#now that my mom's passed she texts me randomly because she misses my mom n i think she wants me to fill the void i feel kinda bad for her

[tetsunormous]

Reencounters

pairing: Matsukawa Issei x f!reader

genre: college au, friends to lovers, smut (18+), fluff

word count: 6.5K

warnings: cunnilingus, fingering, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, creampie, swearing, nipple play, pinning

A/N: This is for Ria's @bakugohoex's rich boy collab 💜 Congrat's on 3k!! thank you to @ohno-otome and @armins-futon for reading this for me. I love matsukawa but I don't write for him often so this has been really fun :)

Walking into your new dorm room, you weren’t sure what to expect. Sure, you’ve seen the pictures online, but there’s nothing like the slightly dusty window letting in a hazy ray of light shining down onto the slight dip in the middle of the mattress you now call your own. Your desk almost touched the corner of your twin-sized bed, and your new bookshelf barely has enough room to fit half of the books you brought, but this was your new life. It didn’t dawn on you just how different university would be until you arrived this morning, but here you were, unpacking all your clothes into the cramped closet in the corner. Luckily, you’re in the building where you had a single room. Privacy was something you were worried about, and the communal washrooms will be something to get used to, but either way, this was a new start, and no matter how nervous you are, you’re grateful for it.

High school wasn’t terrible, but it definitely wasn’t what you expected it to be. Going into it, you obviously knew that it would be nothing like how the movies depicted, but you were excited. How bad could those four years really be if you had your best friend right by your side? He was incredible. He understood you better than anybody else, would be able to tell how you were feeling without the exchange of words, but most of all, he was your person, and you were his.

There was no doubting that in all your years of friendship.

But alas, like all good things in life, they must come to an end.

The summer going into the twelfth grade, he was longer your best friend. The boy that would go to the farmers market with you and your mom every other Sunday was now lining up for the newest sneaker drop. The boy that would rather spend the night at home and binge-watch your shared comfort show for the seventh time is now out with the boys sneaking into shisha bars and doing donuts in the community centre parking lots with their new cars. You watched as he slowly forgot about you, getting caught up in his new friendships and obsessing over material items that he never cared about before. It’s not that you were upset he found new friends. It’s that the only time he would reach out was to randomly drop off something he had bought you in hopes it would make up for him blowing you off again.

They started small, simple sweaters he knew you would like, but the gifts became almost ridiculous as time passed. He would never let you return them either, so now you have designer shoes for imaginary banquets. Of course, you were always grateful, but you would trade all his gifts just to spend time with him again. His family has always been wealthy, they always went on lavish vacations and drove the nicest cars, but you never really cared about what he spends his money on or just how much his parents make. You cared that he saw you as a person he wanted to be with rather than just someone he could shove gifts towards to make up for the quality time he’d miss.

But now you’re here. You were arriving three hours before the suggested move-in time because you didn’t want to be rushed to unpack before orientation starts later. You’ve seen a few people walking around on your floor, but neither of your neighbours have arrived, and honestly, you don’t mind because that means you’re able to blast your music without worry. As The 1975 fills your room, you stand still for a second, really taking in where you are. You’re now attending one of the best schools in the country, living on your own with a floor of people you don’t know yet. It starts to sink in that you are starting anew. The people who end up in the rooms next to you might just end up being your lifelong friends. As the song comes to an end, you decide it’s time to try to make yourself look a little more presentable since it’s almost time for people to start rolling in.

...

It’s almost five in the afternoon, and everyone on your floor is meeting outside on the field for a quick introduction before group dinner. You’re sitting with your knees pressed to your chest as the girl next to you tries to make small talk. To be fair, she’s incredibly sweet, but you can’t focus on her because somewhere behind you, there is a voice you think you recognize. There’s no way he would be here. Sure, you have no idea what school he ended up choosing, but if he ended up here, he would’ve at least texted you. Right? Before you can confirm your suspicions, orientation starts, and your group leader is already talking with more energy than you can handle.

The group of guys settle down close by, and you can’t stop yourself from looking over, wondering if you’ll see the head of brown curls. Instead, you’re met with a bunch of frat boy looking wannabes that instantly make your eyes roll. To say you’re disappointed that you didn’t see him was so stupid. It’s been over a year, yet here you were, hoping to magically bump into him as if this was some cliche movie. If anything, it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating that even though he stopped caring for you, you still longed to see him, to hear him laugh at one of your cheesy jokes. It’s even more frustrating that this new start you’ve been looking forward to, makes you miss him even more.

There are only sixteen people on your floor, but introductions take a lifetime because someone didn’t come on time. When they finally do show up, you almost laugh at this whole situation because, of course, it was him. Of course, he was strutting down the courtyard in some brand new Gucci sneakers and the same Balenciaga sweater he had bought for you a few months ago. Of course, the annoying group of boys behind you gesture for him as he quickly apologizes to the group leaders. And, of course, when you make eye contact, he’s the one looking at you with a mixture of shock and annoyance.

Quickly rushing back to your room after the meeting, you decide you’re ordering in tonight so that you don’t have to see him for at least another day. This is all so fucked up. You wrack your brain trying to understand how probable this whole situation is because, frankly, it feels like a sick joke, and on top of it, he’s the one annoyed?

Naturally, you spend the rest of the night unpacking the rest of your things before ordering your comfort food to wash down all the feelings you’re experiencing. Putting on your favourite show, you begin your tenth rerun as you bury yourself in your blankets. Part of you feels so stupid for completely ignoring your initial dinner plans, but you knew with the mindset you had at the moment, there was no way you would have enjoyed yourself. It’s a bit silly you haven’t left your room since picking up your takeout, you don’t even know who lives beside you, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

Slipping into your slides, you head towards the washroom with your little toiletry bag. You pass by the girl you were sitting with earlier, and she sends you a smile. After apologizing for disappearing all night she just laughs and assures you nothing happened. She even points out where her room is if you were up to hang out tomorrow during frosh activities.

Just this interaction makes you feel better, and you quietly hum along to the familiar tune coming from the shower stall.

He used to play this song all the time, claiming it spoke to him the first time he heard it. Since then, it became the song he would play anytime he’d come to pick you up, explaining how this song is special because the ending always reminded him of you. It didn’t matter how long it’s been since the two of you hung out. Every time you heard ‘Pluto Projector,’ it would always bring a smile to your face. You even tried to show the song to your ex-boyfriend, but he never paid attention to your suggestions. He always claimed that his music taste was better. Thankfully that relationship only lasted a couple of months, but still, the regret of not waiting for someone worthy lingers in your mind.

While applying your moisturizer, you hear the water shut, the person pausing the song right as the orchestra starts to come in. Worried about who you may run into, you quickly pack up your stuff. You hear the click of the lock, and as you turn around, you’re met with him, with his curly hair all damp and his obnoxious teal blue robe wrapped loosely around his waist.

Rushing past him, you briskly walk towards your room, but before you can close the door, his foot jams between the doorframe. He pushes his way in and quietly closes the door, only to be met with the unimpressed look on your face. He circles around your room, eyes searching for any trace of your past friendship before standing back at the door.

“What do you want, Matsukawa?” you ask impatiently. It’s bad enough you run into the one person you wanted to forget, but now he’s standing in your room with a matching frown.

Something indescribable flashes across his eyes, and you can visibly see his frown deepen at your question. Leaning against your door, his arms come up to rub over his face, peeking at you through his fingers before letting out a long sigh. “When did I become Matsukawa? I thought I was Issei.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you realize how childish your grudge might be, but he has changed, and the man standing in front of you isn’t the same man you once called your best friend. “When you changed, Matsukawa. Issei was my best friend, and YOU are not.”

His eyes filled with confusion as his eyebrows furrow, taking a step forward towards you. “I’m sorry? I tried to stay in touch with you. You’re the one that stopped talking to me, so I’d try to send you things instead. How was I the one who changed?”

You stand there, staring at him for a second before shaking your head. “I can’t do this right now; I want to have a good day tomorrow, so I need to go to sleep. Please, leave my room.”

His eyes soften a little, and you can see a faint glimpse of his infamous lazy smile, “We both know you’re not going to be sleeping anytime soon,” he stalks over and kicks his slides off before sitting at the end of your bed. “Let’s talk about this because, frankly, I’m tired of watching you decide if you hate me every time you see me.”

The nerve of this man. The fact that he invites himself into your room, declares his stay, and then sits on your bed without permission. You don’t even know if he’s wearing anything under that robe as his hair is literally dripping onto your comforter. Regardless of what the situation is, this action alone has you seething. Turning towards your desk chair, you harshly pull out the slightly imbalanced piece of wood and sit down, silently questioning why he isn’t the one on the chair.

He watches you stomp around, and he kinda chuckles at your little tantrum, missing how easy it was to rile you up. Your glare at him would be a little scary if he didn’t see the way your lips mumbled to yourself. It’s honestly a little cute to watch you all frustrated with him even though he saw one of the shoes he bought you in your closet. Sure, they look brand new, but the fact that you brought them here with you must mean something.

The year you two spent apart has been really stressful on Matsukawa. He thought that you’d be happy that he could give you everything you wanted. He knew he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he used to, but he thought the gifts he spent hours lining up for would make up for it.

When you stopped returning his calls and texts, he was crushed. Everyone could see how he felt about you, but then he watched you get close to another man. Within two weeks, you were dating him, and he was left watching from a distance. Neither of you ever confirmed your feelings for each other, but he could tell that man wasn’t making you happy. He didn’t understand your different facial expressions, he didn’t care about what you had to say, but all he could do was watch the girl he wanted from the sidelines.

Sure, as time went on, Matsukawa also started talking to other girls. None of them ever became his girlfriend, he didn’t think it was fair to get with someone when he was set on you, but he had his fair share of hookups. He has money, a shit ton of it, but he never let that get to his head. It wasn’t his fault that he gained popularity when he started to get into name brands and upgraded his car, but none of that ever changed who he was — at least not to the degree you had him pinned.

He watches you carefully, your leg bouncing impatiently as your eyes glare daggers in his direction. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a sigh, “what did I do wrong? You didn’t even give me a chance to fix whatever I did (y/n).”

The lamp in the corner of your room shines a dim yellow hue onto his features. His brows are knitted in concern as he leans forwards on his knees, his robe showing off a deep v down his chest. You can feel yourself freeze up at his question, goosebumps covering your skin, while your eyes pour into his. “You changed Matsukawa. You stopped making an effort to be there. I’m not some girl you can just buy with all your money. I have never cared about how much you have or what you can afford -- you know that! It doesn’t matter what. I always split things with you because I never wanted you to feel like I was there for your money. But then suddenly, you just stop showing up. You wouldn’t even tell me you made other plans, and I would just open my door to find some package you dropped off.”

His eyes search your face before letting out a deep sigh. “I tried! You wouldn’t answer any of my calls, I know I stopped explaining myself, but can you blame me? Don’t you think I want to take you around and introduce you to all my friends? Don’t you think I miss going on late-night drives with you to 7-11? Every time I would drive past there, you’re all I thought about. You and your stupid obsession with cheese taquitos and Arizona tea. Did you even think about how I felt when you decided to act like I don’t exist?” He hastily stands up and paces around in the confined space of your dorm room. He never raises his voice, so hearing him talk at a slightly louder volume was enough to let you know he was dead serious. “You know, I never stopped talking highly about you because as selfish as it is, those boys have an important family. They have the connections you dream about (y/n), so even when you started to ignore me to go out with that fucking ex-boyfriend of yours, I never said anything.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes before going to sit back down, his elbows now resting against his thighs. “I know you don’t care about my money, but I didn’t know how else to tell you I was still thinking about you. I tried to get you things that you’d like, things that you’d wear. But no, I had to watch you put on a fake smile and laugh at that asshole’s jokes while you stubbornly ignored me to the point I thought you had me blocked.”

Looking up at you through his curls, his hooded eyes looked darker before. His lips curled into a forced smile as he let out a breathy chuckle, “he didn’t deserve you. But what do I know, right?”

You sat there quietly, taking in what he had just said. You didn’t realize how hurt he was. To be frank, up till now, you were so consumed by your feelings, and you failed to consider his own. His head is hanging between his hands, and the silence in your room right now is insufferable. He’s just explained himself, yet all you can do is scoff at yourself. While you were obsessing over the fact that Matsukawa wasn’t coming over to watch another rerun of your favourite show, he was out picking out different gifts he thought you’d like. You didn’t even open the last few because your own emotions so blinded you. Hearing him take a deep breath, he stands up and smiles sadly at you, “nice talk, (y/n). Thanks for listening.”

“I’m sorry, Issei.”

He lifts his head to meet your gaze, and you can visibly watch as his shoulders relax. It’s been too long since he’s heard you call him by his first name.

“I’m sorry too. I should’ve just gotten out of the car to talk to you.”

You look at him with a small smile. Walking towards your bed, you sit down and pat the spot beside you, pulling him in for a hug. His robe is probably the softest thing you’ve ever felt in your life, your fingers sinking into the fabric as you hold him close. His arms are immediately wrapping around you, and you both stay like that for a minute before you pull back, a faint blush blooming on your cheeks.

“No, you have nothing to apologize for. You tried reaching out to me, you tried explaining yourself, but I didn’t even give you a chance. I’m sorry. I can’t believe I was so caught up I didn’t even think about what you were feeling. The fact that you still wanted to introduce me to your friends, even after all the stuff I did to you….I’m so sorry, Issei.”

He gives you a playful smile and lightly nudges your shoulder with his, “yea, that was kinda unfair, but good thing we talked it out, huh?”

You flash him a sheepish smile, but your eyes glimmer with happiness, “yea, it’s good you barged into my room at two in the morning. Just like old times.”

His smile instantly grows at your playfulness, and he gives you a mock scoff. “I’m sorry, but if I remember correctly, you’d beg for me to stay over at two am cause you decided you wanted to watch a scary movie. Have you gotten better with horror movies this year, or are you still as jumpy as I remember?”

The tip of your ears growing warm while you mutter out a quick “shut up.”

His laughter makes your heart beat against your chest because you missed it so much. It’s been a while since you got to hear him laugh with you, and without even thinking, you go in for another hug.

His arms easily hold you close, and one of his massive hands reaches up to pet your hair. “Missed me, didn’t you?” he asks, and you can feel him smirking, so you just nod, your fingers playing with the damp, short curls at the base of his nape.

“Issei?” you ask with a little murmur against his neck.

“Hmmm?”

You smile to yourself and pull back a little, so you can see his face, “so other than hanging out with your friends and keeping up with my relationship, what else have you been doing?”

His face drops as he looks at you with a deadpan stare, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile as you giggle at his reaction. He pushes you back, so you end up falling onto your mattress, his long limbs effortlessly straddling your legs. Before you can think about the position you’re in, his fingers start to poke all-around your torso, causing you both to laugh as he starts to tickle you. “You think you’re funny, huh?” His hands go to tickle your worst spot as he starts to talk, but you can’t hear him over your own laughter. His fingers slow down, but you keep giggling when you’re met with his lazy smirk, “I’m trying to talk, you know. It’s rude you’re laughing when I’m trying to speak to you.”

He leans forwards and has both hands resting at the side of your head. Your faces now inches apart, the faint smell of sandalwood from his body wash now becoming more apparent. You stare into his brown eyes, and it almost feels as if everything stopped for a few seconds. The lamp in your room doesn’t do him justice as the shadows of his face wash over his features, but even then, his eyes stare back at you with a slight twinkle as you catch your breath.

Reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and you tug him close, crashing his lips onto yours. The sweet hints from his beloved Burt’s bee’s lip balm make his lips even softer than you imagined. The kiss is short, but as you both pull away, he’s staring at you with a goofy smile.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, (y/n).”

“Me too, Issei,” you whisper back before his lips capture yours again, this time with more confidence. This kiss is much more passionate than the last, holding onto each other in hopes of deepening it. One of his hands travels down to grab your waist, his tongue sweeping across your bottom lip, asking for permission. Your lips part and your tongues swirl together effortlessly while your hands play with his hair, pulling him closer into your body.

His hand feels a little rougher than before against your bare skin because of how often he trains, running down the length of your leg. The light touch of his fingertips admires how smooth your skin is before they trail back up, stopping just before the edge of your pyjama shorts. Hooking your leg around his hip, he leans into your body even further and even nips at your bottom lip.

Matsukawa smirks and whispers against your lips, “did he ever kiss you like that?”

Slightly surprised at the question, you shake your head, answering honestly. “He never made me feel the way you do.”

You watch as his eyes dilate, flickering into a deep brown you’ve never seen on him. The hand that was previously on your leg is now cupping your cheek, stroking your face softly, while his own face blooms into a rare shade of pink. Still, his words are clear, “please...give me a chance? He never treated you right. Let me take care of you?”

Words can’t describe how his question made you feel. You spent years learning about Matsukawa, understanding him to the point where words weren’t necessary to see what was happening in his head. Not once did you think he reciprocated your feelings, let alone want to be with you. Yet, here you are, caged beneath his arms as his hopeful eyes pour into yours.

Turning your head slightly, you press a kiss onto his hand and smile. “Please?”

His face breaks into a smile. His cheeks are tinted rose as the corners of his mouth reach up to his eyes. Leaning down, he peppers kisses onto your face, the loose curls on his head tickling your cheeks as he giggles with you. The kisses trail down to your jaw, and he follows the natural curve of your jawline to your ear. “Is this okay?” he whispers softly, only continuing down this path when you give him a curt nod.

Your legs tighten around his waist when he begins to press open mouth kisses down your neck, gently nipping at the spots that make you let out shy little sounds. His tongue leaves kitten licks against your skin after he’s sucked on it, littering faint marks. Seeing you with light hickeys on the base of your neck and collarbones is completely self-indulgent for him. Thinking about waking up in the morning and seeing the marks he knows he gave you makes him inexplicably happy as he sucks particularly hard, causing you to wince.

Immediately he stops and turns to you, “I’m sorry, did I hurt you? D’you wanna stop?”

His concern for you is truly a breath of fresh air compared to what you had before. Shaking your head, you guide his hands to the edge of your sweater. “You bought this for me… it’s only fair I let you take it off.”

He studies your face for a second before his lips curl into a lazy smirk, quickly pulling the overpriced sweater off your body. He takes a sharp inhale when you reveal you aren’t wearing anything underneath as he’s met with your beautiful tits, nipples hard and pointed. “You let me in here knowing you weren’t wearing a bra? And here I thought you were a good girl.”

Noticing how your legs tighten around him, he smirks even wider. Leaning back down, his kisses trail down to your chest, and his lips feel soft and warm against your skin. His fingers take hold of your chin and force you to look down on him while his lips wrap around your nipple, the tip of his tongue flicking gently at the hardened bud. His hand palms against the fatty flesh of your other tit; his fingers are rolling your nipple before tugging on it experimentally.

Suddenly feeling shy, your arms come up to cover your face slightly just to have him lace his fingers with yours, pulling your arms away. “Don’t hide from me. Let me see how pretty you look. Let me hear how good I make you feel, okay?”

“I’ve never had someone play with my tits like this…”

He just stares at you, brows knitted as his smirk turns into a slight pout. “You’re with me now; that means every part of your body will be pleasured. I wanna hear and see all of you, okay?”

With a shy nod, you gently roll your hips against him, inviting more of his attention.

He kisses you once more, murmuring against your lips, “you’re so beautiful. Let me know if I’m going too fast, okay?”

His lips follow down your body once more, lightly biting your tit before using the flat part of his tongue to feel the valley between your chest. Matsukawa lets out a low moan as you arch upwards, pushing yourself closer to his touches. Letting go of your hands, he begins to massage the soft flesh of your tits and kiss down your stomach, the tip of his tongue trailing against the waistband of your shorts.

“Let me hear you ask for it; I don’t wanna do something you don’t want.”

“Isseiiii, please?” you whine out, the tip of your ears turning hot at the thought of asking for his tongue.

He smirks at you, looking up through his hooded eyes and tsks. “Be a good girl for me. Use your words.”

His words go straight to your pussy, and you can’t help the doe eyes look in your eyes when you whimper out, “please, Issei? Wanna feel your mouth on me.”

You watch as he takes in a sharp breath, the hunger in his eyes shining through despite the dim lighting in your room. He tugs at the end of your shorts until they’re completely off, repositioning himself lower until your legs are resting around his biceps. His eyes zone in on the way a sheer layer of slick coats your lips, happy that the attention he’s been giving you has pleased you. As he shimmies down on your bed, his legs now supporting himself on the floor, he nestles himself between your legs, easily spreading your things open with his arms. Sending you a knowing smile, he blows cool air directly onto your clit, loving how your walls flutter for him.

“You’re so sensitive, baby.”

“No one’s ever made me feel like this before...want more, please?”

You look down at him with pleading eyes, your hands cupping his face when you speak. Pressing a quick peck to your hand, he hips his head down and traces your pussy lips with his tongue, savouring how you taste.

The gasp that you let out once you felt his touch was adorable. It suddenly became the sound Matsukawa will chase after the more he gets to know your body and what it likes. He takes one long lap up your pussy, stopping just before your clit and using his fingers, he spreads your lips even more. Once your clit is all exposed, he flicks it gently with the tip of his tongue, looking up at you with all the confidence in the world. Hearing your little moans make him greedy for more, for more desperate and needy sounds, so he goes to press a kiss onto your bundle of nerves. Feeling you twitch beneath him, he gently places his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks earnestly, relishing in the way you buck your hips and call out his name. After a while of pure clitoral stimulation, he leans back up to watch your eyes blink back into focus on his face, a silly dazed smile on your face.

He winks at you and sticks his tongue into your drooling hole, swirling it around to feel the walls of your pussy clench around him. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs as he nuzzles his nose against your clit, his cock getting unbearably hard at the way you pant our pleas.

“I-issei! Please….need you inside, please!”

Coming back up for air, his hand leaves your thigh as his fingers start to tease around your hole, loving how your pussy clenches around nothing. So needy for his touches when he’s barely even started. He knows your orgasm was building, but he wants to take his time with you. You mean the world to him, and seeing you like this already makes him feel like the luckiest man at the moment.

Taking two of his fingers, he coats them in all your slick before slowly pushing them inside you. His eyes squeeze shut when he feels how tight you are, his mind immediately thinking about how you’d feel wrapped around his cock. When he’s finally inside, he pulls out slowly before sliding them back in, loving how you beg for more.

“Need more, please, Issei! Go faster, please.”

Your hands pull his head up to kiss you while his fingers begin to speed up. With the lewd sound of his hand slapping against your sopping wet pussy, his palm is applying pressure to your clit. Your moans are lost in your kisses, his other hand going back to playing with your sensitive nipple.

“I have to stretch you out, babygirl. I don’t want my cock to hurt you.”

All you’re able to do is nod as his fingers start to scissor your hole, stretching you out even more. His fingers, now knuckle deep, curl against your sweet spot, making you grip onto his hair as he swallows all your cries, suddenly remembering that the walls in this dorm probably aren’t that thick.

His fingers curl into you more, whispering sweet praises as his hand teases and tugs on your swollen nipple. Everything happened so quick, and you’re cumming all over his hand, your sweet sticky arousal covering his fingers as he slows down. Matsukawa is smiling down at you, “you did so well, baby. Bet that felt really good, huh?”

Maybe you’re needy or just horny, but even after your orgasm, you start tugging the tie that keeps his robe up. Your legs are sore, sorer than they’ve ever been, but all you can think about is how full you would feel with him inside of you. He smirks at you as he pops his fingers into his mouth, sucking off all your juices before letting his robe fall and chucking it to the ground. He’s wearing his briefs, but you can see how hard his cock is under the thin cotton material. Before you’re able to pull his underwear down, he stops you and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a condom. We don’t have to do anything.”

You giggle and shake your head, “don’t need one; we’re in university, baby. What’s a little fun without risks?”

He lets you pull his underwear down, and his massive throbbing cock instantly slaps against his stomach as he laughs at your reaction. “Had to make sure you were stretched out enough.”

You bite your lips and stare at how big his cock actually is. It’s hard to imagine how you’ll fit that inside of you, but you’re determined to give it a try.

“You ready, pretty girl?” he asks as he taps the tip of cock against your clit, loving how you squirm under him.

“mmhmm, Issei.”

He lets go of his cock and leans up, and pulls you into a deep kiss, completely in awe of you.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, kay?”

Replying with a small hum, he gathers up the remaining slick that’s leaking out of your pussy and strokes his cock slowly, also letting his spit drip down to help lubricate himself. He lines himself up with your pretty pussy and starts to push the head in, studying your face to make sure you’re doing alright. When he sees you smiling back at him, despite the grip you have on his arms, he pushes another two inches inside of you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby. We’re almost halfway,” he whispers into your ear as he kisses your neck softly, sucking on the spot by the base of your lobe. “Such a good girl for me,” he coaxes as his cock slides another inch into your sweet cunt.

Incredibly, he’s only halfway down because you’ve never felt this full before. Still, your fingers dig into his arms when you ask for more. “Just want all of you in me, please?”

Hearing you ask for more even though you already looked fucked out sparks something inside him. He lets out a low growl and quickly pushes the rest of his length inside you, mumbling sweet nothings against your skin. He moans out with you when he feels how warm and tight you are, your pussy stretching more than it ever has to accommodate his size.

“Feel s’good, Issei.”

With a breathy chuckle, he peppers kisses all over your neck, loving the sound of your soft giggles as he pulls back three-quarters of the way, slowly pushing his way back into you. The gasp you let out is different than before, much more surprised but sensual.

He continues this motion a few more times before he picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you while your tits bounce. Each thrust knocks the air out of your chest cause he’s brushing against your spot every time. Matsukawa leans down and presses his forehead against the crook of your neck, muttering how good you feel.

“F-faster...need you faster, is’o good, please.”

Obliging to your pleas, he starts to rut his hips into yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin with each movement. He looks up to see your dreamy eyes and smiles. He knows there’s not a thought behind those eyes right now as his cock slams against your walls with each thrust. He goes to kiss you again, silencing your cries as your nails drag down his arms, trying to ground yourself in the midst of all the pleasure.

“You’re s-tight baby I- fuuuuuck, I can barely move.”

You can’t help it. Your walls are naturally squeezing him because he’s fucking straight into your sweet spot with each snap of his hips. You look at him with hazy eyes, entirely in a trance as you moan out his name. He can tell you want to cum, so his hand reaches down to rub your clit as his cock continues to pound into you.

“C’mon baby, cum all over my cock. You can do it...ah shit, yea, just like that.”

He’s been trying so hard not to cum but watching your back arch into him as your nails drab down his back, his name falling out from your lips in a loud erotic moan, is making it really hard. He looks down in surprise when he sees a creamy white rim around his cock, proud of himself for making you cream.

“Good girl...that’s my fuckin girl.”

Satisfied he made you finish, his head falls back onto your shoulder, his hips just rutting into you as he chases his own orgasm. Not even a minute later, he’s calling out for you as he quickly pulls out, cumming all over your tits. His chest heaves along with yours, his hair sticking to his forehead slightly as he empties his load all over your chest.

Once you’ve both calmed down a little bit, he smiles down at you and goes to stroke your cheek. “Had you creaming on my cock, was it fun? Did you have a good time?”

“S’good...thank you, baby,” you say before pulling him down for a kiss.

He gets up and reaches for his robe, “you did so good, took me like a champ heh. I’ll be back with a rag to clean you up, okay? Don’t move.”

As he leaves your room, you stare up at the ceiling and let out a laugh. Not even twelve hours ago, you were cursing the fact that he was here with you, and now you have his cum all over your tiddies as he goes to get stuff to clean you up.

You watch as he comes back into your room, fully changed with a rag in his hand. He kneels beside you and pets your hair as he starts to wipe his mess.

“Why’re you changed?”

“Oh! We’re going to 7-11 once I get you cleaned up.”

“.....it’s like three-thirty in the morning.”

“I’ll get you taquitos and Arizona,” he says as he goes to wipe around your pussy, mindful not to put too much pressure cause you’re still sensitive.

“And skittles?”

