#fun fact of the day: i actually have a college teacher that looks a bit like hob and his name starts with g…. 🥴

[banancrumbs]

deal

[bloodmoonmuses]

stereo 127 | johnny suh

(for @lovesuhng !!! I hope you like it!!!)

genre: johnny suh x reader, college au, teacher's assistant! johnny, friends to lovers

warnings: none!

summary: johnny is your campus crush. he also happens to be the teaching assistant in your music history class. when you (innocently) ask for help on a project, you end up learning about more than just music.

You’re a bit obsessed with this guy who skates around campus- or the concept of him, more accurately. You don’t even know his name. All you know is that last semester, you (accidentally) memorized his schedule, resulting in you walking to certain classes a few minutes earlier than necessary to catch a glimpse of him. These glimpses were merely a blur, whipping past you like an apparition. He was a ghost to you, and you enjoyed being haunted by him. 

Your friends made fun of you for having a campus crush, arguing that it’s not real since you don’t actually know him. However, you honestly preferred the distance. Then, you could fill in the gaps in your knowledge with your own imagination. Admiring him from afar worked for a while- that is, until the start of Spring semester. 

When you saunter into your music history class, a random elective you took for fun, you’re met with the elusive Skater Boy. You knew he was tall, but he’s even taller than you’d imagined in your daydreams. You glance at him briefly, before going to take a seat at a desk near the back. 

Skater Boy chats with a few of his friends at the front of the classroom, then sits next to the teacher’s desk when the professor enters. You infer that he must be the teacher’s assistant. 

This was a big problem. Surely, you’ll fail this class now. There’s simply no way you’ll be able to focus. The breathy laughs that escape him are already distracting you to the point of being almost unbearable. His smile is so breezy, like a wave catching the wind. He looks just as cool here in the classroom as he does on his skateboard.

The underlying crush that lay dormant in you begins to boil, and you know it will soon bubble over, scalding everything in its wake. You couldn’t wait for the burn. In fact, you aimed to spur it on sooner. 

You make a concerted effort to pay attention to the professor’s spiel, pulling out your notebook to take notes. It's syllabus day, sure, but you want to look studious. The first assignment of the semester is to research the history of your favorite music genre. 

Despite your efforts to focus, your eyes drift to the stickers that adorn Skater Boy’s laptop: Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, an Arctic Monkeys logo and a cartoon surfboard. You want to know everything he likes and commit the list to memory. You want to sew his idiosyncrasies into a quilt and blanket him with your loving knowledge of them.

The professor introduces him as Johnny Suh- a third year music composition major. Now the ghost has a name.

—

You look at the office hours on the bottom of your syllabus. Johnny would be in office in lieu of your professor for the majority of the semester. Would it be so bad to pop in and ask him for help on the first assignment? 

While you admittedly feel silly, walking to the Arts and Humanities building looking a bit too gussied up, you swallow the nervousness. You stand in front of the room, reading the placard:

Professor: Dr. Moon

TA: Johnny Suh 

You knock on the office door. On the third knock Johnny says, “Come on in!”

Meekly, you enter. He’s too real, too tangible, in this small space. You’ve never been within touching distance of him. The prospect makes your fingers tingle. Professor Moon has an insane book collection, two bookcases spanning the walls opposite one another. The rest of the office is cluttered with a slew of instruments.

Johnny is wearing a backwards hat and quarter sleeve sweater. Your eyes graze the expanse of his forearms, then drift upwards. There’s a pen clipped to his collar and another in between his lips. It’s the most tantalizing pen you’ve ever seen. Finally, you make eye contact. 

Introducing yourself, you say, “Hi, my name is _____. I’m in the music history course.”

“Nice to meet you.!” He takes the pen out of his mouth, and your eyes follow it forlornly. That could’ve stayed. “How can I help?” 

Johnny gathers some papers, places them in a neat stack at the center of the desk, then sits on the edge of it.

“Um, I’m a non-major. So, I’m struggling a bit with the first assignment.”

Johnny nods understandingly. “Ah, the dreaded favorite genre assignment. What’d you pick?”

“Pop punk,” you say.

“Fascinating. You don’t strike me as a punk person.”

You shrug. “Grew up on it.”

“Have you been to the record store near campus?”  

You shake your head.

“It’s called Stereo 127. I think it would be cool to listen to some records and base your research on specific albums. Then you’ll have a clearer framework for when it’s time to write the paper.”

“Thanks. Um,” you clear your throat, “Would you mind… showing me?”

“The record store? Yeah, sure. No problem. Does this weekend work for you?” Johnny asks.

“Sounds good!”

—

Stereo 127 is densely packed with all sorts of records, mimicking the state of Dr. Moon’s office. There’s a classmate of yours named Jaehyun who’s keeping watch of the store. He walks around the shop, reorganizing things as he sees fit. As you peruse the albums, you’re peeking at Johnny over the records, trying to catch his eye. Unlike you, Johnny is actually scanning the selection, genuinely trying to help you.

“Let’s get the obvious ones out the way,” he says, holding a Blink-182 record. He’s somehow managed to track down a copy of their debut album, Cheshire Cat.  

“If Cheshire Cat is an ‘obvious’ pick to you, then I’m way out of my depth,” you confess.

“A little pretentiousness never hurt anyone,” Johnny replies. 

So far, you have a copy of Green Day’s Nimrod (which you’re quite excited about) and Paramore’s newest album. As the minutes pass, you get gradually more enraptured by the thicket of albums. Before you know it, you’ve accumulated quite a few records. After a bit, you sidle up to Johnny, peering over his shoulder to check out his picks. You spot a Yellowcard compilation record.

“This is more fun than I thought it’d be,” you pipe, turning to face Johnny. His face floods with fondness when he sees the stack of albums in your arms, caramel eyes warming you from the inside out. 

“Yeah, you have a good eye,” he retorts. “I’ve been meaning to check out a few other shops around town. Y’know. To compare selections.” He’s sputtering now, having fallen into a cough fit.

“You okay buddy?” you say, chuckling. You gingerly pat his back, holding back a full blown laugh as Johnny continues to cough.

He waves you off, but you pat his back once more for good measure.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Johnny says. When he regains his composure, he continues. “I was just wondering… Are you busy on the 27th?”

—

You’re sprinting across campus, eager to meet Johnny outside of the boys’ dorm. It’s been two weeks since you’ve last seen him. He’s leaning against the building as he waits for you, clad in a page boy cap (which he’s wearing backwards again) and tank top. You allow yourself a quick glance at his arms, immediately regretting it as your face heats up. When he spots you, Johnny waves excitedly, the width of his smile making your own double in size.

After your first excursion, Johnny had asked for your number (“in case you have questions on the assignment!” he had said). Since then, the two of you have texted occasionally, mostly about school.

The record store he takes you to this time is called The Boot. It’s less trendy than Stereo 127 and less organized as well. Most of the vinyls are in bins, withering at the edges and clearly sundamaged. Johnny says he comes here to find obscure records to spin during his DJ sets, not to necessarily hunt for additions to his collection. 

“So, you’re a music composition major?” you ask as you crouch down to sift through a box.

Johnny nods. “With a minor in photography.”

“Favorite camera brand?”

“Nikon for sure, but I mostly shoot 33mm film.”

“How pretentious,” you say.

“Oh, you love it.” This is true, you do love it. 

Johnny continues. “I found another record store for us to try out after this one.”

“Yeah, just text me whenever.”

—

You had finished your paper days ago, so the subsequent record store outing was completely unnecessary to a certain extent. Johnny had no choice but to admit that he simply wanted to hang out with you- though, he’s not complaining. 

The final record store you visit with Johnny is called WAYVE. This time, he picks you up in his car to take you there- a dinky pick up truck with a shitty paint job.

“Before we head out- “ Johnny reaches over, opening the glove department in front of you. His hand brushes your leg briefly.. He pulls out a CD case and places it in your lap.

“I made a playlist for you.” He can’t look you in the eyes properly. You’ve never seen him look this sheepish.

Johnny continues. “Not vinyl, I know, but I wanted to decorate the cover.” Taped to the front of the jewel case is a polaroid of you perusing records. In the photo, your brows are furrowed in concentration.

“When did you even take this, you weirdo?”

“A few weeks ago at The Boot. The lighting was nice.”

You’re practically buzzing with excitement when you get home, racing to put the CD in your busted boombox. The first song on the playlist is Going Away to College by Blink-182.

“I haven't been this scared in a long time

And I'm so unprepared, so here's your valentine

Bouquet of clumsy words, a simple melody

This world's an ugly place, but you're so beautiful to me.”

—

You got a B minus on the paper, which is better than you would've done without Johnny’s help. However, the project is the furthest thing from your mind. 

All you can think about is the lyrics of Going Away to College. You’re trying not to read into things, but Johnny wasn’t the most subtle. 

Maybe you should make a playlist for him. Or buy him a record. According to him, Johnny’s not a true collector- that was reserved for cameras. Maybe he’d appreciate it.

Johnny spots you walking to class (though he’s sure your next one isn’t for another half hour). He skates over to you, stopping right at your feet. You shriek, almost stumbling backwards.

“What the hell, Johnny?”

He dismounts his skateboard, holding it under his arm nonchalantly.  “Do you wanna hang out somewhere other than a record store?”

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

—

The skatepark is overstimulating in the best way. After trying (and failing) to teach you how to do an ollie for an hour, the two of you set up a picnic off to the side of the halfpipe. You eat kimbap off Johnny’s skateboard, using it as a little table.

“Sorry you got a B on your paper, by the way. If it’s any consolation, I didn’t grade it.” 

“It’s okay. I’d rather earn a B from Professor Moon than have your biased ass give me a higher grade than I deserve.”

Johnny places a hand on his chest, gasping dramatically.

“Um, what about academic integrity? I would do nothing of the sort!” he insists.

“Oh come on, you’re obsessed with me,” you say, half-joking. To your surprise, Johnny nods to himself, agreeing with you.

“Only a healthy amount though.”

When you and Johnny finish the kimbap, he scooches next to you. The sun is setting, oranges slowly darkening into a wash of deep indigo. You shiver as the sun dips beneath the horizon. Johnny places his jacket across your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you say.

“No problem.”

You place your head on Johnny’s shoulder.

“Um, and thanks for the playlist too. It’s really good.”

“Yeah?”

“It sorta had… a theme to it.”

Johnny suddenly pulls out from under you, leaving you to stumble around for a bit as you catch yourself. When he turns to you, he stares, caramel eyes pouring into your own. You feel warm in spite of the chilly breeze.

“I’ve never really been good with words,” Johnny confesses. “I figured I’d let the music do the talking.”

With that, he takes your face into his hands. He traces your features with the pads of his fingers- running them over your eyebrows, the lids of your closed eyes, your nose and, finally, your mouth. When he’s satisfied, he places a faint kiss upon your lips. 

He pulls back, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m so glad my pretentious bullshit doesn’t give you the ick,” Johnny says.

“Only a healthy amount,” you say through a smile. 

Suddenly, you initiate another kiss, your lips crashing into his fervently. When Johnny recovers from the initial shock, you deepen the kiss further. He’s a patient kisser, never demanding too much or taking more than he’s given. This only heightens your hunger for him, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. When the two of you come up for air, you linger with Johnny still in your embrace, his eyes crinkling at the edges with pure joy.

a/n: currently unedited + feedback is always appreciated! thanks for reading!

[underforeversgrace]

Savant par!

From this ask game. (Send me a pairing/group of characters and I'll write a short little scene!)

I hope you wanted fluff because this is a pure 900 words of fucking fluff.

~~

Danny groaned and he reached outside of the warm cocoon of blankets he was enclosed in, swatting blindly until his hand finally connected with the alarm clock blaring beside his bed.

