinity, but not only does the brat have the convenient ability to suppress him, you’re a rather cautious one. Just when he thinks Yuuji to be alone and susceptible, you appear out of thin air and keep him at a standstill from within. It’s annoying, but at the same time impressive as well.

While you may be oblivious to his vessel’s budding feelings towards you, he sees this growing fondness Yuuji is beginning to garner towards you as an opportunity, a weakness he can exploit to force a small rematch between you and him. He won’t kill you. He just wants to know if your technique that surprised and caught him off guard back then still elicits the same thrill it did then. 

You are his favorite source of entertainment after all, and it’s been far too long since he’s been amused.

Sloppy and desperate. Those are the best descriptors of your cursed energy the first time he detected it. Your sword still remains as beautiful and deadly as it was, cutting through rows of trees with ease with just the slightest bit of cursed energy embedded into your attack. It makes the phantom sensation of his vessel’s freshly ripped out heart, beat faster and his grin widens to the point of his cheeks hurting from the uncontrollable strain.

Precise and brutal. That is how he would describe your energy now. He easily feels the hatred and sudden rage that began to fuel and flare up your aura oozing out of you that only further accentuates its new characteristics. Normally, you would be swearing at him with a mouth so foul that it would make the average curse blush in embarrassment. He can’t say he likes the way you silently assault him. Where is that crude vocabulary of yours?

“Senpai!” Megumi shouts for your attention as he tries to keep up with your fast paced exchange with Sukuna. “You need to call down-”

“Megumi, don’t call me your damn Senpai!” You shout in response, eyes never daring to look away from Sukuna even as you address your classmate.

“That’s more like it!” he cheers with satisfaction. “Oh, how I’ve missed your damning words beloved.”

“Don’t call me that!” you shout as you swing your right arm and impulsively punch him. He easily blocks your melee, though you send him skidding back a few feet. 

With the much needed space set between the two of you, you correct your stance to a more defensive one. Your innate technique has been actively running ever since Sukuna took over Yuuji’s body and activated his domain expansion. Your sudden bout of rage overwhelmed you after witnessing Sukuna rip Yuuji’s heart out, nearly forgetting that you’ve been barred from the ability to inflict any lasting damage against him in your frenzied state.

Your inherited technique allows you to perfectly parry his ‘Dismantle’ and ‘Cleave’, but no damage will be inflicted if you purposely strike with the intention of dealing a lethal blow as you have been for the past few minutes. Your sword is blunt upon contact, evident by the lack of any lacerations upon his skin.

He may have offered the chance to heal Yuuji if you agreed to spar with him, but you know better than anyone that it’s all a bunch of lies coming out of his stolen lips. Yuuji was lost the moment Sukuna came out and set his sight on you, or rather, who he believes you to be. You’d easily blame yourself for being the cause of his demise, but you also know that Yuuji wouldn’t like it if you blame yourself over this from the afterlife.

The least you can do to make it up to him is bring his body back so it can be properly cremated. He at least deserves a proper funeral.

“All tuckered out already?” Sukuna mockingly coos at you. “I suppose that’s to be expected. How long has it been since our last battle? I doubt there was any curse who could live up to my strength this past millennium.” He cackles when you don’t reply. He’s right. He knows he is.

You finally break your silence with an odd comment. “You really think I’m them, do you?”

Though obviously rhetoric, Sukuna gives you a questioning look. “Elaborate,” he commands.

“I’m not who you think I am,” you simply state. “I have the same technique as them, but I am not the one who sealed you away that fateful night. That person is my predecessor, while I am their descendant.”

You state your family name, then your first name, and wait. He willingly takes in this information, cupping his chin and looking up at the sky as he mulls it over before coming to his own conclusion. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t seem to accept it as the truth, evident by the way he slips his hands back in his pockets and cocks his head at you with a playful attitude.

“Whatever the punchline was, I’m afraid it fell flat,” he lets out a sympathetic laugh. “You mean to tell me that after I was sealed away, you found yourself a spouse willing to take you, a washed up whore, into their bosom and bear children with you?”

The way he shakes his head and clicks his tongue in a dismissive manner pisses you off more than watching him crush Yuuji’s heart in his bare hand. Most of the memories of your ancestor revolve around their time as one of Sukuna’s concubines. The memories you have of their life afterwards are foggy at best, but you do remember the feeling of peace as well an overwhelming amount of bliss and mutual love their spouse gave them despite their history. It was one of the happiest moments of their life and it never once faltered even after they retold their darkest memories to their children and handed down their initial will, to always oppose the king of curses, no matter the era.

People may think it cruel, selfish even, that they did not strive to develop a better technique and pass down such a heavy responsibility to their children and their children’s children. But if there’s anything those hazy memories taught you, is that they do not regret the efforts that they did make to set themselves, and the others under his servitude, free from his tyranny. Had they submitted and gave into his whims, they would have never been blessed with their children and loving spouse.

Had they not done what they did, acted the way they did, you would not be here, opposing the king of curses within this new era of curses.

“I have never lied to you,” you repeat those now ancient words. “The least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt before dubbing me a liar.”

It happened so fast that you question if it even happened or not. His eyebrows furrowed, the exact same manner when your ancestor severed the first of his twenty fingers on that fateful night.