He snorts and kisses your shaking thigh, “yea, I’ll get you skittles, brat.”

© tetsunormous 2021

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon @arte-misa @strawbari21 @matsusimp @bokutomessy @mentaly-ill @arumiee @kvrooschibichan lmk if you want to be added to my tag list

#rich boy collab #matsukawa #matsukawa issei #matsukawa x reader #matsukawa issei x reader #matsukawa smut #matsukawa issei smut #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu matsukawa #tw unprotected sex #dark

[toomanyrobins2]

One Year: January

Summary: Clint Barton, college football star, has a new interest: Y/N Y/L/N. But with her father gone all of the time, a younger brother, and going to college, Y/N has no time for dating. Will Clint get the yes, or will life get in the way?

Pairing: Clint Barton x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Content warning: nothing really yet, douchey dad, occasional cursing, mentions of drinking and sex later

Notes: eighteen thousand years later here is the next chapter 💛

december // masterlist // february

Three days after Christmas, Y/N and Asher’s father rolled into town to throw a New Year’s event at the house for some new investors. As soon as he reappeared, she immediately fell off the grid, ignoring every text and call from Clint. Two days before New Year's had called her and left a message:

“Hey, gorgeous. I haven’t heard from you in a few days and now I know you’re ignoring my calls. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I want you to know that I’m not running. Saying I’m falling or you would be a lie because I’ve already fallen. If anyone ever heard this message, I’d made fun of for being such a sap, but I don’t care. Call me or text me and let me know that you and Asher are at least okay.”

Y/N had broken down in tears when she heard the message and as soon as Asher was in bed, she called him back: “Hi.”

“Hey, gorgeous. What’s going on?”

She sniffled, “My dad’s back in town.”

“Shit, I’m coming over.”

“What, no! You don’t need to do that. It’s just hard on Asher, which makes it hard on me.”

“You gave me a key. I’m coming over.”

Before she could argue, Clint hung up and drove straight over to the house. He immediately walked up to Y/N’s room and found her curled up on the bed. They didn’t speak as he just curled around her and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. It only took her a few seconds to start crying and Clint just held her tighter. Eventually, she fell asleep and from the dark circles, this was the first proper sleep she had had in days.

Clint had eventually followed behind Y/N and fell asleep. Around 2, a cry had him jolt out of bed. He felt her grumble next to him, but she was not fully awake. Another cry fully woke Clint up and he realized that it was storming outside and that it was Asher calling for Y/N. He got out of bed and hurried down the hall. When he got into the bedroom, the six-year-old threw himself into Clint’s arms. He wrapped his arms around the little boy and rubbed Asher’s back. “Did the storm scare you?”

He felt him nod against his neck. “Do you want to come to bed with Y/N and me? We could protect her from the storm together.”

“You protect me?”

“Always, buddy.” Clint carried Asher back into Y/N’s room and they crawled into the bed. She immediately pulled her brother close to her and Clint laid on the other side of him, his arm thrown across so that his hand was on her waist.

The next morning, the trio was in the kitchen making Mickey Mouse pancakes. Clint was determined to cheer up the Y/L/N siblings. Music was playing and laughter echoed through the room. Asher nearly fell off the stool with how hard he was laughing when Y/N flipped a pancake into Clint’s face. As soon as they heard the front door close, the air grew thick with tension.

Clint watched as Y/N’s whole demeanor hardened and she unconsciously moved to stand closer to Asher. He watched a handsome man with grey hair stumble into the kitchen in a wrinkled suit. “Late night?” Y/N’s voice was unrecognizable, hard, and unfeeling.

“Dinner with a client ran long so I just got a room at a hotel,” He looked past and zoned in on the unfamiliar man in the kitchen, “And you are?”

“That’s Clint,” Asher piped up, “He’s my friend and Y/N’s boyfriend.”

He took a deep breath and put one hand on the small of Y/N’s back and held the other out to shake, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

“Pleasure. I’m assuming you will be my daughter’s date to the party?”

“Party?”

“Yes,” the older man flashed a charming smile and Clint started to understand how this man got away with everything, “A party for my investors on New Year’s Eve.”

Clint squeezed Y/N’s waist in comfort, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

Y/N tried multiple times to convince Clint not to waste his time at the party, but he wouldn’t hear it. Even after he arrived with his garment bag thrown over his shoulder, she was trying to talk him out of this. She babbled away as she put on her makeup, “I‘m just saying that I know that Bucky is throwing a party. Nat told me. You shouldn’t have to miss out on a good time because of me.”

Clint had just pulled on his shirt and marched into the ensuite. He spun her around so that she was trapped against the counter, “You are not going to convince me to leave.”

“But--”

He slammed his lips against her, feeling her hands travel up his chest to curl around the unbuttoned shirt. Clint wrapped one around her, pulling her as close as possible to him.

“Ew.” The couple separated and turned to see Asher standing in the doorway to the ensuite.

Clint kissed Y/N’s nose, “Nothing you say will change my mind. So get on board, gorgeous.” She just nodded dumbly, still reeling from the kiss. He went over to Asher and helped him up on the bed, “I have a surprise for you.” He pulled two ties out that were the team colors.

“We can match?” Asher was bouncing up and down.

“We can match.” Y/N watched from the doorway as Clint showed her little brother how to tie a tie. Emotions whirled through her. She hated that their father wasn’t the one having these little moments with Asher. However, she was in deep with Clint as he didn’t just tolerate Asher, but went out of his way to care and love the young boy. Y/N didn’t know how it had snuck up on her but in the last three months, she had fallen in love with the dorky blonde football player who she swore she wasn’t going to give the time of day. She shut the door to the bathroom and pulled on her gown.

When she opened the door, the two boys were taking selfies in the floor-length mirror. They turned to look at her and both their eyes widened. Asher was the first to speak, “You look so pretty, Y/N.”

She grinned and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “And you look so handsome. I’ve got two good-looking dates tonight.” Clint was still staring and moved closer, swooping in for a kiss. Y/N could have cried with laughter at how affronted he looked when helping up a hand to stop him, “I’m wearing lipstick.”

“I don’t care,” he kissed her until she was breathless.

The happiness and ease that they felt in her bedroom were dashed as soon as they walked down the stairs and were enveloped by the party. Y/N was trying to keep her composure as her father used Asher as a performing seal. Clint’s hand gripped her tightly, trying to keep her calm, but she was dying inside as she watched her little brother try to make their sperm donor proud. It was late into the night at this point and she could see that the young boy was struggling to keep his eyes open. She couldn’t hold it in any longer and wiggled her hand out of Clint’s. “Gorgeous…”

“I’ll be okay. Go see Tony and Pepper.” She made her way over and smiled charmingly at the guests, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but it’s gotten very late. Dad, it is way past Asher’s bedtime.

He waved his eldest child away, “Oh it’s fine, he’s having a good time.”

“He actually has a playdate tomorrow and needs to be rested. So, he should really start his bedtime routine.

Her father’s eyes hardened, “I’m the parent and I’ve decided he’s okay to stay up a little while longer.” She scoffed and her father tried to shoot her a look. Asher started to well up at the tension and Y/N pulled him into her arms. They walked away from the group and she shot her father a glare as he followed them, “He should’ve been in bed over two hours ago. Don’t claim to be his parent when you haven’t done a damn thing. I’m the only mother he’s ever known. I’m the only parent he’s known in the past 6 years.”

“Not right now. This is not behavior for in front of guests. Why don’t we step into the study for this discussion.” He was gripping her arm and that’s what brought Clint back over to their side.

Y/N quickly passed the half-asleep Asher to him, “Would you mind taking him just for a few moments. I’ll be there soon, but I need to have a quick word with my father.”

Clint gripped her waist tight, “Are you okay?”

“No, but I need to be,” she kissed both of their cheeks, “I’ll be up soon. He’s going to need a bath since he’s covered in frosting.”

Y/N didn’t look back even though she felt Clint’s gaze on her as she walked away. The minute the door shut her father exploded, “How dare you! You don’t behave like that when we have guests over. It isn’t proper.”

“Screw proper behavior! I’ve been proper every day for nearly my whole life. Ever since mom got sick. You haven’t been around to try and now you claim that Asher is the product of anything you’ve done. That kid is amazing because he’s done everything without you. I did the midnight feeds and diaper changings. I’m the one that went to the library and checked out parenting books. When he fell off his bike, I helped him up, cleaned his cuts, and told him to try again and not to give up. I’ve done his back-to-school shopping, got his Halloween costumes every year. I helped him with his homework and I got a car so that someone could be there to pick him up every damn day. I’ve been to every concert and sports game. You don’t get to suddenly reappear randomly and use us as a pretty family in front of your friends and investors. You just a sperm donor.”

“I think you forget your place, young lady.”

“Ha. Don’t try to parent me. You’re not a parent!” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she tried to get herself under control, “If you were, you’d know the bare minimum isn’t good enough. Money isn’t enough. Your children deserve love and support. Asher deserves someone who shows up and that’s not you. Never again will you be allowed to use him for your business. I will make sure that he has a sleepover or appointment to take up his every hour when you’re in town. You are a stranger that happens to live under the same roof as us a couple nights a year. We’ve just been along for the ride. You’ve missed every birthday party and every Christmas morning for too many years. That’s over 20 birthdays so far. That’s 6 years of Christmas shopping I’ve done alone. That’s decorating Christmas trees without you. That’s late nights making birthday cakes. That’s the first steps, award ceremonies, and graduations. That kid is my life and I am his. You haven’t been around. Do you know how many nights I spent with him and he would ask why you weren’t there? Eventually, he just gave up hope. I’m glad your business is thriving but in the process of making this all happen, you forget something so much more important. You forgot your kids. Well, guess what, I never forgot. Not for a second. I’ve missed so much of my life for Asher and I won’t regret a second of it. He’s not your kid. He’s mine. And if you excuse me, I need to put him to bed.” She left the study, head held high, and headed straight for Asher’s room.

When she didn’t find them there, she hurried into her room and found Clint reading a book, with the six-year-old conked out on his shoulder. Y/N decided to take a moment and walked down the hallway and sat on the window seat, listening to the party still raging below. She rested her head on the window, feeling the cool January chill on her forehead. Silent tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. She heard a throat clear and turned to see Clint standing a few feet away. He didn’t say anything, instead, he just let her curl up against him. He picked her up, carrying her to her room. He knelt down and slipped her heels off. Her breathing was shallow, as the argument played over and over in her mind. He pulled the dress down her shoulders and replaced it with one of his shirts that she’d claimed. He toed his shoes off and climbed into bed, pulling her down. They one curled around Asher and Clint looked at her, “You don’t need to talk tonight. You don’t even need to talk tomorrow. Just know that when we do have this conversation, it won’t scare me away. I’m in this for the long haul, whatever that means. I love you.”

It wasn't perfect, at that moment it wasn't even good, but the ball had dropped and it was January 1st. A new year and Y/N was going to make sure that life was better than ever before.

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

@be-patient-be-good

@spntiel

@mycosmicparadise

@itsnottilly

#toomanyrobins #avengers imagine #avengers #avengers au #avengers x reader #Clint Barton #Clint Barton imagine #clint barton x reader #Hawkeye #Hawkeye imagine #hawkeye x reader #Jeremy renner #Jeremy renner imagine #Jeremy renner x reader #college au

[gwoongi]

acts of love

bts / reader, all members / reader genre: best friends au, fluff + crack rating: general words: 9.6k warnings: platonic relationships, smoking, so much fluff you might need to book an appointment with ur dentist for tomorrow morning ASAP a/n: if u want 2 be bts’ best friend, raise ur hand *thousands of hands raise*. this fic fuels my genuine need to be their bff. i saw this post last night + wrote this immediately. hope u love it like i do :D 

➸ As long as you’ve got a good group of friends, anything is possible. Thankfully, you’ve got the best group you could ever ask for.

(01) taking pics of ur friends without them asking u to bc they looked so pretty in that exact moment

“Well, at least the views not so bad. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot worse.”

Beside you, at the top of the bleachers that surround the large football pitch below, Taehyung huffs and kicks his feet up onto the empty row in front of him. It would be easy to just move rows, considering the game’s due to start in ten minutes time, and there’s plenty of empty seats closer. But, he’s bought these seats, and by the looks of things, Yoongi and Hoseok are already comfortable where they are, sharing a big bag of sticky popcorn between them. Casting a look to the right, you notice that Sana and Seunghee are making their way up, dressed in jerseys and caps, and you suddenly feel very out of place.

“Tell me why I came again?” you ask, not looking away from the pitch below. The grass is bright green, and every wandering body down on the pitch is just a small speck.

“Because,” Taehyung starts, unlocking his phone and checking his messages. You snoop- one missed text from Jeongguk and two off his Mom, which makes you smile. Taehyung’s always been a Mommy’s boy. “You love me, and you know that I worked my ass off for two whole months saving up for these tickets. And, since Jimin’s sick and couldn’t come, you decided to be a good friend and take his place.”

With a frown, you look back towards Taehyung. “I don’t know shit about football.”

“Cheer when we do,” Taehyung suggests honestly.

Yoongi perks up, patting your arm roughly. “Do what I do, and cheer for the team with the prettier uniform.”

“Don’t!” Taehyung hisses, grabbing you back. “The other team have a prettier uniform, but if you cheer for them on this side of the stadium, you’re going to get mobbed. Hey, Yoongi, don’t tell her that, she doesn’t know any better.”

“Just football,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Just football…” Taehyung scoffs and shrinks back down in his seat.

You laugh quietly, petting Taehyung’s leg with faux sympathy. As you move your body to glance around the stadium, strangely anticipating the start of the match, a flash out the corner of your eye makes you look over in Hoseok’s general direction. Hoseok holds his phone up, taking a photo, and then smiles as he checks it on the screen.

“Jung Hoseok, delete it now!” you gape, realising what he’s done. “Oh my God, I bet I look so ugly...you could have warned me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. He then shows you the screen, “you looked pretty! And it’s your first live match ever, we had to document it. Yoongi, look. Wow...I’m sending this to Jimin for proof that you’re having fun.”

“What if I’m not having fun?” you ask.

He glances up, “you are.”

Well. If he says so.

(02) randomly giving tiny gifts (a comic book that ur friend likes, a heart-shaped piece of paper with a sweet message on it)

“Can anybody here share the exact chemistry behind Elephant Toothpaste?”

Chemistry is the absolute bane of your life. It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already regretting taking additional classes in it. Technically, it was Jimin’s fault you were here in the first place. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jimin was afraid of enrolling into classes alone and therefore had guilted you into taking advanced chemistry with him, then you wouldn’t be here. You sigh for the fourth time in the last ten minutes and shove your chin into the palm of your hand. The clock above Professor Han’s head seems to be still, taunting you with zero movements.

Can boredom kill you? You wonder about that, letting your mind wander as Professor Han continues to quiz the front two rows on the exact chemical formula of the affectionately named Elephant Toothpaste. You’re so close to finding the answer when you feel somebody poking your upper arm. The finger that pokes belongs to Jimin, and you angle your head to look at him with a questioning glare.

Jimin smiles, his hair falling into his face. Like you, he rolled out of bed this morning and tried his best to look semi-presentable; if you counted borderline pajama wear and a serious case of bed-head to be presentable and acceptable for a 9am lecture. Jimin says nothing, just smiles and pushes something towards you with two fingers. The sound of the paper sliding towards you brings your gaze down, and as you look away to stare at it, Jimin returns his attention to Professor Han. Bare in mind, his notebook is empty, save doodles of Yewon on the front row, occasionally losing focus and staring around the room for long periods of time.

What Jimin has pushed before you is a small little piece of paper, smoothly cut into a heart shape. Now the sound of scissors makes sense… It’s just scrap paper from the back of his notebook, decorated with tiny stars and circles, a pathetic hand drawn galaxy on the front like a book cover. You slowly pick it up, more interested in this than the lecture. You turn it over curiously, your heart thumping endearingly and a smile picking up on your face as you read what he’s written on the back.

you and me have some serious chemistry. love u

Jimin refuses to make eye contact again. He’ll say something along the lines of, “you’re taking it too seriously” when you’ll no doubt ask him about it later, but really, Jimin’s just a softie, with the sudden need to tell his friends that he loves them. You’re not complaining.

(03) handwritten letters with cute stickers

Something’s been left in your shared kitchen, something with your name on it and closed in an envelope with a small Gudetama sticker. You set your cup of tea to the side, sliding up onto a stool near the breakfast bar to read it. The front is in a bold font, in handwriting you don’t really recognise. Careful of the time and effort put into the appearance, you carefully open the envelope and take out the contents.

Y/N

Good morning. I hope you slept okay - when I came home last night after judo, you were actually passed out on the couch in the common room so I piggy backed you up to your room. Hehe, your room is so dirty though...I think I definitely tripped over a plug that connected your fairylights, so sorry if that doesn’t work anymore. Anyway. I left this morning and left you some nice tea and some tablets (Yoongi said that I should put them in your bathroom, so I literally just left them on your sink). I know you haven’t been having a fun time with midterms and you need to take care of yourself! If you get too sick and can’t do anything, then how will we eat?? You’re our uni mom!!! We need to live too!!!!! D:

I also rented out Harry Potter for later. I know you get really sad and lonely when you’re stressed out, and so we can watch it together when I’m home after my shift at work :D

Hehe, feel better <3 Just remember that Jeonggukie loves you!!!

Drink tea and stay warm :)

Lots of love, Jeongguk :D

The paper is signed with Jeongguk’s messy handwriting, like he ran out of time as he was writing it. The page is littered with tiny Gudetama stickers and the sight of it makes you smile. Along with other little notes Jeongguk’s left for you over the last few months, this one earns a spot on your cork board above your desk.

(04) remembering what ur friend likes or dislikes

You were so late.

Almost getting run over by a bus in the process, you sprint across the small road that separates your flat and the University central campus, missing a deep puddle as you step up off the road and onto the pavement. It pours, your hair soaked and makeup no doubt running and staining your cheeks. Holy fuck, you were so late.

Every Friday, without fail, Flat 6 (aka the large and slightly stinky flat you share with two of your best friends) host an annual movie night, inviting literally all of your extended friendship group which definitely is not allowed, but who cares? You noticed Namjoon’s car pulled up in the car park next door and curse again, knowing you’re the last one to arrive to a movie night you’re technically hosting.

You rush up the stairs, since the elevator is still down for maintenance, and burst into the flat with an announcing groan. From somewhere in the living room, Jeongguk looks up with happy surprise and jumps up off the couch, approaching the hall.

“Y/N! You made it.”

You wince, smiling as you hang up your coat to drip dry on the mat near the door. “Yep. I made it. To my own movie night. That I’m technically helping host.”

“No sweat,” Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s okay. Here, I’ll dump your bag in the closet. Get changed, I think Yoongi’s still preparing snacks, anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jeonggukie.”

He gushes, smiling and raising his shoulders cutely. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Jeongguk swiftly takes your bag from your clutches, faking the weight with the droop of his knees just to hear you laugh, and then he turns to shuffle down the hall to quite literally toss it into the shared storage closet. You’re not too worried; on days like today, in which you have one 1 hour seminar to attend at 5pm and nothing else, there’s nothing inside your bag worthy of being broken by Jeongguk throwing it to the ground. As he does this, you shudder out of your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, to change into something warm and comfortable for the movie.

The sound of laughter makes you hurry to change, one leg out of your damp and cold jeans whilst simultaneously fishing for some old jogging bottoms out of your bottom draw, a jumper from Yoongi that he thought he lost left for you to grab on your bed. What he doesn’t know and will find out in five minutes won’t hurt him. (Yoongi also doesn’t care, because he’s a whipped best friend who lets you do what you want, including steal clothes he actually needs and can’t really afford to replace. Oh well, sharing is caring!).

Your hair is still soaked, and you move towards the single bathroom squeezed between two bedrooms to ring it out in the sink. Once you’re done, and your hair is thrown up into a scrunchie-decorated pony, you pace back towards the kitchen where, rightly so, Yoongi stands with his back facing you, filling up a glass with Pepsi.

“I thought we threw that shit out,” you announce as you walk in. “You know this flat is Team Coca Cola, those are the rules.”

Yoongi sighs, not looking up. “Yeah, I know, but Namjoon is a monster.”

“He’s so annoying...why can’t he just admit that Coca Cola is better?” you sigh, moving towards Yoongi to see the small bowls of snacks he has ready to be taken into the living room. It’s full in there, people stuffed onto the sofas and the floor where a bed of blankets lies like a mattress.

Yoongi’s outdone himself; the bowls are neatly organised by colour and ingredient, and you smile. Yoongi was a lot of things, one of them a secret perfectionist. Even when it concerned bowls of snacks. God, you love to love him.

“Namjoon’s a man of unpopular opinions, I mean, he really thinks the live action of Attack on Titan is good, like, who actually thinks that?” Yoongi rants, and then he glances to the side towards you, is silent for a moment, and then asks, “is that my jumper?”

You look down at it with a smile. “Yep. It’s comfy.”

Yoongi hums, like he’s bored. “Whatever, looks better on you than it did on me. Who the fuck lied to me and told me dark green was my colour...?”

“Every colour is your colour,” you say, patting his back and reaching for the bowls. “Should I take these in?”

Yoongi then nods, humming again. “Yeah. Yellow bowl is for you, by the way.”

You look to it. “And why is that?”

“Cause I know you don’t like the barbeque flavour chips that are in the red bowl, but everyone else does, so I went out and got you the salty ones. Oh, and there’s a bar of Galaxy in the fridge. Don’t tell Jeongguk, cause he’ll get pissy about how I didn’t get him something.”

As Yoongi tells you this, your heart flutters. You had told him that when you first met, after he offered you some of his chips noticing you were the only person not eating.

“You remembered that?” you wonder, and Yoongi looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I’m a good friend,” he states, as though it were obvious. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I only did it because I don’t want to hear you complaining about it all night.”

You’re sure that’s a lie, but if it makes him feel better, you’ll accept it. You’ll also ignore the embarrassed tinge of red on his cheeks.

(05) inside jokes

[15:16PM] jeongguk: alright fuckers 🔪😡 [15:16PM] jeongguk: who left the kitchen window open all damn night [15:17PM] jeongguk: there’s three spiders in the sink and it rained so the work surface is all wet [15:17PM] jeongguk: [1 Image Attached] not happy bois [15:23PM] jine: i dont even live with you why are you asking the gc this [15:24PM] jeongguk: yoongi has the flat gc muted and idk how else to yell at him [15:28PM] y/n: blame me,,,,i have failed u,,,,,,,im sowwy [15:29PM] jeongguk: hehe its ok ❣️💘💕💓 i’ll clean it up 🥰 [15:32PM] haseul: eye….. [15:39PM] jimin: YALL LMAOODIUGJFKDSLJ [15:39PM] jimin: guess what TF just happened in my maths class [15:41PM] jimin: i forgot that on one of my assignments me and y/n had drawn a camel in the library on the back and he saw and asked me 2 stay behind after class so he could have stern words with me or smthn…..anyway so i go to the front of the class at the end and he’s like “mr park what the hell is this camel doing here” [15:42PM] jimin: and i said sir thats not a camel [15:42PM] jimin: thats my WIFE [15:43PM] y/n: HA HA HA… [15:45PM] yoongi: IF YALL DONT STOP [15:47PM] taehyung: THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE MADE THIS REFERENCE AND I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS [15:47PM] taehyung: this inside joke stinks….someone explain to me please what this means 😭😭😭 [15:48PM] hoseok: i hate this damn gc

(06) long phone calls

[Incoming Facetime Call From: Seokjin 👪]

“Hey.”

“Hey. Y/N, are you sitting down because I have some major tea on Professor Kwon and Professor Kim and I’m not supposed to be saying anything and it’s killing me.”

“Oh shit.” Audio shuffles. “I’m lying down now, bitch. Tell me everything.”

“Okay. So…”

[Five Hours Later]

“I’m still in shock about Kwon and Kim.”

“Me too. What’s Kim gonna do, lie and say she had heat rash on her titties?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get them out for people to see.”

“Literally. God, I hate how our life has resorted to teacher gossip. Are we those students?”

“Yup. Two students bitching about teachers at...like ...midnight?”

“Oh, shit, it’s midnight already??”

(07) facetiming while ur both doing something else (study dates like that are on another level of intimacy)

Jimin’s had the same cold for about two weeks now, and nobody knows what the hell’s up with it. He walks around his flat, according to Hoseok, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a necklace of matted tissues. To be honest, it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, but he’s a guy, and so anything that involves a slight stomach pain and a blocked nose instantly translates to man flu, which is almost as bad as the plague.

That being said, Jimin’s set himself under “house arrest” and is therefore glued to his bed or desk chair, still managing to move his sore and aching joints to write a few words on his lab report. With the first round of finals creeping up, Jimin actually wants to go to the library, but, man, what with his man flu and everything, he just can’t seem to do it.

On the other hand, he has you to set the mood for him. After snagging a corner table in the library near the big windows, you make a barrier out of your bag and books to watch the sunset, Taehyung opposite using minimal space with his laptop and headphones, watching a documentary he’ll need to cite for his essay. Jeongguk naps next to you, having exhausted himself from his shift last night that ran into the early hours and Sana secretly paints her nails, blowing them dry as she takes a break from writing.

Once you’re settled and comfortable, you reluctantly peel away the slice of tape covering your webcam (because Black Mirror has forever scared you into thinking 4Chan are watching you and will hold your endless hours of Games2Girls dot com against you) and open up Facetime, ringing Jimin who waits patiently back home.

After a few rings, Jimin’s bright and tired face pops up on the screen and you both silently wave. Jimin has his mic muted, but yours is on, allowing the ambience of the library trick Jimin into believing he’s actually there. It’s not quite like an ordinary study date, but for now, it’ll do. He opens his textbook and starts to work, comfortable and happy now that he’s listening to his friends discuss work, like he’s there. He smiles, occasionally glancing up to see your face working or Jeongguk unintentionally leaning into frame. It’s comforting. He works well.

(08) cooking something for ur friend

“Merry Christmas, Tae. Oh, wait, I have something for you.”

Taehyung is hosting a Christmas party this year, in the apartment he shares with some of the girls in your group and Namjoon. His flat is lit up with lights, draining the electricity, the tree sparkling like diamonds in the front living room that looks out onto the Seoul city. The sound of Michael Bublé sings out festively and Taehyung leads you through to the kitchen, out of the loud madness of the party that’s getting into full swing. In one hand, you have a big bag of presents that both Jeongguk and Yoongi kindly left for you to haul all by yourself to Taehyung’s flat, and in the other, you balance a box across your arm, the corner sharp on your inner elbow.

“Cool. Your gift is under the tree,” Taehyung says.

“Oh, yeah. No, this is an early gift.”

“Just for me?” he asks.

You set down the box. “Well, you can share if you love us all a lot. But, it’s for you.”

Taehyung wastes no time in opening the box, a smile widening across his face as he reviews the contents. The box is stuffed full with cookies, baked big and crumbly for his tasty pleasures. They’re decorated too, because you love him so much and you know he liked them last year.

“Last year you ate nearly all of my batch, so I just decided to make you some of your own this year,” you tell him casually. It’s really no big deal, but Taehyung feels like he might actually cry because the thought is so sweet. You notice this, the glassiness of your eyes. “Ew, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m touched!” he exclaims. Taehyung turns on his spot and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you in for a hug. With your arms wrapped around his torso, Taehyung smiles with a thrilled sound and kisses the crown of your head. “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

(09) sending texts when u randomly think abt them

[11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i stopped by at kyobo’s today and found a cards against humanity add on pack that was harry potter themed and i thought of u lol [11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i bought it for u btw 😊

(10) listening without judging

When the front door slams shut, you know that something’s wrong.

Having opted for sitting in the natural light of the living room to finish your lab report, the sound of the door echoes loudly throughout the empty house. It’s only you home, since Yoongi has volleyball practise until six this evening, which means it’s Jeongguk who’s home and apparently, not in a very good mood.