He knew he should get up, he had classes today… but Tucker’s slow breaths lulled him back into his dreams, curling up at Tucker’s side. It was college, no teacher expected everyone to show up every single day. Besides that, it was him. Their teachers were always more surprised when he showed up than when he didn’t.

Oh well. He was fairly certain none of them were quite able to handle the fact they were teaching a semi-dead teenager who had saved all of them a time or two. Despite his secret having been known for six years by now amongst the Amity population and many of these teachers the same ones he’d had multiple times in the past four years of college, it seemed people still struggled to understand Danny was just a normal kid (most of the time).

The next time Danny awoke, it was to a gentle pressure on his forehead. Danny peeked open one eye, smiling at Tucker’s sleepy face.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Tucker yawned. “You skipped class, did you know that?”

“Mmmm,” Danny hummed noncommittally. “Had better things to do.”

“You should probably get up, you can still make your afternoon physics class,” Tucker said, though he began running his fingers through Danny’s tangled black hair.

Danny made a sound somewhere between a whine and yawn and buried his head into the hollow of Tucker’s throat, listening to the rhythmic beats of his boyfriend’s heart and the blood rushing in his veins. Danny looped one arm over Tucker’s waist, hooking his ankle behind one of Tucker’s legs.

“I thought I was dating a ghost, not a koala,” Tucker laughed, though he didn’t protest. Tucker snaked his one arm under Danny’s neck and let the other lay lazily over Danny’s hip.

“I’m the ghost of a koala,” Danny answered matter of factly.

Tucker laughed, pulling Danny closer. “You’re cold,” he whined, even though his actions showed he clearly didn’t mind.

Danny grinned mischievously and slid his hand under the hem of Tuck’s shirt and against the small of his back. He might have triggered his ice powers just an eensie  weensie bit and Tucker yelped in protest as Danny cackled.

“That’s cheating!” Tucker laughed, squirming to get away from Danny.

“No, mine!” Danny said, playfully tightening his grip on Tucker. “You’re warm and I’m cold!”

Tucker gasped, clearly deeply offended. “Am I just a space heater to you?”

Danny snorted. “Duh. What else would you be - the man I love?”

Tucker chuckled, pressing another kiss to Danny’s forehead. “See, that’s what I thought I was. Are you telling me I’m not?”

“Obviously not,” Danny said with an over exaggerated eye roll. “You’re just the space heater and I’m the devilishly handsome superhero.”

“Oh come on, I’m not even the damsel in distress love interest in this fantasy of yours?”

“Fiiiiine,” Danny said, looking up at Tuck’s smiling face as they poked fun at each other. “I suppose you can be the damsel I save from the monsters.”

“Actually,” Tucker said, pulling away slightly, a thoughtful look on his face, “I have a better idea for my role.”

“Oh? And what’s that?”

A smile crossed Tucker’s face and his eyes glinted, playfully, lovingly. “I was thinking I could be the man you marry,” he said.

Danny’s mouth dropped and he nodded ferociously, various sounds of agreement escaped his mouth as he failed to remember the word ‘yes’ in his excitement, when his ghost sense went off, and suddenly Ember and Skulker were there. Danny leapt from the bed, crouching defensively in front of Tucker (and being relieved he had actually pulled on pajamas after his shower last night).

“Ha, take that!” Ember said as Skulker pouted, crossing his arms in defeat. “Told you four eyes would be the one to propose!”

Danny glanced behind him, he and Tucker sharing confused looks.

“The whelp can take me on, but he’s too afraid to ask his boyfriend to marry him?” Skulker demanded. “I’m the Ghost Zone’s greatest hunter! If he’s brave enough to face me, he should fear nothing!”

Ember cackled. “You owe me five bucks!”

“Wait, hold up,” Tuck said, sitting up. “Did you two have a bet about mine and Danny’s relationship?”

“Duh. Half the Zone has some sort of wager! We better be invited to the wedding, pipsqueak.” Ember said, glaring at Danny, who was wondering how it was possible this was the actual life he lived, where semi-enemies made bets on love life.

“I haven’t actually answered yet, y’know,” Danny pointed out, turning back to Tucker, whose face went impressively pale.

Ember and Skulker both went silent behind him, Tucker just staring at him wide-eyed.

Danny grinned and shoved his hand intangibly into the apartment wall, pulling out a small box. “Was there any doubt my answer is yes?” He asked, opening the box to reveal a plain silver ring on the inside.

Tucker laughed and reached for the bedside table, moving aside a bunch of tech manuals and pulling out his own small box. He opened it and moved to show Danny the black band he’d bought. “No. No, I guess there really wasn’t.”

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino.. /Sukuna Ryomen x Female Reader/ .o2

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother,

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 1.413k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 (will be updated..)

a/n:: dear lord, i didn't know a new fanfic would have this kind of attention so soon! i love it, but it's really unexpected ^^ anyways, here's chapter two, and i hope i can keep the pacing of chapters the same~

~~

Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy~

. . .

Should I?

It had felt like a few hours by now since you had first seen Sukuna at your class, when in fact, it's been days. You had been too scared to actually try and talk to him, to see if you could make things right.

What would he say? How would he act?

You didn't know, it was just a matter of time till you worked up the guts to speak to him. Constantly glancing over at his spot where he sat, simply trying to gain a glance from him.

He knew you were here, so why didn't he come say hello to you himself?

"That's all for today, class," Toji announced, running a hand through his hair and making a few students gush in the background. "You may leave a little ahead of time so have some fun before going to your next classes. Be sure to do your homework this evening too, it's twenty-five percent of your grade."

As the commotion of students standing and gathering their things buzzed around the room, your eyes fell onto the back of Sukuna's head again. He was currently packing his things in his bag as yet another suitor waddled over and began talking to him.

He seemed uninterested in the girl's tactics, as he simply stared and shook his head when they asked for a date and number. Sukuna didn't say anything as he put on his jacket and bag and then left.

This would be your only chance, you told yourself as you quickly grabbed your things and tossing your bag over your shoulder.

Rushing out of the room, you headed into the direction Sukuna left and stood confused in the middle of the hall, students and other teachers walking past you as you looked around. Sukuna had simply disappeared into thin air.

Damn, you sighed, fixing your bag up and heading towards your next class. Maybe next time.

. . .

One whole month. Still hadn't talked to Sukuna.

"You mean that little punk-ass kid you liked when you were little?" Getou asked, his weekly visit to your roomies being interrupted by your ranting.

"He wasn't a punk," You said, your cheeks flushed pink. "And it was just a little crush, get over it."

"That's my line."

Getou took a sip from his soda can, clicking to another channel on the T.V. as he waited for your roommate. "Shouldn't you just say hi?"

"I can't," You let out a groan, laying down on the couch next to Getou. "I'm nervous. I haven't seen him in over a decade.. it's insane he's here anyway!"

Getou gave a low chuckle to your little rants, listening calmly until your roommate called on him for her sexual needs. Sighing, Getou crushed his empty drink and stood, petting your head as he walked away.

"Hey, just go talk to him," He said as he tossed his can away, already undressing his torso and undoing his hair pin. "He probably misses you as much as you miss him.. or whatever cheesy romance movie you think you're in."

"I don't think I'm in a cheesy romance movie, asshole," You grunted, turning on your side and pulling up the couches decorative blanket.

Getou soon disappearing into your roomie's room and the sounds of a creaking bed soon echoing throughout the dorm rang loud as you grab the paper with Sukuna's dorm number on it. You quickly grabbed a few other things like your phone and a necktie and exited the, now noisy, dorm.

Quickly tying the tie to the doorknob, you looked up directions for your campus on your phone as you went down the dormitory hall. There wasn't much noise this week, most of your neighbors had practice or were nursing hangovers from their previous party the night before. It was a Friday. Normal behavior for them.

Not you though.

You weren't the average party goer, but you have been to a few with Gojo and Getou, and didn't really enjoy your time shared on scene. Most girls were hooking up with the closest thing they could grab, Gojo being one of the obvious targets and leaving the party with at least two women strapped to each arm.

You understood his charm, though it never worked for you.

"Why don't you just let me?" Gojo would often ask the moment he was drunk enough, his lips a pretty pink as usual with some type of alcoholic beverage tainting his normally minty breath.

"Bet I'd make that pussy cream so hard too~.."

And around then he'd earn a one-way ticket to getting his ass kicked. You were always reminded of how much of a man whore Gojo was during the weekends and breaks for school. Playing with more than one persons heart and ending up with another phone number under his belt.

Though, in your mind, Sukuna's behavior seemed different from Gojo's.

He was quiet and rather harsh to any girls that had wanted to "date" him during his younger years. If you'd even consider dating at such a young age.

Anyways, you had finally made your way into the men's dormitory. A weird smell hitting your nostrils that you assumed was a 'man's smell', though you choose to ignore it as you make your way to the second floor and try to find Sukuna's dorm. It wasn't long until you were stopped by some drunken boys that made you sigh and explain your situation. Though, it fell on deaf ears and you pushed past them to the next floor.

Third floor: No luck.

Fourth: No luck.

You were about to give up when you saw the long awaited number of Sukuna's dorm. With a relieved and nervous sigh, you gave yourself a proud smile and slowly walked up to the door. You didn't hear anything from inside, but you knocked all the more and waited patiently.

After a few agonizing minutes, the door clicked open and you saw a messy haired and sleepy Sukuna. His eyes were dazed and droopy, some indents of the bed sheets he was probably sleeping on imprinted on his face and arms. His shirt was messy and his sweats were not really much different except for their grey color.

It had been so long since you saw him, and it was strange to see such a difference in him.

He didn't have any bandages on him that'd signify that he was just in a fight, minus a band-aid that was on his finger. Sukuna also appeared more mature, and grown. Nothing like the boy that you left behind in the Sticks.

"Ah- H-Hello, Sukuna.." You mumbled to yourself, unable to take in the cute sight of Sukuna being tired. Maybe he just woke up?

"Hmmph.." He responded, rubbing his eye and trying to take in who you were. What was your name again?

"Wait.. Y/n?"

Sukuna's voice let out a croak, coughing as his eyes began to focus on you. There was little hesitation before you smiled even brighter and blushed a little, waiting for a hug from him, even if it was brief.

But what you expected wasn't what you got.

"What are you doing here?" Sukuna asked, his eyes narrowing and his posture changing. He went from tired and leaning against his door frame to arms folded and full attention on you.

It wasn't in a friendly manner either.

"I-I was asked by our Economics professor to come see you!" You stuttered out, feeling a small pit of sadness well inside you at what little recognition he had towards you.

Didn't he miss you? Not even a little bit?

"Well, you can go now," Sukuna huffed, his eyes more red than when he was little. "I'm doing fine."

Such harsh words. Not even a hello?

"Wait, don't you miss me?" You asked, your voice strained, that childish flutter in your heart. "It's been so long, don't you want to get to know each other again?"

"Not really."

Why were you so persistent? It was strange, you've never wanted to see someone this badly. And it had been years since you've even had a thought about Sukuna.

Were you coming down with something?

"Is that all?" Sukuna asked, his voice weak and tired, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes once again. "I want to get some sleep before classes."

"Um.. y-yeah," You mumbled, your heart aching as Sukuna closed to door on your face and left you confused.