When he began to approach you, you sheath your blade and returned to a neutral stance, feeling safe to do so as the previous hostile energy he exuded calms. Megumi stumbles in just in time to see Sukuna and you standing nearly chest to chest. He presses his palms together in preparation to summon one of his shikigami to provide support, but he stops his incantation when he notices that neither of you are exchanging blows anymore, though the two of you do exchange unfaltering glares towards each other that puts Megumi on edge even though he is merely a spectator in this situation.

“I am not them,” you firmly state. “This is the truth.”

Sukuna hums, dissatisfaction clear as you repeat your claim from earlier.

“It seems you weren’t lying,” he finally concedes. “Such a shame.”

With one final shrug, the black markings all over Yuuji’s chest and limbs begin to crumble until there's nothing but his unblemished skin. The sharper features his face takes on when Sukuna takes control and taints with his sigils turn back into those belonging to the typically boisterous boy.

“Hey,” his slightly raspy and confused voice greets you so genuinely. 

“Hey,” you greet him back with a relieved, yet sad smile. His eyes follow yours that seemed focused on his chest and that’s when he finally notices the gaping hole as well as the lack of a beating heart and blood trail.

The grey clouds that have been gathering before you all were dropped off at the school finally begin to shed droplets of cold rain down on you. A drop lands perfectly on his face that looks indistinguishable to a shed tear. You instinctively reach out and wipe it away.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” he pouts. 

“It’s alright,” you withdraw your hand away from his cold and sickeningly pale cheek. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you from him.”

He took a deep breath as if he was about to say something else, but his eyes finally go blank and his upright body gives out and falls forward. You catch him with ease and carefully set him down on the damp soil. He’s officially gone to you, yet you take extra care to cup the back of his head and gently set him down with shaking hands. As you kneel beside his stiff body, another drop falls on his face and trickles down. 

You’re not sure if it’s another raindrop or the first of many teardrops that begin to spill from your tear ducts once your brain finally registers that your best friend is lying dead before you.

A week later

Yuuji is dead, yet it is as clear as the large hole in his chest that Sukuna is still living on within the body, if only barely. Ieiri, Gojo and Ijichi can’t tell, but you can. Call it yet another inherited skill or instinct, but no amount of pitiful words or comforting pats on your back from either of them are going to make you second guess yourself on this matter.

Sukuna is alive, yet for some reason he isn’t staking his claim on the body. You know he can at any moment, but it seems he’s not entirely stupid and is trying to play his cards right.

Perhaps he’s waiting for something? Maybe a certain someone instead? It wouldn’t surprise you if he has allies that are still alive and are well aware of his resurrection. It wouldn’t surprise you either if they were gathering his other fingers in his stead. Those damn things are blinking beacons for other curses, so gathering them shouldn’t be hard even for the most mediocre of cursed beings. Even when he’s made into a bunch of inanimate objects, he can still cause some amount of chaos and grief.

Damn him.

Your claim that Sukuna still lives goes from outlandish and desperate to undoubtedly true when a faint pulse of his energy brings everyone’s attention to Yuuji’s corpse and puts you all on the defensive. It was a signal, specifically for you. He wants you to come to him, within his own playing field and without the prying eyes of your superiors or the chance for any outside interference from your teacher.

Speaking of Gojo, he’s been trying to pull you away from Yuuji’s corpse and usher you out of the room for your own protection.

“He wants to talk to me,” you state the obvious to him.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” he says with finality. It’s almost adorable how he’s trying to play the role of the stern authority figure when he’s normally such an eccentric man 99% of the time. “C’mon, you need to leave.”

“Gojo-sensei,” you reach up to your shoulder that he’s tightly gripping and gently pry his hand off. “I mean no disrespect to you, or anyone at this school for that matter. But when it comes to matters regarding Ryomen Sukuna, you and the higher ups don’t know a damn thing about that monster.”

Your hand hastily reaches out and your fingertips merely graze against Yuuji’s cold and rigid skin. Just that slight contact is enough to have your surroundings shift from a stagnant and grey autopsy room to a dark and brooding domain. You blink away the dizziness from your sudden shift of reality and the first thing you notice is the pile of ox skulls. You also notice the endless rows of ribs high up in the air that further add towards the domain’s ominousness.

“I’m here!” you cup your hands around your mouth as you yell out. “The hell do you want from me you two-faced bastard?!”

“Quit screaming,” his annoyed yet strangely soft voice startles you. You abruptly turn around to meet him face to face.

“Where’s Yuuji?” you ask with command behind your infliction.

“There’s no one else but us,” he says in a poor attempt to make you drop your defensive body posture. When he notices that you aren’t relaxing, he points behind you with an annoyed glare. You turn to see nothing but the collection of dirtied animal skulls, but at the last second you see an unconscious Yuuji planted face down into the ankle deep water (blood?) at the bottom of the mountainous pile. Upon seeing the familiar tuft of pink hair, you sprint towards his unmoving body. You flip him upwards once he’s in reach, fearing he was drowning or at the very least injured in some way.