Jeongguk doesn’t realise you’re in the living room until he enters it, stopping suddenly in the doorway when he sees you cross-legged on the carpet near the coffee table. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose shiny from where he’s been crying and sniffling. The sight makes your stomach churn with an indescribable feeling, and you immediately rise to your feet.

“Jeongguk? What’s wrong- did something happen?” you ask him, not stepping forward until you know he’s okay. 

Jeongguk’s sensitive, the baby of the friendship group, and sometimes you forget to go easy on him. He sighs loudly and drops his backpack to the floor with a thud. His books curl inside loudly and he drags his feet across the floor to get to the couch. He moves as if he’s going to sit down and then stops, turning to you. His bottom lip curls like he’s about to cry, and then he opens his arms for a hug. You immediately move forward.

“Oh, Jeonggukkie,” you coo, stroking his hair and moving to sit on the sofa. Jeongguk comes down with you and you rest his head on top of your breasts, granting him this once in a lifetime opportunity and he doesn’t even register it. He just cries, loudly and comfortably, his arms around you as he sobs. “Oh, my baby. What happened?”

Jeongguk hiccups. “Do-Doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“No, it’s not. Something hurt your feelings, and your feelings aren’t dumb,” you tell him seriously. Stroking the hair out of his face, you peer down at him. “Come on. Tell me, I won’t judge or tell anybody else. You can trust me.”

He sniffs loudly, but you don’t cringe. He blinks, tears falling and he embarrassingly wipes the tears away, nodding. “Okay.” And then the words come out like vomit.

“I just. You know how I liked Sooyoung, right? Well, we were talking- everyone knows we were, but still, we were talking, and I just really liked her and wanted her to like me. I did all this stuff for her, planned all these dates and got her flowers. I thought she liked flowers, girls like flowers. I know we joke that you’re one of the guys, but even you liked those flowers I got for you. So, I got her this pretty necklace with an S on it and was going to give it to her and so I went to her practise room. She does dance, you knew she does dance, right? Yeah. And so I went to the room and was in the room talking to her when the door opens and this guy comes in and he comes up to her and they kiss and I just. She. She told me she didn’t want to rush into dating and that she liked me, and then she suddenly started dating someone else and I’m just really hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly? Am I annoying, I just...I don’t know what I did. I really liked her.”

You don’t say anything as he talks. You just listen intently, nodding against his head with a low hum and stroking his hair gently.

“I know it’s silly and stupid that I’m crying over a girl, it’s just…” He sighs. “It hurts.”

You sigh, too. “It’s not silly and stupid. What Sooyoung did was really shitty and it’s natural that it hurt your feelings. You did absolutely nothing wrong, though. The flowers were pretty, and you didn’t force her into anything, and you were so kind and patient. Any girl would be lucky enough to have you as a boyfriend. Sooyoung missed out! You’re so good, Jeongguk, one of the best guys I know. And you’re not ugly! That’s an insult to actual ugly people! If you’re ugly, then what are we?” He laughs shyly and you smile, “Huh? What are we?”

“Okay, sorry,” Jeongguk laughs, pressing his cheek into your torso with a wide smile. His hands loop together behind your back, meek and timid, and he sighs, this time less sadly. “Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever…”

“You’re being dramatic, now,” you sigh. “The right person is waiting for you. Just give it some time.”

Jeongguk thinks about that for a moment. “Wanna date me if I end up alone and single aged thirty?”

Loudly, you let out a laugh. “Yeah right. You know what, fine. Even though I know you won’t be, if we’re both single by thirty, I’ll marry you. How about that?”

Jeongguk hums. “Cool. Is it safe to have kids after thirty?”

You let out a wheeze, taken aback by Jeongguk’s question. “Woah there. I said I’d marry you, not birth your children! Besides, you’re acting like thirty is ancient! Lots of women have kids aged thirty.”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t know! My Mom was only young.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me to have kids with you when we’re thirty…”

“Might as well make our marriage interesting,” Jeongguk shrugs.

You quite literally have nothing to say to that.

(11) making someone laugh so hard that their whole body shakes

“Ow- stop! I’m going to pee!”

You don’t think you’ve seen Seokjin laugh at a joke that’s not his own in quite some time. Tonight, across the table in the retro diner that’s been converted and opened in town, he has surprised you. The entire booth shakes with laughter, from all sides and directions. Seokjin leans up against the window, clutching his side with Jimin, Mina and Yoongi all stuffed next to him on the skinny one seater. Next to you, on either side, is Hoseok and Taehyung, with Jeongguk and Namjoon at the counter ordering more drinks.

“What?” you ask, laughing. You’re not laughing because it’s funny, but more so because you have no idea what it is you did to make him laugh so hard. “What did I say?”

Seokjin can hardly get his words out, choking halfway on air and having to reach for his drink which shakes in his hand. He sips and gasps for air: “Just-your...face!” Then he cracks up again, like it’s the literal joke of the century. You just don’t get it.

“What did I do?” you ask. “What’s so funny?”

Seokjin can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi comments, smiling with disbelief and covering his mouth as he laughs. Mina’s french fries are stone cold as she laughs and leans into Yoongi’s side for support.

“Fuck. Y/N, you’re so funny, I love you so much,” Seokjin cries. Cries, literally; there are tears pooling out of his eyes, and he wipes them, sighing loudly as he laughs a few more times.

You’re going to take the compliment happily, and move on. To this day, you never found out what was so funny…

(12) hanging out in furniture stores and testing every couch there is

“Take a picture of me so we can pretend this is our house for Instagram.”

You sigh, taking out your phone and snapping a photo of Taehyung, lounging his legs apart across a lime green sofa that looks like it’s been hauled out of a 70’s magazine. One of the best things about Taehyung is that he’s easy to please, eccentric and adventurous just like you. Taehyung could be taken to a junkyard for a first date and somehow he’d still find it fun. He didn’t watch Bottletop Bill and his best friend Corky and leave not taking some inspiration on what to do with scrap junk.

It slowly became a tradition to go to the weirdest places with Taehyung as your date. On weekends or free weekdays you shared, you’d text Taehyung and get him to come with you to somewhere new. On today’s list, IKEA. It’s not totally crazy, or weird or wacky, just something you don’t think you’d do with Yoongi for fun. Taehyung loved the idea.

Taehyung’s making it a mission to sit on every bit of furniture he can find. As he takes a ride up the elevator to the first and main starting point of IKEA, he immediately notices the display couches and stares at you excitedly: “Let’s pretend we’re about to buy our dream house and test all the couches.”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! We can pretend we’re on a TV show reviewing them.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Taehyung more excited. “Oh my God, yes!” Then he grabs your hand, tugging you towards a cream themed living display. “Let’s go, wifey! Time to review.”

(You very nearly leave IKEA with a bright red sofa that looks like it’s been handmade and the bottom pillows are patterned with tiny cherries. Sadly, you’re both broke and you don’t have a car to take it home.)

((Taehyung’s devastated.))

(13) deep conversations when it's deep in the night

Sometimes, Yoongi stays awake until the early hours in the living room and kitchen. On days where you can’t sleep, you can hear him pacing around, softly grunting as he walks, something he does without really realising and something you love about him. On occasion, you join him. Like tonight, for example.

Yoongi’s curled up on the kitchen counter when you wake up and leave your room to find him. He sits with his back up against the cupboards, the kitchen window open with a cigarette out the window. Catching your gaze wide-eyed, he moves as if he’s going to put the cigarette out but you stop him.

“I told Jeongguk I’d stop,” Yoongi explains. Inside, he’s just grateful you’re not Jeongguk tonight. The cigarette lets off steam. He doesn’t smoke as often as he used to, just when he needs to. Yoongi looks away from the window as you pick yourself up to sit on the cupboards parallel to him. A bottle of wine is out, and you quietly take off the top and take a large swig.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you tell him honestly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell Jeongguk, too. There’s a new air freshener in the cupboard under the sink. Use that when you’re done.”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Why’d you go back to smoking anyway? Didn’t you tell Jeongguk that you were stopping because you didn’t want to die, or something?” It’s a joke, Yoongi snorts in reply.

“You know how he feels about it. I do too, and I guess I just felt bad about it. It was bad enough for him growing up and at home, and he told me about his brothers asthma attacks because of it and how he almost died, and how his parents smoked religiously and it made them act a certain way.” Yoongi sucks in his breath, like he’s realising what lighting the cigarette means. “It’s not weed. Not what his parents did, but. Still, fuck.” He decides to put it out.

For a while, you don’t say anything to Yoongi. Staring at him is telling enough, and you watch as Yoongi regrets what he’s done so much that he pales, his eyes watering.

“I don’t want to let him down,” Yoongi admits truthfully. “He’s like my little brother. I don’t wanna hurt him, fuck.”

He rocks his head back, sighing into the night. Down below the window, over the small little cliffside that he can see from his window that looks down onto the freeway behind the flat, he watches the lines of traffic whiz by, like long white lights, the honks like ASMR in his ears.

“If you’re going back to bed, can you go in my room and take the rest of my cigs out? Don’t wanna feel tempted by them. Toss them out or something, will you?”

You nod immediately, taking another drink of wine. This gulp stings. “Course. Yeah, I’m gonna go now actually.” You hop down off the counter, handing the bottle and placing it next to Yoongi. “Don’t stay up too late, mkay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You shrug in reply, Yoongi frowns. As you walk towards the doorway that separates the kitchen and the hall, you turn around and look back at Yoongi, calling his name. Yoongi looks over and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Love you,” you tell him. A smile follows, and Yoongi blinks tiredly.

“I love you too. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches as you disappear into the darkness of the hallway and then faces the nighttime again. The smell of cigarettes lingers, and his stomach churns. Yoongi reaches for the air freshener you mentioned and sprays it generously, sniffing and then turning off the lights to the kitchen. Jeongguk will wake up and complain about the window being open, and might even notice the ash on the windowsill, but, like you, he still loves his big brother regardless.

(14) holding hands while jaywalking so that u Both get hit by a car

“Now!”

A squeal leaves your mouth as Jeongguk grabs a hold of your hand and literally pulls you across the road. A car that speeds down the road presses the horn loud enough to turn a few heads and Jeongguk grins boyishly, raising his hand as if to say sorry even though you’re far enough away to not get hit. Jeongguk’s motto for jaywalking is We Hold Hands, Because We Go Together Or We Don’t Go Down At All, or something. You know he stole half of it from an All Time Low song, but it works, and the song slaps.

From across the road, on the side you and Jeongguk are running towards, Hoseok gapes at the both of you and his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You two have a death wish!” he yells.

“But we lived, bitch!” Jeongguk replies, raising a gang sign to which Hoseok pulls a face at.

“I literally cannot stand you,” Hoseok seethes, walking away even though he’s supposed to be going out for dinner with the both of you. You and Jeongguk share a look that ends in a burst of giggles and run after Hoseok, capturing each of his arms with your own. He complains all the way to the restaurant, even though he loves it.

(15) randomly buying a flower for someone

“Delivery.”

Namjoon’s voice lifts your head. He stands behind the reception desk of your flat complex with a small bunch of flowers in his left hand. If he didn’t already know that you were working your two hour shift today, then he’s lucky he caught you. The sight of a bouquet of wildflowers makes your heart soar curiously.

“For someone special?” you wonder. Maybe he’s delivering to someone in the complex. Namjoon’s a sweetie like that.

Namjoon blinks. “Yeah. You.” He holds the bouquet outwards, with a bright smile. “They were for sale outside as I got off my subway. Thought of you, again. Happy early birthday.”

“My birthday’s in, like, seven months,” you say.

“That’s why it’s for your early birthday,” Namjoon replies.

You don’t know what to say. “They’re so pretty, thank you. Hey - can you go up to my flat and put them in a vase? I’ve still got an hour here, they might dry out if they’re kept down here.”

Namjoon nods instantly. “Sure. Gimme your key?” You slide the key across the desk towards Namjoon and he takes it swiftly. “Cool. Glad you like them. Enjoy your shift, Y/N.”

“Unlikely,” you groan. “Thanks, Joonie!”

He smiles as he reaches the door, sticking his tongue out to you as he prepares to climb the stairs. That elevator needs fixing urgently, and all you can think about is how much you love your friends.

(16) letting ur friends taste ur food and also tasting theirs to the point where u basically ate a fair amount off of each plate on the table

“What do you mean you’ve never tried a steak before?” Yoongi sighs so loudly that it turns a few heads. “Okay. Take a bite, it’s called charity and I’m generous. Come on.”

Yoongi even cuts you a slice and leans over the table to let you taste it. Beside you, Namjoon cringes when you close your teeth around the fork and pull the steak off, taking several bites and widening your eyes with wonder a Yoongi. You have just unlocked a taste sensation!

“Like it?” Yoongi asks.

“Mhm! It’s so easy to eat,” you observe. You look at Namjoon, “try his.”

Yoongi sighs. He willingly shares his food out. You glance down at your own meal, a pretty pasta dish that Jeongguk looks at from next to Yoongi.

“What is that? It looks good,” Jeongguk asks.

“Spaghetti Al Pomodoro,” you quote from the menu. Jeongguk laughs, because who goes to a restaurant and orders spaghetti? “Stop, I don’t know the menu, I played it safe!”

“Lemme try,” Jeongguk invites himself to try the taste, twirling his fork around the pasta and sucking it up like a scene in Lady and the Tramp. This sets off a sequence around the table, something you can’t help but snigger at. Namjoon lets you try some of his curry and Yoongi tries Jeongguk’s burger. By the time everybody on the table has tried everybody elses meals, you finally look back at your plate and notice that literally half of the meal’s now gone. Yoongi has about one bite of steak left, and Jeongguk could easily finish his burger in one bite.

“I hope everyone enjoyed my meal,” Yoongi says sarcastically, and he angrily chews his last piece of steak.

Namjoon looks up with a bright smile. “Yeah I did. Thanks!”

(17) "give me that I'll carry it for u"

Sometimes, Hoseok stops by at the reception to help out, especially during finals or midterms when you could really use those two years of monitoring an empty email inbox to study. Today, one of the newer residents, Somi, is on the desk and is playing Club Penguin on the computer, and you’re shoved into the back storage room with Hoseok, filing everybody’s mail and parcels.

It’s so messy in here, and looks like it hasn’t had a good clean out since it was first built, which might sound ridiculous, but have you seen all of this dust?

“Can you guys take out the trash?” One of the other workers, Siwon, pokes his head into the back room.

“You only just asked us to do this, though,” Hoseok points out with his hands on his hips.

Siwon shrugs, “Okay. And? Get to work.”

He turns and leaves as Hoseok gives him the middle finger, groaning as he arches his back to relieve pain that’s developed from being hunched over for too long. The trash bags are enormous and bulky with weight, shoved into a single room that absolutely honks. Hoseok grimaces as he opens the door and drags some bags out, deliberately ignoring a suspicious juice leaving a trail behind one of the ones he’s just brought into the back room.

“That literally stinks,” you complain.

“Yep.”

While Hoseok continues to haul bags out of the trash room, you take it upon yourself to drag the bags out to the back, towards the giant tip that’s collected by the bin-men the following day. After two or three trips, Hoseok steps out of the room and notices you struggling to pick a big bag up off the floor over your shoulder, like Santa’s sack.

“Give me that, I’ll carry it for you,” Hoseok offers, already stepping forward.

“No!” you protest stubbornly. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Hoseok howls. He ignores you and snatches the bag out of your hands. You’ll never admit it, but it feels good to not have the twisty material burning your fingers. “Sit down. You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you scold.

He giggles, “sorry. You’re too cute. Keep filling in those forms, kill two birds with one stone?”

You wait until Hoseok’s out of the room to cradle your fingers. Fucking hell, that hurts.

(18) helping ur friend decide what to wear while also reminding them that they look amazing no matter what

“You’re not going to the Met Gala, Jimin. Just wear jeans, my dude.”

“No. No, no, ignore him.” You throw a glare in Jeongguk’s direction and shift on your stomach, watching Jimin frantically search through his wardrobe. “This is important. This is serious. He’s going to see a potential employer, Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” Jimin taunts, “so go be jobless and broke somewhere else.”

Jeongguk snorts, “I have a job, though…”

“Okay, get out of my room. Y/N, help me.”

“You looked good in the last four outfits,” you say to him honestly. “What’s wrong with this one, hm?”

You stand up, moving to one of the outfits laid out on the floor. It’s a pretty combination of clothes; a patterned white shirt that’s both formal and casual, with black trousers and brown shoes.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Jimin mumbles, continuing to search.

“Okay...Why don’t we just…” You crouch, moving a pair of black shoes from outfit number three to outfit number two. Now the shoes are black, and the outfit looks great. “Do that? What do you think?”

Jimin looks down at it, biting his bottom lip. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod with enthusiasm. “It shows your personality whilst also remaining professional. And you looked super handsome in it.” Jimin faces you with a shy smile, “Trust me. It’s the one.”

It takes some reluctance and convincing, but Jimin eventually settles on outfit number two. All it took was some convincing and abuse of his praise kink.

(And he got the job.)

(19) being involved in every bad hair decision (dyeing ur friend's hair grey in between playing with their switch)

Three games into Mario Kart, you realise that you urgently need to email Nintendo and play I’m-Karen-Let-Me-See-The-Manager. Nintendo Switches are so dangerously addictive that Seokjin has you watching him play as grey hair dye bleaches his scalp. You can’t help but watch as he wins race after race, a streak of ten to beat tonight with King Boo as his racer every damn time.

“Fuck, your hair!” You must have said that so many times that Seokjin’s bound to get sick of it. He glances up at his reflection and eyes the sight on his head.

“Looks fine,” he shrugs.

“Let me remind you that it looks fine because the colour’s okay at the front. It looks kinda...patchy at the back.” You reach for the dye, “We’re low. Seokjin, we’re in trouble.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever. We can make a new trend.”

“Hell no. If it looks shit, I’m paying for you to get it done professionally ...which, you should have just done in the first place. I'm not a hairdresser!”

“And thank fuck for that!” Jimin steps into the living room and laughs nervously. “That looks hideous!”

This time, Seokjin’s eyes raise icily.

“It’s not that bad…” you mutter. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

“The only way to save your hair is to just sacrifice it all,” Jimin sighs. “You know what, I’ve got a razor in my cupboard, let’s bring forward bald Seokjin.”

“I’ll take the patchy scalp,” Seokjin threatens.

“It’s really not that bad,” you pout quietly, attempting to fix the mess at the back of his head.

Okay - you’re lying. It’s awful. It’s a total disaster. But when Seokjin gets a good look at it, and he does take a good long look, he just shrugs and puts down the mirror.

“It’s a trend,” he decides. Mario Kart resumes and you’re rendered absolutely speechless.

(20) paying attention

When forced into a group of friends outside of your own, you always had a tendency to stand out in the worst ways possible. It’s not as if you stood out for being different, or funny or pretty. No; outside of your close circle of friends, you were the obvious outsider. You stuck out like an imposter, like a red flower amongst white ones.

This get together hosted by one of Jeongguk’s other friends, Joshua, takes place in his crazy expensive lake house in the countryside, owned by his parents and left to him when he turned eighteen. It’s remarkable that you got invited, to be honest. But, when Jeongguk’s your best friend, you get vouched for, granted permission to stay for the weekend in the one of many rooms, with the exception of sharing a room with two other guys. Jeongguk doesn’t mind sharing a bed for the weekend with Jimin, as long as you’re comfortable in your own.

And you’re not blind - it’s not hard to figure out why a big group of girls who had managed invitations were clinging to your circle of friends. You had lucked out in a way that ensured your entire group were visuals, everybody stunning in their own unique way. Joshua and his friends are here too, obviously, but their eyes are only on a certain segment of the group. From this angle, one of the girls who made her way over to the sofas sits with her back in your general direction, and it sort of feels like primary school all over again where you were the odd one out.

You try not to let it bother you, though. As the guys play polite and laugh when needed and talk casually, something slips up in conversation: “Well, actually-” One of the girls is talking, blinking repetitively in Namjoon’s direction with a sweet smile, “I think I have more guy friends than girls. Girls are so hard to talk to sometimes.”

“Right?” one of the others says with a sigh. “I wish I had more male friends. I want to move in with some in the future.”

You inhale. This is a good conversation to jump into. “Same,” you say. The girl in front of you turns around slightly, perhaps only just remembering that you were there in the first place. “I’ve been friends with these guys forever now, and living with them is so…” You notice after a short ramble that the girls turned back around, and she’s not even listening. You trail off, looking bored, “who am I even talking to?”

But from across the coffee table on the other couch, Yoongi furrows his brows and sets his glass down. “Y/N’s right,” he announces, and you look up at the same time as the other girls. Like they’re confused, they look at the group and then back at you, as if wondering the connection. “You know, guys are always told being friends with girls is impossible, but Y/N’s the glue that keeps us together.”

Jeongguk nods, “Mhm, exactly! You know, they said that it would be hard being friends with girls because you’d catch feelings, but Y/N’s so repulsive that it’s not even that hard...”

You glare at him, “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Trust me,” Chaeyoung pops up, having been sat silently in between Taehyung and Mark for the past twenty six minutes, “it’s not all that.” The girls look at her, “Men are disgusting. I don’t know how Y/N does it. These guys are the repulsive ones...I was in their flat for five minutes and I think I caught three diseases.”

“Hey, don’t drag my apartment into this,” you pout. Yoongi shakes his head with a smile and watches you, happy that the frown that was once on your features had disappeared into a smile. Hey, in a weird way, this was a good conversation to jump into! 

The girls around you share glances, as though they’ve just clocked on to how important you are to these guys and how ignoring you won’t make them like them more, and eventually, you’re included in the conversation. You make a mental reminder to thank the fuck out of Yoongi for paying attention to you, even when you’re silently in the background.

(21) being aware and understanding of someone's financial situation ("dw I'll pay for u")

“We all need matching ones. Look, one each!”

Jeongguk excitedly crouches in front of one of the display cases, marvelling at the sight of tiny little charms on foam boxes, smiling up at you all. It makes you weak seeing how childlike Jeongguk actually is, how he gets excited over shiny things like a little magpie. Today is one of those rare afternoons where you’re all miraculously free, and it had been Namjoon’s idea to go out somewhere and hang out. Seoul is filled with beautiful and secret places to explore like a tourist and he takes up the opportunity.

This shop is dinky and in a weird place between an ice-cream shop and a fish market, probably scammy and has definitely seen better days. But Namjoon likes it, and Yoongi vouches for it because he’s been here before with Namjoon when they brought a watch for Jimin. Okay, yes, it was a designer watch, but it was way cheaper from this shop and, wait, who cares if it’s fake? Nobody noticed until now.

You stand behind Jeongguk, peering down at the charms. They’re all so cute and cartoon-like, each charm you view immediately reminding you of another friend. For Jeongguk, the rabbit. Taehyung could have the paintbrush or camera, Jimin definitely could have the apple because of the fact that his new favourite thing to say is An Apple A Day Keeps The Demons Away. It makes no sense, but he learns to roll with it.

“They’re cute,” Hoseok comments, smiling widely.

“They should be cute, for thirty dollars a charm!” you gape, pointing out the price. “I thought this was a shop that sold things cheaper?!”

“They’re usually around sixty,” Namjoon shrugs.

“For why?” you exclaim.

Nobody hears that, or if they do, they ignore it. With a sigh, you turn away from the case and start looking at something else. Thirty dollars for a small charm is insane, and you don’t have that kind of money. As Taehyung and Jeongguk start picking charms for everybody, your heart rate quickens. 

How can you tell them that you don’t want a charm because you can’t afford a charm without disappointing them and sounding like you’re asking one of them to buy you one? In your panic, Seokjin worms his way up behind you and rests his arm up on your head like an arm-rest.

“Have you picked a charm?” he asks, and you look away instantly. “Hey,” he says, noticing that, “what’s up, buttercup?”

You sigh reluctantly. “I can’t afford to get one of those…”

Seokjin blinks and frowns slightly. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’ll pay for you.”

“No way!” you hiss at him, poking a finger into his chest. “Kim Seokjin, don’t you dare-!”

“Hey, I owe you, it’s cool,” Seokjin assures you.

“Owing me because I paid for your McDonalds is not the same as spending thirty dollars on a tiny charm.”

“They’re friendship charms,” he explains. “It’s symbolic for our friendship. Look, stay silent and pretty and let me get you something nice. Please?”

In this one instance, Seokjin doesn’t take no for an answer and invites himself into the small huddle of guys around the charms and picks one out for you. Seokjin picks you a love heart, because he knows that no matter what, there’s a love between the guys and you that nothing can pull apart.

(22) looking stupid in public together (dancing in stores to overplayed pop songs)

You hear it at the same time as Jeongguk.

One thing you don’t mind that much about Korea is that the sound of random K-POP groups follows you around everywhere you go. You actually kind of like it, because the songs are catchy enough and Jimin and Hoseok like it for the dances. But, my God, if you have to hear Momoland’s Bboom Bboom one more time, you might explode.

Over the hum of the refrigerators in the small GS25, where you and Jeongguk are examining the surprisingly large collection of flavoured milks, you hear those guitar strums and just as the horns roll in, you and Jeongguk share a glance and immediately do The Thing.

The Thing is recreating the entire dance routine to the song, which you had both decided to learn when you were bored and procrastinating during midterms. Everybody else in your friendship group deems it the single most embarrassing thing that you and Jeongguk do in public next to jaywalking, and maybe you can see why. The chorus rolls by and you’re both shimmying, pointing finger hearts to each other, and it’s rolling to an end when one of the cashiers turns the corner with a big tray of iced coffee in her arms.

She pauses and so do the both of you, in an intense stare off until she cowers and scurries to put down the tray and carefully shelf the drinks. Jeongguk looks at you with the urge to laugh and picks a random milk off the shelf, urging you out of the aisle to pay. When you’re outside and free from the judgement of the cashier, Jeongguk laughs on the floor for about five straight minutes.

(23) looking stupid in public together (singing loudly in ur car)

“JUST GO AHEAD AND HATE ON ME AND RUN YOUR MOUTH!”

“So everyone can hear!”

“HIT ME WITH THE WORST YOU GOT AND KNOCK ME DOWN!”

“Oh, baby, I don’t care.”

“KEEP IT UP AND SOON ENOUGH, YOU’LL FIGURE OUT!”

Both of your voices: “You wanna be, you wanna be, A LOSER LIKE ME!”

In the backseat, Yoongi shrinks further down until his bum is hanging off the chair, in the footwell where his knees are. “Please kill me.”

(24) hugging people when u say hi and goodbye to them

Hoseok is one of the best friends you could ever ask for. One, he’s friendly. Two, he’s funny. Three, he’s cute. Four, he hugs you when you arrive somewhere and again when you leave, and you absolutely love it.

“Y/N, hi!” His voice is the first to call out to you when you walk into the Open Day fair at your Uni. You look awful, overslept and still half asleep, but he comes towards you with a smile and engulfs you in a hug. “You look cute. Sleep well?”

That’s not to say the other guys don’t hug you, because they definitely do. But, Hoseok’s always the first.

(25) being there for someone even if u can't help them

“Go ahead. Laugh at me like everybody else.”

Jimin and Jeongguk are the ones who are unfortunately tasked with dealing with a tragically grieving Y/N. It’s unfortunate to you, but they don’t mind one bit. The last thing they expected to see when they came back to Jeongguk’s apartment to watch more episodes of Mindhunter on Jeongguk’s TV, was you curled up on the window seat with red eyes and a runny nose.

“Why would we laugh at you, baby?” Jeongguk asks, rubbing your back. He’s sat next to you and Jimin is by your feet, rubbing them and your legs with his soft hands.

You sniff uglily, but none of them say anything. “Cause. Cause it’s just a fish, I guess.”

“It was still your pet,” Jimin points out sadly. “Susan was a great fish.”

You sniff again, crying some more. “I just feel like a bad owner. Maybe the bowl wasn’t big enough, and maybe I didn’t feed her enough...I don’t want her to have died because of me.”