Why didn't he miss you?

a/n: already so much attention?! i love it but wow, i was expecting it after a few days not this fast! anyways, idk when i'll be posting the next chapter but i thought i'd tag a few extra ppl that i thought would want to read this fanfiction, but if you wish to not be tagged, tell me. i don't want anyone uncomfortable ^^ i cannot believe it took so long to make this chapter! i'm sorry, i've been working on my Kinktober things! (i plan on posting ten drabbles for the last 10 days of kinktober so i hope i get those out soon><)

Chapter Song Theme: — bei maejor - lights down low // slowed + reverb

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd, @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalfleshlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleeboomed, @fallenfeversstuff, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @ririkaxbz, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir

last chapter || next chapter

[somebodystoleme]

as the night drifted away | osamu x reader

part 1: you know when it’s time to go | miya atsumu x reader

summary: atsumu thinks back to you while you move on way too fast from him.

w.c: 1,009

a/n: trust me this is just pent up aggression from my ex, also ty sm for all the reblogs and notes last post!! i appreciate it! i will probably re-write this one day. but this is just plain thoughts about love. also making a tags list so lemme know if u would like to join.

warnings: cheating, angst to happy-ending

and i'm sitting on a bench in coney island wondering where did my baby go? the fast times, the bright lights, the merry go sorry for not making you my centerfold

atsumu spends his time sitting on a bench, trying not to cry. which is rich coming from him because he states he never cries. he misses you more than you think. he should be heading home to aurora to listen to her complain about something new she's going through. but he can't bring himself to get off this bench. you used to force him to sit on the bench and watch the stars. he realises now how stupid you must have felt. when everything went down.

he hasn't seen you anymore since you both graduated college. osamu, the only person from college who you insist on talking to, says you're doing well actually. osamu only talks about you, as if we all are still in high school again.

"didya know that y/n got accepted to med school?"

"they apparently got invited to model for some small time company!"

"y/n and kenma started playing video games together."

and he couldn't help but to think that this is his way of punishing him for taking y/n away from him, so many years ago.

y/n's hot pink converse place a little mud each step as you walks to the door and the more steps you take the more freaked out you get. a whole new school and everything. "it's going to fun! c'mon home economics is like, the easiest class alive." aurora stated so matter-of-fact "i know, but-" when aurora opens the wooden door to the classroom, you make eye contact, with a boy of course. but he just kept staring as you walked in. and you couldn't help but stare right back. everyone already had a spot and there was one seat right by him and another by a blonde boy who looked all too well similar to other boy. aurora quickly took the spot by the blonde boy and you couldn't help but to grin at her happiness to finally talk to a boy.

once you took your seat, you smiled at the gray haired boy and told him your name.

"y/n. sophomore."

"osamu. sophomore."

he didn't like talking to you (at least you thought) and he mostly spent his time correcting the teacher on cooking recipes. for the first time, you just stared at him, mostly in shock at how someone could be so good at cooking.

but by the end of the class, you felt at least a little bit closer to him. his favorite food was rice, he had a twin named atsumu, and is the spiker for the high school volleyball team. the more times you pulled up the chair next to him home economics, the closer you got to him.

by the end of freshman year, you were osamu's honorary best friend. his competitive demeanor came out quickly as you two spent the afternoons playing volleyball together when his parents were working.

you ran your hand through your hair, grinning. "c'mon 'samu, i know you can do better." he smirked back at you, "y/n, you're so mediocre at volleyball, don't even."

"i'm still winning-"

"by one point."

"so what?"

atsumu remembered how beautiful you looked playing with osamu. also remembering how much he wanted- no needed- you. he wouldn't tell you but aurora and him were about to start dating but once he saw you he knew he didn't want her.

so he spent his whole highschool chasing after you. he needed you. you just radiated kindness and happiness. you were the teenage dream. he couldn't help but to feel some sort of jealousy towards you. but the more times he coaxed you out of spending time with osamu, the more he realized how different you are.

confidence and beauty.

the more you noticed atsumu running after you, the more you noticed the fact that osamu was avoiding you. you mainly thought that it was because your parents decided to ground you for the whole senior year. (you don't like to admit it but it was because your parents caught you drinking with aurora)

"trust me, 'samu is not mad at you! he just notices that- you and i are closer."

"i mean, tell him we can hang out tomorrow at the cinema." atsumu nods his head in response.

"i'll see you on monday! have a nice weekend." he says before heading to his car.

osamu didn't show up to the cinema but atsumu did. "i'm so sorry y/n- i don't know why he got his panties in such a twist. you and i can go watch a movie, right?" that was the day you realized you were so over osamu and now drunk on atsumu.

you constantly tried to ignore how aurora and atsumu talked and whispered to each other. but you couldn't shake that he likes her. you even had the thought that maybe you and osamu not talking anymore was a curse, maybe he is the better miya twin. but that night, senior prom, he completely proved you wrong. and you two started dating the next day.

as fast as you two started dating, he knew it was over that night. the look in your eyes which he you would've loved him for a lifetime. and the sadness he felt right after watching you leave. as he sits and looks up at the sky he hopes you might be kind when you remember him. even though he wasn't kind to you, he hopes for forgiveness.

you fiddle with the straps of your white dress while also playing with your feet. you can't believe you're sitting in osamu's house after everything. as sappy as it sounds you can't believe you met him, again. he's just perfect.

his light airy smiles right at you. and only at you. you can't help but to feel that it was destiny to end up with osamu.

it all started with atsumu breaking your heart that you found osamu again. sitting in some five star restaurant, post breakup. he knew it was you the second you walked in. he would even serve you just to talk to you again,

"hi y/n."

"osamu, wow, you work here?"

how lucky you are. he might possibly be the better miya twin.

[marmorafarms]

Hey hey hey! I'm back on my writing bull shit with a fanfic drabble from @14dayswithyou !

This features Angel (reader insert), Teo, and my OC Emma! I think both Teo lovers AND haters will enjoy this!

Minors do NOT interact. This piece is SFW, but the source isn't.