As you try to gently coax or check for any sign of life within your friend, you ignore or even fail to notice the way Sukuna observes you from behind. The boy is unconscious only due to Sukuna easily decapitating him earlier as they fought over the conditions of the binding vow he was enforcing in exchange for healing his vessel’s body and bringing him back to life. Just as he was about to uphold his end of the vow, he felt as you entered the room his vessel’s lifeless body was most definitely being stored to be later cremated. 

His reaching out to you was an impulsive action on his part. He now knows that the one who stands before him is truly not you. Your energy and your descendants are near indistinguishable, so his sudden call of you was a mere force of habit and his prevailing desire to chase after you. It’s not his brightest moment, but you tend to make him act beyond what is usually his typical behavior. 

As he watches your descendant talk to a half awake and delirious Yuuji, he can’t help but to examine them with a bit of awe. The one before him is your descendant of a thousand years, perhaps even more. They are your flesh and blood, and yet they retain not only your image, but even some of your memories as well. He doesn’t know what to think of this revelation, truly he doesn’t.

The only thing that’s rubbing him the wrong way is the fact that they are not a product between you and him. It’s not that he has or had any sort of unfulfilled paternal desire locked deep within him. Even if he did contemplate producing a few offspring before his temporary demise, he only wanted children for the same reason he wanted a harem, as a source of amusement that he can freely manipulate however he sees fit. Perhaps he did consider impregnating a few dozen of his concubines to see if any could birth him an heir worthy of his legacy, but the entire process was too much of a hassle that he wasn’t willing to deal with at the time. He had no pure intentions when it comes to spreading his seed into the world.

So why is he angry that you went ahead and did so without him?

“Your ancestor’s spouse,” he idly mentions in an attempt to garner their careful attention. From the way they stiffen up and look at him with that familiar glare of yours, he has it. “What were they like?”

“As if I’d tell you,” they say.

“I see you inherited their stubbornness,” he huffs with annoyance, but deep down in the deepest and most hidden parts of his mind, he feels somewhat glad that your stubbornness continues to live on in the world. “Tell me, and I’ll let you return with Yuuji-”

“Their spouse was just as stubborn as they were,” they cut him off with an immediate answer. “No matter how many times they tried to ignore or downplay their advances, they continued to chase after my predecessor until it was as obvious as the sun that they truly wanted to be together with them and make them happy.”

As he expected, their recollection of your life after him is too disgustingly domestic and romanticized for his liking. What does come at a surprise is that they completely went against their earlier proclamation of remaining silent and divulged him on the information he initially asked of you rather readily. Something must have switched in their mind. Are they trying to get back at him on your behalf by proudly stating that you lived a happy life without him?

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” they say with a smug voice. “They hated you beyond comprehension, and even if they are long gone from this world, I assure you that their hatred remains just as intense as it was when they lived.”

“Don’t be mistaken, you pathetic human,” he growls, much more angrily than normal. “I could care less who they fornicated with and how many children they produced.”

“For the self proclaimed king of curses, you sure are a terrible liar,” they say, almost pitifully. “You regret the way you treated them, don’t you? Deny it all you want, I know I’m right.”

Your last comment is the final straw. With the flick of his wrist he casts you and Yuuji out of his inner domain and back into the living world. He heals Yuuji to maintain his side of the binding vow before settling back atop his rigid throne of horned skulls. He watches through Yuuji’s eyes how the two of you squeeze each other into a firm embrace after he reawakens. When Gojo makes a comment about how Yuuji is stark naked on the metal table, he feels the immense urge to grab one of the skulls and crush it into a fine dust in his bare fist as the two of you devolve into a fit of awkward but good natured laughter at the realization.

He can’t remember a time when you ever laughed or smiled like your descendant is doing now.

Does he regret never once seeing or hearing you in such a way? Maybe.

But you’re gone, so there is no point lingering on it too much.

There’s no point in having regrets now.

Bonus

Sukuna knew it was only a matter of time before you and Yuuji solidified your relationship as a romantic one. Back in his prime, he behaved no differently than Yuuji did after he brought him back to life, straightforward and without a second thought. Ever since he stole you away from your family and home, every chance you took at defying him and damning his name into the fiery pits of hell invoked something within him. Something no other man or woman can or ever will be able to. And yet, each time he reached out to indulge himself further of you, you retreated into yourself and tried to cast him out of every corner of your mind while he tried to engrave your everything into his very being. Your behavior to his advances differ greatly from your descendant, who accepts Yuuji’s advances with an honest and willing smile.

He watches the relationship through the unsuspecting eyes of his vessel. Sometimes, he gags at how sickeningly affectionate Yuuji can be. Yet despite his behavior, your descendant drinks it all up and returns the hugs and the kisses tenfold. Nobara and Megumi often roll their eyes on the sidelines and comment on how they were practically made for each other. Sukuna can't help but silently roll his eyes as well as agree with their annoyed comments, even if it makes him incredibly irritated. 

Will he ever admit to the latter? Never.

He does not regret the way things turned out between you and him. He cannot regret for the sake of his sanity. Instead, he often ponders about the possibilities. Had he not taken you from your home, could there have been a chance you and him could have been friends despite his reputation at the time? If he courted you properly instead of forcing you into his collection of common whores, could you look at him the same way your descendant looks at Yuuji, with so much love and tenderness that it makes his stomach twist into knots and the back of his throat burn? Despite being a curse who sustains himself on his pure carnal desires, could he have been selfless and put forth the efforts to make you happy?