“Hey, now,” Jeongguk assures softly, “I’m sure she died peacefully. You were the best fish Mom ever. Susan’s in a better place now.” He glances over at Jimin nervously, “Like, fish heaven?”

For a moment you don’t say anything, and Jeongguk thinks maybe that was too much. But then you turn to him with a hopeful expression. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeongguk replies.

“Susan’s still with you in your heart,” Jimin adds. He’s not too great at the comforting thing. “You were so good to her. If I was a fish, I’d want you to be my Mom.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin with a deadpan face. Maybe that was too much, but you smiled, and that’s something to Jimin. Even if he doesn’t know what to do to help, the least he can do is be there for you.

(26) "this reminded me of u"

[03:15AM] namjoon: hehe [03:15AM] namjoon: this reminded me of u ^__^ [03:16AM] namjoon: [1 Image Attached]

[03:20AM] y/n: there r no words….

(27) allowing people to be human, with everything that this entails

University truly has been the best years of your life. There’ve been rough spots financially and mentally, but your key support system has been the circle of friends you’re proud to love and live with. Even when they’re a little bit chaotic, sometimes really annoying and loud and tiring, you still love them, and every quality that comes along with loving them.

#yoonkooknetwork #ggukienet #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworld #hehe #bts #bangtan #bts imagine #bts scenario #bts fluff #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagine #seokjin #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #jeongguk #jimin #taehyung #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jeongguk x reader #jungkook x reader

[areyoureadyforsomemeatballz]

Steve Rogers’s Day Off

Summary: For years Steve’s friends and coworkers have seen him as a stalwart stick in the mud. If only they could see him when he lets his hair down. But only one person seems to get that side of him- you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2500

Warnings: Swearing. Steve shirking his captainly duties?

A/N: This was my entry for @themaskedwriter ‘s challenge. Check out their account for wonderful fics and upcoming rounds. I had an absolute blast writing it and watching you guys guess. I wanted to re-upload for those that may have missed it! Enjoy. 

Tony pushes his head into his folded arms, almost sending his plate of untouched eggs to the floor. “Can we all just take the day off? Mission debrief be damned.”

“Steve wouldn’t stand for that,” Clint chuckles as he takes a long drag of his coffee. “We all know he isn’t one to play hooky, especially when he’s the one that set the meeting”

Around the dining room table, there are nods and a few words of agreement. Bucky looks up from his phone and shakes his head.

“I don’t think you guys know Steve as well as you think you do,” he says with a small smile.

“I think you’ve lost touch, Tinman. We’ve all seen Steve in action this century,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Pardon my French, but he’s so tight that if you stuck a lump of coal up his ass, in two weeks you’d have a diamond.”

In the kitchen, a glass shatters and everyone whips around in their seats toward the noise. There’s a flash of golden blond hair and the sound of hasty footsteps.

“I think he heard you,” Bruce murmurs, not looking up from his bowl of cereal.

Bucky moves to stand as you walk into the room. “Hey, do you guys know what’s up with Steve? He ran the other way when he saw me coming down the hallway.”

“Tony’s just being an asshole, as per usual,” Clint says.

You look away from Bucky and notice the sheepish expression on Tony’s face. “Tones, what did you do?”

“Clint said it too!”

“I wasn’t the one talking about his tight ass!”

Bucky rolls his eyes and moves to smack both men on the back of their heads. “Maybe you should go check on him, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you look back down the hall to where Steve disappeared. “Yeah, I can go see if he’s okay.”

You knock on Steve’s bedroom door softly and wait for a few minutes before peeking your head around it. Steve is sprawled out on his back staring up at his ceiling fan. You walk over to him and sit down on his bed. He lets out a long exhale and tosses his arm over his eyes.

“What’s got you so down, Stevie?”

He pulls his arm away from his face and his bright blue eyes meet yours. “Am I boring?”

You raise your eyebrow at him and grin at the face he pulls. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Because you think I’m a stick in the mud too?”

“Get up!” You reach down for his hands and pull the two of you up off the plush mattress. “We’re going out. I’m not letting you sit here and throw a pity party all day.”

“Leave me be,” Steve groans. “Hey! This isn’t a pity party and I wasn’t going to stay here all day.”

“You’re damned right it’s not. You do fun stuff all the time, you’ve just been busy lately.”

You grab Steve’s hand and he trails behind as you lead him through the halls. When you reach the garage, you look up to the wall of keys expectantly. “Pick one.”  

“I don’t think Tony would want us to.”

“Tony owes you one,” you gesture towards the wall. “Now pick a car, any car.”

“Where are we going?”

You grin at Steve as he randomly grabs a set of car keys. “To see something good.”

He passes you the keys and you click the lock to find the car. Your grin only grows when you see it’s one of Tony’s favorites. Steve slides into the passenger seat as the car roars to life.

Steve fiddles with the knobs of the stereo and looks over at you. “Okay, you’ve successfully kidnapped me, now where are we going?”

“What’s the first thing that pops into your head when I say ‘fun’?”

His brows pinch together. “I don’t know? Baseball, maybe?”

You pull out your phone and shoot off a quick text. “It’s a little early in the year for baseball, but I’ve got an idea. F.R.I.D.A.Y. can you start a route to Yankee Stadium? Also, send a message to the team that Steve came down with some nondescript illness.” You pull the car out of its spot and race off into the early morning sun.

Her Irish lilt fills the speakers. “Of course. Anything else, miss?”

“Yeah, start Steve’s favorite playlist. Thanks, F.R.I.”

She doesn’t answer but a different song pours through the speakers and Steve nods along to the beat. You weave through the mid-morning traffic and soon enough your stepping out into the parking lot outside the stadium.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here? The season doesn’t even start for another month.”

“I know that you’re a Dodgers man, but I figured you wouldn’t want to spend all day on a plane. That, and I don’t personally know anyone on their coaching staff.”

Steve quirks his eyebrow at you. “That doesn’t tell me what we’re doing here.”

“We’re breathing a little life back into our routines,” you say with a laugh and tug on his arm. “C’mon, I promise it’ll be fun.”

A smile overtakes Steve’s face and he lets you guide him through the empty stadium to a row of offices. You knock on one of the doors and a man with kind eyes greets you.

“I’ve been expecting the two of you,” The man says with a broad smile. “Mr. Rogers it’s an honor.”

“Please, it’s Steve.”

“Steve this is Aaron, he’s the team’s general manager. I saved his ass during one of the many botched alien take-overs and he insisted that he owed me a favor.”

“I am surprised you are finally cashing it in, though. The field is all set up for the two of you.”

Aaron winks at the two of you and Steve raises his eyebrows at the man. “Set up for what, exactly?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” you singsong and push the confused blond back towards the field.

Steve smiles as you pull him onto the field and toss him a bat. “Ready to let out some aggression? I have a feeling this is going to be a baseball massacre.”

Steve scoffs and spins the bat in the air over his shoulder, catching it deftly. “This was my dream, you know? Buck and me went to any game we could. I uh- I thought that they’d let a little guy like me on a team if I was good enough. I practiced until my hands were raw.”

“You never told me that.” You look up from the pitching machine that you’re trying to turn on.

“Never told anybody. Not even my mom or Bucky,” he murmurs with a far-off look. “I’m sure they suspected.”

“I’m sure they did. You’re about as subtle as a bull in a china shop.” You tear your eyes away from him before he can notice you staring and finally turn the right knob. “Aha! You ready for the first pitch, Mr. America?”

His eyes narrow at you, but he can’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up out of his throat. “Do your worst.”

You raise your brow and feed the first ball into the machine. A deafening crack sounds throughout the stadium. You flip around just in time to see the ball fly through the air straight over the back wall.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. “Steve! That was on the fastest setting!”

Steve’s smile is blinding as he takes off around the bases at breakneck speed. He’s not even panting when he slides into home plate. He stands and wipes the dirt off his pants as he jogs over to you.

A giggle bursts out of him as he pulls you in for a hug. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“If only the talent scouts could see you now,” you say breathlessly. “They’d be begging to get you on the roster.”

Steve’s cheeks flush as he lets go of you quickly. “That would sure be something. Is it your turn?”

“After that performance, I don’t know if I should.”

“C’mon its fun,” he smiles as you return to the plate and pick up the bat. “I’ll even turn the speed down.”

You hold the bat with one hand and raise your middle finger to him. Steve drops the ball into the machine and you manage to hit the ball over his head. You drop the bat and sprint towards first base. Steve scoops up the ball and darts towards you, just before you can hit the base Steve is there. You can’t stop your feet in time and you crash into Steve’s broad frame, his hands circle your waist to keep you steady.

“You okay there, doll?”

You grin and look up at him. “I mean I’d be better if I were safe, but I’m no match for the great Steve Rogers.”

He rolls his eyes and holds your arms to make sure that you’re okay to stand. “It’s the serum. I’d be almost as hopeless as you without it.”

You gasp and clutch your chest. “That’s a low blow, Stevie.”

“I couldn’t help-” his stomach growling cuts off his sentence and his cheeks flush a brilliant red again. “it.”  

“It appears that even star athletes get hungry,” you say with a grin. “You wanna break for some lunch?”

“As much as I love ballpark hot dogs, I don’t think eating last seasons are such a good idea.”

“As good as that sounds, that’s not what I had in mind,” you scrunch your nose up and he laughs. “What’re you in the mood for, dummy?”

“You’re the mastermind here.”

“That’s not how it works! We’re having your best day ever. So, I ask again, what’s for lunch?”

Steve laughs and his eyes light up. “You know a hot dog actually sounds really good.”

“So, you do want a moldy-year-old hot dog? You’re a sick man, Rogers.”

“I was thinking Central Park? We could do some people watching. That and the drive shouldn’t be too bad.”

“If that’s what you want for your special day then it’s what we’re doing.”

You reach for Steve’s hand but stop midair, quickly rethinking your action. You feel your cheeks heat up and you turn to walk back to the car. Steve watches your retreating form before his brain catches up and he darts after you. You toss him the keys with a tight grin.

“Think you can handle it?”

“Doll, I was driving long before you were alive,” Steve chuckles. “Tanks and planes mostly, but they can’t be that different.”

“Hardy-har, grandpa has a sense of humor.”

Steve turns to you with a heart-stopping grin and stomps on the gas, pealing out of the parking lot. He expertly weaves through the mid-day traffic and pulls the sports car into a spot just outside the park. You make your way to a hot dog vendor and eat your lunch as you walk around, enjoying the warm weather.

The soft sounds of a few street performers draws you and Steve in, along with a small crowd. An older couple takes each other’s hands of the and the two start to sway to the music. Others in the crowd follow their lead and Steve offers his hand to you.

“Dance with me?”

You smile and take his hands and he spins you around. “It’s only right.”

“Danke schoen, darling, danke schoen,” the singer croons. “Save those lies, darling don’t explain.”

“I recall Central Park in fall,” Steve sings quietly. “How you tore your dress, what a mess. My heart says danke schoen.”

You laugh softly and lay your head on Steve’s chest. “Too bad it’s spring.”

“Just pretend, doll.”

You close your eyes and he continues to murmur the words, his chest rumbling as the two of you dance. All too soon the song is over and the couples around you begin to separate. You squeeze Steve’s warm hands and he smiles softly before stepping away from you.

“What’s next?”

“I was thinking something with art? I think they’ve got a new exhibit at the Met,” you say as you start to pull out your phone to check their website.

Steve stops you and nods towards another street artist, this one sketching people for money. “How much do you think he’d charge for a sketch pad?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” you say with a grin as Steve approaches the man.

It turns out the going rate for a sketch pad in Central Park is twenty-five dollars and a selfie with Captain America. You and Steve find a nice spot where he can draw, while still having people around for him to sketch. You sit next to him, content to watch his intense concentration as he shades. The park begins to grow quiet as the afternoon wears on.

“What are you sketching now that there’s nobody around?”

Steve bites his lip and his eyes dart down to the pad in his lap. “One of my favorite subjects.”

“Oh, Tony then?”

He laughs but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You know I prefer to not draw from memory. Besides Tony’s a terrible muse, he’s always moving too much.”

“What is it, then? The city? New York’s got to be the perfect muse.”

He shakes his head. “How could I waste time drawing buildings when I’ve got something so beautiful sitting right in front of me?” His hands shake lightly as he holds out the pad of paper to you.

You look down at the sketch pad and notice a familiar form- yours. He’s somehow captured the slopes and angles of your body perfectly as if he had drawn them hundreds of times. You can’t take your eyes of the radiant woman smiling up at you. Steve’s somehow put a sense of untouchable longing into the portrait.

“I’m really sorry if you don’t like it,” Steve whispers. “It’s creepy. God, I just can’t help but draw you-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his and the needy noise he makes in the back of his throat sends you into overdrive. His hands find your waist and he drags you impossibly closer to him. The sketchpad falls forgotten at your feet as you tangle your fingers into his short strands. You both pull back panting, desperate to catch your breath.

“I take it you like the picture?”

You bury your face in his chest. “I love it.”

“Doll?”

“Yeah, Steve?”

“Can I kiss you again?”

Tony shrieks as he looks down at his phone and everyone comes running into the common room. He shoves a picture of you and Steve kissing into Natasha’s face. “Since when are they together?”

“According to this very real looking TMZ article, they’re secretly married,” Sam says as he reads over Natasha’s shoulder.

“How rude, we didn’t even get an invite,” Natasha smirks. “And to think Steve told us he was sick.”

Bucky grins from the couch. “Oh, that’s not Steve, that’s Abe Froman. And his lucky lady.”

“The sausage king of Chicago,” Tony sputters.  

Bucky laughs and nods as the rest of the group look at Tony as if he’s grown a second head. “It’s the name he uses when they’re playing hooky. Looks like he finally got the balls to do something about his feelings, though.”

“What the actual fuck.”

“Language,” Bucky mock-gasps.

Tony’s eyes widen. “Rogers has got a lot of explaining to do.”

Likes/comments/reblogs mean the world!

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers/reader #steve rogers x reader #Steve/Reader #steve x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers x you #steve rogers/ reader #steve rogers/you #Ferris Bueller's Day Off #the masked writer #marvel fanfic idea #fanfiction #fic #ash writes

[wishingupontheskyandstars]

Reylo Fanfic Title: Seasons of Friendship, Yearning, Kisses, And Love

Rated M

Fic Summary: Rey is Ben's new neighbor and as the seasons pass by there is friendship, yearning, first kisses, and love.

Chapter 1 AO3 Link

Chapter 2 AO3 Link

                                               Chapter 2 - Spring 🌷

Ben sat on a bar stool in his parents' kitchen, working on his laptop. He stopped typing, raised his arms and stretched--instantly feeling less tense. He grabbed his warm cup of coffee from off the counter and finished it. He sighed as he looked ahead at the back yard. He grinned slowly, watching his dad flip burgers on the grill next to the gazebo. He saw him give a half-smile to his mom and Aunt Amilyn. The two were on an outdoor rattan sectional sofa. His mom was sat up with Amilyn's head on her lap, massaging her head lovingly. They were talking to each other until his father said something he couldn't hear. His mom nodded at him with a grin and said something which made his dad laugh. Ben looked away, glad they were all happy. He retrieved his phone from the counter and saw a new text from Rey. He smiled, not caring if anyone saw him. He started to text back, sighed happily, missing her.

Rey sat on a bistro chair next to her small round black patio table, on her balcony, facing Alderaan park. It was a lovely day to take a stroll through the park, see and smell the gardens full of blooming flowers if only she could, she thought. She stretched her legs in front of her, lifted them, and placed them on the other bistro chair where the sunlight instantly warmed her skin. She reached for her favorite mug filled with her freshly made strawberry and blueberry smoothie and took a sip. It tasted so refreshing she wiggled her dark blue colored toes she painted the previous night. She looked to her left and saw Ben's vacant balcony separated only by a glass divider. His linen love seat, patio table, and easel remained unmoved for almost two months. Her phone chimed with a new text message. She grabbed it and wrinkled her nose, reading Ben's text. She sighed--resting her head against her sliding door, missing him.

More Than 3 Months Ago

Between Christmas and New Year's Rey got her apartment settled before she started her job at the city library in early January. She purchased essential furniture: A bed frame and mattresses, a small couch, and bar stools for her surprising long kitchen counter. She didn't feel the need to buy a table for the dining area when she could fit four chairs at the counter. She instead used the dining space as a mini office, purchasing a blue shabby chic desk and matching chair. She didn't see anything to suggest her apartment was haunted unless she dismissed that one time the light in the kitchen randomly turned on in the middle of the night when she couldn't sleep and ate cereal. Other than that, she was enjoying her new life in the city.

It was the morning after New Year's Day as Rey finished eating her fruit bowl when she heard a knock at the door. She walked over and peeked through the peephole. Her heart leaped at seeing Ben. They had spent one morning out together for breakfast just a day after Christmas and since then were friendly if they ran into each other, waiting for the elevator. He even helped the people that moved in her furniture. She briefly saw him on New Year's Day when he came back from a party hosted by his friend, Tai. He had invited her and she wanted to say yes, but didn't--insisting she had other plans, but really, she saw the city's fireworks from her balcony and watched rerun episodes of a favorite show on her new television. At the time, she didn't want to move too fast in getting to know Ben as she recognized he was different from other guys she dated.

She opened the door revealing Ben with a worried expression. He said in a rush, "I wanted towarnyou that my momandAuntAmilyn are coming over."

Rey raised her brows, getting half of what he said. "What?"

"I'm sorry." He genuinely looked apologetic as he sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair, nervously.

"Why?" Rey felt like she couldn't get any other words out since she was caught off guard.

Ben shrugged. "They unexpectedly came over for breakfast and now they're interested in decorating your apartment. I'm sorry."

"Oh!" Rey's eyes widened. She didn't know how to respond.

Ben pointed toward the inside of her apartment. "I tried to text you earlier--to warn you so you can leave or—"

Rey groaned, closing her eyes as she leaned into her door. "I forgot to plug it in last night."

"Ah." Ben crossed his arms.

At that second there was a new voice in the conversation: "Rey!" Leia said from behind Ben as she put an arm around her son's waist and squeezed him, making him groan slightly. "How are you this morning?" She asked with a bright smile. Amilyn also appeared, standing on the other side of Ben looking inside her apartment with an inquisitive look on her face.

"Great, thank you, Mrs. Solo." Rey saw Ben look gigantic next to his mom. It made her grin.

"No need for formalities." Leia walked towards Rey, quickly hugging her as did Amilyn, who followed behind. "Call me, Leia," she said, walking in the living room looking around at the nearly empty room.

Rey shrugged at Ben, who was still in the hallway. She gestured with her head for him to come inside. He mouthed I'm sorry as he walked by her. She nodded, giving him a small smile.

Leia walked a few steps into the kitchen as she said, "We just wanted to pop by and..."

"See if we can help you decorate your place. Ben mentioned you start work soon," Amilyn said as she gave Rey a wink.

"It would be a gift from us to you," Leia said.

Ben rolled his eyes, looking agitated. "Mom..." He interrupted or tried to.

Leia walked back to Rey and gently squeezed her arm. "We're just grateful that Ben has a neighbor like you and someone who can be—"

"Mom, stop," Ben said in annoyance. He was standing on the other side of Rey with his arms crossed.

It was as if Leia didn't hear him as she continued to say, "You remember at Christmas when he looked happy singing carols while Luke played the piano? Ami, when has that ever happened?"

"Never!" Amilyn yelled from the kitchen. Ben scoffed.

Rey chuckled and crossed her arms, bumping her elbow with his. Ben sighed. "Did I mention I was sorry about this?" He asked, his dark eyes looking into hers. She saw the intensity in his look and she could tell he was distraught over this.  

She put her hand over his arm. He wore a dark sweatshirt, but she felt the strength of his arm--the muscle which made her take a breath in before she reassured him, "It's okay, Ben."

"I know what we're going to do." Leia walked outside to the balcony. She turned and said in a matter of fact tone, "Rey, give us until this early evening and we'll have everything ready."

"We'll be done by five," Amilyn estimated as she walked towards Leia with her iPad in hand, typing.

Rey looked at Ben with a look of disbelief. "Are they serious?" she whispered.

"Always," he said with a heavy sigh.

"Go see a movie or dine at Maz's restaurant. She added a few new meals on the menu," Leia said as she retrieved her phone from her purse and started to type away.

"The garlic parmesan pasta is divine," Amilyn said, not looking up from her iPad as she made the chef's kiss gesture.

Ben's phone rang, surprising them both. He retrieved it from his jeans pocket, looked at it, and grimaced. He looked back at Rey. "It's someone from work—I have to take this." He looked back at his mom and Amilyn and shook his head. "As I said, they're too much," He looked uneasy as he placed his hand on her arm before walking away.

Rey felt the warmth from his touch as she saw him walk to the hallway talking about the design of a website. She looked back at his mom and aunt on the balcony and walked with determination to them. "Leia, I'm so appreciative but I don't have the money to pay you back. I just got some furniture that I know will work for me so..." She gave them a reassuring smile.

Leia looked up from her phone and put it back into her purse. She walked just two steps to reach Rey and took her hands in hers. "I promise we will keep your furniture in place. We just want to help and maybe one day you can pay back the favor to someone else." Rey felt trust as she stared in her soft brown eyes that resembled her son's. Leia smiled which made Rey smile in return.

"And we're good at this." Amilyn boasted as she continued to type on her iPad.

Leia still held Rey's hands as she said, "I'm sorry if we inconvenienced you, Rey, and we understand if you want us to leave."

Other than Ben helping her when she first moved and even inviting her to spend Christmas with his family when she didn't have anyone, she had never had someone help her just because. She realized the genuine kindness in this family ran strong. With a smile, she said, "I look forward to seeing what you two do."

After Rey and Ben browsed a bookstore, took a stroll in the freezing outdoors through the snow-filled park, and had lunch at Maz's restaurant, Rey saw as promised the newly added décor work with all her furniture. A dark wood coffee table was placed in front of her dark couch. A floor lamp and an end table were alongside one side of the couch. There were mirrors placed in each room. Different scenery and floral prints were hung on the walls. An end table with a lamp was placed in her bedroom. A blender, pots and pans, and a spice rack were added to her kitchen.

Out on the balcony, there was a black bistro table and two chairs on the patio along with an umbrella. Succulents, ficus plants, geraniums, and orchids were placed all around her apartment. She touched the petal of one orchid and felt it was indeed real and not fake. She hadn't nurtured many plants before but was ready to take care of them. They made the apartment livelier, Rey thought. That evening she made everyone dinner filled with bruschetta and mac n cheese with veggies. Rey found herself getting more attached to Ben and his family and was starting to feel like she was where she was supposed to be--she held on to that feeling.

Soon enough, Rey got in the rhythm of her apartment, neighborhood, and her new job position. At work, she instantly clicked with two of her co-workers: Rose and Jannah. At the apartment, she and Ben had lunch every weekend after a busy work week, either at hers or his place. The more she talked to Ben, the more she was feeling something for him.

During their lunch before Valentine's day, Ben made a sausage, cheese, and spinach quiche. Rey took a bite and closed her eyes in bliss.

"Does that mean it's good?" Ben asked and grinned.

"Fuck yes," Rey laughed, covering her mouth. "Sorry."

Ben laughed. "Glad you like it." He took a bite and nodded at her. "Yeah, there's not going to be any leftovers."

Rey already took a second slice from the dish. She raised her fork and said, "Correct." She looked at the easel on his balcony. With her fork, she pointed at it. "Are you working on new art?"

Ben nodded. "It's of the park," he said, modestly. He immediately went back to eating.

Rey gave him a sly grin. "When do you think I will be able to see this new art piece by artist, Ben Solo," she said with a smile.

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "Maybe...never," he said, raising a brow.

"Oh, come on!"

He shrugged. "Probably by next weekend. I'll bring it over to your apartment."

"Yes!" Rey said with excitement.

Ben looked at Rey and thought she looked genuinely happy to see his art. He looked away and took another bite of quiche. He then realized next weekend was Valentine's Day and he had been wanting to ask Rey on a proper date. Perhaps—his cell rang just then. He looked at it and put it back down. "It's Amilyn," he said.

"Oh! How is she?" Rey asked then drank orange juice from one of Ben's expensive-looking crystal goblet.

Ben shrugged. "Fine, I guess. She and my mom are always busy so—" The phone rang again. "Ok, I better get this."

Rey nodded.

Ben answered, "Hey, Au--What?" Ben's brows furrowed. "When? ... Which hospital? ... Okay, I'm leaving right now...umm..." He moved his mouth one side then the other. "Did you see him? ... Okay, yeah, bye." He put down his phone and stared at his plate of half-eaten quiche.

"What happened?"

At the sound of his name he looked at Rey and said as if confused, "My dad was by himself ...in a plane accident. He needs surgery and I need to go to the hospital." He stood up and walked down the hallway to his room. He came back less than a minute later and looked around the living room. "My keys--I don't know where they are."

Rey looked behind her at the hook near his front door where his keys were. She walked, grabbed them, and gave them to Ben.

He looked surprised as he held the keys in his hand. "Right." He looked around the room again and said, "Umm...my phone." He grabbed his wallet from the pocket of his dark jeans and looked puzzled. "Not my phone." He put his wallet back in his pocket.

Rey looked at his phone, left on the counter. She grabbed the phone and gave it to him. He looked confused as he said, "Thank you."

"Ben, you're in shock. Let me drive you to the hospital."

Ben raised his brows. "You'll drive me?" He looked genuinely surprised, again.

"Of course." She gently put her hand on his arm. He looked down at her hand then his eyes searched her face as if trying to find something. Rey tried to give him an encouraging smile as she walked with him towards the front door, locking it behind them.

As Rey drove to the hospital she made it a habit to check on Ben during red lights. His eyes were always closed--his jaw was clenched.

When they got to the hospital waiting room, Leia held onto her son as Ben had his arms around her. Rey heard him whisper to his mom, "He'll be fine—He always is." Rey smiled, touched seeing Ben so affectionate with his family.

Later that evening as Rey and Ben were back at the apartments she opened the door to hers. She looked to her left and saw Ben still standing in front of his door. "Ben?"

He looked at her with an almost worried expression. He walked a couple of steps to her. "I'm thinking of packing a bag of clothes and staying with my parents for a while--just until he's out of the hospital and recuperates at home. I don't know-- maybe if I was there more it would help." He shrugged.

Rey stepped closer to Ben where there were less than a few inches between them. "What can I do?"

Ben half-smiled. "You've done so much already—driving me to the hospital when I couldn't get myself together. You being there--it helped... thanks, Rey."

"Even though the timing was not ideal it was nice to meet your dad's friends, Chewie and Lando. They told so many stories when you were younger." She wrinkled her nose in mischief.

Ben looked like he was turning red in embarrassment. He ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, yeah, like what?" He shook his head. "Never mind."

Rey chuckled. "Anyway, if you need anything, please let me know." She realized they were close--very close. She leaned forward just a tad. The hallway lighting was dim as if it was going to go out any minute.

Ben looked down at her hands. Slowly he touched her fingertips with his. "Rey, earlier I wanted...um..."

Rey looked down at their hands touching. His touch felt warm--she wanted more. She held his hand, stroking his skin with her thumb. She looked up and met his dark eyes. "Yes?"

Their faces were close enough where Ben could smell her strawberry shampoo. He felt her soothing caress on his hand and wanted to ask her out for Valentine's Day but he refrained. He closed his eyes and sighed, feeling it wasn't the right time. If he left now he wouldn't be back for a while, and-- He cleared his throat and didn't let go of her touch as he said, "Let's keep in touch, okay?"

Rey felt that he was going to say something different but nodded, interlocking her fingers with his, and said, "Absolutely."

Texts and phone calls were how Rey and Ben communicated the next few weeks as Valentine's Day came and went. Han was out of the hospital and back in the comfort of his own home, in bed most of the day, with a cast on one leg and one arm. Rey could tell Ben was relieved that his father was almost back to himself just in the more at ease tone of his messages to her. She planned to visit Chandrila during an upcoming weekend but soon enough that became just a wish.