Enjoy!

~~~

Finals week was hell.

You sighed sadly, looking down at your textbook. It might as well be in a completely different language. No matter how many times you read the paragraph before you, you couldn't make heads or tails of it.

Looking across the library table, you spotted Emma. She was known for being a teacher's pet, though it was obvious why. Emma had a 4.0 that she had kept since her first day of college. She worked and went to school full time, and nobody could figure out how she did it.

Nervously, you cleared your throat. She lived on your floor, so you had spoken a few times. Maybe she could clear things up for you. You knew for a fact she had taken this class.

Emma didn't look up, so you stuttered out her name.

“Emma?”

She looked up from her work with a frown.

“Oh hey,” she said, clearly recognizing you.

“Hey,” you said awkwardly. She looked expectantly at you, and when you said nothing, a puzzled expression crossed her face.

“Did you need something?” she asked.

“Oh! Um. I'm having trouble with my stats class. I was wondering if you could explain something? But you don't have to!” you spluttered, holding your hands up. “I'm sorry to just spring that on you.”

Emma smiled softly. “It's fine,” she said. “I'm actually just here reading for fun. I have time.”

She slid over next to you, and was able to help clear things up. The two of you began to chat, and you found yourself enjoying her company immensely. The conversation shifted to nostalgic music, and since your corner was empty, she decided to find a song.

Or at least, you thought it was empty.

As she scrolled through her music, you spotted a familiar black and green haired man. He was wearing a muscle tee to show off his tattoos, and was leering at Emma.

Damn it Teo!

You felt a surge of anger shoot through you, and it must have shown on your face. Teo spied you and chuckled. He even had the gall to wink at you.

“I found it! It was at the end of my playlist,” Emma said, and hit play.

“Mambo Number 5?” you asked.

“It’s a classic!” Emma insisted.

It began to play, and after a moment, Teo began to saunter over.

A little bit of Monica in my life

A little bit of Erica by my side

A little bit of Rita's all I need

Teo was getting closer. Emma seemed unaware, other than one tell tale sign. Her grip on her mug of coffee was much stronger now.

A little bit of Tina's what I see

A little bit of Sandra in the sun

A little bit of Mary all night long

A little bit of Jessica, here I am

“A little bit of you makes me your man,” Teo said smoothly along with the song, biting his lip and leaning against the table.

In less than a second, Emma tossed her coffee into Teo’s face, a look of fury on hers. Surprisingly, Teo didn't get mad or walk away. He simply laughed.

“I knew you were warming up to me!” he said, wiping his face with his hand. “You threw lukewarm coffee at me today instead of boiling!”

“Get out of here or I’ll beat your fucking ass!” Emma said, startling you. What was going on?

“There’s the fire I love,” Teo said, and Emma picked up her cup, looking like she was about to chuck it at him.

“See you tomorrow starshine. You can run, but you can't hide! I’ll get you. I always get what I want.”

“Not this time,” Emma hissed. Teo laughed again and turned on his heel, walking away from the two of you.

“Sorry,” she said, exasperated. “I got a bit angry.”

“A bit?” you said, eyebrows raising. “You threw coffee in Teo’s face!”

Emma froze and her eyes narrowed. “Teo?” she said. “So you're a friend of Teodore’s.”

“We used to date,” you admitted. “He’s an ass.”

“But you’re friends with him.”

“Kind of…?” you said.

“I have to go,” Emma said suddenly, and began gathering her things. “Goodbye.”

You sighed sadly as you watched her go. Great, your budding friendship had just died. All thanks to that asshole.

Why did Teo have to ruin everything for you?

[chris-continues]

College AU Thoughts (cont.)

Writing more college au solely because ONE OF THE COOLEST PPL EVER @macncherries did Wolfwood art (here check it out), but have some more random college au thoughts

TAGS: @lune010 @h4venpha @vashfantasy

-Meryl probably has some really nice gel, ballpoint, colored pens that she literally abuses all the time. Sometimes her notes aren’t even totally neat she’s just sleep deprived and highlighting/underlining the important areas of her textbook as she listens to her lecture

-Vash definitely has to listen to audio playback of lectures- does he try to take notes in class? Yeah. But they look like chicken scratch, his handwriting pales in comparison to literally anyone else’s T<T listening while he does smth else really helps w/ how he learns (autistic vash) (cough)

-Meryl and Milly have matching pairs of rip-off Birkenstocks they found at like Marshall’s then saw a pair w a marijuana leaf and Milly went, “Reminds me of Wolfwood!” So they got it (to Meryl’s amusement and dismay). Wolfwood wears them often

-Ok, I’ve been debating on this hc that Vash sometimes gets invited to parties, considering he’s a bit of a campus celeb. Handsome, athletic (tennis player legend), but he can easily get overwhelmed. He’s having fun with the fame for like a good 30 minutes to an hour and then he just kinda tires out more as the night drags on.

-Meryl’s outfits consist of her wanting comfort yet maintaining her usual feminine flair. Yoga pants with a cami and a simple jacket, or on nicer days more of a fitted sweater. Perhaps a jumper and a baby tee/turtleneck underneath- I think when she’s feeling it she def likes Monica Helper’s looks from Friends. A casual, yet still sweet vibe.

-for accessories she probably has an Apple Watch and the staples- hoop earrings, her classic dangle/rectangular earrings, some silver hardware if she’s feelin extra funky and a classic black belt because I do believe she hates it when her jeans are too low it’s a big thing that annoys her to no end.

-On the other hand, Milly’s outfits are less fitted and I think she’s more laid back in her appearance, preferring some of the crew necks she’s collected from several events her siblings have been to or hand me downs from her country family. She wears vintage athletic wear though, it’s cute on her and it suits her well.

-she has a few simple scrunchies she remains loyal to, not wanting to cut her hair short and often tying it up. When she feels more femme she’s got some cute necklaces that pair well with any cute sweaters she has- she also has some maxi skirts she wears too! :) (can’t find an exact image of what I have in mind + I have a 10 image limit on mobile lol)

-Meryl avidly has to live off of coffee. Girl is always so organized but truthfully she’s half alive due to the fact she’s a frequent visitor at the campus cafe and is familiar w/ some of the baristas who often cut her slack if she ever needs a pick me up.

-Vash is like a crazy good teacher, to some people’s surprise. He can word concepts in a way that breaks them down easier, sometimes he even has some little memory hints he uses lol. For any other ND kid in class who’s a bit bashful they usually flock to him, he’s got such a charming aura and never fails to make anyone feel a bit more comfortable.

-Wolfwood teases Meryl for her aforementioned coffee addiction, but I’d imagine he takes a liking to something like a pink drink. Like- usually that stuff is too sugary for him, but smth about it has him coming back for more!!

-Meryl has an array of podcasts she listens to- I think she def dabbled in true crime maybe?

-Milly and Meryl’s shared dorm is actually really chill. There’s some clutter on each side but they’ve got a shared mini fridge (Meryl got it but doesn’t mind Milly using it because she likes her) it’s stocked with pudding cups

-Milly got Pinterest after Meryl wanted to share ideas for food ideas on weekends (they’re both on a meal plan but still need to eat on Saturdays and Sunday’s lol) so they usually end up going out for some cheap takeout w/ Vash and Wolfwood or make something in a rice cooker they found at a thrift store that works kinda ok… for the price they got it.

-Like they’re cutting up spam, eggs, tossing rice on there, some veggies they got and sometimes they splurge on cheap fruit like bananas and apples

-They both like to eat well and unlike Vash and Wolfwood they won’t live off of instant ramen and takeout (although Vash eats pretty well considering he lives with Nai, who makes sure he regulates his diet due to sports and Vash’s long list of medical concerns)

-Wolfwood eats like shit though I’ll be completely honest

-The guy knows how to shop. But he doesn’t want to. So he lives off of cup noodles and old pizza, takeout and shit, and thanks to crazy fast metabolism he works it off whenever he does some form of working out and whatnot.

-Will agree that he has the best of the best songs, his music taste is unparalleled. Like he’ll be busting it down to 6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con) by Will Wood from his middle school days then some new metal he’s gotten into (he peeked over Knives’ Spotify playlists) OO OR OR THIS IS LOVE BY AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER (I’m def not projecting w/ what’s on my Spotify rn I’m shit at song names I just know vibes)

-Vash likes hyperpop and rave typa stuff it stimulates his brain in just the right way tbh

[flukeoffate]

Just some random thoughts about my own height and childhood.

I was 5’11” (roughly 181cm according to google) by the time I was 11 years old. Full grown woman at eleven.

I kinda want to know what it’s like to NOT feel like you are literally Robin Williams in the movie “Jack”, but you are a woman and somehow it feels even more unforgivable?

I looked like a grown adult in a children’s classroom. I wonder if other people have a better idea of what it feels like to grow up—I look at my sister’s kid, who is almost 13 and is still obviously a child, but a growth spurt very quickly on the way, and I’m like, wow. How are kids this short? He’s not short really, I’m just tall.

I didn’t feel like an ‘adult’ when I graduated high school. I grew up before I realized it was happening. I’d been taller than most of my teachers and my mother for years. I thought most or my peers saw me as an ogre with an anxiety problem and was into anime before it was cool, thus I was dubbed insane and childish by many people in high school. Maybe I was childish, but hey I was expected to take on adult responsibilities by the time I was 12—after all if you are adult sized, you are ready to help around the house, babysit grandma after school every day because she is senile and can’t even take herself to the bathroom anymore, and have all your homework done, before swim practice and dance class! Right? Well, what tween would NOT resort to anime or other visual media? I couldn’t handle more work. You crave distraction and fun stories are great for that kind of relief.

The point is, age wise, I was a child, and I was beholden to the rules and laws associated with childhood. Socially, people were prepared to treat me as an adult, one who often did not seem to belong. And so…after high school, I think I just turned into a person who felt like I needed permission from a higher power at all times to do things. I wasn’t rebellious. I felt like nothing had changed from school and so I followed any path that an ‘adult’ put before me. I always feel like I’m looking for approval from someone in charge. I’m still stuck in that mindset a bit and I’m nearly 40. I’m trying to break free of that mentallity…cuz I’m a fucking adult and I can’t keep looking at my peers and thinking: I must impress them with my poise, I must make myself smaller, I must use every masking technique I’ve ever learned to do with m blatant adhd just to make people like me. I keep thinking “I’m too irresponsible”, “I’m too loud”, “Now, I’m too antisocial.”

I think the Barbie Movie has me thinking about this a lot, given the plot and the characters. Like, I’m here wishing I could see myself in my teens. I have few photos. I wish I realized that I was actually really good looking…and frankly if I got past the fact that some of the peers i compared myself to weren’t ‘skinny’. They were still kids. I had regular thighs for my size. Other kids had thighs the width of my forearm. I developed a mild Barbie dislike, but not a hatred. I don’t hate dolls or Barbie at all. It was just weird. No one seemed my height till college and even then it was only a small portion of my friends.

Anyway, I’m trying to break free of all this nonsense. I’m an adult and I have a brain and ability to take my own life in my hands. I have recently replaced my ancient iMac with a top of the line model and and have reorganized my workspaces. I’m gonna work hard to get myself into some more art related pursuits, which might mean I’ll be going through an internet identity change. It’s time for a change. I want to make a little money from my art for once. I need to feel like…if my safety nets fell apart, I can climb back up.

[fangirlprincess-writes]

Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way - Chapter 5: Age 16 (after the summer)

cw: mentions of cheating

word count: 2.019

read on AO3 || masterlist

sorry it took me so long to post! i started university in october and things have been a little stressful! i'll try to find a more regular posting schedule though! meanwhile, have fun with this and don't hate me pls.

---

chapter summary: the one about first heartbreak

---

School started back up a month and a half ago and Aelin already feels like she needs a vacation again. And judging by her friends' faces, they can see it too. 

"You look terrible, babes," Lys tells her that morning in the car and Nehemia nods in agreement.

"Thank you," Aelin says, her words dripping with sarcasm. 

"You know what I mean," Lys just rolls her eyes. 

"I do," Aelin sighs. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Lysandra gives Aelin a gentle nudge with her arm, never taking her eyes off the road.

"I just cannot believe how stressful school is all of a sudden!" Aelin bursts out. "I mean, junior year just started but already our teachers are telling us that we need to start thinking about our futures, and what colleges we want to apply for, and to plan accordingly. And don't get me started on SAT prep!"

"Hey, that's understandable," Nehemia's calm voice interjects from the backseat. "But don't stress yourself out too much right now. There's still a lot of time left for you to think about all those things."

"I guess," Aelin says noncommittally. "I'm just having a hard time accepting the fact we're more than halfway done with high school. The future just seems so much closer now than it did before the summer."

"I know what you mean," Lys agrees. "But it won't get less scary if you worry about it all the time."

"That's true," Nehemia interjects and puts a comforting hand on Aelin's shoulder. "How about we get together this weekend and make a plan."

"A plan?" Aelin asks. 

"Yes, a plan," Nehemia continues. "We'll write down all the deadlines we have, like the SAT test day, college applications, and whatever else, and then we'll write down the things we need to do until then. Maybe it helps if we cut it up into bite-size pieces rather than trying to eat the whole cake."

"That actually sounds really good,'" Lys agrees. 

"It does." Aelin can't believe her luck. She has two amazing friends who not only endure her worries, but also help her through them. "But now I want cake," she groans and they all laugh.

The first half of the day goes by quickly, though Aelin has even more assignments now. She makes her way to the cafeteria for lunch when Remelle steps out of a classroom and almost bumps into Aelin. Remelle can just stop herself at the last second.

"Whoa, hi there," Aelin says. 

"Oh, sorry. I didn't see you," Remelle shrugs.

"No problem," Aelin chuckles awkwardly. "Were you going to lunch?"