During nights when they share a bed together, he sneaks control over the body and traces what was once your face with his black painted claws. Could you ever look so peaceful as your descendant does now if you laid beside him? Would you remain in his bed until the sun rises instead of fleeing? Would your body feel just as warm, fit just as perfectly in his embrace as your descendant does?

Sukuna does not regret the path he took. He cannot, for the sake of his sanity. He does wonder about the possibilities.

He wonders, could this descendant of yours have been his as well?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustu kaisen spoilers #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #itadori yuuji x reader #itadori yuuji #itadori x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #kugisaki nobara #no regrets oneshot #writing

[bearriebelliejam]

"Hit One Where One Lives"

Summary ↳ Atsumu has had feelings for you since the day you've met, and he's always had trouble controlling his urges.

Words ↳ 1,566

Tags ↳ 18+, NSFW, characters above legal age, descriptions of NSFW fantasies, no actual fucking, atsumu is horny, mentions of high school days, angst but only like a couple sentences

A/N ↳ ahh I'm so sorry this is short and got cut off, but if you guys like it and want more please lmk!!

hit one where one lives

hit (one) where (one) lives

To affect one on a personal or intimate level.

People by nature only care about an issue if it hits them where they live.

Atsumu Miya was good at a lot of things.

Setting, spiking, serving, receiving, and bargaining for discounts on fatty tuna.

But one thing that Atsumu could never, ever bring himself to perfect was the art of conveying his feelings properly. It was something Osamu had confronted him about during their early high school years, recognizing his twin’s coping mechanism to protect him from his own self-destructive thoughts. A strained smile and bottles of bright yellow hair dye could only do so much for the rather eccentric Miya twin, something his brother had warned him would lead to burnout by his early 20’s. Atsumu, at the time, would only laugh it off, claiming that his inquisitive behavior was more stalkerish than affectionate.

This was until Atsumu had cost Inarazaki their spot in the nationals during his first year. He had never considered himself to be someone with butter fingers, in fact, he prided himself in his setting skill. Too much sometimes. Atsumu’s scalp felt raw from how his fingers dug into his hair, pulling at the obnoxiously dyed strands as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. It felt juvenile. He was in high school now, he had no reason to be mourning over such a stupid mistake.

Atsumu flinched lightly when the cool condensation of a plastic water bottle hit his calf, feeling the Air Conditioning in the now almost empty stadium blowing against the wet spot on his leg. Maybe he was dreaming, he thought, looking into the slightly glossy eyes that bore back into his. Yep, definitely dreaming. Little did he know those eyes would be the focus of his J/O sessions for the rest of his life.

His breath caught in his throat as your rosy cheeks swelled with your smile, although empathetic. It was too much of a foreign feeling to him. You were just doing your job, being the one and the only manager of a team as arduous as Inaraziki- in the same grade as him, no less- meaning that you had to sniff out each and every demanding member. Atsumu didn’t think he could ever forget how you sat next to him that day, softly rubbing the area between his shoulder blades and whispering soft words of encouragement as you helped him pop the lid on his bottle. You admitted to him about how even though you barely knew shit about volleyball, you could tell from the way his teammates and captain regarded him after the match that it wasn’t his fault. That night, after walking you home and waving you off down your driveway, Atsumu felt a foreign feeling rising in his chest.

This feeling would only continue to grow over the next four years.

Whether it be the way you had to clutch your knees every time he made you laugh too hard, the way you’d sneak a pudding to him during the mornings where your classes lined up, or the way that you’d both pull some sort of immature prank on his disgruntled brother. It was safe to say that you two were super close. But not in the way that Atsumu wanted you to be. Alongside every little detail that made you a great friend, there were way too many details that made you desirable. That time during the summer when it got so hot that you stripped yourself of your short sleeve for a tank top that accentuated every one of your curves still keeps him up at night. Not to mention the form-fitting elastic shorts that hugged your ass so right that even the newbies on the team couldn’t help themselves from trying to sneak a peak.

This would continue up until graduation, where Atsumu opened the door to your very teary-eyed and very emotional-looking self. Your eyes were brimming with tears, and he didn’t think those delectable swollen cheeks of yours could puff out any more than they already were. With shaky hands, you lifted the slightly crumpled piece of paper up to your chest. The thick black letters of ‘MSBY’ must have grown fists and hit him in the gut because before he knew it, he was lifting you a foot off the ground with an enthusiastic spin.

--

Fluffy white cotton surrounded Atsumu’s vision as he dried his hair from the shower, letting out a long sigh of relief at the feeling of his muscles relaxing after such a long practice session. It was the off-season, and the MSBY Black Jackals were taking the time off doing what they always did. Play volleyball. Obviously not to the extent as they would during the actual season, but every moment spent not doing something productive was a second basically submitting victory to the other team. That’s how Bokuto put it at least, before ultimately spraining his wrist from going too hard on the dumbbells. Safe to say both Coach and Akaashi were not happy.

“Hey, Omi-om, you should totally let me borrow that body spray you got.” Atsumu didn’t typically wear any sort of cologne, but the way you had him bend down to your level to smell his shirt collar after Kiyoomi’s scent wafted onto him was the result of a long sleepless night for him.