As March rolled in, whispers about the Red Shadow Virus became louder and louder, world-wide. Everywhere, including the city, many were severely sick and some died. It became a tragic pandemic that resembled the Blue Shadow Virus that occurred less than a century ago. A stay-at-home order was enforced, keeping people home except going out for the essentials. Ben continued to stay with his family at home while Rey stayed in her apartment on her own. Instead of talking a few times a week their conversations were daily.

"I'm glad your father is feeling better," Rey said as she made dinner in her kitchen. She had her cell phone on speaker.

"That's the only good news right now. He can be grouchy sometimes but I think he's relieved I'm home—Mom too." He sighed. "It's a tragedy what's going on."

"It's heartbreaking—watching the news and listening to the loved ones of those that have passed away..." Rey felt her eyes moisten remembering what she saw on the news just an hour earlier. "How's your mom?"

"She's been redecorating half of the house and making sure my dad is healing well. She's keeping busy, as always. How are you holding up?"

Rey stirred vegetables that were sizzling in the pan. "I went shopping earlier this morning so I'm good on groceries for a while and I'm able to work remotely, for now."

"Same here."

"Yeah and a couple of days a week, Jannah, Rose, and I have been making food deliveries to first responders."

Ben smiled, knowing Rey is someone that wants to help any way she can. He admired that about her. "That's great. Rey, I—" He stopped talking.

Rey furrowed her brows. "Ben? You there?"

"Yeah... What I wanted to say was that I'm going to miss seeing you these next few weeks." He gulped.

Rey smiled, glad he felt the same as her. "I feel the same."

"Yeah?"

"Mmm." Rey took a breath before she admitted, "I miss seeing you every morning, taking the elevator together, and having our weekly lunch—it's something I look forward to."

She didn't hear him for a few seconds and feared she might have said too much but she then heard him say, "Ditto." Rey grinned.

Present – Early Afternoon

Ben was in his car arriving back to his parents' home after making a grocery run and other errands for his parents. He turned off his car and saw the garage door close behind him. He took off his mask, got out of the car, and started to bring groceries to the kitchen, cleaning the fruit and vegetables, before putting them in the fridge. He looked outside at the gazebo. It was quiet but he knew his parents and Aunt Amilyn was home. He shook his head and retrieved more groceries from his car.

Minutes later, he went upstairs to check on his parents to see if there was anything they needed before he took a shower, worked on his laptop, and perhaps text Rey. At that thought, he grinned and opened his parents' bedroom door. "I'm back, do you need anything else?" He asked before his eyes enlarged at what he saw before him. I should have knocked, he thought.

"You know there's something I didn’t know about my family."

Rey was lying on her bed wearing comfy pajamas as she looked up at the ceiling. She had Ben on speakerphone next to her on a pillow. She leaned on her right side and said, "What?"

Ben was in his room, sitting up on his bed, his feet on the ground. He was holding his phone at his ear. "My parents are like a couple with Amilyn."

Rey smiled. "You didn’t know?"

Ben gasped. "Wait--you knew?!"

"I did see some sort of intimacy between them in the kitchen at Christmas. I thought you knew."

"I found out earlier today after coming back from the market. I went to check in on them in their room and saw my dad asleep without his shirt on one side of the bed and the other side... My mom and Amilyn—" He gulped before he continued, "Um—They were making out, hands everywhere, and they were unclothed, the duvet at their feet and--I ran--feeling like an idiot." He sighed, covering his eyes with his arm.

Rey laughed. "Oh my god, did you at least talk afterward?"

"Yeah. I know it's their business but I wished they would have told me a long time ago so I could have been happy for them starting back then instead of now." He sighed. "I'm probably not making sense."

"You are--When I saw them together it looked like all three were in a happy relationship."

"I learned it's been going on since my mom and Amilyn met in college and then my mom met my dad and--Well, they're happy together and so am I. Aunt Amilyn always felt like family since I was a kid so I'm glad they can be comfortable together in front of me instead of feeling like have had to hide it." He remembered earlier that evening as his dad was at the bbq grilling burgers and his mom and Amilyn were in the gazebo, how content they all looked together. He smiled, wishing he had more memories like that.  

Rey stretched her legs before curling near the phone. "Why didn't they tell you back then?"

"My mom didn't think I would understand but at thirty-two years old, I'm glad they can trust me," he scoffed.

"You're thirty-two?" Rey asked.

"Yes, why? Too old for you?" He then stopped talking as if he said more than he meant to.

"Ben?"

"Hmmm?"

"You're the perfect age for me and I don’t know about you but I miss you." She wrinkled her nose and raised her brows, feeling a rush of relief in telling him her true feelings.

Without a pause, he said, "I miss you too, Rey." He sighed. "Wow, I can't believe we've been waiting this long to tell each other that."

"I know," Rey said. "Ben?"

"Yeah?"

She felt bold when she asked, "What do you miss about me?" She didn't realize but she held her breath waiting for him to answer.

Ben chuckled. "That's easy--Your smile whenever we see each other and when you wear your hair in that unique triple bun hairstyle and I miss talking to you face to face."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"Once this stay-at-home order is lifted, I want to take you on an official first date."

"I want that too, badly."

Another month went by as Rey was at her desk on her laptop corresponding with Rose concerning work when she heard Ben's door open. She immediately ended her chat on teams and closed her laptop.

She stepped outside to her balcony and saw the sun just start to set. She turned to her left and finally saw him. He took off his dark mask and placed it on the patio table. It had been three months since she last saw him. She felt such emotion in seeing him. "Ben!" She walked to the glass divider.

Ben turned her way, smiled, and walked to his side of the glass divider. "It's so good to see you, Rey," he said. He looked at her face, her hazel eyes, her lips, her hair which had grown longer. "You grew your hair out," he remarked.

Rey ran her fingers through her brown hair. She nodded. "Thought it was time."

"Looks nice." He gulped, moving his mouth one way then the other.

"You look nice too." She licked her bottom lip, seeing his hair tied in a tiny ponytail; it looked different and she was intrigued. He was dressed in dark pants and a dark gray sweater that fitted him just right. He had a couple of days of scruff on his face and with it, he looked very handsome. "It's a surprise seeing you here."

Ben nodded. "My dad is feeling back to normal and--I just wanted to give them their privacy." He shrugged as he next said, "I wanted to get back to my art and—you. Even as we're separated by this glass, I just want to be near you."

He lifted his hand and placed it on the glass. Rey raised her hand and placed it opposite his. "Same," she said. They stared at each other making sure not to look away.

#reylo #reylo fanfic #rey x ben #long post

[soundofseventeen]

Ice Cream (Lee Chan)

Hello! Quick Dino post today! (I’m sorry it’s not that great I’m between jobs right now and wanted to post something I’m sorry)

Hi, Erin’s been really busy and lowkey stressed with work and her vacation planning so she let add on to this so I hope it’s okay with y’all!! i may have added a few extra prompts. Okay, back to my stuff!! Enjoy!!! -Bee

Requested

You used to be extremely close to your older brother. You and Chan did almost everything together, and he took his job as your big brother extremely. If someone teased you at school, he always backed you up, then took you for ice cream to make you feel better. Even when he wanted to hang out with his own friends, he’d still let you tag along, keeping an eye on you so you didn’t get lost. He was your best friend for most of your childhood. 

As you got older, you kept that closeness, but still had to grow apart a bit. Started to make your own friends, have your own lives, do your own things. He still tried to keep an eye on you though, just to make sure that you were doing okay. If he felt like something was wrong, he’d randomly toss your shoes at you and tell you to follow him. He’d take you for ice cream again, just to see if you’d talk to him about it or even just smile a little bit. 

Things started to change when he went to be a trainee. At first it was extremely difficult, not seeing him every day, not being able to talk to him or hang out with him. You missed him so much. Part of you worried that this would all be for nothing, and he would never debut and come home heartbroken. But, you knew better. 

You were a proud sibling when he debuted, showing everyone you could your big brother and his group. You admired him so much and everything he was able to accomplish and wanted the rest of the world to see him like you did. 

Of course, as time went on, he kept working with his group, and you kept living your life from home. While his schedule got crazier, it got so much harder to be in contact with him. He’d still send you updates, especially from tour. You always got excited when he would send you things on tour, knowing it was some cool or bazaar photo of him or one of his members. 

You tried to visit him a lot, but it was difficult to find good days for it. Between your two schedules, it rarely seemed to work out. But it always made you smile when it worked out. You’d get to hear dumb stories about him from his members (who all adopted you as their little sibling as well), and even had them all try to teach your their dances (and laughed when you failed). 

While you tried to make these visits, it only became harder still to see him. His free time seemed to always be filled with something he could do for his group or his career. You couldn’t blame him, this was his dream and you knew he had to go for it. You were usually able to let things go, knowing that he never wanted to miss things or forget things, it just happened. 

The first time it really hurt was when he missed your birthday. You had spent the day celebrating with your friends and parents, but you still found yourself checking your phone all day for that message from him. Some years he sent a video just from himself, some years with some members screaming in the back, sometimes he actually called you. But this year... Nothing. You didn’t want to ask him about it, but you also wanted to hear from him. 

Your parents were confused when you went to bed upset, not wanting to make them feel like they didn’t celebrate your day enough. You knew Chan was busy, but he always, always remembered your birthday. 

You were even more confused when your dad knocked on your door, telling you there was someone at the door for you. Thinking it was Chan, you quickly ran to the door, heart falling when it was some random delivery dude. You took the package, walking into your kitchen. 

You were started to pout again when you looked at the box, seeing it was sent from Pledis Entertainment. Your eyes widened, knowing that was Chan’s company. You quickly opened it, pulling out a smaller box and a card. You opened the card, quickly reading. 

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I’m so sorry I couldn’t celebrate with you today. We had an unexpected travel day today and I couldn’t find a chance to call you. I hope you did everything amazing you could today and didn’t suffer too much without your big brother. 

I just wanted you to know that I appreciate you, and miss you the most (don’t tell mom and dad). Love you. x Chan 

PS, I know you’re probably upset at not hearing from me today, so I gotta make it up somehow.

You grinned to yourself, opening the box, seeing an ice cream cone charm along with a coupon for a free cone at your local ice cream shop. You shook your head, of course he would get you ice cream. You snapped a picture of yourself that night, imagining he was there with you and it made you feel a little better.

The second time was around Christmas when he pinky promised you he’d be there at home, waiting by the tree so you could open one gift before the clock struck midnight. So you had brought all the blankets you owned and made a makeshift bed a couple of days before his flight landed and slept there every night in hopes you’d wake up to the familiar face. Christmas Eve came and with the most devastated expression you’d ever seen on a human, he apologized on the other end of the video call, explaining the latest thing that had come up and promised to make it up to you. 

“I’m trying to cheer you up,” he said when you shook your head, as if telling it’s okay. “I will fight you, and I’m not hanging up until you either smile.”

“Chan, you’re busy and I’m not gonna take up more of your time. Go, be a choreographer for your friends. I have to go to sleep now.” You had felt the energy leave your body with the bad news and all you wanted was to curl up into a ball and sleep the sadness away.

“Can you at least open my gift to you? I wanna see your reaction.”

“Chan, they’re waiting for you. I’ll open it and, stop doing that face! I’ll open it if you stop. Is it this one?” You held up a gift wrapped with little elves you saw he labelled after his members, which made you smile involuntarily. It had your name on it, so you assumed it was. You shook it, surprised by the rattling noises it made. 

“Yeah! Open it! It isn’t much, but it was the best I could do.”

 It ended up being a puzzle of a picture you had taken once upon a time where he had taken one of your toys, making you cry and him smiling evilly. (Just because he was also your best friend didn’t mean he didn’t play the his role of the older brother tormenting the younger sibling and inside the box you had found another coupon for the ice cream place. There was no explanation but you also didn’t have the heart to use it this time, so you let it expire.

The more time passed after that, the more empty promises he made, each time making it up with a coupon as if it solved everything. Sometimes you used them, but you’d only take a few licks and then throw it away. Ice cream, you realized, didn’t taste as good when it was bought under the pretense of a guilty conscience.You hated the distance, despised the consequences of Chan being an idol, resented Chan for not being here like he used to be. All you got were “I’m sorry,”s and lousy pieces of paper for ice cream and even after awhile, those stopped too which hurt more than anything. And suddenly, Iksan frustrated you and you knew you had to get out soon, so after begging your parents day and night, you snuck out and took bus by bus until you landed in Seoul City.

 It brought a strange sense of comfort to you, despite being here a handful of times. The streets were always different but it always smelled the same: fried rice and steamed vegetables mixed with smog and dog shit. It wasn’t a long trip so you weren’t exactly tired, but you needed food before you became irritated. You settled for a ramen place that you’ve been to a handful of times just because you could already taste it in your mouth.

It took a particularly long time to get food, especially with the staff running and forth with takeout plates and writing on the Styrofoam with markers what each little box contained and how it was customized but you forgot about it once someone acknowledged you and apologized for the delay, explaining that is was a common order for a big party of people, though two or three only showed up, despite it all. You smiled and shook your head, placing your own order and patiently waiting for your number to be called, thankful that yours came out relatively quickly. You watched the employees throwing whatever they found on the counter that contained the meals, packets of sauces, extra chopsticks, and the drinks. You counted 13 of them. It did seem like a coincidence, but then again small gatherings with caffeine addicts was a common practice nowadays. You texted your parents who you knew were gonna ground you when you got home, but that’d be a problem for later, and scrolled through social media, seeing the antics and lifestyles of everyone you followed. 

A moment later a little bell sounded, signaling a customer followed by a pair arguing over which brand had the better soda...in Chinese.You looked up at them curiously, eyes widening you recognized Junhui (arguing Pepsi) and Minghao (defending Coke). They broke their squabble long enough to tell the cashier they were there for an order and resume it, this time in Korean.

“Coke is a classic. Coke has been around longer than Pepsi and you can go just about anywhere to eat and they serve it.”

“Coke also has a disgusting aftertaste to it. And you can taste the cheapness of it. I figured a refined man such as yourself would know that by now.

”Minghao stared at him, debating whether to stay quiet or to fire back; he chose the latter. “Bold words coming from someone who wanted to buy a Rubik’s cube from a street vendor for the price of three.”

“That is not relevant. You know what...Y/N, please come here. Yeah, don’t think we couldn’t see you. Let me ask you this. Thank you. Have a nice day.” They waited for the shock to wear off your face and cupping the bowl in your hands, followed them out to hear Junhui’s question. “Is Coke or Pepsi better? Say Pepsi because I’m trying to prove a point here.” You slid into the backseat, Hao driving and Jun turning around to keep pestering you.

“I still say Coke.You will never go to a store that doesn’t sell it. By the way, brace yourself when we go inside Pledis. Your parents called Chan earlier and he’s been freaking out all morning. I told him not to worry because you’re smart enough to know what to do by now, but what can you do? Jun, be careful! You’re tilting the plates. Never mind, I’m calling Wonwoo. He’ll help us.”

“Beat you to it,” Junhui smiled broadly. “He’s already waiting for us outside. We just have to show up. Okay answer me Y/N! This is life or death. Your answer determines the fate of the universe.” 

You saw Mingaho staring at you in the rearview mirror. “What brought this on?”

“I wish I knew. He’s been asking everyone since we woke up. Jihoon hyung is the one who refuses to answer because he thinks it’s all the same. So I guess you’re the tie breaker.”

“It’s soda. You’re gonna drink it either way.”

“But what if you’re at a party that offers both? Which are you gonna take?”

“The first one I pull out.” Your eyes narrowed at the driver who snickered. “What’s so funny?”

“You said ‘pull out’.”

“And I’m the child.” Junhui snorted.

*

“What were you thinking?” Chan ran his hand several times through his hair, waiting for you to respond to his questions.“I got tired and wanted to do something different.”

“By running away?” He put his chopsticks down, trying to make the pieces connect in his head. “That’s not like you.”

“You left Iksan too, remember? And no one said anything about it.”

“I left because I have a job. I can’t just come and go as I please, you dummy.” He stopped, nodding slowly and letting the biggest smile you hadn’t seen he got the news he’d be debuting in Seventeen. “I get it now.”

“What?”

“You miss me, don’t you Y/N?”

“...Among other things,” you confessed after a moment. “It’s not the easiest thing to forget I had an older brother that was always there.”

“This is hard for me too. I have to constantly remind myself that Jisoo hyung is in the room next door, not you.” He remembered something that made him smile. “The other day I jumped on Jihoon hyung while he was asleep because I thought it was you. Apparently you’re not the only one who covers yourself with blankets. He locked me out until Mingyu hyung came home but I’d do it again.”

“You look like you have so much fun.”

“I do but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you either.” He stacked his your plastic bowl on top of his takeout box, getting ready to dispose of them. “You know, if you didn’t want ice cream anymore, you could’ve just said so.”

“How’d you…”

“Dad.”

“Figures. It’s not that I was tired of it; it just seemed that they always showed up when you couldn’t and I hated that. It was never a random day when the rain was falling and watering the plants or when the sun was out, making it too hot to go outside.”

“Come on then. Let’s go have ice cream, just you and me and then I’ll take you home.”

“That’s a two hour commute though! You don’t have to do that.” “You should’ve thought of that before you came all the way here. Now let’s go. We have an overdue bonding session waiting for us.” His phone went off and he read the text message and rolled his eyes, the corner of his lip quirking up.

“What?”

“It’s just Jun hyung.”“What’d he say?”

“He wants to know if you’re team coke or pepsi.”

“Just tell him Coke.” 

You managed to hear a “Nooooooooo,” echo through the wing as you walked out, you and Chan laughing as you passed by. You hadn’t expected to see your brother today, but you were glad you did.

#seventeen #seventeen au #seventeen fluff #seventeen fic #seventeen drabbles #seventeen imagine #lee chan #dino #chan au #dino au #chan fluff #dino fluff #chan fic #dino fic #chan drabbles #dino drabbles #chan imagine #dino imagine #sibling au

[sporadic-writer]

Diamonds are a girl's best friend pt. 2

Why work on my series of fics no one reads lol people like my blurbs more and these I have ideas for

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: swearing and shit, implication of sex but no smut, the usual

Summary: seriously, what who turns down diamonds from someone you love?

Part 1 here!

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

A couple years had passed since you first met Tom. His career took off, as he deserved, and you finally finished college. Your relationship was public, but for the most part it was surprisingly chill. You had a job lined up in your field, and Tom was getting various offers each week. Both of you were thriving and happily in love. You even moved in together a while back. Even though you weren't always together for periods of time, neither of you felt out of touch. Sure, there were times when you missed each other like crazy, but the happy, blissful moments together made up for it. Like right now.

You were slowly waking up due to a cold breeze hitting your bare back. Tom shifted in his sleep and pulled the blanket more off your upper body. Groaning you tugged it back and snuggled into his body. He was also bare, like you. He had been away for a couple days to meet with some producers and got back last night. He really seemed to miss you to say the least. Not that you were complaining. It was a nice greeting and left you feeling wonderfully sore the next morning. However, your shifting woke up your boyfriend. He stretched and you clung onto him.

"Mmm stop moving. Stay in bed all day." You voice was groggy from sleep. You tried to get closer to him by wrapping a leg over his.

He simply chuckled. "Darling it's 10:30 and I thought you said you wanted to run to some store with Y/F/N this afternoon?"

"Ughh shit I did didn't I? Well fine I shall be productive I guess. What are you doing then?” You groaned as you rolled out of bed. 

His eyes lingered on your form before grabbing his phone from the bedside table. “I think I may go to the gym, do some busy work, answer emails and such. Would you be interested in going out to dinner tonight? Nothing too fancy, but not Taco Bell or any nasty American fast food either. I feel like right now we both have some time off and are able to breathe.” He made eye contact with you as you walked out of the closet, dressed and looking adorable as ever. “I like your hair like that by the way; pulled back and half up. It’s cute.”

“Thanks babe! Figured I’d shake up one of the 2 ways I wear my hair. And yeah dinner sounds amazing! I’ve been wanting to dress up a little anyway. Now I have some time before I meet her. Want breakfast before you work out?”

“Darling you read my mind. Now I remember why I love you so much.” He kissed you, put on his boxers and sweats, and you rolled your eyes with a smile as the both of you began making breakfast. Next thing you knew, each of you were on your ways and you were walking into an American Eagle.

“Listen. Tom wants to go out tonight, I have some spare cash, let’s hit the Aerie clearance and find me some cute shit to wear.”

You friend looked to you. “Any occasion for going out tonight?” She perused the racks as you nodded no. “Huh well any excuse to buy cute shit is a good one for me. Plus if you get laid tonight, want something new and fun underneath right?”

“Shut up! We bang and fool around regularly, but that isn’t necessary.” She just gave you the side eye and smirked. You ignored her and then you continued catching up with each other.

Around 5pm you walked into your place. “Tom? Babe you here?” You put your stuff down and walked further to find your man. He texted you a while ago and told you he was enjoying a marathon on Netflix. However, the TV was paused and there was no other sign of life. Walking closer to your shared bedroom, you heard him speaking softly on the phone. You smiled at him laying randomly on the bed. He looked like a handsome dork.

“Nah we are getting dinner tonight. That’s been taken care of,” he chuckles, “can you swing by though and - Hey Y/N you’re home. How was shopping? Mate I will talk to you later. Thanks.” He hung up with a bright smile as he sat up.

“It was fun! Y/F/N says hi by the way. She also said to not be a cliche tonight. I don’t know why, but I think it was because we were talking about spoilers and stuff for your next few films. I don’t know... I love her but I zoned out a bit. Plus I was telling her you were doing work stuff all day today and tonight.” You plopped down beside him on the bed and scrolled on your phone.

He poked your side and you snickered. He laughed with you and spoke. “She always assumes I will blow it. All the fans do. It is funny I will say but come on.”

“It’s why we love you so much! Now. When is dinner? I had a small lunch because I wanted room for where ever we go.” You got up to change your outfit a tad, that way it became a little more formal, but nothing too fancy. The height the heels gave you made you feel confident.

“I was thinking that new place that opened down town? It seemed nice and I’ve been wanting to try it.”

“Excellent. Works for me! Now what were you on the phone about? I didn’t interrupt an important call did I?”

“Not at all. Just Harrison is all. He wanted to check in and see what’s up.”

“Cool. Now I’m ready if you are. Let’s eat!” He grabbed your hand, kissed it, and pulled you out the door to enjoy a lovely meal.

Time Skip to After Dinner

“That was sooo good! You were right. We needed that Tommy.” You leaned on him with his arm around you as he flicked the lights on and dropped the keys down on the nearest surface. Suddenly you saw a big bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Aw did you get these for me? You didn’t need to do that!” You kissed his cheek and he smiled as you enjoyed them.

“I know but I wanted to. I like to spoil you remember? Plus you got me that watch a while back and I owe you. Thank Haz for dropping them off.”

“My mom helped me pick that out shut up. She was the one telling me to pick you out a nice new one as a gift.” You sniffed the flowers again. The sweet smell honestly just made your heart swell. You truly had the perfect man. “You’re perfect.”

“So are you love. Now, speaking of your mother. She also helped me pick something out for you as well. Let me go grab it. Wait here.” Nodding you smiled to yourself and hopped up to sit on the counter. You scrolled on your phone with a flower in your hand. Looking up, your lovely Brit walked back to you with his hand in his pocket and a smile on his face.

Your foot kicked him lightly, “What did ya get me hmm? Since you talked to my mom I can only assume it’s something shiny.” The glint in your eyes from the kitchen light, along with the playful smirk you gave him made him smile.

“That it is. Now um, shit, I planned on being smoother in my head. Alright. Remember that night I was worried as hell about an upcoming press tour? Overall I was stressing about nothing and you helped calm me down? Yeah you just finished like 2 lab reports and an exam, handled it like a damn champ, then dropped everything and we had a night in for ourselves. We goofed around like kids and just spent time together. Sex during a bath then later on the couch wasn’t bad either. Regardless, remember how utterly happy we were that night? Even more so than how happy we always are.” You nodded with a cute smile on your face, remembering the night that was nearly 5 months ago. “Right so it was that night, that made me realize how perfect, sweet, selfless, and utterly and completely irreplaceable you are Y/N. So I called your mum and we had been working back and forth on this, I even got your dad’s approval too. I wasn’t meeting producers the past few days, I went to meet your mum to pick this up.”

The whole time he’s talking, pieces are being put together in your head and it’s like time slows down. The bastard still hasn’t taken out anything to show you so all you do is cling to his words. He isn’t being subtle and needs to say it and make it real or else you may burst. “Tom, for the love of God get on with it or I’m gonna smack you!” You eyes were big and he chuckled a little. To think this started out as any other day.

“Easy on me love, not like this isn’t nerve wracking. We aren’t the biggest romantics but let me do my thing here baby. I love you more than anything and that’s never going to change. And remember the first time I handed you a little velvet box? You almost yelled at me thinking those earrings was an engagement ring.” He paused a little and stepped closer.” Well, promise me that you won’t yell at me this time.” He stood between your legs and his arms rested on your thighs. Out of his pocket he pulled out the little box and revealed the most stunning engagement ring ever seen in your life. “This time I don’t think it’s too soon or anything. I think it’s rather perfect if you ask me. So, let me ask you. Will you marry me?”

“Finally! Of course! Yes I will! Holy shit that’s some ring.” He slid it on your finger and you saw that it wasn’t too flashy, but it wasn’t too modest either. It was perfect, set it platinum and the diamonds were sparkling just for you. “God I love you.” He kissed you feverishly in response and your legs wrapped around him tightly. You pulled back, “You know. I did go out shopping today.”

He looked at you curiously, “I know. So what about it?”

You lifted up your shirt and revealed part of your new Aerie purchase. “I guess I should return the favor. A gift for a gift after all.” You smirked and looked into his eyes. They were dark and made you eager for the night to come.

“Get to the bedroom, put on those earrings I got you before, and let me see my gifts next to yours. What do you say love?” Hopping down you kissed him again and tugged his hair a little.

“I say I like what my fiance suggests. We have to celebrate after all.” And celebrate you did. All night long, the next day, and a little bit in between in the car when you went to visit Harrison and Tom’s family. Life could not be more perfect when diamonds are involved.

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

This wasn't requested or anything but I hope ya'll like it. Like and reblog as always!

#tom holland x reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #fanfiction #fanfic

[hmhteen]

HMH Teen Teaser: THE LOVE LETTERS OF ABELARD AND LILY!

We’re so excited about this one, people! This is the love story of Abelard, who has autism, and Lily, who has ADHD. They’ve known one another since they were kids, but one fateful day in detention, Lily kisses Abelard. Their relationship deepens and changes in ways difficult to describe in words. Especially because Abelard’s autism makes it difficult for him to communicate verbally...so they write one another text messages, often quoting an old book they both love, and just when they think they’re finally connecting, a decision Lily makes about her own mental health changes everything. 

You can read the first four chapters of this romantic YA below! 

CHAPTER ONE

The day Abelard and I broke the wall, we had a four- hour English test. Seriously.  Every tenth grade  student  in the State of Texas had to take a four-hour English  test, which is too long to sit still even if you are a normal person. And I’m not a normal person.

After the test, I told my feet to take me to geography. If I didn’t tell myself where to go, if I let my mind drift, I’d find myself in the quiet calm of the art wing, where the fluorescent lights flickered an appealingly low cycle of semipermanent gloom. Or I’d stand in the empty girls’ room just to be alone. Sometimes I think I’m not attention deficient but attention abundant. Too much everything.

When I got to geography, Coach Neuwirth handed out a boring article about the importance of corn as a primary crop in the early Americas. Then he left the room. He did this a lot. Ever since basketball season had ended, Coach Neuwirth seemed like someone who was counting the min- utes until the school year was over. To be fair, he wasn’t the only one running out the clock. 

Thirty seconds after Coach Neuwirth left, the low murmur of voices turned into a conversational deluge. I sat in the back of the room because that’s where the two left- handed desks were — in the row reserved for stoner boys who do not like to make eye contact with teachers. Two seats in front sat Rogelio, turned sideways in his chair, talk- ing fast and casting glances in my direction.