Remelle gives her a look that Aelin translates as Well, duh, where else would I be going at lunch-time. "Yes," she says after a moment.

"Great. Me too." Aelin wants a hole to open underneath her to save her from this conversation. They start walking together in silence and Aelin is frantically trying to come up with something to talk about. "So, what class did you just have?"

"Math." Remelle seems equally unmotivated to find a topic of conversation.

"I hate math." Aelin comments, not sure what else to say.

"Yeah, same." 

Finally, they arrive at their lunch table. Remelle goes to greet her friends and Aelin plops down on a bench between Chaol and Nehemia. She gives Chaol a quick peck on the cheek, not wanting to interrupt his conversation with Lorcan, who is sitting a bit further down the table.

 Lys, who is sitting across from her, gives a pointed look in Remelle's direction and then raises an eyebrow at Aelin. 

"We ran into each other on the way here and then walked together," Aelin explains. 

It's no secret that Aelin doesn't really know how to interact with Remelle. Even though Rowan has been dating her for what, almost seven months now, Aelin has never really talked to her. 

"How was that?" Lys asks.

"The usual. Anyways, what are we talking about?"

"We were talking about going to see a movie this afternoon. Do you wanna come?" Nehemia asks.

"Sure! I'm gonna tutor this freshman today, but we can go after that." Aelin tells her friends.

"Yeah, that's fine," Lys tells her.

Chaol, now done, looks at her. "What's fine?" 

"We're gonna go see a movie this afternoon," Aelin tells him. "Do you wanna come?"

"I took my bike today," Chaol grimaces at her. 

"I can drive us there and then just drop you off at school again so you can bike home from here. Then it's not as far?" Aelin suggests. 

"Sure," he says, giving her a kiss and getting up. 

"Wait, where are you going? Lunch isn't over for another," she quickly glances at the clock,"thirty minutes."

"Yeah, I know, babe. But I have to go talk to Mr Cooper about one of my assignments and he told me to come to him during lunch." He gives a shrug that says What can you do? 

"Okay. See you later then?" 

He gives her a nod and makes his way out of the cafeteria.

Her friends have meanwhile started discussing something to do with their history class. Aelin takes that opportunity to tune them out a bit and glance over at Rowan, who is sitting on the opposite bench, a bit further down the table. He and Fenrys are deep in conversation and Aelin lets herself look at him for five seconds, before moving her gaze along. She hasn't had one-on-one time with Rowan in more than two months now, and their school interactions were also getting few and far in-between. He is pretty busy with Lacrosse at the moment, to make sure he gets to keep his permanent spot on the roster for the year. But Aelin just misses him sometimes. 

Movement close to Rowan catches her eye again. Lithaen, one of Remelle's best friends, just got up from the table and Remelle is laughing at her. 

"Really, Li, you have to do your homework during lunch again? You really gotta get better with your time-management."

Lithaen just gives a self-deprecating shrug and smiles at her friend. When she turns to leave, she sees Aelin watching her and her smile dims. 

Aelin turns back to her friends and joins the conversation again.

Ten minutes before lunch is over, Aelin slaps her hand against her forehead. Both Nehemia and Lys look at her as if she's just lost her mind. 

"What's wrong?" Nehemia wants to know.

"I just remembered I was actually supposed to meet up with Ms Garcia during lunch so that she can give me the lesson plans for the tutoring." Aelin stands and quickly gathers her stuff. "I hope I'll still catch her. See you later, guys," she throws over her shoulder.

She leaves the cafeteria in a hurry and turns the corner to the hallway that leads to the classrooms, only to promptly run into someone. 

"I'm so sorry," Aelin apologizes. 

"Don't worry about it," a deep voice says.

"Oh, Mr Cooper! Is Chaol already done talking with you?"

"Chaol? No, I haven't seen him at all today. Did I miss an appointment with him?"

"Oh, no… He just said… Forget it." Aelin gives the teacher a smile and continues to Ms Garcia's classroom. She wonders where Chaol went if he wasn't with Mr Cooper. Maybe he just misspoke and meant a different teacher? She thinks about texting him to ask where he was but decides against it. He sometimes gets angry when she asks where he was when she couldn't reach him.

Rain is battering against the roof of Aelin's car. It almost manages to drown out the soft music playing over her phone's speaker. 

It's afternoon a few days later and school has been out for a while now, but Aelin is waiting for Chaol. Lacrosse practice ended a little bit ago and she's here to pick him up. They want to do a coffee-date.

Aelin checks the time. It's been over fifteen minutes now since practice ended. Usually Chaol should be here by now. She looks through her window and contemplates texting him to see what's taking him so long when she sees Rowan marching toward her car. Chaol is hot on his heels, holding his hand over his nose and sending a death-glare at Rowan.

It takes her a moment to process what she's seeing. As Rowan comes closer, she gets a better view of his face. Aelin has never seen him look this angry in all their years of knowing each other. He doesn't seem to be angry at her though, which just makes the whole situation weirder. 

She gets out of the car to talk to them and Rowan has almost reached her. As soon as she closes the door behind her, Rowan catches her eye and there's this look on his face that makes her stomach churn. 

"Oh my god, what happened?" She isn't sure who she is directing the question at.

Rowan's eyes flash with sympathy and she just knows that something bad happened.

"Tell her." Rowan's words are biting and directed at Chaol. "Tell her what you did."

Chaol takes his hands off his face and Aelin can see he was cradling his nose. There's blood all over his hands and face. "I did nothing! You just hit me!" Chaol accuses.

Rowan had done this? Her soft-spoken best friend who'd never gotten into a fight his whole life?

"Don't lie to her," Rowan snaps, his words laced with barely-contained fury.

"I'm not lying! I don't know what you think you saw, but–"

Aelin has a feeling she knows where this is going to go. A heavy weight settles in her stomach. "Tell me what happened."

"Your friend just hit me out of nowhere!" Chaol looks at her, indignation written all over his features.

"Not you," Aelin says cooly, leveling her gaze at Rowan. "Rowan. Tell me what happened."

 The look he gives her is full of something that looks an awful lot like pity. "I saw him with Lithaen. They were kissing. I'm sorry, Aelin."

Aelin's ears start ringing. She turns her head to Chaol and only asks two words. "How long?"

Chaol's gaze flits between her and Rowan and she can see his thoughts play out on his face. He knows she'll always believe Rowan over anyone, that there's no point in denying it anymore. So he just answers her question. "Since the summer."

Aelin's brain has already been trying to figure out the how and the when and there's an obvious answer. "So all those weekends and afternoons you were too busy with 'family stuff' or 'homework' to hang out? And when you disappeared in school?"

He levels her with a pitying look and opens his mouth to speak, but Aelin just about had it with boys and their pity for one day.

"I changed my mind. Don't answer that," she quickly says before Chaol can get a word out. 

She looks at the both of them for a moment, Chaol already seeming like he is over the whole situation and trying to get a look at his nose to assess the damage and Rowan eyeing her like she might collapse at any moment and she does not want to deal with either of them for a second longer. "I'm going to leave now," she announces, her gaze focused on Chaol. "But just in case it wasn't clear already: we're over." Chaol just gives her a nod.

She turns around and opens her car door when she hears Rowan come closer. 

"Aelin," he starts.

She turns toward him. "No. I just… I can't right now." She sits down in the driver's seat and looks up at Rowan who still stands close to her open door. "Thank you, though. For telling me."

"Of course," he nods, "Tell me if you need anything."

All Aelin can do is nod as she closes the car door. She starts the engine and makes it all the way home and into her driveway, before she puts the car in park, lets her head fall down against the steering wheel and starts to sob.

---

thanks for reading! let me know your thoughts and theories in the comments or reblogs! <3

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tag list:

@yafandomsnet

@rowanaelinn

@thegreyj 

@elentiyawhitethorn

[lovesomehate]

I should be working on some other writing stuff but you are such a wonderful source of Travis-Laura writing impulses I just couldn't resist by to start this. More than likely not going to hit that 500k though.

'I don't belong here.' The thought crossed his mind for the 13th time.

Parked outside and across the street, Travis stared at the beige and white building apprehensive and feeling out of place. To some of his relief, he didn't completely look out of place in his simple blue plaid button up and khaki slacks. He sure as hell felt out of place though.

When talking to Laura at some point she mentioned how one of her classmates was a 40-something year old man. Travis heard about people going to college in their later years; he had mixed feelings about it. On one hand he thought it was a pointless thing to do their chance came and went and they should learn to live with that. On the other hand he was impressed by people who decided to take on college, to follow new or old aspirations.

‘What else could I have even done.’ He thought back to his youth.

Like any child he bounced around saying all the things he wanted to be. A cowboy, a night, a werewolf (the irony), a cop and even a whale for some damn reason. However as he grew his thoughts of what he wanted to be became more realistic. He toyed with the idea of being a doctor while a friend of the family’s talked about their child’s success as one. The idea of being a teacher only very very briefly danced through his head at some point. Pa threw the idea of him being an athlete, bring some new pride to the Hackett name, but Travis never really was that interested in sports outside of fun skrimishes and watching it on tv.

No, the one career that kept coming back to him over and over again was being a cop. He was nearing the end of his freshman year when he sealed his mind on that fact. His parents had asked him about it numerous times, Ma even asking if he was tough enough for the job inbetween praising Chris for his grades. Half way through sophomore year Pa made it a rule that Travis would watch the news and read the paper on a daily bases and throughout the day. He still didn’t know if Pa was trying to scare him out of being a cop or prepare him for the task. Either way by the end of his final year Travis went right into the police academy.

He’d heard here and there that a degree was required if someone wanted to advance further, but in North Kill that didn’t apply. So he ignored it. Chris went to a community college and came back with an associates’s degree. Bobby wasn’t going to go. Caleb never said anything about college really and just was content enough working at the scrapyard. Kaylee however, the upcoming pride of the Hackett family. Even though it would hear they had expected her to go to college and make a name for herself. Then her heart go in the way and the tragedy of Harum Scarum and the Hackett family began.

Despite the hell of summer from two years ago Laura still decided to go to college. Travis felt some relief to know that he at least only temporarily paused that goal and not robbed her of it completely. Then there were the police investigation and toeing around the possibility of jail time. There were Laura’s frequent visit back to Hackett’s Quarry, in which she reflected on things or came to chew him out. Then her visits involved them talking about things not related to that summer. Then visits where they just would just rest in one another’s arms, enjoy the town and make love. 

He still couldn’t believe that he was in a relationship with a girl nearly 30 years younger than him and one he previously kept imprisoned. He sucked in a bit of air, wincing at that fact. However for every break or surprise she always visited him. Always from her school to North Kill and back. It gnawed away at Travis until he found that he had some free time coming up. Actually Travis had quite a bit of free time and with new officers at his precinct he was able to find to time for a vacation. A real one with no work and no family business. He only knew one place he wanted to go.

So now here he was sitting outside what was his girlfriend’s class building. At least he hoped it was. Some of them looked the same, but he checked the pamphlet and looked at pictures Laura sent him several times.

“Travis?” Someone spoke name almost inaudible thanks to the distance.

He looked up from his thoughts and saw Laura there amongst a small group. Blue jean jacket with a pink top underneath, blue jeans and sandals. Her hair was, as usual, tied in a high ponytail and she was currently squinting across the way. He gave a little wave confirming that he was indeed real and present.

“AAAHH!!!” It was screeched of joy that caused everyone in the vicinity to jump and freeze in place. 

Laura’s bag was abandoned to the ground as she full speed sprinted from by the sidewalk.

‘Oh shit.’ Once she got closer Travis saw that devilish grin and knew what she was about to do.

He stepped away from the car just enough so that neither of them would bump painfully into when she reached him. She leapt right into his arms, her arms wrapped around his neck, legs gripping his waist and his hand resting just under her butt. She promptly started kissing him, quick presses all over his face.

“Laura!” He smiled despite the light scolding in his voice.

She answered with more kisses now accompanied with exaggerated “mwahs”. Travis grumbled and tried to track where she was aiming with each kiss. Eventually he caught on to her path and when her next kiss came he met his lips with hers. It was light and sweet and he could feel her smile against his lips.

“I’m so happy to see you.” She pulled back to looking at him with a joyous smile.

She looked radiant.

“Same.” Was the only word Travis could bring to mind.

Mate what thefuck what the fuck what the fuck I love you for this holy shit

I don’t know how to express how much I love you for sending me thing fjsnfndndjDm

[prettyhighforawhiteguyblog]

Don't study test questions to memorize them. Study them to understand why you got it wrong so you wouldn't get a different question on that subject wrong.

Look, sooner or later, it will occur to you that studying the test questions can enable you to score better on exams. And you spend hours studying test questions instead of the material. Now, there's some benefit to that because rote memorization of a phrase or fact will help you to learn something and maybe even retain a shred or two of actual science. But here's the thing:

Where's the fun in that?

Studying test questions is fucking boring and it benefits you so little, unless you really put in the hours and days. You could instead, hear me out: enjoy studying a lot more if you do it a bit longer and more regularly.

Do you like your class? OH, mY gOOdnEsS! It is BoRiNg yoU SAy?

Well suck it up buttercup. you came here to learn, didn't you? So learn from the poor schmuck. They spent their life studying this shit just so they could tell you about it and most of us sure as hell are not doing it for the paycheck alone. We might be miserable bastards for whatever reason, but we still love this shit. And we think you should too. Some men (and all the others) just want to watch the world learn.