“Get your own, Miya.” Kiyoomi scoffed, rolling his eyes as he threw on his MSBY brand sweater. Atsumu pouted, quickly forgetting about every single one of his surroundings as he saw his phone light up with your contact name, your photo staring back at him expectantly. He had taken the photo when you had dragged him to the mall with you once, having slid a 20-yen coin into the slot of a mechanical bull riding machine. He had found it amusing at first, the way you had desperately grasped at the horns of the animal as it began to speed up, but his laughter was caught short. His eyes had trailed down your back that was arched suggestively off the saddle, hips moving with the steady bucking of the machine-

“Shit-” Snapping himself out of his erotic memory, he quickly clicked the green ‘answer call’ button. “Hello?” “Atsumu, are you almost done getting ready yet?” Your voice alone was enough to ease the tension building inside of him, shoulders relaxing as he let out a low chuckle.

“Why, missing my pretty face?” He could at least acknowledge that he only flirted with you to try and ease the urges growing inside him, he wasn’t that stupid. It was also partially because of the way the tips of your ears would redden at his sly comments, but you would always brush it off as being part of his play-boy-like personality. If only you knew how much he wanted to change that.

“I’m missing that your pretty face isn’t hurrying the hell up and getting in my goddamn car.” The teasing lilt to your voice did nothing to prevent the way his chest swelled when you called him pretty, a stupid, joyous smile spreading on his lips.

“Alright, alright, hold your horses. I’ll be right out.” You blew a raspberry into your phone, Atsumu giving one of his own before hanging up and grabbing his gym bag.

Nudging open the locker room door with his side, Atsumu had to force his dick from twitching in his shorts as he witnessed the sight in front of him. You were bent over the reception desk of the college gym, talking to the lady behind the desk as you fiddled with the heel of your stiletto. His eyes traced the way the fabric of your skirt hugged down your thighs. You really had no idea what you were doing to him. Discreetly making his way up behind you he shot the desk lady a wink with a finger over his lips, receiving a gulp and small nod from her before turning back to you.

“And that’s when I told Coach, we need to stop letting Bokuto near the equipment when he’s having one of his emo-” A dramatic squeal ended up finishing your little rant as Atsumu’s muscled arms hooked under your shoulders and yanked you off the floor. In the midst of your flailing, you caught a glimpse of bleached blonde hair in your peripherals. “Atsumu Miya set me down this instant!” Although your face was contorted in frustration, the laughter that slipped between your words disclosed your amusement.

The specific position that Atsumu had you in reminded him of one of the fantasies he had of you once. Your breath hot against his cheek as he plowed into you from behind, strong hands caressing the bulge that appeared in your stomach whenever he bottomed out. He would feel the sweaty slap of your ass against his pelvis with every harsh thrust, cries escaping your lips at the feeling.

“Atsumu?” You looked over your shoulder at the athlete in confusion. Realizing that he had spaced out, Atsumu mentally slapped himself as he smirked and set you down. “Sorry, sweetheart, got lost in thought.” He ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to act casual, which was not missed by the reception lady as she grabbed her jacket and left the office, clearly sick of the flirting. A familiar smile spread across your cheeks, ears tinting in the way that made his cock twitch in his shorts, this time failing to conceal it. “Your place tonight, right?”

“You know it.” You giggled. This was going to be a long night for him.

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#bearriebelliefics #atsumu miya smut #miya atsumu smut #atsumu #miya #atsumu smut #osamu #osamu smut #miya twins #miya twins smut #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu smut #haikyuu smut fic #inarizaki #inarizaki haikyuu #inarizaki smut #kita #aran #suna #my adhd was so bad while writing this

[rouiyan]

𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘚 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛 𝘖𝘍 𝘏𝘐𝘚 [ 𝘭.𝘫𝘯 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"i'm home!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"no, i only brought a twent-"

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

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

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

and in some way, you're right.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"jeno? are you hearing me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"did not!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you click your tongue, "exactly."

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

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

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

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

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

"tomorrow?"

"tomorrow."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are we...gonna go?" 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"are we still on for tomorrow?"

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

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

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

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

"weird how?"

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

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

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

"jen?"

"yes?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"you mind if i tag along?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

he almost goes in for it.

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

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

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

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

"can i wear this one instead?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"fun?"

"yeah!"

"fun how?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you nod along with her, "mixed feelings."

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

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

"mom-"

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

"mom! oh my goodness-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"eggnog."

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

"whiskey, actually."

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

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

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

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

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

"next?!"

"what-"

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

"what, why?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"go for it."

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

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

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

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

"jeno, i like you."

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

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

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

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

jeno goes in for it.

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

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

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

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

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

"it should've woken you too."

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

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

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

"in this musty old green tee?"

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

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

"then do you dream about me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

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

#neowritingsnet #neothestars #neo-constellations #neoculturecafe #jeno fluff #nct jeno #nct jeno fics #nct jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #jeno x you #lee jeno #jeno angst #nct jeno fluff #jeno scenarios #rouiyan fics #rouiyan writes

[julienbakersideblog]

Julien Baker’s track-by-track walkthrough of ‘Little Oblvions’

1. Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

2. Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

3. Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

4. Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

5. Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

6. Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

7. Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

8. Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

9. Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

10. Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

11. Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

12. Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

For Apple Music

#julien baker #little oblivions #interview #apple music #HOW WE DOIN YALL #I AM NOT OKAY #VERY #long post

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

oooooooooo 💖💖💖💖💖 lore please :DDD

im writing 1 new paragraph for each emoji!

aw heck yeah tyvm :D have a whole series of fun facts!