“Cosababa, pelicular camisa,” Rogelio said, and the boys around him all laughed.

Okay, this is probably not what Rogelio said. I’m not a great listener. Also, my Spanish is terrible.

“Camisa,” he repeated.

At the word camisa, Emma K. turned to look at me, and whispered something to the blond girl next to her. I instantly wondered if I’d been talking to myself, which is a thing I do. It attracts attention.

Then it sank in. Camisa. Spanish for “shirt.”

Maybe there was something wrong with my shirt. Maybe the snap-button cowboy shirt I got at a thrift store was not charming and ironic as I’d imagined, but seri- ously ugly. Emma K. had whispered about my shirt. Even Rogelio and his friends, who often wore snap-button cow- boy shirts, had laughed at my shirt. Or maybe not, because my Spanish isn’t good, and anyway, Rogelio could have been talking about someone else. Not Emma K., though. She looked straight at me.

What if I’d popped open a button at bra level and I’d been walking around all day with my bra exposed, and was I even wearing a nice bra, a sexy black bra? Or was it just one of those tragic old bras with a ribbon or a rose that might have been cute once but, over repeated washings, had turned slightly gray and balled up like a dirty piece of dryer lint stuck to the center of my chest?

I clutched the front of my shirt, and Emma K. and the blond girl giggled. My shirt was properly buttoned, but I couldn’t sit in my chair for another minute. School was a molasses eternity, a nightmare ravel of bubble sheets and unkind whispers unfurled in slow motion. I had to leave, even though I’d promised my mother that I would under no circumstances skip school again.

I stood. My feet made a decision in favor of the door, but a squeaking metallic noise stopped me.

I turned.

Directly behind me was an accordion-folded, putty- colored vinyl wall, along with a gunmetal gray box with a handle sticking out of one end. The squeaking noise came from the metal box. The handle moved.

When our school  was built in  the sixties, someone decided that walls impede the free flow of educational ideas, because some of the third-floor rooms are all double-long, cut in half by retractable vinyl walls. Apparently, the archi- tect of this plan had never been to a high school cafeteria to experience the noise associated with the unimpeded flow of ideas. The wall doesn’t get opened much. 

 Last time anyone opened the wall was during Geography Fair. One of the custodians came with a strange circular key he inserted into a lock on the side of the box. He’d pushed the handle down and the wall had wheezed open, stuttering and complaining.

Now the handle jiggled up and down as if a bored ghost was trying to menace our class, but no one else was paying attention. I wondered if the custodian was trying to open the wall from the other side. It didn’t make sense.

I left my desk and walked to the box. I leaned over and grabbed it, surprised by the cool feel of solid metal. And suddenly, I felt much better. The world of noise and chaos faded away from me. The touch of real things can do this.

The movement stopped. I shook the bar up and down. It didn’t range very far before hitting the edge of what felt like teeth in a gear.

I pushed down hard on the handle. After a momen- tary lull, it sprang up in my hands, knocking with sur- prising force against my palms. I put both hands on the bar, planted the soles of my Converse sneakers, and pulled against it with all my might.

There was a loud pop, followed by the whipping sound of a wire cable unraveling. The bar went slack in my hands. The opposite end of the vinyl wall slid back three feet.

Everyone stopped talking. Students near the door craned their heads to see into the other classroom. Dakota Marquardt (male) said, “Shiiit!” and half the class giggled.

A rush of talking ensued, some of it in English, some in Spanish.

I dropped the handle and slid back into my chair, too late. Everyone had seen me.

Coach Neuwirth ran back into the room and tried to pull the accordion curtain closed. When he let go of the edge, it slid away, leaving a two-foot gap.

He turned and faced the room. “What the hell hap- pened here?”

It’s never good when a teacher like Coach Neuwirth swears.

I waited for someone to tell on me. Pretty much inevi- table.

Dakota Smith (female) stood and straightened her skirt. She pulled her long brown hair over her shoulder and leaned forward as though reaching across a podium for an invisible microphone.

“After you left, the handle on the wall began to move,” she began. “Lily put her hands on the handle and pushed down and the cable broke and — ”

“Thank you, Dakota.” Coach Neuwirth strode to his desk. “Lily Michaels-Ryan, please accompany me to my desk.”

I followed him to the front of the class, keenly aware that every set of eyes in the room was fixed on me. Coach Neuwirth filled out a form for me to take to the office, not the usual pink half-page referral form, but an ominous shade of yellow with pages of carbons. As I stared at the razor stubble on top of his pale head, I realized I’d messed up pretty badly. So badly, I probably wouldn’t be allowed to see my father in the summer.

“It wasn’t just me,” I said. “There was someone on the other side pushing down. I didn’t mean to break the door, it’s just . . .”

Coach Neuwirth ignored me.

“You’ll note, Miss Michaels-Ryan, that I have filled out a Skrellnetch form for you. Your mother will have to sign the kerblig and return it to the main office before you can be burn to clabs . . .”

This would be a good time to mention that I’d stopped taking my ADHD meds about a month earlier because they made me puke randomly and caused my head to ring like an empty bell at night. Side effects.

“. . . Your parents will have to sign the kerblig before you can be burn to clabs. Do you understand me?”

He waited, holding the Skrellnetch form that I needed to take to the office. Clearly, he had no plans to hand me the all-important Skrellnetch form until I answered him. I contemplated my choices. If I said yes, he would hold me responsible for remembering every clause in his statement, and I would be made to suffer later because I had no idea what he had just said. My heart pounded with a weird mix- ture of fear and exhilaration.

However, if I said no, Coach Neuwirth would consider it a sign of insubordination and general smart-assery. It didn’t look good for me.

“So . . . what copy does my mom sign again?”

Peals of laughter erupted from behind me. Someone muttered, “Ass-hat,” and the laughter increased.

“Get the hell out of my classroom,” Coach Neuwirth said. He threw the Skrellnetch paper across his desk at me.

I began my trek to the office, hoping I wouldn’t run into anyone while I held the stupid Skrellnetch form. After the noise and glare of the classroom, the quiet calm of the hall, with every other row of fluorescent lights off to save on electricity, was a relief. Six steps of cool dark, six steps of bright white burn. Down the stairs. The first floor had a band of colored tiles at shoulder height: white, mustard yel- low, white, blue. I held my right hand out and touched only the blue tiles as I passed through the hall, feeling my jittery state of anxiety mute into a dull, sad place in the center of my chest.

Down at the office, kindly Mrs. Treviño eyed my yel- low Skrellnetch form with visible regret.

“Lily, what happened?” she said, as though I’d twisted an ankle in gym, or had some other not-my-fault kind of accident.

“I broke the sliding wall between Coach Neuwirth’s and Ms. Cardeña’s rooms.”

Mrs. Treviño sighed deeply. I looked away as my lips started to quiver. A gray cloud of shame descended on me with remorseless speed. I’d like to be the good, thoughtful person Mrs. Treviño had mis- taken me for. A person who doesn’t break stuff.

“Well, you’re not the only one,” she said. “Come on back.”

She escorted me to the inner chamber. There, by the vice principal’s office, were two ugly orange chairs. On one chair sat Abelard Mitchell. I took one look at him and knew he’d been on the other side of the wall pulling up on the handle while I pushed down.

Mrs. Treviño gestured to the empty chair and left us alone in the waiting area.

I’d known Abelard since kindergarten. Since my last name was Michaels-Ryan and his was Mitchell, we stood next to each other at every elementary school function. Abelard was tall and slim but broad-shouldered, with a mop of sable brown hair and dark blue eyes. He was gorgeous, but he had some sort of processing delay, mild autism or Asperger’s syndrome or something. He didn’t interact like everyone else.

But sure. Neither did I. When I was seven, I acciden- tally smacked Abelard with my metal lunchbox because I couldn’t stop swinging my arms. I cut his cheek, but he didn’t cry, and no one noticed until later, so now he had this little scar, which was weirdly sexy. Abelard never said anything. He had to have noticed that I was standing there in front of him swinging my Hello Kitty lunchbox with happy, maniacal abandon.

I liked to believe that he could have cashed me in to the teacher and he didn’t.

I dropped into the chair next to him, feeling suddenly nervous to be sitting on a chair that was actually bolted to his chair — as though even the furniture was there to be punished.

“Hey,” I said, a little too loudly. “So you were on the other side of the wall? Who knew it would break like that? You’d think a handle roughly the same age as the Titanic would be sturdier. Although I guess that’s a bad compari- son.”

He said nothing. He was probably thinking about com- puter games, or quantum physics, or the novels of Hermann Hesse. From all available information, which I’ll admit was limited, Abelard was pretty brilliant.

“You were on the other side of the wall.” Abelard glanced at me and looked away.

“Yes.” I felt a strange thrill of complicity. “Usually, I’m here by myself. Why did you . . .”

I stopped before I asked him the stupidest of questions: Why did you break that? My least favorite question in the history of questions.

“The mechanism was squeaking. One of the gears is rusted. They need to oil it.”

I nodded. I didn’t know what to say, or if there was anything to say. I thought of Abelard, under the same anx- ious impulse to touch everything in the world of the here and now that we could feel with our hands. But unlike me, he was thinking about the hidden gears in the box, years of neglect and humidity, gears rusting away unused. He wanted to fix things, not destroy them. A more evolved monster, Abelard.

He leaned over and peered at me from under his shaggy fringe of hair. I caught a hint of his warm scent. Nice.

“Lily Michaels-Ryan,” he said. “You were in my English class last year. You hit me with a lunchbox in first grade.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much. On the plus side, I really do like the scar. It makes you look like a pirate, a little disreputable, you know?”

Abelard brought his hand to his cheek and traced the edges of the scar as though checking to see if it was still there. Suddenly, I wanted to run my hand along his cheek- bone to feel for that slightly raised skin, proof of my earlier bad act.

The sight of his hand on his cheek made me conscious of where my hand was on the arm of the chair, touching the sleeve of his shirt. A phone rang in the office around the corner. Mrs. Treviño’s voice came from the outer office, but it felt like she was on the other side of the world. We were alone.

“Abelard, why didn’t you tell anyone that I hit you with my lunchbox?” I said. “I never got in trouble for that.”

Abelard frowned in slow motion. He seemed slightly offended, like I’d accused his seven-year-old self of being a tattletale and a snitch. I’d been right. He had protected me, one freak to another. I felt a swell of something more than gratitude, more than surprise.

Abelard’s lips parted slightly, like he had something to say that he didn’t want anyone else to hear. I wanted to know what he was thinking. Suddenly, what Abelard had to say seemed like the most important thing in the world.

I turned my head and put my arm down on the chair to lean in so he could whisper in my ear. My arm slipped on the ancient vinyl, and I accidentally moved too close to Abelard, which is a thing that I do. I’m not good with per- sonal space.

Abelard didn’t say anything. I felt his warm breath on the side of my face, a thousand little hairs on my cheek moving in the soft breeze, and I thought of his cheek and how I’d wanted to run my finger along the edge of his scar. And still it seemed like Abelard had something to say, but it wasn’t coming, and maybe he was too anxious to speak. I didn’t know what to say either. My brain was not forming thoughts in English.

I lifted my face and he looked away. But his lips were there, centimeters from mine.

I kissed him. The kiss was over before I really knew what I was doing, just a momentary soft press of my lips against his. A stray impulse that didn’t make sense, my wires crossed by the randomness of the day.

What was I thinking?

“Well, it was nice of you not to tell on me, even though you were only seven.” I went on talking as though I hadn’t just kissed him. I do this a lot. When you live at the mercy of your impulses like I do, you pretty much have to.

“Maybe you should have told someone? You probably needed stitches. Not that I don’t like the scar — it’s a great scar.”

Abelard brought his index finger to his lips and frowned. He had one of those serious, symmetrical faces that a slight frown only improves.

“Lily,” he said slowly, “I — ”

I braced myself for a quick, awkward rejection, but before Abelard could finish his sentence, Vice Principal Krenwelge rounded the corner. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

CHAPTER TWO

My mother came to get me at school. She arrived look- ing frazzled, a small coffee stain over the left breast pocket of her shirt, lipstick reapplied but the rest of  her  makeup faded, leaving her skin blotchy, nose reddened by the sun. I expected her to be mad, but this was far worse. She looked defeated. Friday, the end of a long week, and now this.

Mom had a brief conference with Vice Principal Krenwelge, and then we drove home in silence. I was tired, beyond tired, needing the comfort of a darkened room.

“Are you mad at me?” I finally said.

We were stopped on Lamar at the light in front of Waterloo Records, where Dad’s band had a CD release when I was five. I remembered Mom in a tight camisole and brightly colored skirt, holding a sleepy baby Iris on her shoulder. Her hair dyed magenta red. Happy clothes. Sexy, even. Afterward, we walked to Amy’s for ice cream. Life in the before time.

“No, Lily, I’m not mad. You’re just lucky Abelard’s mom volunteered to pay the damages.” 

This made me sit up.

“Why? Abelard and I broke the wall together. It was as much my fault as his.”

“Not according to your vice principal. Mrs. Mitchell seemed to think that it was Abelard’s idea to break the wall, and you were just following along.”

Mom rolled her eyes to let me know what she thought of this explanation. Me in close proximity to a broken thing: cause and effect. Mom knew who was at fault.

Why would Mrs. Mitchell think that Abelard was at fault? There could be only one reason. Abelard must have taken the blame for me. It didn’t feel right. Abelard wasn’t the breaky type. If I hadn’t pushed down on the stupid handle, Abelard might have found a janitor to oil the gears. “Abelard said the wall was already broken. Abelard said the gears hadn’t been oiled in an eternity.”

“Well, the next time Abelard decides to ‘fix’ something, don’t volunteer to help, okay?”

“Volunteer to help,” I mumbled.

I liked the idea that I’d jumped up because I’d intuited that the situation needed my special breaking expertise. But what if breaking and fixing were really the same activ- ity, reversed?

Did Abelard really “fix” things, or did he just break things, like me? I wanted to ask him about his experience fixing things and breaking things. I thought about the time I’d pulled up too hard on the back seat handle of the car door while pushing against the door with my hip, and the handle broke. And then for some reason, I flipped the child lock switch thinking it might fix the door, only it didn’t. It locked the door, permanently. I’d tried to fix it, I really had. “. . . and Mrs. Screngle says tuber work.” Mom glanced over at me. “Lily, are you listening?” “No,” I admitted. No point in lying. “Did you eat today?”

I had to think about it. The day seemed like an eternity, as though the time before I broke the wall and the time after served as a clear demarcation of events, like the birth of Jesus or the arrival of the dinosaur-ending meteor off the coast of the Yucatan. And now my mind was filled with thoughts of Abelard. Why had he covered for me?

“I don’t remember,” I said.

“Is your lunch still in your backpack?” Mom asked.

I dug through the backpack at my feet. Sure enough, my lunch was untouched in the outer pocket.

“I would have eaten, but they told us to eat during the test, and I was still working, and I just sort of forgot about it, and then we had to go straight to sixth period, so I didn’t have time.”

“Are you hungry now?” I nodded.

We drove through P. Terry’s for veggie burgers, and we split a chocolate shake on the way home, like I was being rewarded for screwing up. I was happy enough, but I couldn’t let things go. I kept thinking about my dad in Portland.

At the start of the school year, Mom had promised that I could visit Dad if I kept my grades up and didn’t skip class. I’d been trying, but things hadn’t been going too well. My grades are all over the place, and I try not to skip, but sometimes I can’t help it.

“So, Mom, about the summer . . . I mean, could I still see Dad?”

Secretly, I planned to go visit Dad and just stay on. Dad taught English at a homeschool cooperative connected to the farm where he worked, kids getting life credit for milk- ing goats and picking organic beets. Heaven. I’d miss Mom and Iris, but clearly I belonged in a “less-structured learn- ing environment.”

“I know you want to see your dad.” Mom paused. It wasn’t quite a pregnant pause, just an awkward millisecond or two. “But it’s not that simple. We’d have to talk to him, and he may not be in a position to have houseguests . . . and of course, your grades . . . and no more skipping . . .”

I stopped listening. A qualified yes is almost a full yes. I’d have to improve my grades and attend all my classes, blah, blah, blah. I could do that.

“You know, Lily, seeing your dad again isn’t going to solve all your problems.”

I nodded to let her know I’d heard her and stared out the window. She was wrong. My father had solved my big- gest problem. There was no reason to think he couldn’t solve my smaller ones.

***

My father taught me how to read.

When I was in second grade, the school reading spe- cialist decided I was dyslexic. She told my mom to read to me every single night, but Mom worked nights. So Dad read to me.

In the beginning, he read me books about cat warriors while he drank craft beer. When Dad got tired of reading books about cats, he picked up Nancy Drew and the Three Investigators from a used book store. These books amused him with their gee-whiz ’thirties and ’forties references: chaste country club dances, German housekeepers devot- edly making strudel, and clubhouses with secret tunnels made out of packing crates and junk. Nancy Drew ushered in cheaper beer: Tecate in cans. I laughed at Dad’s earnest voice for Ned Nickerson, Nancy’s straight-arrow boyfriend, and I fell asleep worrying how Nancy was going to get out of that cave by the ocean before high tide.

“Choral reading,” my mother said, echoing the reading specialist’s advice. “Dad reads a passage, Lily reads a passage.”

My father sat by my bed with the book held between us as I painfully sounded out each little word. I learned to read the same way Hercules learned to hold a full-grown bull in his arms, by having to brute-force sound my way through every syllable until the words got longer and heavier. At first, I read individual words, then sentences, and eventually paragraphs.

Together we read all of Harry Potter; The Lightning Thief ; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; Inkheart; and Diane Duane. When the words began to swim on the page, Dad read to me from his own personal library of medieval classics. By this time, I was sharing a bedroom with my sister, Iris, and she listened with rapt attention.

Dad read Le Morte d ’Arthur and Physica by Hildegard von Bingen, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, and The Letters of Abelard and Heloise.

At about the time we started on Tolkien, with a nightly supplement of The Prose Edda and the Nibelungenlied, my father had discovered vodka. Cheap, easy to hide, and packed more of a punch than beer.

I never questioned the hours I spent sequestered away in my bedroom with Dad, reading while he drank. It was fun, and it was too good to last.

The end came when I was in fifth grade. My mom caught me alone in my room with her copy of Jane Eyre.

“Are you reading?” she asked, hands on her hips. Her dark green eyes glittered with some internal fire I recog- nized as hopefulness. She had a sort of feral alertness that alarmed me.

“What? . . . No,” I replied, thrown off my guard. I quickly regained my composure. “This book is weird. I can’t understand this language. What’s it about?”

“It’s a love story about a girl with a strong moral compass. It’s an older book, so the language can seem a little stilted, but it’s really good.” She smoothed the hair away from my forehead and attempted a wan smile. She looked sad. “You should have your father read it to you.”

“I will.”

I felt bad about lying to her, but mostly I felt relieved. Crisis averted! My father read me Jane Eyre, or he reread me Jane Eyre, because I’d already finished it by then. I didn’t care. Mom was happy; Dad was pleasantly drunk. Life was golden.

At the end of fifth grade, the school tested me again. I’d never seen my mother so thrilled. She came home wav- ing her copy of my test results over her head.

“Your phonemic scores are still relatively low,” she said. “But your comprehension is off the charts. You’ve made amazing progress, Lily.”

I didn’t immediately get the magnitude of what I’d done, but I think my father did. He greeted the news that I was in the 98th+ percentile in reading comprehension with a queasy smile. I’ll never forget the look he gave me. It was as though his usefulness on the planet had suddenly ended. Maybe he knew divorce was not far off.

“I’ve heard about this book Wuthering Heights,” I said, hoping I wasn’t overplaying the wide-eyed thing. “I don’t think I can read it by myself, though. It’s for older people, right? But we could read it together.”

“Sure thing, Lil,” Dad said, his eyes distant.

We all smiled at one another. The happiest part of my life ended there in the fifth grade.

 CHAPTER THREE 

Monday morning my mother woke me while it was still dark. She stood by my bed with a cup of tea and a piece of toast.

“Eat the toast,” Mom said. She hovered over me, already dressed for work in a white linen shirt and a fifties beaded cardigan that may have once been an ironic statement for her but that she now considers an heirloom.

“It’s the middle of the night.” I rolled over to face Iris’s twin bed next to mine. “Look. Iris is still asleep.”

My sister was an inanimate lump of covers. Iris usually springs out of bed like Snow White, ready to polish silver and sing with birds, but it was so early she wasn’t even stir- ring.

“I have to go to work early today,” Mom said. “You need to take your medication.”

“I can’t take it on empty stomach.”

“Hence the toast.” Mom thrust the plate at me. Reluctantly, I bit into the toast. At this hour of the morning, food  seemed like a human rights  violation. I chewed twice and swallowed with difficulty before slump- ing back on the bed.

“Now your medication.”

I took the pill and swallowed without hesitation. She handed me the lukewarm and very weak tea with milk to wash it down.

“You don’t trust me anymore,” I said.

“It just doesn’t seem like you’ve been taking your medi- cation lately, Lily. Maybe you’ve forgotten. I thought I would help you remember.”

Every morning for the past month, Mom had left a cup of tea, a piece of toast, and a pill on a plate for me by my bedside. And every morning I’d taken that pill and stashed it in an old pickle jar under my bed. I didn’t like the drug. It sucked the creamy goodness out of life.

Antidepressants tend to do that. I should know. This wasn’t the first one I’d been on.

Bells and whistles went off in my head. On Saturday, the day after Abelard and I broke the wall, Mom offered to take me and Iris to a movie. She didn’t go with us, and at the time, it seemed kind of weird. She must have gone home and searched the room for missing pills.

I probably should have flushed the medicine in the toilet so downstream fish and migratory waterfowl could expe- rience an unexpected rush of jittery calm and the sudden ability to meet deadlines and organize paperwork. Yes, I could have shared my drug bounty with the ecosystem, but a strange frugality had stopped me. The stuff was expensive.

Once Mom left, I looked under the bed. Sure enough, the pickle jar was gone.

I’m sure Mom was relieved to find my hidden stash, because I’d saved her a couple hundred bucks. One thing was for certain: She would never mention the pickle jar, and neither would I.

*** 

School. I met Rosalind at our usual spot under the live oaks in the courtyard for lunch.

Rosalind is my oldest friend all the way back to kinder- garten. She’s tiny and plays small children in local theatri- cal productions. With her long dark hair in braids and her giant brown eyes, she can pass for twelve. Maybe ten on a really big stage.

Rosalind was eating out of a bento box filled with brown rice, raw carrots, and seaweed salad. Rosalind’s parents are restricted-calorie-intake people who have formulated a plan to live for all of eternity. Like the children of vegan, mac- robiotic, gluten-shunning parents everywhere, Rosalind’s favorite food is pizza — though she likes classy pizza: feta cheese, black olives. Her dream is to move to New York and eat nothing but pizza. Also — acting.

“Lily, how was your trip to the vice principal’s office?” Rosalind  asked.

“Gripping and poignant. I laughed, I cried — ”

 “Was your mom mad?”

“Weirdly, no. I have a week in detention, but that’s it. She even said I can still see my dad this summer.”

“Really?” Rosalind raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Your mom said you could go to Portland?”

“If I keep my grades up and don’t skip class.”

Truth be told, Rosalind didn’t entirely approve of my plan to visit my dad and then refuse to return. She didn’t think I was cut out to be an organic beet farmer. Also, she would miss me.

I glanced across the courtyard. Abelard sat at his usual spot on the low wall under the crepe myrtle. Alone. The sight of him through the milling crowd sent a jolt of electricity up my spine. I realized I’d been scanning the halls all day, hoping to catch a glimpse of him.

I settled on the bench next to Rosalind, carefully avoid- ing a patch of grackle poo, and opened the lunch that Iris had packed for me. A tomato sandwich, apple, Oreos. I nibbled on an Oreo and set the rest aside.

“You’re not eating?” Rosalind said. “Why, if I had a sandwich on actual bread — bread made from real demon wheat, mind you —”

“Here, have it. It’s yours. Taste the evil.”

I handed Rosalind my sandwich, but she just shrugged. I suspect she actually likes brown rice.

“So you aren’t eating. What’s up?”

“I’m back on my drug-based diet. My stomach will

refuse all food until five thirty, at which point I will eat my entire day’s calories in two hours, mostly in potato chips. Straight out of the bag. If we even have potato chips. Might be stale crackers.”

“Healthy,” Rosalind said. “I thought you weren’t going to take the drugs anymore.”

“After my little  trip to the  vice principal’s  office, my mother decided she would watch me take my meds,  like some hospital matron in one of those old movies your parents love.”

“The Snake Pit, Olivia de Havilland,” Rosalind said. “Whatever.”

Rosalind frowned.

“The drugs aren’t good for you, Lily. They change you.” “It’s not like I have a choice.”

“Um, you know how my mother is always talking about . . . balance between . . . gluten and sugar can . . . talk to your mother . . . only if you . . . off the medication . . . take you to a dark place.”

I shrugged, uninterested in the topic of my medication and diet. Abelard was eating cookies or crackers, reading something on his phone, dark hair falling over his eyes. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was an attractive nui- sance, a shiny object.

“What do you think of Abelard?” I asked.

Rosalind followed my gaze. “I don’t know. He’s kind of in his own little bubble. Why do you ask?”

“He was on the other side of the wall when I — when we broke it.” Breaking the wall was beginning to feel like a shared secret, a source of pride. Abelard and I destroyed something — together.

“Okay,” Rosalind said slowly. Dubious. I know that look.

“He took the blame. For both of us. He didn’t have to do that.”

“And you think that was about you?” “Maybe it was about me,” I said.

I continued to stare. It was easy to stare at Abelard. He never lifted his head, never glanced in my direction. Plus — kind of beautiful. Rosalind had a point, though. Abelard was self-contained. Maybe he hadn’t thought about me once since I’d kissed him in the office. And here I was thinking obsessively about him, imagining we had some sort of secret kinship just because ten years ago I hit him in the face with my lunchbox.

“I’m just saying, don’t construct an elaborate fantasy about him before you find out what’s really going on in his head,” Rosalind said. “Abelard is not like everyone else.”

“Neither am I.” Rosalind sighed.

“You know what I mean, Lily. Unlike Abelard, you can carry on a conversation —”

“Almost like a normal person,” I interrupted. “You are a normal person,” she said.

I kind of loved that Rosalind thought there was nothing wrong with me that couldn’t be cured by regular helpings of wheatgrass shots and a little extra understanding. This was why she was my best friend — but it bothered me to hear her say Abelard was not like everyone else. Broken.

Whether she admitted it or not, I was also not like everyone else. Why be polite — why not just say “broken”?

I am a proud Broken American. There. I’ve said it. 

CHAPTER FOUR

Normally I leave school each afternoon like I’m running the bulls at Pamplona. Not that afternoon. I went to the bathroom and fought for space at the mirror with the girls who did their makeup.  I  brushed  my hair  in the corner, but then one of the mirror regulars, a raccoon-eyed blonde named Montana Jordan or Jordan Montana, took pity  on me.

“Here.” She waved me to a free spot in the mirror. I touched up my base and put on some lip gloss.

“You should really sclur your blash,” Montana Jordan/ Jordan Montana said. Her voice echoed noisily against the bathroom tile. “Screeb pretty.”

“Sure,” I replied. Screeb pretty. That was me.

“Sclur your blashes,” she said, holding out an eyelash curler.

“Oh.” Curl my eyelashes. My brain took the visual cue and made sense of the words. “No thanks. I’m on my way to detention. Coach Neuwirth.”

I stared at my reflection in the mirror — a slight bump on the bridge of my nose, skeptical green eyes. My wavy brown hair already starting to look like my time with the brush had been an exercise in futility. I couldn’t see how curly eyelashes would be much of an improvement.

“Really?” she said. “Me too.”

And then she went back to curling her eyelashes.

*** 

Abelard was already in detention when I arrived. The only other people in the room were Richard Hernandez from my algebra class and Rogelio. An emo boy I didn’t know wandered in after me.