You are surrounded by lovably dorky Bill Nye's (see my aside down below) who are true experts, not "just" a passionate and effective high school science teacher whom I respect and admire very much. (He could probably beat my ass in general science facts. I wish I could recall such good ones all the time. I stumble to think of one like you just asked me to tell you my favorite movie and suddenly I can't remember a single movie I like. And everyone loves him and he is just so well-spoken and composed, professional while being a bit dorky and hokey, but doing a really good job of helping the world learn high school science.)

Bill Nye knows a lot of facts and helps you put some of them together. At a high school level. This is admirable, but you are not in high school now are you?

We know the secrets of the universe and can help you understand how everything works together.

You want good grades. But you came here to learn, right? Or did you come here for the piece of paper at the end and figured you would just learn everything that's really important for your job on the job. Most people do that. It's normal.

But I would help you understand how it all works together and how each little thing and the whole system of inter-playing systems of chemistries and physics scales up to cells and how cells become critters and when the critters interact with each other and the environment that's an ecosystem and how ecosystems work and how our cells and genetics work.

I would show you the beauty of creation if you would let me.

So sure, study the test questions a bit. It'll bump up your grade a good half a letter grade if you put in an hour or two on the questions. Because I guarantee, unless you are putting in the hours, you aren't getting A's that way.

It seems the easier way to get a good grade, because it is faster and feels like cheating, but it is a grind.

So study the material instead and learn from me. Learn from the dork who can't figure out how to teach because he only learned how to teach by copying his boring-ass college and high school experience. Have a little sympathy for the Devil. They're doing their best.

Learn from the miserable and the poor communicators by asking them questions and directing the conversation a bit to help you understand the point. Give helpful comments. We are still learning here.

Academia is so insular and fucked up. Have empathy for the miserable. We are so over worked and over stressed and under paid with impossible demands on our time. And then we have lives to live as well.

This isn't high school. You are being taught by geniuses, not wizards. Geniuses can tell you the info, but they aren't real good at helping you understand it. Or at making the process enjoyable. Or using good educational methods grounded in the latest educational theory and 14 hour days.

Yes, learn in class as much as you can. But then study on your own. Make your notes make sense to you and make it jive with the textbook.

If you study your notes every week, you will get a better grade than just studying the questions most of the time. And you will have fucking learned the secrets of the universe.

Now, here's my suggestion: study the questions enough to give yourself a little bump. But then study the material so you can really benefit from the class and be prepped for the inevitable addition of a of some new questions this time around.

If you are going into some field where grades matter a whole lot, you should be grinding. (otherwise you should be slacking on grades and focusing on learning. nobody really gives a shit if you graduated from Fresno Christian University with honors or got an A in Microbiology.) If you here to get to there where grades matter and you are not grinding, you are not acting very serious. You need to put in the work now so you can work even harder later. (You are going to need the training. Med school will fuck you up.) So, yes, memorize the test questions to guarantee a bunch of right answers to buttress your score, but also study the material for the new questions and the whole secrets of the universe thing.

Plus, don't you want to know why you are doing what you are doing and how it all works together and make intelligent professional decisions?

And university is not job training. You are more than a worker. You are more than a slave with the freedom to choose which master to beg a shitty job with a shitty paycheck from. And really, you don't have much of a choice in the end as to who you will sell your body and mind to and how little they will pay you.

You are a whole human being and you need a holistic education and university should be part of that.

University isn't just job training, You should also be enriching your life with useless knowledge.

And you should be investing in your future by insulating yourself from frauds and propaganda by learning how shit really works and what the world is really like. And you should be expanding your world and your mind. And you should learn how to think and how to research for your own interests.

And you should be making as many friends and connections as you can. These diverse people will be you network and a lifeline to reality among the propaganda and otherwise homogeneous social media echo chambers we will inevitably end up in.

=============================================

An Aside About Bill Nye and Creationism:

And that guy was able to make Ken Ham look silly as hell and I love him for it, but wished he had been more compassionate in doing so. He wasn't going to convince Ken Ham. He was there to convince the audience and educate the public with high school science which was easily sufficient to refute Literalist Creationism if you listened with an open mind.

But he should have also been there for the Christians. They are so mislead. And they worship Ken Ham. Making Ken Ham look silly on national tv for a debate he must have have studied the shit out of whatever science he knew or pseudoscience he could conjure up in order to win should have showed them what a fraud he was.

Instead they felt personally attacked because of the mocking. And they empathized with Ham and loved his version of the debate.

He should have been sympathetic to the viewers and directed his answers to them with love and empathy, even sympathy. And let the science do the talking.

Maybe a few personal jabs about his fortune and media/homeschool empire in the White American Evangelical Industrual Complex making him millions personally. Along with his family involved in the business. And probably a whole lot of tax fraud if I've pegged this guy right. He's just a greedy, amoral son of a bitch.

But plead to the tv. Speak softly to the tv. Speak clearly and effectively the best, clearest, most grounded and convincing arguments you have. Break out tiktaalic. Then break out all the others. You will blow their mind.

Then tell them about cellular respiration and ATP. And how every cell uses the same process. Show them how photosynthesis came from cellular respiration's Electron Transport Chain. Show them the pictures of the molecules and the minute differences and how those are related to their evolutionary history and relationships. Then tell them about how dating works. Very clearly like they are children.

They are so sadly ignorant and so heavily propagandized you won't convince very many.

But you will plant seeds of knowledge.

Seeds of knowledge and the fruit of knowledge, when it takes root, is doubt. And doubt doubt in Genesis?! Wow. Genesis is foundational to their faith in Atonement Theology and Literalism. It is foundational to their membership in Evangelicalism. You need to chip away at that base with roots and doubts.

But they are so propagandized into being drama queens about every little persecution that they need kid gloves and complete respect. And act like you admire their ability to hold to this foolishness in the face of everything, because that is very impressive. Such an act of faith. They should be tossing Everest around if Jesus was being literal.

But it's that dogged and childlike faith in that terrible theology is killing them. And they are kinda killing us with their obsession with conservatism. And conservatism is heavily paired up with Creationism to the point where conservatives have taught Creationists to ground hateful, irresponsible, mean, behavior in Genesis and Literalism. So they will empathize with the GOP. And then they got taught to ground their faith in Conservative Talking Points and Policy Positions in Genesis and Literalist quotes of cherry picked Bible quotes torturing their beloved Word of God even worse than Jesus who they like to imply is inside the Bible in your hand somehow because he also bears the moniker "Word of God." Who is named after who do you think? That's why they love that bit of poetry in John about in the beginning was the Word because they say in the beginning refers the the very beginning of Genesis when they believe the entire universe or at least the Earth or at least life on Earth began. Because if Eden is not literally true, we are not all under judgement from birth and needing God's forgiveness via human sacrifice. Man they can systematic theology the shit out of John 1.

But without their faith in a literalist Bible interpretation and a whole new hermaneutic that will have to be so much wider and more creative, they might also consider rejecting atonement theology and starting over with reading the Prophets. The prophets fixed the Jews. (with a lot of suffering to help them listen and empathize and band together and cling to their faith as their world shattered over and over again with oppressions and murders of all kinds from attitudes that persist today.).

Losing Genesis and literalism is the one thing other than a rejection of the Christian faith that can possibly free the Christians (tm).

And for a lot of very hardcore fundamentalists, Genesis is the key to Literalism because Literalism is proven true by Genesis 1.

Genesis 1 proves Genesis 2 must be read Literalist and Eden, (along with all the sin stories) is literally true and therefore we need a savior from sin to die after being framed up by the rich, religious elite fundamentalists, and a bunch of mislead ignorant and admirably passionate fundamentalists and then nailed up on Rome's cross for being a nuisance to Pilate's day.

And of course as we all know God intended us to read the rest of the Word of God. Literalist as well. You know, all the Pentateuch of course, but those laws are kinda take it or leave it as is useful. And the histories are just as accurate as our modern text books (this is ironically true in a twisted way). The Psalms and Prophets are regarded as obvious poetry and unreliable. because you can't use Literalist on them. (unless you can find a quote that can be made to fit a Literalist interpretation and then it is the Word of God.)

And some of us believe very, very hard. And have very, very fragile egos paired up with persecution complexes. So you are going to have to plant those seeds of knowledge with a smile and gentleness and a very simple, straightforward delivery that refutes Creationist pseudoscience talking points they use most in support of Genesis 1.

[lovelyhearts-things]

Get to know me!

My name is Ubby Heart Ravana Maggay, but I prefer to be called Heart, and I'm 16 years old, turning 17 next year on February 27. I was raised by my loving grandparents. I graduated from John Wesley College, where I met my barkada. I am currently studying at Saint Paul University of the Philippines. I love playing badminton and watching volleyball games. I have been playing badminton since grade school. Besides playing badminton, I also enjoy spending time with my cat, Sachi, and my little brother, Markus. Yes, I am a cat lover. They are beautiful, purring, intelligent pets that love and entertain us every day. And since I am the eldest in my family, I have to take care of my younger siblings whenever my mom and dad go out to work. My father works as an engineer at the Department of Agriculture, while my beautiful mother is a teacher. They both work hard for us siblings; they're also my inspiration and motivation to study hard and to not give up on my dream. My favorite color is purple or any pastel light colors. I love to eat takoyaki, fries, minatamis na saging at kamote, chicken curry, kaldereta, carbonara and spicy foods. A fun fact about me is that I can understand kampampangan and speak a little bit. I love cooking and eating. My hobbies are watching anime and reading comics. I'm also a big fan of J-pop and K-pop. I’m actually single and not ready to mingle because I’m afraid to commit and have trust issues. I’m pretty soft-spoken and my introverted parts of my personalities often get stereotypes as being cold and having guard up around myself. Yet I don’t have any guards up. This is just who I am. I’m extremely private individuals who prefer to only become involved in relationships that are meaningful and genuine. I would rather spend time alone than waste that time on someone who isn’t willing to give a sincere connection. I tend to hide to hide my true opinion, try acting like everything is ok. I am calm but energetic. I try to look and act cool but I’m actually really caring. I'm the kind of girl who is quiet in large groups or around people I don't know; you only see the real me if we're close. I smile and laugh a lot, especially at the most inappropriate times. I'm a hopeless romantic. I trip over air, upstairs, and over people's feet. I am the hardest person to offend, but it is all too easy to make me feel horrible. I hate telling people about my problems; they don't need to worry about me. I'm the one who listens to other people's problems. I believe people should not be judged before one takes the time to get to know them, yet I am guilty of doing the exact thing. I love to think rather than talk. I'm awkward, clumsy, shy, strange... but this is me. Take it or leave it.

After 10 years I see myself with some good qualifications, working in the hospital, my own hospital, spending time with my family, friends and doing something for my society and mother nature. 10 years from now, I’m going to be a rich auntie. Spoiling my parents and nieces. Yes, it’s vital to where I am leading to, even though I’m having a hard time adjusting and understanding my lessons I know for sure It’s going to be worth it and I’m going to make it.

STEM is the best choice this is for the reason that when you’re engaged in STEM subjects, students can develop and strengthen their cognitive skills and learn the basics of coding and engineering in primary schools. It is  is a highly technical track that equips students with the skills necessary for pursuing further studies and professions in medicine, engineering, economics, and more.

My choices are BS Biology or MedTech, also the reason why I choose STEM, because I want to attain my goal to be a professional license doctor in the future. Why I like to become a doctor is, it is a noble profession. It is my childhood dream. I can always associate with patients and treat them. Of course, to become a doctor I have to study hard and get good results.

[infinitydrita]

The waltons the hostage

THE WALTONS THE HOSTAGE MOVIE

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THE WALTONS THE HOSTAGE TV