1: remus’s middle name is duke!

2: roman cries extremely quietly in almost every circumstance no matter how hard he is crying :) because if he made enough noise crying for his parents to notice, he would get yelled at :) and if he kept crying after getting yelled at he would be punished :)

3: virgil and his younger sister occasionally joke about both being trans!! kind of like “i stole ur gender in the womb” except not literally that bc they did not share a womb fjkldshfd. but u get the vibes. it’s very wholesome and silly and cute <33

4: vortex has been married for two years; he and his wife are expecting their first (probably only) kid. it will be a daughter, she will probably be named nancy, and the fic will absolutely not go on long enough in the timeline for this to be a thing that ever comes up, but im pretty sure she will turn out to have ice powers when she gets bigger. she will have very dark brown hair, and ice powers are pretty common, so the elsa comparisons will actually not be super frequent for her even though frozen probably does exist in this universe. the closest she might come to that is, like, vortex calling her his princess (which. he’s definitely the kind of dad who does that a lot) but that’s not even related to elsa, he just does that.

her parents also will very likely get divorced when she is 6-7, before she gets her powers, bc vortex is not a good husband—although he is an incredibly doting father, in a very toxically-masculine way. (and as a result of how much attention and love he lavishes on her, nancy will likely not realize what a shitty person her dad is until she is in her late teens; it’ll be one of those really yucky “oh this person was my childhood hero and i idolized them but it turns out they’re actually terrible” moments, poor kid, but it will likely spur some personal growth on her end and she winds up growing into a solidly decent person).

(this kid is almost certainly not even going to show up on the page at all, will probably still be a baby or at most a toddler by the time the fic is eventually over, and will likely only be referenced a time or two. and yet i know all this about her. yes i think about this fic way too much, why do you ask asdfhjksfglh)

5: remus wants to dye a white streak in his hair and get tattoos, but is specifically refraining from doing these things for a reason that i will not be disclosing at this time bc: spoilers. :) he also does not drink, smoke, vape, or use any substances, and is careful to stay within the bounds of the law, even down to things like jaywalking. all of these are also things he is careful to do for the same reason he has not dyed his hair or gotten tattoos. many of these are things he would not choose, or at the very least would not be nearly as strict with himself about, if this very specific reason did not exist. (have i been mysterious yet specific enough to make people intensely curious yet 😂)

[i’m finishing chapter 8 of if you're going my way, i'll go with you!]

#peregrin said a thing #peregrin plays a game #peregrin answers #floorgoblin #if you're going my way i'll go with you #iygmw lore

[asdfghjkl7things]

Someone messaged me for a Part 2, so here you go guys! Hope you like it too <3 @iis4d @choryczynormalny @saeranoppa

Angst Drabble - Part 2

tw: cursing hihi

It's been a month since that happened and it's been a month since you avoided him. A lot of people wondered what the hell happened to the both of you. People saw you and Iwaizumi as inseparable.. Why? because where ever he goes, you were there and where ever you go, he was there.

The both of you supported each other, always.. if Iwaizumi has a volleyball match, and as a former Ace of Seijoh, he's exceptionally famous and it means so many fans, right? But you always stood out as his #1 fan! Sometimes, if you were too busy studying, he definitely knows that you have a habit of skipping your meals and too stressed to even care, even though he's busy with the practices, he will always make sure to bring your favorite foods & that matcha frappucino from Starbucks.. Once in a while, there were times that Iwaizumi ends up cooking for your meal, with him eyeing you to finish it and that session always ended up with you being asleep beside him at your favorite couch inside your room.

So... What happened?

A rare night.. that same day where Iwaizumi knows he fucked up.

Issei Matsukawa, Takahiro Hanamaki and Hajime Iwaizumi were attending the same university in Tokyo. Toru Oikawa was still missing since he's in Argentina, pursuing his volleyball career.

Matsun and Maki ended up entering the bar together when Iwaizumi drunk called them. They saw how their friend mumbled some words that they didn't understand even a single word.

Maki muttered to no one "What a rare sight of.. Iwa.. getting drunk."

Iwaizumi's right side of his face fell flat at the table's surface and his eyes were closed while his left hand still holding a full glass of whiskey.

Matsun sighed and crossed his arms "Okay.. Spill it." He said as he sat beside him.

"Ifufhsiajjup."

Maki tilted his head and looked so confused "Huh? Wait.. what?"

"I-I'm so f-fucked up."

"Fucked up? Why?" Matsun replied out of curiosity while ordering a drink from the bartender.

Maki asked after he declined an offer from the bartender "Oii, what did you do?"

Iwaizumi got up and drank another shot of whiskey. He's way past his alcohol limit.. but.. what to do, right? He hurt you. He fucking hurt you. His gripped on the glass tightened "I- I t-told her I still love-"

Both, Maki and Matsun leaned closely towards their friend to hear him clearly since the sound is too loud for their liking.