I dropped my backpack on the floor and sat at the desk in front of Abelard, my heart pounding. Coach Neuwirth could show up at any moment. I turned around and faced Abelard before my heart rate settled.

“Okay,” I said. Extraneous hand movement. I do this when I’m nervous. “Why did you take the blame for break- ing the wall when it wasn’t just your fault? Because my mom said that your mom told the vice principal that you said you were to blame.”

I stopped because I’d run out of breath. Also — tortured sentence.

Abelard looked up. His eyes were a clearer, deeper shade of blue than I had remembered. He looked away.

“And when I hit you with the lunchbox in first grade, you never told anyone, but you probably should have. It wasn’t like we were really friends or anything —”

“You came to my house,” Abelard said in a surprisingly loud voice.

Tectonic shift of the earth’s crust, a realignment of everything. Abelard and I had a prior history, a reason I’d felt a natural connection between us. I wished I remembered.

“You came to my house,” Abelard repeated. “I was five. We watched Pokémon together. You insisted Charizard was a dragon, not a lizard.”

I’ve had an obsession with dragons ever since Dad read me The Poetic Edda. There’s a dragon in Norse mythology who chews on the roots of the tree of life. A bad thing, right? But my father contended that without the dragon, the tree of life would become overgrown and eventually choke itself out of existence. My personal spirit animal — the destructive dragon.

“Because — fire-breathing,” I said. “I mean, hello, dragon?”

Abelard blinked.

“Char — lizard, Charizard,” he said slowly. “Etymology.” Beside us Richard and Rogelio switched their conversa- tion seamlessly from English to Spanish. Should have been a hint, but I was too excited to pay attention. A rustling

noise at the front of the room and throat clearing. “Turn around.”

“Oh, you did not just play the Pokémon etymology card,” I said, experiencing a rush of word-borne feels. More fun words than I’d had in a long time. “Dragons are everything! It’s a dragon who nibbles on the roots of the tree of life, because otherwise —”

“Miss Michaels-Ryan! Turn around!” a voice boomed. “Stop pestering Mr. Mitchell.”

Pestering. I was pestering. A word invented by teach- ers to mean “bothering” but sounding infinitely worse, like something you’d get arrested for doing in a movie theater.

I swiveled, and Coach Neuwirth locked eyes on me. I felt my stomach flop, but at that moment Rogelio muttered something hilarious in Spanish. Rogelio is a natural-born confrontation clown, one of those guys who always have to get the last word in. It didn’t help Coach Neuwirth’s mood that the last word was in Spanish.

“We’re going to break up your little party,” Coach Neuwirth said. “Mr. Mondragon, please move next to Mr. Kreuz, Miss Michaels-Ryan, next to Mr. Hernandez.”

I moved back a row next to Richard Hernandez. Abelard turned sideways in his chair and stared out the window. The room went quiet, unearthly quiet. Montana Jordan/Jordan Montana slid soundlessly into the  room and took a seat across from the emo boy. Coach Neuwirth glared at her from his desk.

“Nidhogg,” Abelard said in a voice that cut through the thick stillness. “Yggdrasil.”

Nidhogg — the dragon.  Yggdrasil — the tree of  life. I didn’t remember the names from Norse mythology, but Abelard did. Abelard, my secret cartoon-watching friend from a childhood I didn’t quite remember. Abelard, who knew Norse mythology and the finer points of gear mainte- nance. Was there anything he didn’t know?

***

Detention was pretty boring. Half an hour later, I’d fin- ished my homework. I hadn’t eaten my lunch, and I was hungry and tired, too burnt to read. There was nothing to do.

Richard Hernandez sat at the desk next to me, draw- ing. I leaned over, expecting to see badly drawn girls with gravity-defying breasts, motorcycles, guns — the standard Grand Theft Auto love letter to chaos and faceless sex. The stuff boys draw.

Instead, Richard was drawing Abelard. Abelard with a three-quarter profile, his right cheekbone illuminated by sunlight streaming in from the window. Richard had drawn the barest line of a mouth and was filling in the details of Abelard’s chin, muscles in his jaw shaded diagonally from top left to bottom right.

The only part of the picture Richard had finished was Abelard’s eyes. He’d perfectly captured the way Abelard’s dark blue eyes held the light, the open, almost mystical quality of his gaze.

I glanced at Abelard and felt a strange thrill in the pit of my stomach. There was something otherworldly about him. It wasn’t my imagination — Richard saw it too.

Richard finished Abelard’s chin and moved to his hair. “Wow,” I murmured.

Richard wrapped his right arm around his picture to shield it from my view and looked up. He had close-set, intelligent eyes and dark hair in a Caesar cut.

“That’s really good,” I whispered. Good was an insuf- ficient word for his drawing, like telling a rock star his music was nice. I felt a little stupid about that, but what could I do? Drugs kill thought — even the happy, helpful drugs.

“Shhh . . .” Coach Neuwirth hissed. “Thanks,” Richard mouthed silently.

Richard returned to drawing, and I continued to watch. Minutes passed while he sketched in rapid, assured move- ments. It was calming, watching Richard, as soothing as a lullaby. I almost forgot that I was hungry and that the skin over my skull was beginning to crawl and itch.

One of the basketball players came by to talk to Coach Neuwirth. They stepped out into the hall, and I leaned over toward Richard.

“You’re left-handed — like me. Also Leonardo da Vinci,” I whispered. “You shade in the same direction — top left to bottom right. Do you know they think da Vinci was dyslexic?”

I held my hands out to visualize this, making the clas- sic L for loser with my left hand. Kindergarten tricks. They never get old. 

“You’re making that up,” Richard said. “How could anybody know?”

“I’m not making it up. I saw it on Nova. Da Vinci wrote letters backwards and misspelled words. Classic dyslexic tendencies. I should know. I’m dyslexic, too.”

“No you’re not.” Richard looked up, his close-set eyes in a savage frown. “You can read.”

Richard said the word read with the naked bitterness I usually reserve for the terms late slip or instruction sheet. Dyslexia. You can pass for normal for a while, but even- tually the anger gives you away. The monster will out. I decided I liked Richard.

“Yes, I’m totally normal,” I replied. “That’s why I’ve been in the same algebra class with you for two years running.”

“But I see you reading all the time. You always have a book —”

“I hear talking,” Coach Neuwirth boomed.

Richard startled at the sound of Coach Neuwirth’s voice. His pencil slipped, and the picture of Abelard floated off the desk, slid across the floor, and landed face-up in front of Rogelio Mondragon.

Richard froze, a stricken look on his face.

Coach Neuwirth was in the hall talking, his back half turned but still in the line of sight. I eased out of my seat in a crouch and moved slowly toward the picture, hoping to snatch it before Rogelio noticed.

I was too slow. Rogelio spotted the picture and grabbed it. He glanced at Abelard and back to the picture as his expression changed from perplexed to positively gleeful. It was as though he’d found a secret love letter, ready-made for a million stupid jokes. Someone was going to be made to suffer in both English and Spanish. Rogelio scanned the room, searching for his victim.

At the exact moment Rogelio’s eyes settled on me, Coach Neuwirth strode down the aisle and ripped the pic- ture out of Rogelio’s hands.

“Whose picture is this?” Coach Neuwirth demanded. Richard looked a little sick.

“It’s mine.” The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. Lies are like that sometimes.

Coach Neuwirth held the picture and examined it care- fully.

“So, this is your boyfriend?” Coach Neuwirth chuckled. “Pretty good likeness of our friend Abelard here.”

Hard to determine who he was trying to humiliate at this juncture, Abelard for being unlikely boyfriend mate- rial, or me for being, well, me. Sometimes I think Coach Neuwirth lets the cruelty fly randomly just to see who might get hit.

Abelard turned to look at me briefly. I couldn’t tell whether he was horrified, embarrassed, or intrigued that Coach Neuwirth just told the whole world he was my boy- friend. I looked away.

Coach Neuwirth handed the picture to me.

“Put it away, Ms. Michaels-Ryan,” Coach Neuwirth said.

I folded the drawing of Abelard and slipped it into my book.

 ***

In the afternoon when I returned home, the picture fell out of my book. Abelard, beautiful and distant. Richard Hernandez’s own version of the Mona Lisa, a mystery for the ages. Abelard, no doubt named for Peter Abelard from the twelfth-century text The Letters of Abelard and Heloise. Strange.

I drew a thought bubble over his head and wrote the words I am Abelard, medieval French philosopher and time traveler. I have come to the future on a quest for love and beauty, but find only the barren wasteland that is high school. My tra- vails are for not!

I stuck the picture on the bulletin board and collapsed on my bed, empty. I opened my book, a novel about a girl on the run with her brilliant, eccentric father. After three pages, I quit reading, because I didn’t care what happened with the father’s new girlfriend or the daughter’s desire to go to a normal school for more than three months at a time. My head had begun that drug-fueled end-of-the- day descent, circling the empty runway of a town called Apathy.

I put my book away.

My sister came into our bedroom.

Iris is in seventh grade. Tall like me, brown eyes to my green. Same wavy brown hair, same bump on the bridge of her nose. Iris doesn’t seem to have inherited my moth- er’s large breasts like I have. She wishes that she had my breasts, but she is wrong about this.

Iris attends the Liberal Arts, Math, and Engineering Academy — LAMEA, or LAME as everyone calls it. She is the perfect student, equally adept at the long-form essay and robotics, and building musical instruments out of found objects. Found objects are a big part of the curricu- lum at LAME.

For someone with such a full curricular life, Iris has an overdeveloped interest in my activities. Like being me has a 1950s-motorcycle-and-leather-bomber-jacket sort of glam- our for her, because she has never tasted the fruits of failure. I could tell her that living outside the lines is not all that, but she probably wouldn’t listen anyway.

“What are you doing?” Iris said. “Nothing.”

“Who is that?” She leaned over the picture of Abelard, studying it with the dreamy intensity she usually reserves for K-pop stars with ice-blond dyed hair and too much mascara.

“No one,” I replied. “A kid at my school. His name is Abelard.”

“He’s adorable,” she said.

“No.” I stared at the picture. “Well, yes, he is.”

I thought about my impulsive kiss, and my heart flopped in protest. Continued exposure to the sight of Abelard’s faraway eyes was unfair.

“It’s dinnertime,” Iris said. “Mom told me to tell you.” “Not hungry,” I replied.

“Mom made a really good salad. We’ve got Supernatural cued up.”

Supernatural. Salad. These are the things we do together, eat salads and watch Supernatural because all three of us, Mom, me, and Iris, think those guys are hot. Iris likes the taller baby-faced one, but Mom and I prefer the deep- voiced snarky brother. It’s like a miracle, Mom says, to find such transgenerational hotness on TV.

This was our familial idea of a good time. It meant nothing to me at that moment — good TV, hot guys in a seventies ride, salad.

“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll just lie here and listen to the inside of my skull buzz.”

Iris wandered off. I played Candy Crush on my phone until I saw little orange and blue striped candies exploding on the insides of my eyelids when I closed them, and still it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough pleasure, not enough light or color to fill the emptiness of my brain. It didn’t feel good or fun, but it was motion of a kind. If I stopped playing, I would realize that there were no thoughts left in my head and I was truly alone. This was what happened when my ADHD medicine wore off. This was why I hated drugs.

*** 

I left the picture of Abelard in my room, thinking I would show it to Rosalind over lunch. But when I packed my stuff up for school in the morning, the picture was gone. This didn’t surprise me in the least. Most pieces of paper I come into contact with disappear suddenly and without reason. It’s just the way it is.

******

Want to learn more about Abelard and Lily? Pre-order the book today from any of the links below!

Amazon Barnes & Noble Books-a-MillionHudson IndieBound Powell’s

#hmh teen #hmhteen #am reading #amreading #yalit #ya lit #young adult fiction #booklr #bookstagram #excerpt #ya excerpt #the love letters of abelard and lily

[elizabethrobertajones]

12x14 watching notes

this show normally never makes me cry except that 1 episode in season 7, but god dammit Berens got me TWICE I’m disowning him

-

Expectations - it's the 14th episode of the season. (This isn't snark, have you ever gone back and looked at the 14th episode of the season since, say, oh, season 9? Talk about a winning streak you don't want to break :P)

-

I woke up with a migraine which is getting worse after being up for like... half an hour... so I'm just launching straight into watching it before today is totally ruined.

-

At this point from the recap I genuinely can't tell if there's a meta point to make about Dean as a killer and vampires, or you can't recap it without implying it because vampires are just that tied to Dean's identity as a hunter/killer

- or, well, that arc that Buckleming anvil'd Mary onto last episode where Ketch told her SHE was a killer. 

For what it's worth, they picked 1x20 and 6x05/6x07 to use the most of instead of the sympathetic vamps from later. NOT any of the Gordon stuff visibly on screen. Missed the boat on using "see you next season" in the recap. Anyway, lots of reminders of vampires as a monster; the Twilight knock off vampires, the alpha vamp because duh but in his season 6, not 7, iteration, and of course mixed with Dean's reaction to vampires, him saying it gets funnier every time, and reminders of the time Dean WAS a vampire, to make it Dean-focused.

-

I guess Ketch using the rocket launcher was so expensive they're always gonna show it and you know what if every episode for the rest of the season starts with Cas staring down that explosion I'm all for it. Anyway, reminder that they blast vampires with radiation, which I'm sure won't cause any problems this episode, and a recap of why we don't trust them.

-

Season 1 Colt recapping - it's kind of terrifying to see tiny season 1 Sam n Dean on screen when you're not prepared for it at this point. It's like looking at their own children or something. John continues not existing in the narrative except for a faceless appearance of his arm handing the Colt to Dean. It's significant that vampires were the first reason to use the Colt, that John then gave it to Dean the episode after and passed on the revenge arc to him, and that Dean then used it to fulfil it. We also see Dean pointing it AT "John" in 1x22 and Sam failing to shoot Azazel in 1x21, and MARY'S repeat of of the "There's only 5 things in creation it can't kill" which blurs her, Samuel and Lucifer nicely >.>

Then of course the horror of 1x01 on screen (AAAH SMOLLEST WINCHESTERS) "You think Mom would have wanted this for us?" Sam asks, cut immediately to Mary like "Nothing comes before my family" before the only 3 lines you need from 12x13 about their argument re: Sam and Dean being a little suspicious of her and then Mary being like "hi you need to be a lot susicious of me".

-

The Margikugel beer is in pride of place in this shot

"Just hear me out." "Wow... Just, wow." Oh no, there Dean goes, freezing her out like he said they had in the promo from slightly later in the episode >.>

This angle on the war room table always makes it look like a coffin.

Mary makes some defences that she's aware that the BMoL kinda suck and Sam cuts into that with "When." Mary answers with exactly what he wanted to hear which was "exactly how much has this already screwed us over" so she phrases her answer by measuring time with common era as "the lake house" which I'm pretty sure was that time travel romance with Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves.

Mmmokay Dean uses "Cas almost died" against Mary and I've decided that's something I really hoped would happen but now I heard it it just feels terrible :P Like, it's weighing their stock against each other and Cas obviously outweighs Mary on found family points in almost infinite supply and now Mary's being tested not on abstract family love from blood ties, but the gritty stuff, and... yeah. Looks bad, Mary. Cas is their most treasured family for like however many years before you come back and then you get him hurt >.>

Oh and then Sam's like "a hunter died" I mean talk about the personal with Cas and Dean vs impersonal with Sam and some other perspective thing they do *all* the time. Is that like, the star example now?

-

"I watch him die every night" YOu weren't even theeeere

(Also Wally was married apparently... yikes. Piling on the angst.)

"Good." Oh dear, that's the "You're dead to me" look. Mary probably shouldn't start cataloguing these looks to chide Dean about...

[title card]

[ow]

-

Ooh is this like the Campbell's compound? Looks like Mary's gone dark, literally, wearing her dark beanie hat and Mary-sized version of Ketch's going around killing things suit. I wonder if they also give her fancy tailored suits for their down time. Anyway I have no idea why the BMoL have access to such a thing - you'd have to assume they have internal help here, Muggle proofing if not, or are ready to deal with the problems of randomly making an armed compound in the wilderness in America.

Or they're on a remote industrial estate in Northumberland.

TBH if they're just bribing local authorities to look the other way while creating a massive armed compound full of foreigners I wouldn't actually be that surprised.

-

More random egg shaped BMoL devices. Some BMoL version of Q really has a thing for that shape. "Gonna spray paint it gold." "WHY. What about stealth?" "They ain't gonna need stealth with whatever this egg thingy does"

-

Mary and Ketch both space out remembering what the gold whistling egg thingy did. Ketch looks slightly turned on. Mary looks like she's having a bit of fridge horror about what her job currently involves. It definitely feels like she's washed up in a dystopian future and I think we should be treating her POV on it like "time traveller to the far flung future where everything is awful" and not like any continuation of the world she used to know >.>

-

Ah they're living in shipping containers. This is now definitely the Doctor Who vibe I got from the promo and didn't want to mention anything about because Tumblr vs Doctor Who these days, but shh I'm both nostalgic for RTD era and British, okay. It looks like those episodes where they just show up on a research base on some planet/under the sea/in space which is a bunch of shipping containers bolted together, with a high tech interior, and then shit goes down on the tiny enclosed shipping containers, with a great cast of random one off characters who usually get eaten >.>

Also this means the BMoL basically just shipped over a base and plonked it in the American wilderness and have a sort of razor wire over the fence keeping the monsters out mentality about it. They've seen just enough Doctor Who (it's a national passtime) to know what to do here, and America is all full of ikky monsters, and should definitely be treated like a hostile alien environment.

I suppose this is their "embassy" for their diplomatic mission and I am rabidly curious about how it looks to the locals, because the Campbell compound at least had that American survivalist weirdoes feel to it, where you kinda know there's a strange local family on their huge compound out of town and they all have guns but you just... don't ask questions and hope they're only waiting for the Rapture or something.

-

So it turns out Ketch is a total dick. Surpriiise. I hope Serena kills him and survives the episode. "I have three phds" - she's the hyper competent one who in Doctor Who would probably end up being the only one knowing how to press some button and stay behind to save everyone and get ejected into space or something. Or be the only survivor because she's smart and the Doctor appreciates her :P I have no idea why I'm making this into Dr Who cross over territory but I'm just waiting for the other personnel here to fit some of the usual tropes.

-

Mary in a tank toooop

-

Surprise surprise it's Dean she's been texting and is morosely checking her phone about instead of Sam, but if she tried him, the other promo video showed that he's attempting to make peace. Winchesters, I swear. *shakes head*

-

They do all look good in tank tops though

-

OH NO more conversation.

-

"Our whole lives, you've been GONE" Oh DEAN this is... the kind of stuff I have been expecting/wishing they'd say to Mary and it's so terrible that they CAN'T COMMUNICATE so it takes something so ridiculously messed up to make them talk about something like this.

They're FINALLY telling each other how hard it has been to deal with being back/having her back... and because they left it so long, it's all fucked up :(

-

*sits here misery-eating an apple* I might have go to get the giant box of waffles downstairs and eat them if it gets any worse than "How about for once you try and be a mom!?" "I am your mother!" (so they have 2 different definitions of this - Dean wants her to ACT like it, she's using it like a title, and to HER that has all that complicated and REAL love but it's all so abstract from what Dean WANTS and AAAH) "But I am NOT just a 'mom'" And that's all I wanted out of this season but it's so painful I just wanna find the receipt and return it :P "And you are not a child" "I never was" bonus thing I only hoped in my wildest dreams we'd get out of the season but I feel like every single Dean!girl just took a critical hit and is laying on the floor in agony...

brb finding the floor

-

"between us and them" "yeah MARY it is" 

oh great she's not "mom" any more with the title to Dean... 

"and you made your choice"

I can't believe there's actually a scene worse than 6x20's confrontation out there like how does that even happen

-

Oh Sam, sitting here watching all that while Dean speaks for the both of you :S

-

But he gets up and follows Dean

"You should go" It's more neutral, not judging her per say but obviously she can't be here while Dean has told her to leave and Sam can't take her side, he can just... not intentionally cast her out.

The stuff between him and Mary is stuff from the past - the stuff from 4x03. The stuff between DEAN and Mary is his early childhood vs what's going on NOW. Sam and Mary stuff is being dealt with another way - this is the Dean part of the arc and Sam has to give up his mother for it

Argh >.>

-

Well that was horrible but I really appreciate the BMoL compound set.

-

"We already have the best Winchester"

uh

I have a pretty compelling argument for all 3 of the others (the third being Cas :P)

Obviously they did not see the footage of Dean in Purgatory

Or any time Sam does the shoulders thing

I mean Mary's great and all but... we've seen 12 years of Sam and Dean being incredible hunters so it's a bad argument to the audience :P

-

Ketch and Mick do have an interesting dynamic, I'll give them that. Mick made Ketch kinda smile. Mick's happy at his desk job. Please let him get menaced by a vampire and scream a lot. It's all I ask for after that heartbreak. Lighthearted goofy vampire episode.

(Okay Berens is like, angst central. I think he couldn't write goofy if he tried but that's not why we love him :P)

-

Anyway someone higher up wants Sam and Dean recruited - right when the whole Mary thing seems to have cut ties forever and lost all chance they'd EVER consider it since it's now the face of Betrayal and Families Being Shattered and all.

I guess 12x06 establishes that the Winchesters are semi-legendary themselves (although a very dubious look from Dean about the stories told about him) and Wally also seemed to idolise Dean in that diner scene. It's a fair chance the BMoL "Old Men" are right about this re: other hunters. Unlike Cas and his actions getting him kicked out of Heaven and losing all social standing with the angels, one way or another the Winchesters seem to have scraped by as admired figures in their community. Mom Winchester is not well-known and the Campbells lost all cred years ago after most of them were murdered by Azazel's lot and later Samuel's little group also ended up all dying and getting a lot of their hunters killed (6x07, which no one seems to remember or watch but DOES introduce alpha vamp so it's on my mind)... Not sure anyone knows them.

-

Okay Sam's fucking around with the rings on the table but he's assembled them in such a way they look like a kid's toy - that one where you stack all the rings. Sam seems like he barely moved since the Mary thing, still being at the Conflict Table. Dean stormed off but now he's stormed back and this is the promo scene, so let's pay much closer attention to the words now I know the context...

-

Ugh Dean not dealing. He just wants something to hit. While wearing that red shirt of his Mark of Cain murdery moments (10x10, 10x17)

What even IS Sam doing on his laptop if he isn't finding cases. 

Youtube. Happy dog videos.

-

"Do you want to talk about it" "Not really." *starts talking about it unprompted*

Dean's stewed on it, Sam has got all philosophical about it, once again putting his own feelings to the side to think about how Mary feels. "She must have had a good reason" Argh he's just... so good... I love him.. This episode is making me love all the Winchesters (Mary included) more than I thought possible. I am in paaain.

I'm totally gone on this family. I love them.

-

"For once why don't you pick a side?" FINALLY we see what Sam was hiding on his phone - that he's been staring sadly at all the messages from Mary. Who is not saved as "mom" in his phone as she was in Dean's, right? I should go check that.

oh god she was in 12x04, when Dean was still asking if it was weird to call her mom or not

and then he called her "mary" cold as anything

*I* need a drink

(went and got chilli hot chocolate)

-

Anyway yeah the trouble with telling someone to pick a side is that they may pick the one you don't want and Sam's last message from Mary was that she had urgent business to meet him, while Mary's last text to Dean was just that she wanted to talk to him in a way that was still clearly about the fight. "urgent" implies new developments, a reason to go... Does she KNOW that the BMoL want to snare her sons or is she walking into it by just wanting to reconcile?

-

Sam goes to at least give the other side a chance, even if he's not picking it.

Also is he driving a rental car. It doesn't look so much like the car Soulless Sam had but it's certainly not the junkers and stolen cars and vans Sam's used before.

-

Also did she just go and give Sam the address of this place??? Not even meeting at a diner or something? I suppose it is a cool set.

-

Sam gives the compound a weird look like "wtf" as a sort of incidental moment when Mary references it

-

Anyway ARGH Mary telling him she's working with the BMoL so that there's a world without monsters - the magical endgame where the world is totally normal (but how do you stop witches and ghosts and all the stuff that happens in a world which is not like "Our" one in the French Mistake, where no magic at all happened... you'll ALWAYS need hunters) if she doesn't want to be JUST their apple pie mom, but to be a hunter too, she's taking away her OWN way of living in an attempt to save them from their version of normal life

That Sam says he's chosen. Argh, after all that waffling about whether he wanted to, or that he was only doing it because Dean is... I think when he gets to Mary saying that, suggesting a world where it's not their life and no chance of going back... Maybe he really feels it for the first time? 

(”Normal life” ignoring, of course, ghosts and the fact unless you turn off magic and delete Heaven and Hell, there will ALWAYS be shit going on... Seasons 1-2 are the "normal" baseline type of this world, minus the extra demon activity attempting to destabilise it. And Sam and Dean mostly worked on ghosts, magic, and generic monsters, in a way that these things were just a part of the background of the world. Stuff like Provenance or Bloody Mary or Asylum were cases deeply rooted in their own history and with a long story behind them before the Winchesters stumbled into them, stuff John had been keeping notes on for years without tackling it, or had collected only half the picture. Or stuff which had been out in the world and would always have surfaced and kept on killing people if hunters hadn't helped. Stuff like that, you can't stop just by obliterating all the vampires. Monsters were isolated and stuff like the wendigo *takes a shot* were the sort of thing that just sort of happens, a horrible natural phenomenon along the lines of ghosts being created...)

-

I do wonder with Mary saying they can have normal lives, how much 2x20 is haunting this entire season as well, because the entire burden there that turned Dean to go save himself and go back to the shitty world where he was a hunter, was to hunt and save people. He even gave up being with Mary and Sam who was happy and with Jess and safe from the whole demon blood arc, because people had DIED. But Mary's djinn dream I think would be eerily similar to that one - one where the responsibility was off them and they could be themselves but not hunters. It's interesting to look at what she wishes - or the one that's been planted in her head, because she is echoing the "world without monsters" thing... She too has hunting in her blood and 12x06 showed that too, that she never could give it up. She's been paralleled to Dean a lot with that, and 2x20 is the episode where Dean is finally after wanting to give up all of season 2, brought to a point of decision and commits to, I guess, being a hunter for life and giving up that normal world where everyone's happy and at peace.

Same decision from season 5/6 - that "peace or freedom" talk Dean and Cas had.

Now it's Mary's turn to go through the same arc. She's going for, essentially, something we can parallel to the Archangels and their idea of paradise where everything is perfect. Dean kept talking about it being "stepford" then...

-

Oh noooo she brought up Sam going to school oh noooo

Why is every line in this dang episode just pure pain

where are my goofy vampires

"You've got to understand, things are going to change" Yeah, their plans are already underway and the threat is not going to be stopped by JUST talking Mary out of helping them. Have you seen the compound?

-

Uhoh Sam and Mary are walking in step. He's like... so much more leg than her

-

And Mary shows Sam the control room so he can SEE that the BMoL are already deeply underway with their thing.

Since he and Dean are separated the vibes I'm getting are 9x17 (maybe because Mittens was talking about it yesterday) but because at the end of that having seen Abaddon's soul mining operation, Sam comes back and sits with Dean and is way more onboard with taking her down than before and it unites them... Not saying that will happen here (more likely it will be subverted some way) but Sam's getting a peek behind the curtain at what the bad guys are up to while Dean's off drinking and moping around (see also, 10x17 although that time Sam was actively trying to save Dean while he was drinking also we now have at least 3 episodes were Sam and Dean were separated and the main reason given was that Dean was off drinking, this is getting PAINFUL)

-

"The Brits talk like they're roughing it" yeah you can't get the right fuckin' tea in America, you have to bring all your own teabags and then Americans make fun of you for it. And there aren't any jaffa cakes! What the hell!!

Sam sees Mick and is like "!!!" Mick sees him and is like "!!!" and then it's super awkward.