She said they get together for family events including weddings and even funerals. Eric Scott, McDonough, Cotler, and others could be seen having a fun time at a bit of get-together party, and they all looked like one loving family. Inside the Life of "The Waltons" Star Kami Cotler Who Still KAMI COTLER was born in California in 1961 and joined The Waltons when she was six. Miller USA Kami was only seven years old when she landed the role of the youngest Walton child on The Waltons. IMDB Wikipedia $300 Thousand 1965 A Day for Thanks on Waltons Mountain (1982) A Walton Thanksgiving Reunion (1993) A Wedding on Waltons Mountain (1982) Actress California Gemini June 17 Kami Cotler Kami Cotler Net Worth Kim Howard Long Beach Soundtrack The Waltons (1971) Thomas L. Select from premium Kami Cotler of the highest quality. And in real life, Cotler said Michael Learned was a surrogate mother to her. Post or read reviews for Kami Cotler below. Find the perfect Waltons Kami Cotler stock photos and editorial news pictures from Getty Images. We've gathered some of the best photos of Kami Cotler for you to enjoy. Kami is a phenomenal celebrity influencer. According to our records, she has no children. Kami said they are truly like a second family and whenever they get together, its like a View. Kami was born on June 17, 1965, in Long Beach, California. 100% FREE! I played Elizabeth on the Waltons for many years. Check out the latest pictures, photos and images of Kami Cotler. We have estimated Kami Cotlers net worth, money, salary, income, and assets. THE WALTONS, Kami Cotler, 1972-81 / Everett Collection. The Long Beach June 17, 1965-born Actor expert is arguably the worlds most influential Kami Cotler is expert, with a wide-ranging social media outreach. Kami Cotlers income source is mostly from being a successful Actress. kami cotler husband kim howard wedding photos. A Christmas Story 1971 which inspired it, as well as a number of later Waltons reunion productions. She used her money to put herself through college and buy a 1957 Thunderbird as a perk.

THE WALTONS THE HOSTAGE SERIES

The cast of the hit television series 'The Waltons' poses for a promotional photo, 1972. Kami Ann Cotler was born on 17 June 1965 under the zodiac sign of Gemini, in Long Beach, California USA. Jon Walmsley, Will Geer, Ellen Corby, Ralph Waite, Judy Norton, Mary McDonough, Richard Thomas, Kami VIDEO. Kim maintains relationships with many people - family, friends, associates, & neighbors - including Faye Cotler, Jeff Cotler, Kami Cotler, Barbara Cotler and Kenneth Cotler. Kami Cotler's feet are simply perfect, and we can't get enough of them. Touch device users, explore by touch or with swipe gestures. Sort by A - Z Z - A by Date View 20 per page 40 per page 60 per page 80 per page In her underlying.

THE WALTONS THE HOSTAGE TV

The actress also appeared in the short-lived Me and the Chimp in the 1970s, but otherwise retired from acting following the Waltons conclusion, returning only to reprise the role of Elizabeth for subsequent TV movies, like 1982's A Wedding on Walton's Mountain. Select from premium Waltons Kami Cotler of the highest quality. This score is (+13%) Above the National Average View Actual Score. One such teacher is Kami Cotler, who is known to many as the actress who played Elizabeth Walton on the television series The Waltons. Screening And Reception Celebrating "The Waltons'" Homecoming 10 Facts On Kami Cotler: Actress Kamis movies for which she is popular among people are The Heist, The Waltons: A Decade of the Waltons, A Wedding on Waltons Mountain, A Waltons Family Reunion, The Homecoming: A Christmas Story, and many more.How old is Kami Colter? Browse 51 waltons kami cotler stock photos and images available or start a new search to explore more stock photos and images.

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Release Calendar Top 250 Movies Most Popular Movies Browse Movies by Genre Top Box Office Showtimes & Tickets Movie News India Movie Spotlight. Actress Kami Cotler is best known for her role as the young Elizabeth Walton on the popular family television series including 1982's "A Wedding on Kami was only seven years old when she landed the role of the youngest Walton child on The Waltons. 20 per page 40 per page 60 per page 80 per page.

[james-karabasblog]

Where Did it go Wrong?

As I struggle to begin this introduction, It seems just about perfect for my personal experiences with writing. Whenever I want to write something down it seems I can never figure out where to begin. Having to write something about my personal writing experiences is difficult considering my writing experiences have been far from enjoyable. You would think by my thirteenth year of school I would have endless stories about writing, this is true. Though I have difficulty remembering a time when I enjoyed writing. I feel it is necessary to start at the beginning of my career and there maybe I can see where it went wrong

My earliest memory of writing and possibly my earliest memory of being alive begins with my name, James. I remember being maybe four or five years old in the basement of my home of 18 years with my mom, who was running on the treadmill, I sat on the floor underneath a whiteboard which was hanging on the wall, The only way I was able to reach it was if I balanced on my tippy toes, but at 5 years old was a bit of a challenge. My mom had written my name up there for me to look at and try to write myself however as a child that was much easier said than done, over time I would eventually get it down but there was always one mistake. My family would always make fun of me because for the longest time (probably a little too long), I would always draw my “J” backward. Embarrassingly, this went on until probably fourth grade when my teacher finally said enough, sat me down, and dug into me a little bit about how I had to stop drawing them backward. Now that we are in fourth grade I feel it is necessary to write about the most creative and fun year of writing that I can remember. I enjoyed writing in fourth grade because I could write about whatever and felt no pressure to get good grades. This was a very relaxed and carefree environment. I remember fourth grade, Patrick, Adam, PJ, and I read a book called The Hatchet By Gary Paulson, (fun fact Adam and Patrick are still my best friends), It was about a kid that survived a plane crash and survived off the land and just his hatchet for who knows how long, I mention this because this was our inspiration for the rest of the year. What felt like every day for the rest of the year we all continued collaborating and writing our own stories (on paper) about four people crashing somewhere in the world and surviving the plane crash. We were obsessed. One thing I remember that we thought was the most genius twist to ever be in a story was, at the end of each story we would finish it off by saying “and we were the four people that crashed and survived people that were on the plane crash and years later we are now writing about it. My friend Patrick still actually has some of the pieces of paper but unfortunately, we do not still have a full story. I felt this was the peak enjoyment of writing, Thinking back on it this is pretty unfortunate considering that it was 10 years into my life and about 8 years ago, a pretty early peak.

After fourth grade I began receiving grades, well what were grades at the time to me, it was more of a parent report with a verbal grading of exceeding expectations, not good enough, etc. something along those lines. This is important because now I felt like I had pressure on me, even though it was fourth grade and in the long run, it doesn’t even matter, it felt important at the time. At this point writing aside, I began to overthink my assignments and put too much stress into my schoolwork, and lose the enjoyment of it, though this was only fifth grade it was building a habit of overthinking for my future. Fast forward to high school and writing becomes a chore, I could manage writing in junior high/middle school because grades were unimportant and I realized that eventually, however; in high school, there was actually pressure on doing good and achieving at high levels so I could get into a good college. Aside from the fact that there was no pressure on my writing. My biggest issue with writing in high school was the topics that we were required to write about, there was limited creative freedom, unfortunately, this was my favorite part of writing and it was essentially taken away from me. Instead, it always seemed that I had to read a three hundred-page book and then write an essay about the “deeper meaning” to be completely honest this sucked, I could not stand writing about someone else’s work, especially about a novel because I do not like to read books, and arrogantly enough I do not like to read a book that someone else says I have to read it. 

Unfortunately, high-pressure writing such as in-class essays, heavily weighted essays, and research papers (on subjects that I do not enjoy) in high school created my dislike of writing because they took away my ability to be creative. Though some could argue that I can write using my creativity in my free time, that is not a reality for me because when I was required to write these papers, the last thing I want to do after finishing hours of unenjoyable writing is to write more even if it's about something that I have a passion for. Despite me knowing that the writing should not be high pressure because it really isn't that big of a deal in the bigger picture, I still struggle with overthinking because I stress so much about the final grade I will receive due to this I have a hard time even getting words down on the paper and I end up falling behind. Thankfully, with this writing only feedback, it is incredible how much easier it is to write. It is crazy how much of a difference it makes when I know something is not being graded. Though this is not an argumentative paper, I believe that this is why school systems should adjust how they grade students.

[ms-demeanor]

I am absolutely not joking at all when I say that The Sixth Sense should be required as teaching material when you’re trying to get kids to learn about why color matters.

No, the red DOESN’T mean love or violence or passion, however the creators set it up so that in this particular work red means OH NO A SCARY GHOST IS HERE.

When I was in college (as a lit major) I ended up sitting down and talking to a returning student who was having trouble in one of our classes. He liked books, and he had GI bill money so he decided to be a lit major.

He was VERY confused about the “The Curtains Are Blue And It Means Something” approach to symbolism and I remember that he very seriously got out a notebook and a pen, sat down, and asked me “Okay so what to stars mean as a symbol?” 

And I was at a loss because of course I was! Stars-as-a-symbol can mean a thousand things and are heavily dependent on context. Are you reading a book about sea travel? Stars mean a map. Are you reading Maus? Stars represent faith and community and the way that the Nazis dehumanized Jewish people. Are you reading something by a romantic author who has a thing for the classics? Stars probably have something to do with heroism and destiny. Are you reading science fiction? Stars are probably just stars but if you’re reading Whipping Star by Frank Herbert they are literally people and our entire conception of stars is reexamined.

So one one the things that I think a lot of people are missing in their high school English classes is that whether the curtains are blue matters or not depends on the work.

The fact that Hamlet is wearing black is an important part of the story and the antagonist commenting on it it is almost the first thing that happens in the play.

What color dress is Lizzy wearing at the first dance in Pride & Prejudice? It doesn’t matter, the curtains are just blue.

And that’s one of those things that it takes a lot of time and a lot of exposure to different kinds of stories to learn and when you’re in high school you just don’t have that experience and your teachers are just now telling you for the first time “sometimes it matters why the curtains are blue” and I know you’re going “okay, sounds fake” but the goal is to get you to look at blue curtains and ask if they do matter, which is why they hand you books with big obvious examples of the kind of shit they’re talking about. You read A Tale of Two Cities because it’s full of binaries and line motifs and it’s the perfect thing to teach a fifteen year old how to look for a motif because there are a shitload of them. You read  The Scarlet Letter to look for color symbolism and to ferret out biblical allusions.

“The curtains are just blue” is just “yet another day has gone by and I haven’t needed algebra.” Most people aren’t going to need algebra in their day-to-day lives but it’s handy to know how to do a bit when you need it and it’s good to learn that the concept exists.

If you’re reading books just because they’re fun and you like them then that is cool and I’m glad you’re having a good time and you absolutely do not have to give a fuck about symbolism.

But I am going to laugh my ass off at you if you’re one of those folks who is like “the curtains are just blue it doesn’t matter” and then whines about why scifi and comics and cartoons and video games are all political these days. They were always political, you just couldn’t tell because the curtains were red.

(also because you were socialized to see certain things as apolitical and value neutral but if you’re going “WHY DO THEY PUT SERIOUS MORALS AND SHIT IN A KID’S SHOW, STEPHEN UNIVERSE IS FOR TEN YEAR OLDS IT’S NOT THAT DEEP, LOONEY TUNES WASN’T LIKE THIS” I’m afraid I’m going to have to refer you to all the actual war propaganda made by Disney and Warner Brothers.)

[provisionalsparkle]

The Boy Next Door

Reader x Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

[Genre] exes-to-lovers au, smut, angst.

[Word count] 6.7K

[Warnings] Smut. Angst. Unprotected sex, voyeurism, ample description of bodily fluids.

[Note] This is my contribution to @feliix ’s Summer 2 Lovers collab! Check it out!

Summer.

The season of fun and sun, careless joy, long days and warm nights…

For most people.

For you, this summer is about change. It’s about the little town you used to live in, the quaint house you grew up in, the smell of your mother’s cooking or the breeze from the yard, the sound of younger kids playing in the street. It’s about the big city you will go to live in, it’s purple and orange twilight skies, black silhouettes reaching toward the skies beginning to twinkle with golden lights, the noises of the traffic coming from evening bustle, the scent of the delis and restaurants that line the streets.

You were stuck between these two places, university having been a four year long limbo of boundless sex mislabeled as self-discovery, and now visit your home one last time, reminding yourself of the life you had there before moving on to another.

You think of the past with nostalgia, yet also with a restlessness that makes you want to run from everything. The stillness, the silence, the unchanging landscape in this little town is too unbearable, too unsettling. But it’s familiar, and it’s comfortable. The life you’ll soon live promises excitement, autonomy, it’s the adulthood you’ve fantasized about. It terrifies you too, and you have these horrible dreams about missing the payment of the most insignificant bill and having the entire world collapse on you because of it. You still don’t know how to do your taxes.

College is over, a new life awaits you in a big city after landing a rather ideal job, but it felt like you were leaving things behind. Funny how, after so many years of fantasizing about this grown-up life you suddenly felt like a lost child, scared to forgo the familiar.

It’s these sort of almost-quarter-life-crisis thoughts that fill your mind on a particularly warm afternoon. You’re indecently splayed out on a couch with as little clothing as possible, the door to the backyard is wide open, letting an occasional breeze waft in to disrupt the stifling stillness of the heat. The lights are off, and you were too unbothered to turn them on as the sun set, preferring to stare at a darkening ceiling as the evening sky turned purple.

There’s a familiar jingle of keys from the front door.

“Honey? You home?”