"- Yui.."

"WHAAT?!!"

"W-wa-wait.. You told Y/n that you still love your bitchy ex-girlfriend?! That ex-girlfriend who fucking cheated on you?! Bro! Y/n's your close friend! You told us that you are not interested about friends to lovers kind of shit but you still courted her because you love her, right?! W-wait.. Ugh.. I need a fuckin' drink." Maki exclaimed. Suddenly, he called the bartender to gave him a drink. This is too much for them. They know how that girl damaged Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi needed it. He needed someone to snapped him out of it. What Maki told him was the truth.. but.. why did it end up this way?

Matsun sighed again. He has the most sound mind compared to the other 3 and seeing Maki still surprised by the revelation, He asked carefully "Why did you do that? What happened, really?"

Iwaizumi refilled his glass and started to sip it little by little.

"Oi, do you think it's too much already? Stop drinking." Maki said

His friend shook his head "I- I needed this."

"Alcohol is not a solution, bud."

Iwaizumi looked so lifeless while swirling his drink slowly "You guys knew.. Y-yui's my first love, right?"

Matsun almost choke while drinking "Correction. 'Was'.."

"Y/n starting getting jealous and over protective to me when Yui came back. She-"

Maki bursted out "Of course! Who wouldn't be?! That was your ex-girlfriend! That cheater-"

Matsun sighed for the nth time "Maki, please.. just let Hajime finish his story first."

"and you guys definitely knew that I don't like being prisoned in a relationship.. It goes for.. I think 2 months.. I wanted to talked to her about it. I was about to go to the playground near their house and I s-saw them talking. I- I kind of worked up when I saw Y/n pushed Yui and it ended up a mild wrist sprain."

Maki was about to burst again when Iwaizumi said something..

"E-every word I said to her.. I fucking regretted it.. I wanted to make it up to her.. I-" Iwaizumi got choked up.

"I wanted to say that I still love her.. I didn't even let her explain-"

"You did not let her explain?! What kind of boyfriend are you?! You asshole!" Maki started to become enraged.

"Maki.." Matsun massaged his temple. Where is Oikawa when you needed him. Drunk Iwa and Maki who got worked up is a bad combination.

You cried your heart out that night. Why! Why! Why!

What is with her that I don't have? Am I just a rebound? For how long did Hajime hide it from me?

For a first time after what happened, you tried not to look for him, answer his calls and messages.. for short, you planned to avoid him at all cost and it went on for a month.

Some of your friends even asked you about what happened but even though he hurt you, you did not disclose.

You always replied "Had a fight."

They didn't believe you for a second since they know how Iwaizumi will pursue you even if it's a slight disagreement. Nevertheless, they still comforted you.

"Hey, Y/n. Iwaizumi-san is-"

"I'm busy"

"Bu-"

Well, that kind of converstion always occur whenever Iwaizumi tried to talk to you.

It was now 2 months since that happened. The volleyball club had a practice since they have an incoming match this weekend.

Maki and Matsun observed their friend who's not playing well. He looked so tired and what not.

Iwaizumi groaned when his spike was out.

They know how affected Iwaizumi is.

After their practice, Iwaizumi had a frown on his face. This is not his best day. Almost all of his spike and serve were out.

He did not even spare a glance to his friends.

You totally forgot to grocery shop since you were so preoccupied by your studies so you decided to go to the convenience store.

You were in your cute pyjamas while walking towards the store. You like reading the 'Nutrition Facts' labeled at the back of the food/drink that you wanted to buy but you were not in the mood to cook for yourself so you picked up 2 tuna onigiri. You went to the refreshments section to get a bottle of milk but both hands tried to picked it up.

"Sorry-"

"So-"

You tensed up. That voice.. Ha-hajime..

"Y-you can get it." You muttered a bit fast so you can get out of this situation.

"W-wait! Y/n!"

You paid for the onigiri and walked fast to avoid him.

While walking home, you can feel the coldness of the air but did not mind any of it since your mind is always telling you to 'run'.

You flinched when you felt his hands wrapping around your arms to stop you.

"Y/n.. please.." His voice croaked.

You can feel your breath hitched. You're not ready yet to face him.

You are afraid.

You slowly turned around and you felt your heart breaking. You miss him so much that you want to hug him so tight into your embrace.

"At last.. I can see your face up close.." Iwaizumi softly smiled.

You're still not ready to look into his eyes because the truth? You are afraid to break down infront of him. You took a deep breath to look at him and you saw how much he longed for you through his eyes.

He took a step towards you and stroke your cheeks softly. His eyes glistened "I- I'm so s-sorry."

You were about to say something when he pulled you into a hug. Your eyes widened when you felt your top getting wet. He is crying and it's a first time..

"I- I'm so sorry.. I d- did not mean to hurt you.. p-please. It- It's my fault.." Iwaizumi sobbed.

You pulled back from the hug and took a step back. Iwaizumi can feel his heart ache. So near yet so far..

You tried to hold your tears "B-but.. you told me you still love her.. A-am I just your rebound?" You finally broke down.

"N-no!"

"Then w-why? Y-you left me that day for her. You didn't even let me explain-" You wiped your tears away..