Yeah don't shake his hand, Sam.

"Yeah, um, I really dig the whole low budget Mission Impossible vibe, but I'm going to head back." I LOVE WHEN SAM DOES THE POP CULTURE SNARK

He's much quieter than Dean, so without him around he really gets to shine :P

Also amused at the budget comment because obviously Supernatural can not have the same budget as MI

-

"Sammeh!" I love it when he does that. I guess he's stumbling in drunk. The shot of the sword to introduce us back to the Bunker was actually TERRIFYING. It also had an empty glass and whiskey decanter so I guess the bros or at least Dean have been wandering around the Bunker drinking everything/everywhere. >.> 

Nice establishing shot.

-

Sam's note is not in upper case something is WRONG

-

Dean discovers MORE empty decanters and bottles. Wow you hit it hard. You should probably listen when Ramiel tells you you all have fucked up livers.

-

I'm assuming this is like 12x01 and the Bunker is "not safe" but this time the threat is real and not a fake out that it's Cas coming home

and also Dean doen't have his mom with him :(

-

Wait no apparently they knock

-

Heeeey it's the other people I was expecting from the generic Dr Who cast. Geek with long hair and curly haired dude. Serena to keep them all in line. Mick as the weird sketchy boss.

-

Sam is the Doctor in this scenario, FYI

-

Tall and knows better than them.

-

"Hello mate"

I mean at least he knocked

-

I love Dean and Ketch looking each other up and down.

Also Ketch doesn't think he's as good as Mary, so tension - and not just that he wants to recruit Dean, but that Dean has to pass his opinion of whether he's good or not.

This should probably end with Dean and Ketch like, grappling each other.

-

"how did you find us" "this is a Men of Letters Bunker"

-

Wow Dean being bribed with rare scotch. I'm reminded both of Crowley in general and how Dean won entrance with Rufus back in 3x15

but also think that his alcoholism needs to be addressed and he should, like, chill, because I swear he just CAME from getting a drink and he's already desperate for another, enough to let Ketch in >.> Bad idea, he’s like a vampire. The regular non spn sort.

-

I mean his alcoholism has been mentioned a few times, especially with the liver comment

-

Awww curly haired dude is an American hunter, so there's only like, 3 Brits here.

-

"Serena Coleman" - because of the twilight episode reference I'm just reminded of using the actor's names so blatantly. Serena was already dressed like whatserface played by Jenna COLEMAN as a Dr Who reference but now this? Like, I have no idea if this is just confirmation bias but I really hope someone else got such ridiculous vibes from it as me :P

-

I am really quite disturbed by how many different countries they're operating in

-

241 vampires in the mid west. That's REALLY not a lot when you think about it, I mean, comparing them to demographics of people. Assuming the BMoL have been wiping them out with a focused effort, still means there really aren't that many in general. I mean, back in season 1 & 2 they were recovering from being nearly hunted to extinction by hunters like Gordon and Dean spent a lot of season 10 killing vampires... I am reminded a lot of Eve talking about the natural order, about how a few of her children killed a few of the humans, and they killed a few but not ALL of them... a sort of equilibrium. And the natural order of how this world runs IS important and rarely mentioned. I've been thinking about Eve a lot in relation to this episode without knowing how to bring her into it really, but I guess this a good wedge to get her in >.>

-

ACK there's only 11 vampires left

that's just scary

-

*gratutious vampire flashbacks*

Oh they are so scary. I actually feel sorry for the vampires just for the fact the BMoL are so ruthlessly efficient and deal with the vampires this way, which makes you scared about how any organisation with the right resources could watch and profile in this way...

And we know the vampires can be SO much more complicated, like Lenore or Benny...

I mean they don't know about the cure, the whole case by case basis of dealing with vampires in case it IS more complex and there's still some humanity in them/can be saved from them, which the one on one process of the Winchesters treating them less like statistics has done... I mean sure the whole waiting for a trail of bodies thing isn't ideal, but... doing the job HUMANELY stands out here.

-

Sam looks like he's rooting for the vampires too. :S

-

Oh no, now some sympathetic vampires

-

*feels sorry for them*

-

Even while they're drinking human blood.

I mean I am literally in a blanket and have drunk hot chocolate to recover - she is very relatable

-

ALPHA VAMP

Always got to have a dramatic entrance

-

Oh dear, Dean and Ketch, savouring their drinks, the bottle in the neutral territory on the map between them. I've only watched them drink so far, and I can tell this is going to be a top 10 use of this table, ever.

-

"Not much for small talk" He is when he likes you

-

Ugh his face when he's talking about Toni. Ketch is not allowed to talk about women. He's disgusting and filled with hate, and this actually does make me like Toni a little better just because I resent him talking about her as a neurotic time bomb

Also Dean, I know you hate her but don't listen to this >.> Do not let him get to you a little by having a bonding moment over how awful she is. I know you are in a really dark place right now but don't make me go through this with you >.>

"We used to date" Ugh.

I actually now feel sorry for her :P 

Berens: most reliable un-Buckleming-er on the show.

-

Ugh, I really hate this :P I mean, for Dean, because Ketch is intentionally channelling all the worst in him. This is where 12x11 and where I was horrified about Dean as an attack dog when it was all stripped away comes back. 

But he has a dual basic nature - SAVING PEOPLE, HUNTING THINGS. He was a sweet goof who loved and cared about people who were kind to him even when he had no idea between Sam or Rowena. He has a HEART. Ketch does not, but Dean has enough darkness in him to feel like he doesn't have a heart, and he's dealing with having told his mom where the door is. But he DOES have lightness in him. Ketch is like, dark side seducing him, with the whole "Inclinations" thing cluing us in it's queercoded and a seduction... This has happened to Dean before. He's wearing a red shirt he bought during the Mark of Cain crisis after CROWLEY dark side seduced him.

Of course that all involved the love triangle with Cas who represented the good side of Dean's duality for having an angel and a demon on his shoulder, and feeling the pull between them... Dean here is taking on Ketch alone and there's no pull in the other direction because Dean is isolated in the Bunker and Cas doesn't have an opposing role to the BMoL so he has no narrative tug back in the other direction, on the side of them having a HEART.

(I just watched 9x22 last night and I'm still dying about how much Dean loves Cas)

Anyway Ugh. I don't like the queercoded implications about demon!Dean that it seems more overt when he's evil and I don't particularly like that this is all Ketch "seducing" Dean to the dark by linking killing to that SO queer word "inclinations" about the both of them - I mean enough that Dean has to comment on it and wow that's a moment and a half, for the bi!Dean annuls, but UGH.

Have to stop and meta in 3 paragraphs about how Dean has a heart and isn't evil but is still queer and not because he's a killer >.>

-

Jesus christ we're at the halfway point - this is like the opposite problem of a Buckleming episode. I know Berens can DESTROY me in about 2 minutes of screen time, so I'm just, like, permanently on edge.

-

Anyway aside from everything else I hope Dean got to ride on the motorbike

-

I mean that scene was just so harsh on Dean, with Ketch winning his way in with scotch, and then winning Dean out the door with the promise of vampires to kill that he couldn't find on his own earlier

(Big business came and stole all the work from small local businesses. They are a vampire hunting supermarket)

-

Yeeeee Rufus mention.

-

Aww poor terrible hunters. It's like Garth - "How are you still alive!?"

I'd say Pierce should probably be black if he's from Baton Rouge but honestly if he's meant to be a dingus, then all the good hunters are probably escaping this by bad association and we don't see a hapless idiot PoC hunter :P They're all the top shelf ones Ketch can't win over

-

The ones who take pride in their work and have enough confidence in their skills to not want to go work for the big supermarket >.>

-

*Dean disappointingly follows Ketch in the Impala*

They probably raced

-

Checking out each other's equipment. Ketch opts to take one of Dean's knives. You know, Dean has a corrupting influence on everything he meets, I swear :P Like, Ketch was complaining it was too easy, but still just going along with his job, he meets Dean, seems to be off-assignment because he's just GONE to do it, no idea Sam wasn't even there tbh, but gets Dean, lures him out, and then Dean just has to make the old school way of hunting look cool by waving a knife around and suddenly Ketch wants in and also has a go at flipping a knife... And he's already getting “where are you??” messages from Mick. I mean, just the compulsion to meet the Winchesters on honest ground - now everything's in the open. He didn't even like them as much as Mary? But once he knows they need to be won over he goes to get at least one of them... But now he's not answering his mobile, and Dean's handed him a knife aaand

they really are being reckless by going in here alone without checking to see if something like the ALPHA VAMP isn't here

-

Oh wait shit the vampires are coming to the BMoL

Maybe there really is nothing in the hotel

-

Oh no there's just the sad vampire I was sorry for

Ketch don't you dare kill blanket vampire

-

Okay, now Dean feels sorry for the vampires

That was a surprisingly short line to cross before Dean's like hey stop being mean to the monsters

HE HAS A HEART

I guess if we're subverting Bloodlust all you can do is make Dean not like the Gordon parallel even SOONER- in 2x03 he NEARLY fell for it... he WANTED to. He knows so much better now

-

(Bennyyyy)

-

This vampire looks EXACTLY like a girl I used to work with who coincidentally... was called Magda

-

"Hunting... they went hunting." "Hunting whom?" "The hunters"

That was SUCH a good exchange. DRAMA. TENSION. SHEER TERROR ABOUT WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO BELOVED CHARACTERS

This season, notable exceptions, is SO much on its A game. Almost every episode has been like, High Drama.

-

Vampire tiiiime

-

Sam taking chaaaarge

I love it

-

Aw no don't kill the one random black guy here. :<

WHY DID THEY LEAVE ALL THESE DOORS OPEN?

Is it because sealing yourself into shipping containers sucks and is probably airless and stinky?

At least in space they wouldn't have this problem

(In a good Doctor Who episode even the random guards would have names and personalities and a decent story arc for a side character even if they get killed... In this episode the guards aren't exactly the only hired muscle to save them because there's at least 3 hunters in the building and one of them is Sam Fucking Winchester, so he'd be more likely protecting the hired muscle regardless :P Not like killing them did anything but remove characters to worry about rather than raise the threat level that would be in an episode when everyone else was nerds instead of trained killers)

-

Mick's got soft hands though

All I ask is one scream of horror

-

"Our intel has him in Morocco. He's been there for at least the last decade." Sam, with barely a side glance, "Wrong."

Yeah that's been a theme all season and as far back as "Cassiel" - their intel SUCKS

-

Read the Winchester Gospels

Or... don't. That actually turns you into an effective enemy

-

I love when Sam's got the snarky interrogation face on. It's a fun Sam

-

Mary's wearing basically Sam's red and black plaid but in a Dean way

-

Oh Mick is scared

-

And Sam has a headache at the stupid

-

Considering there's only 3 hunters in the room they managed to scrounge up a lot of weapons.

Not enough...

"Where is it?" *significant looks* Okay, Sam's going to find out now. He's been much kinder towards Mary, obviously, even if he's still got a ton of issues and meant to leave when shit started happening, but... yeah. Is he as forgiving or at least willing enough to hear her out when THIS is revealed?

-

*Mary side-glances at Sam*

-

*sword in the stone moment for Sam*

Who is literally crying to have such awful history returned to him. He knows this weapon is cursed.

-

I can't deal with Sam crying openly while writing the ingredients for the bullets and also the lore dump of how they make the damn things like AAH I ALWAYS WONDERED

And Mick's EYES. Like "what the fuck sort of hunters ARE these guys?"

This is what happens when you unexpectedly come across Legendary level hunters and you are all noobs

he's met the alpha, lived to tell the tale, and now is telling you how to make bullets that could kill him

-

Sam Fucking Winchester

(I just wanted to say that)

-

Oh the red flashy lights in the corridors is SO Doctor Who

-

It occurs to me that 11x14 also was the sort of episode that mimics the tropes of one of those but this one has the aesthetic.

-

I think Berens just wants to write for Doctor Who

-

Pleeease, two vampires against Sam Fucking Winchester

-

[slightly evil nyoooom] Nyooooom

-

Mick sounds scared while doing the incantation over the bullets. Hope it works.

-

Dude, don't stand with your back to the open door

-

... Amazingly that didn't take more than a second to pay off.

-

Noooooo Serena

I liked her :<

-

*Sam Fucking Winchester kills everything*

-

Can't believe the blatant disrespect for England that the alpha vamp doesn't like us

-

Actually starting to worry Mick's last episode is right here and now :P

-

Aww Mary is hurt and Sam's instinct is to be all "mom!" and help her

I am so emo about this family, help.

-

I am so with the alpha vamp

-

I mean I will miss Mick but nah. Byeee.

-

Aww nope fortunes change all at once

-

*Mick legs it away from the alpha vamp and goes and stands behind all the hunters*

-

"If that were true I'd be dead already" I bet the lore about the 5 things is both right and wrong at the same time - we KNOW it doesn't work on Lucifer, but I bet a ton of stuff pretends it won't work on them, and honestly Lucifer might not have been right about 5, and basically there's "recorded" like at least a dozen things it won't kill

but in this case Sam calls his bluff because the alpha vamp is still talking with the gun trained on him instead of just fighting them...

-

Anyway Sam's just like, ready to throw Mick to him

-

"Who said I was here to save all of us. My family and I, we kill vamps when they get outta line. And you've LET us." "I have many children, Sam. What's one, two, here or there..." "Exactly! So? Let my mom and me go. We'll walk away, go back to the way things were. To the way things are SUPPOSED to be. Hunters and vampires. Cops and robbers! A fair fight!"

!!! I LOVE SAM SO MUCH

Also that "the way things are SUPPOSED to be" is denying everything Mary said about a world without monsters, and calling back to Eve's natural order.

-

Poor old Mick

Maybe he'll turn him into a vampire

-

"What are you doing?" "Picking a side"

LOVE HIM

-

That was a badass montage of how Sam got a bullet in the gun

-

Bye bye Alpha Vamp, Dabb tidies up another loose end and sits back smiling to himself - not a plot hole so much as the itch of “see you next season” being for nothing

-

Serena nooo

All the dead people

-

Oh, wait, I'm having the same moment as Mick

-

Mary like "come on" to him, quite gently

aaand walk out and there's Ketch and Dean, 5 minutes late to the party.

Ketch lecturing Mick on his ivory tower and how people die...

Oh Ketch your attempt to get Dean didn't work.

-

Awwww Dean was worried about Mary and Sam's deducing it because Sam's all deduce-y and stuff. When he has to deal with things on his own, he really shines. You should do more episodes alone. I've really missed you, Sam :P I feel like I haven't seen you since 11x14

-

Are the Winchesters making up??

"It's not your job to make me lunch and kiss me goodnight" Help

-

Aww they all made up

-

Ooops and here's Ketch back being all awful and with the traitor hunter. Who's "gone rogue"

I suppose this compares to 12x06 AGAIN, where they let Bucky go because they don't kill their own, just ostracise them

but um

Still thinking about Samuel Campbell... is that ever going to come up? In this case the Winchesters seem to agree that killing this guy for selling them out to vampires is appropriate. Or, well, whatever Ketch does to him. Worse than death, maybe

-

Maybe Mary would understand despite the fact it was her father >.>

-

Had not considered that until after seeing this episode

-

Aw Sam no, I CRIED WITH YOU TODAY.

Was Sam talking crap with the Cops n Robbers speech or did he change his mind about the status quo? He picked his side in the moment Mick helped get the bullet to him? Or? Thinks the MoL are such idiots the only way to protect Mary is to go with her?

-

Dean looks kinda isolated at the end with Sam and Mary standing next to each other but he has had reason to DISLIKE Ketch after he roughed up the poor vamp girl, and he still indicates he doesn't like Mary's decision but he loves her anyway...

Kinda feel bad pointing out if he doesn't go for it (and one of them needs not to) that kinda does mean he and Cas are left alone on this side :P

Don't feel bad enough NOT to point it out and end on that note >.>

#12x14 #season 12 spoilers #Berens fanclub #my stuff #SAM!! #remember in 11x14 where Sam chugged 18 cups of coffee shortly before the episode #and was this weird perky happy fun Sam who I fell madly in love with for one episode? #I'm pretty disappointed #because now he's only my 3rd favourite Sam #(1st favourite Sam is Sam in 7x14 because duh)

[justwordsonpages]

I used to spend so much time wondering if you cared about me..

I used to spend so much time hoping one day you would.

I've known you half my life.

You were the first guy I ever dated, kissed, loved... You were, so many times, my first.

I remember everything so so vividly.

You were.. Shy. And quiet. And so sweet.. In middle school I would walk with you 2 blocks down the road to your house every time I saw you. Sometimes, you'd come sneak up behind me. Sometimes you would put your arm around me or pretend like you were attacking me. We'd walk super slowly, talking the whole way. Usually, and even to this day, you'd probably be disagreeing with something. We talked about everything.

We were friends. Sometimes I would see you during school. At the dances, I'd always look for you, secretly. Once I met J because she randomly sat next to me and just struck up a conversation, and you came and joined us and I basically stayed with you that night. I met your cousin at one of them. At another, I had left early because my mom and I were going to the high school to watch a play. I would be disappointed whenever you weren't there. Sometimes I'd be off with H, J, B, A, P, etc and wouldn't see you either.

It wasn't until my summer after 8th grade that you told me you liked me at all. We were so shy, we were still kids. You were slick with words then too.

We hungout sometimes alone, sometimes with others. D was usually with us. Things were great sometimes and awkward some others.

Once, you and D stopped by my grandmas house and asked if I could go with you guys, so I did, and we walked literally all the way across town to your dad's. It was fun. We joked and laughed and had a good time. We left to start heading back and it had started getting dark. We took the long way because I was avoiding my mom, I knew she would be mad. We kept walking. D joked that we should kiss. We hadn't kissed yet, ever. You had your arm around me. And I just remember always feeling so safe with you. Walking under the old bridge with spray paint and sharpie covered bricks, with the lights on. It was oddly romantic somehow. You were so nice to me that day.

There was a day when we were walking around and it just started raining. I've always loved that vibe.

We walking a stray dog we found one day.

Just so many memories.

Unfortunately we were not mature enough and it ended about 2 months later pretty awkwardly. We were too young and had too much to learn. After that, you went on to develop a very high sex drive and my dad died and I also had surgery. We did not speak at all, and I honestly thought that I would never see you again. I missed you, the whole time.

I saw you, one time in a parking lot after I got done in Kmart. I was with my mom, you were with D. My mom and I were pretty far away. I think you guys saw me, because right then as fast as you both could you ran to the car you were with.

Almost 2 years after we stopped speaking. It's late, I'm in my grandmas bathroom doing my hair, and my ipod lights up. It says your name and a "Hey".

First off..."Hey"?? Lol.

We talked. We became close again, and this time we hung out at perry farm. It was a super nice day in May I think, and it was nice to see you..

We had several small little encounters like that. Like when we'd sit on the playground and you'd just set your hand on my thigh and we would talk. And you would move it ever so slightly, and that would be all. You drove me fucking crazy.

Or when we would meet up at the elementary school to make out after hours. That got intemse sometimes, but it never went anywhere. I saw a different side of you then, but you were always still just a gentleman. Or when we'd show up near a creek under these railroad tracks and do the same thing.

When we would stand somewhere and hug for like 30 minutes straight without moving.

When we got older, and in high school sometimes I'd see you in the mornings or randomly. At one point I saw you alot either before or after school and sometimes your friends too. I loved it. I loved being near you.

And then you started talking to R and everything was different from then on. She didn't trust you around me. Started hating me and told you not to talk to me any more. For a long time, you didnt.. I hated it. Felt like I saw you with her every time I turned around. I wanted to be her more than anyone else in the world.

And then your grandma passed away.. And you texted me. You explained everything. Told me she didn't like you talking to me and how you didn't want to but you were trying to be a good boyfriend. You told me she's controlling. You told me about your grandma. You poured your heart out to me about it.. You told me you were sorry and I said that it was fine. Sometimes you would call me. Then a while later, R pretended to be pregnant and hurt you alot, I know that, and then you guys broke up and she moved to Texas. You started talking to me again.

I've heard about and had to picture you with so many women.

0nce in a period of us not talking, you called me while you were hanging out with N. We talked for 6 hours. We talked and laughed and you threw quarters at N. I was so happy after that phone call. There was late night phone calls here and there. We had to be sneaky.

Once we met up at BC to revisit the past and we were sitting by the garbage dumpsters. We were just hanging out and talking and I just looked over and you kissed me right then. I think that's the most spontaneous and unexpected kiss I've ever had. We started talking again after that day too. And all this happened through the years and I never slept with you. You always wanted me to, but I never wanted to just be "one of them".

When you lived behind the school we were walking once and a car rear ended someone else right in front of us. Perhaps that was the night that it was so super dark and suddenly you kissed me. I asked you what that was for and you said "closure".

Anything to do with you made my heart race. You were my best friend and I loved you so much all at once. I would do anything for you. And then life went on for a good while. We're so much better apart than together. During these times you hurt yourself over people who did not deserve to know you and it changed you.. A lot.

You absolutely love sex but it's as if no one's touched you.. Loved you.

You are so angry and jealous but so sweet and loving.

Everything is different. We hung out. And on this particular day, for the first time ever, you picked me up in a car you own. You dressed up for me and then actually admitted it. We went on a drive and smoked a blunt, and talked. Just like always. It was so nice. But I knew I still loved you..

I left my relationship for you.

So then we eventually did it.. We were together. We went on a walk one night, smoked, and listened to music. It was pretty cold that night. Eventually you tested those waters and grabbed my hand. And then the next thing I know, we're standing in a field in pitch black kissing each other. A lot.

You stayed at my house that night and I gave you head for the first time ever. You told me no one's ever been able to do that. I still don't believe you.

I've literally never met anyone and wanted them as bad as you. I had to go back to school after that weekend and I still hadn't slept with you. I was still nervous. I would stay at your house for a bit every now and then and we fell asleep. When you woke up you said "nobodys ever slept in my bed before" and I didn't believe that either.

I was at school 5 hours away from you when we began planning a trip to meet halfway. So we did.

We were intimate fairly fast.

Intimate in the one way we never had been. Passion is an understatement. Sex in your car, in a Walmart parking lot in a state neither of us lived in.

When we got done, an old man in his car was staring at us. So we parked my car and went to a nature preserve. It was beautiful and we had a great time. I took pictures. We smoked your dab pen. We almost had sex in the park. We went to the hotel and had the most passionate sex of my life. Like pressed-up-against-a-mirror passion.

The window, the mirror, the bed, the shower, his car, we couldn't get enough of each other. After all that we fell asleep, and in the middle of the night, we woke up and you made love to me. It was beautiful, and I will never forget it.

But now... Now something has happened to me. I told myself that I deserved to be happy for once and do something for me, and then I let myself have you. I let my enjoy hearing your every sign and moan. I let myself enjoy your reactions to my every move and teasing you. I let myself enjoy it when you wanted me so bad you were shaking. Your teeth chattered.. And yet you were still so nice to me. I let myself be the thing you needed and I hate myself because I don't regret it...

I don't regret you.

[fgjhfdrtgfd]

December 11th, 2017

What a fucking year. I’m glad it’s almost over. I’m glad and heartbroken at the same time. To think this will be the last year of my life that I will be able to spend time with my grandmother devastates me. At the same time I just want to put this year past me and start fresh in 2018. So many new things are going to happen which I’m sick over but I know the hard choices to make are the right ones. It would be so easy to stay at home, hanging out with my brothers, working a stupid job and going to community college. It is much harder to take the big step of moving out, transferring to a University and throwing myself into an entire new world. I can’t stand change and everything in my life is about to change. It’s a whirlwind. I’m grateful I quit my job at the FF a few weeks ago and have had this time to rejuvenate myself and get back to where I should be mentally and physically. I needed the time to grieve at my own pace and to have the alone time I have craved over the last year. Looking back I can’t believe how quick it went. I forgot how many days I spent working, driving to Hoag, sitting at the hospital, driving home and then doing it all again. It was crazy. Yet somehow I held myself together during that time. I don’t know how I did and I can’t believe I did. I rose to the occasion and was strong for everyone around me and I’m very proud of myself for that. I was surprised to be fine after she passed but expected it to stay the same. The waves of sadness started slow and then came in more frequently as they still do. Now it mostly catches me by surprise. Walking in target through the women’s clothes section. Walking in Kohl’s and seeing all of the Christmas stuff. Seeing pics of other girls dealing with family members hospitalized. Random things like this are now effecting me more and more. I miss her. I keep thinking I need to call her or when I’m cooking rice I think to call and ask how much butter and then I remember. It’s the strangest thing.

It is important to note that I expected my entire life to shatter when she passed when I was younger. And it didn’t. I don’t know if I’ve prepared myself well and that helped but even for people like my mom who took it so hard, she is still going along just fine. It’s odd how the world keeps turning. Life goes on and the world doesn’t end. I have learned since I lost such a crucial person to my life and things continued on just fine, that I can really handle anything thrown my way. I was blessed that I was open and honest in my love for her and grateful to have had such a unique and loving relationship with her so that definitely helped.

I have found ways of coping that are not ideal for my mental state. As always, I am focusing on guys to distract me from my sadness of losing her. At least my focusing consists of things in my head and not me being a whore. I became infatuated with one of my Gma’s nurses in the CCU named Mish. It made the hospital days better because I would actually make myself look half decent and had something to look forward to that didn’t consist of my Gramma being sick and in pain. He was very sweet and different and even invited me to go to Peru with him. My mom loved him and thought he was beautiful of course. He asked for my number and stuff and asked my mom where I was one day and said he liked smart people. I still want to sleep with him just because of the story. My gramma actually had a dream I married him and went travelling or something. Haha. Her and my damn mom always trying to marry me off.

Mish took my mind off Moe for quite some time. After I sent Moe that huge text in January of this year I didn’t hear from him for a few months. Then he started to randomly reply to things here and there every other month or so. He texted me when my gramma passed which was nice. I never received a response of any substance to me pouring my heart out to him though. And I think somehow I knew I wouldn’t get one. I don’t know why he is the way he is. I don’t know if he really doesn’t care or if he just that scared to be vulnerable. Both of those don’t make complete sense. I have this story in my head that he loves me as I love him but looking at it realistically, there is no evidence of this. Many words have been spoken by him to me but there have been no actions to prove the things he has said. I need to focus on that because nothing else is real. Only actions are real. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years so how the fuck could I still be so entirely caught on him? I have isolated myself from the world so that’s definitely a potential reason why I haven’t gotten over it. My mind only knows to go back to him so that’s what it does. I remember when I was younger and caught on TJ and then Garret and then of course on Nick. All of these guys I truly thought I would marry and end up with and love forever. Did any of that happen? Fuck no. So I don’t trust what my heart tells me about Moe either because it’s been wrong many times. How can I trust myself when I led myself in the wrong direction time and time again? Moe messaged me on thanksgiving and told me I was beautiful and that he will always love me. No matter what. And I put 🙄 and he said forever n ever. I said lol. And then he says one day we will be bffs again. Well no one day we won’t. There’s too much history there’s too much chemistry now. Why can’t he just leave me alone for good? I don’t know what to do anymore it’s driving my crazy. I want the relationship to begin or I want it to be out of my head for good. I want clarity from him but I don’t know how to respond to him anymore. We are so far from what we used to be when we were younger there’s no going back. I miss our friendship and the guidance he gave me because he is similar in so many ways. I don’t have people I can talk to like that because no one else is so it sucks that we’ve ruined this. And I just want to be with him and I don’t know why I’m not. I don’t know why he has to be like this. I know there are lessons to be learnt for both of us but it’s time for me to have another signifact other and I can’t imagine it begin anyone other than him.

Again, I have always been ready for the next step when the other person isn’t. And I always have to deal with being sad initially and then getting over it and then hearing from the guy saying he still loves me and it’s always too late. And it fucking blows if this is another episode of that.

Anyways, I’m in palm desert. Been here for 4 days and have read 3 books in that time. I am in better physical shape than I ever have been and my passion at the gym has been reignited. I am ready for life to blossom and for new opportunities.