Iwaizumi was about approach you again but everytime he step forward, you took a step backward..

He exhaled shakily "I.. I felt.. strangled up when Yui c-came back.. You were overly jealous in such a small thing. I-it feels like you don't trust me e-enough. I wanted to talk you that day and then I- I saw you pushed her away-"

"You want to know why I'm j-jealous?.." You gulped trying to find your voice.

"Everyday since she came back, she always told me that y-you still love her.. She w-wants you back, H-hajime and I can't let you go to her since I saw how she hurt you back then.. t-that's how much I l-love you.. but you still went to her.."

"Babe-"

You chuckled a little while wiping your tears away "b-but.. wh-what am I compared to your first love, right?"

Iwaizumi pulled you to his arms and hugged you so tight "I'm.. so so sorry.. I didn't m-mean to hurt you.."

You keep on sobbing when you kept on remembering about what happened that day. It's like it happened yesterday..

He gazed at you lovingly while wiping your tears "I-I realized something that day.. I thought a part of me still wanted her but no.. She wanted me, yes.. but I want you, not her. You are my present and my future, Y/n."

Your face reddened at his sudden confession. Lots of butterflies dancing around your stomach. Your heart doing crazy flip flops.

He kissed your forehead. Forehead kisses by Hajime is the best.

He leaned his forehead towards yours "P-please.. forgive me.. Please.. give me a chance to prove it to you more.."

Iwaizumi eyed your soft lips that he misses. He tilted his head to the right a bit "I love you, Y/n."

He kissed your lips and you stood there frozen, still your bearings are not yet functional, from his sudden confession to kiss..

He smiled, his smile that made you fall for him more, as he pulled away slightly but you snaked your arm around his neck and kissed him.

"I love you too, Hajime.."

You jumped as they won the volleyball match. 2 - 1.

You excitedly ran towards your boyfriend and hugged him "Congrats, Babe!! You're so awesoome!"

Iwaizumi chuckled and kissed your cheeks "Thanks, Babe!"

Since the confrontation, both of you were now showy when it comes to pda in public.. but not too much.. and your relationship blossomed..

Matsun smiled "So.. they're back together. No more drunk ass Iwa."

You hugged Matsun and Maki "Congrats to the both of you too!"

Maki ruffled your hair "Thanks, Y/n."

You nudged his side softly "Maki, I heard you beat the crap out of Hajime."

Matsun spit his water "Iwa told you?"

You nodded but smirked afterwards "Feel free to beat him if he tried to become an asshole again."

Maki and Matsun winked at you "You got us!"

"Hey!!!"

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi hajime #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu angst #iwaizumi angst #seijoh #seijoh 4 #haikyuu matsukawa #haikyuu hanamaki #iwaizumi x reader #asdfghjkl7things

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!

So, the first person I've officially come out to is my doctor who i asked how to have safe sex with girls 😩✋🏾 *cries in closeted* I'm still a liiiiitle confused tho cause i was nervous and heard bits and she was caught off guard so it was kinda rushed but i feel really weird about asking for clarification and things online are confusing (sorry for the rant)

But anyhow,

I was wondering if you have a coming out story/any coming out advice? (Sorry if this is triggering or anything, feel free to ignore me!!!)

(ps i hope you have a great day and you're awesome sauce)

Hi Nonny *HUGS*

Ah, first of all, sorry about how long it took to reply to this message; I've been losing my brain, LOL. I hope you're still around for you to see this reply, hah. I have so many "advice" asks I still have to reply to and I want to before my asks go back on, hah.

Secondly, there's NOTHING wrong with coming out first to your doctor... probably one of the safest people to, since because of medical privacy laws, they can't disclose that info to people you don't want to know. And I think you did the right thing in asking them because while they may not know, they would have – if they're LGBT positive – been able to help you find people and resources who COULD help you. Learning about yourself is a years-long process.

My "coming out" was more of a sudden realization and then a 4-year identity crisis, followed by me finally understanding who I am, and acceptance of it. For me, it was all online resources and talking with other aces online. While everyone's experience is different, as an ace, we have a harder time REALIZING that what we're NOT feeling is sexual attraction and that it's perfectly normal.  Learning about a split-attraction model is what REALLY set it for me, and helped me a lot in my journey.

I’m not “fully out” publicly, mainly because for me, I feel it doesn’t matter unless I get with someone, AND because I just... don’t want to answer questions, and honestly it’s a non-issue to other people, so it’s none of their business. I’ve only told a few people in my life that I trust: My sister who is also my closest bestest friend was the first person I told and it was all rather anticlimactic. She was like “Oh! well that’s cool!” and that’s that. Two of my best friends were next, because I knew I could trust them since one is trans and they’re in a relationship together. Next was my LGBT-ally aunt, and she asked questions, but she never ever shunned me, and she’s sort of a mother-figure to me these days. And people here on Tumblr found out, and that’s about it. I went to my first pride parade in 2018, and I loved it. 

So that’s my story, hahah. These days I love helping to educate people about asexuality, and supporting you guys as best as I can. 

If anyone else has a story they’d like to share, please do! <3

Take care Nonny, and I hope you’re doing well! <3

#steph replies #coming out #chatting with nonnies #sexuality #life advice #i am not a professional