“I’m here, Mom.” You lazily answer back. She wanders from the hall to the living room, you can feel the judgemental look she gives you.

“Have you been laying like this all day?”, indignation lines her voice. Was it so surprising to find you like this?

“Yeah…”

“You can’t just lay here all day. Go out! Get some sun! Go play with those kids you used to hang out with from school!”

“I can’t Ma, I’d rather just plank here.”

“Oh goodness, Y/n. Give me one good reason you shouldn’t go hang out with them!”

“I’ll give you two: either they grew up to be total bitches or they had kids and became a bore.”

“I didn’t become a bore when I had you!” She exclaims, although it’s not too serious and some playfulness hides beneath the surface.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a cool mom. They don’t make those anymore.”

“Hmm… well, I think you should make a bit of an effort.”

“Mom… it’s my last vacation you know -”

“You know what?!” She suddenly exclaims, her voice brightening like a lightbulb just radiated in her thoughts. “Mrs. Carson’s son is here with her for the summer too! I bet you haven’t seen him in ages, and he’s gotten so handsome.”

“Mrs. Carson?” You didn’t have any clue who that was.

“Well… you might remember her as Mrs. Bang, but Jane changed her name when she married Norbert a few years ago. She still lives next door and Christopher’s in town spending the summer with his mother.”

Bang…

Christopher…

You hadn’t heard that name in years. It surprised you a bit actually, and a hint of a smile came to your lips.

“Yeah, yeah, Mom… I’ll think about it.”

You wouldn’t admit… something did grab your attention. A curiosity of sorts.

You were fifteen years old when you had your first kiss. He was a short boy with a kind smile, a bit awkward really, but you had a fondness for him. It wasn’t about looks at all, all boys at that age were hideous and nothing would change your opinion on that, but you’d swoon whenever you saw him. It was mutual, an icky teenage infatuation that had your friends poking fun at both of you whenever you’d become giddy at the sight of one another. Hot faces, nervous glances, trembling innocent touches.

He sat next to you in chemistry and you’d hold hands under the lab table while the teacher gave class. His left hand always felt soft in your right one. Cute. It’s a bit silly but you’re glad you had that sort of adorable and silly romance. While it lasted, that is.

Christopher wasn’t a bad guy. He was stupid, like all boys that age.

When you saw him kissing another girl, of course you cried, but you knew it had to do with him being stupid more than anything. This simple looking girl that you had been friends with in elementary school, you can’t even remember her name.

You know why he did it, beyond his stupidity. Your mom had let it slip long before - you knew it was coming.

“Honey, would you believe? Mr. and Mrs. Bang are divorcing!” Probably just some hot gossip from one of her PTA yoga groups, no ill intention on your behalf. She didn’t know you were seeing Christopher - over your dead body. You were fifteen and a horrible student, you didn’t need to give your mother yet another element to ground you with.

“Oh no…” You acted as normally as you could, your first thoughts went out to Christopher first though. “Do you know why?”

“Well… I’m obviously not going to ask, duh! But I do know that Mr. Bang is taking the kid with him abroad.” What?! What did she just say? Chis is WHAT?!

“I - uh, what?” Act normal, act normal, act normal.

“Aww… sweetie, was he your friend?” Goodness, parents can be so oblivious, but it’s beneficial in this case. She doesn’t pick up on the depression of your mood.

“I guess.” A sniffle is about to threaten your composure so, in your teenage arrogance, you leave before your mother can see your teary eyes.

The subsequent days were strange. You expected Christopher to tell you the news, you expected to comfort him, you expected to live out the rest of your young romance as best as you could. And then… you saw him.

And he said nothing. He was cold, pushed you away. He must be going through a lot of pain, you thought. More days went by and he still said nothing, and his demeanor grew worse, no affection, no smiles. He must be having a hard time, you reasoned.

Sometimes you thought he was on the verge of saying something to you, like he was about to say something and the words threatened to come out but he’d suddenly pull away and swallow them. You didn’t question it really, it was so confusing but you just went with it.

You never held his hand in chemistry again.

Time made you realize that Christopher didn’t want to be with you anymore. You weren’t sure if it was because he stopped liking you, and that hurt a little, but you knew what he was going through, and you stood by him in case he ever chose to open up and cry on your shoulder. You’d be there for him.

When he kissed that girl, it didn’t really surprise you. Damn it, what was her name? You cried, you thought it was because you were ugly and your boobs were still pretty small - stupid reasons.

It took a few months for you to understand the real reason.

He left without saying goodbye. You never spoke to him after he kissed what’s-her-name. Maybe he tried to do so a couple of times, but you ran away or didn’t let him. Or maybe you remembered it that way to comfort you, just so you’d live with the thought that he tried to apologize, tired to make things right.

But the fact of the matter is he didn’t speak to you and he didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t want to.

He didn’t want to say goodbye because it hurt.

He was trying to ruin your relationship so you’d break up with him and he wouldn’t have to say goodbye, so that he could kill the feelings you had for him to spare you from the pain of his departure.

Or maybe you were just imagining it like that to make it a cuter memory and think about it fondly.

Maybe in the end, Christopher was just a horny teenage boy that cheated on you. Maybe.

Regardless, you giggle as you think back on the silliness of it all, and how serious and life altering it all felt in your childishness. It seemed so long ago, so distant, and you were so changed that it felt like it had all happened to a different person. You wondered about the man next door, and the entirely different boy who had once been next door. What kind of person had Christopher become?

University did you well. It was four solid years of irresponsible drinking and uninhibited sexual exploration paired with relatively easy academics. You don’t know how it happened, but it had been like a transformation from one day to the next.

You, sort of, kind of, absolutely plain and normal girl that no one would notice lest you stepped in their line of sight. One day, there you were - normal.

Two weeks in - boom. Confident. Your roommate was an okayish girl, another plain one. Then you started noticing how comfortable you were undressing in front of her, to change clothes or whatever, as if it was the most normal thing in the world - which it was. Wearing shorts and skirts became less of a worry, just something that felt better. Sometimes you’d be thrown icky glances from some boys, which you hated, but others were acceptably flirty and you loved those. The best ones were the boys that would get shy and who would quickly whip their heads the other way once you caught them staring.

That definitely flipped the switch. It made you feel strong, it made you feel damn good. You, who at the most had dipped a finger into the world of heavy makeouts during high school, now became a seasoned seductress of all kinds of men. So long as you could wrap them around your finger with your demeanor, so long as you could prowl over them and take the lead.

Ah… the good old days.

What was going to happen now, though? Four years later, no slightly inexperienced men left to be wowed. Everyone you knew was turning into a bland and bitter office worker. Was this the end of it?

To think that you’d be ending this glorious chapter of your life in this tiny town, lounging on the same stuffy couch in the same hot living room every day, having your routine philosophical melodrama where you’d stare at the ceiling in the afternoons until your mother came in inquiring if you were alive. It was a terrible fate.

A few days after the revelation of Christopher’s presence, which you would never admit had been circling your mind nonstop, your mother returns with another piece of information.

“You know, Jane and Norbert are having a get together of sorts next Saturday - just the usuals from the block.”

“Is that so?” You said with disinterest.

“In fact, I borrowed a baking pan from her last week… why don’t you go over and give it back to her for me? She might need it, and you probably haven’t left this house in days.” You didn’t reply, but you could feel her eyes on you, waiting for you to obey.

“Fine…”

The afternoon was enjoyably fresh, although your white t-shirt stuck to you like a second skin, the bikini top you wore underneath tracing its silhouette into the cotton. You lazily stomped your way to the house next door, admiring the tall window where you had snuck into Christopher’s room a couple of times during your short romance. A ladder was perched up against the exterior toward that window, they must have been fixing things up. The porch was full of cans of paint, tools, boxes. It was only when you rang on the doorbell, begrudgingly holding the large tray, that you realized that Jane might not be the one to open the door but instead it could be -

The door swings open and you gasp. Christopher.

Well… his face hadn’t changed much. But he was slightly taller than you remembered, far more masculine, oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Yeah, he was shirtless… jeans hanging low on his hips… shirtless… abs… fit waist… arms…

“Hi! Is Jane home?” Good… pretend you don’t remember him.

“I - Uh… no, my mom’s actually out right now.” He replied. His voice had grown deeper, and where did he get that accent? Wait - did he not remember you? Now, that just made you angry, but you wouldn’t let it show.

“Oh, well… my mother wanted me to return this.” You say handing him the tray, avoiding trailing your eyes downward.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll give it to her.” He says. He seems a little frozen, an expression between surprise and caution lingers on his face, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

There’s a moment of silence where you just stare at each other.

“Y/n…” He finally says. There’s hesitation in the way he says your name. He’s scared, not of you, but he’s scared about the fact that you’re on his doorstep.

You don’t say anything, calmly, almost coyly, waiting for him to continue. You’d gotten rather good at pretending you were calm, and the slightest tint of a smile painted your lips so you wouldn’t seem cold or ingenuine.

“Do you remember me?” He asks. You can’t help but huff, a tiny laughter really.

“Of course. You know, you haven’t grown much taller.”

With those slightly playful words, you turn to walk back to your home, and with each step your impression of the encounter with your childhood love became more bitter and less sweet.

It was strange how you thought about him, about it. The situation, that is. Seeing him, talking to him, both of you now being older. A few days of thinking now.

You don’t know why you thought about it so much, but you thought about it. You thought about it without knowing how you felt about it or what you thought about it. This man you had only gotten a glimpse of, too overwhelmed to take in his features properly, now walks around your mind freely. He wasn’t the boy you knew. He wasn’t the boy next door whose hand you’d once hold in chemistry, who you’d kiss before turning the corner towards both of your homes. The boy who left all those years ago.

No, it wasn’t that boy. It was that man, who kept perturbing you. What did you feel? Interest? Yes, there was something quite intriguing about all of this which sparked your curiosity. Lust? Of course, absolutely, the man next door looked divine. Suppose you could abstract the person from his body, so that you wouldn’t be so bothered by who he was and what he meant to you, and you’d easily bend over in front of him and invite him in.

You supposed a conversation was in place, though, because after all, he was still the Christopher. You couldn’t just go around fucking people like that anymore - unfortunately. That was something you got away with in college. It’s a shame college boys grow up to be boring men, sex gets more boring, they think they have all the authority… Maybe you should go back to school.

You’re sitting on the windowsill of your second floor bedroom, one leg hanging out and stepping onto the roof. Opposite to your window, beyond a neat shrub, is the window of the guest room of Mrs. Carson, formerly Bang, which seems unchanged from when you last saw it. You remember watching her from your room, also unchanged, using the TV in there to do some aerobics she followed along from a VHS… was it a VHS? No, that’s the machine. What were the things you used to put in the VHS? A cassette? No… regardless, eventually she must have started using DVD’s.

Damn it, it all seemed like thousands of years ago.

Damn it, you were still so melodramatic throwing around words like poetry over some Richard Simmons tape. Aha! It’s a tape!

Your crotch is being dug into by the window frame, and you let your weight rest on it, the slight grind tempting you to have a round of masturbation. But you’ll finish the cigarette you stole from your mother first. It tasted awful, it was another adult thing you couldn’t understand. Why did everyone at university smoke so much? It was just another thing their eager teenage selves did to emulate the adults in grown-up world, to feel a little more grown-up. Who the hell likes this stuff?

But you liked watching it burn, occasionally inhaling its airy and bitter smoke. It wasn’t your preferred type of smore. You preferred watching papers and matches burn, their sweet and rich smell, the warmth of the fire that would sting the edges of your fingers. Shame your mother only used a lighter, you didn’t like the smell of that fire either.

You just surrendered to watching the bright tip of the cigarette and the white streams that came from it.

“You know those are bad for you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You exclaimed, your heart nearly jumping out from your chest. A man had sprung out from the window in the guest room of the Carson house, formerly Bang, and that man was Christopher Bang himself.

“Sorry I didn’t -”

“You almost gave me a fucking heart attack - what the hell?!”

“ - mean to startle you…”

“Damn it, Christopher!”

“Ah! So you do remember me?” He says with a bit of joy, but you just look at him, realizing that this is where the talk will come. His features grow a little more somber. He continues, “So… I guess I -”

“Where’d you get the accent?” You interrupt, genuinely curious. “You sound like the crocodile hunter.”

“Well… I was living in Australia with my dad.” He says it in a normal tone, but you make sure it doesn’t stay normal.

“Oh, so that’s where you went?” You both wince at what you just said. Yep, it’s finally time for that talk.

There’s a bit of silence, but you’ll let him be the one to fill it.

“I…” He sighs deeply. Uuhh… it’s quite a masculine sigh. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I didn’t think I’d ever see you again but I… there’s something I’ve always wanted to say.”

“I’m listening…” You say. It’s a flat tone, but it’s funny. You hope it’ll ease him.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry.” Some silence again, “I’m sorry for being an ass, I’m sorry for cheating on you -”

“Chris, we were like fifteen… you kissed a girl with braces, big deal.” You waved it off. Really, kissing that girl didn’t bother you so much, now almost ten years later.

“I left without saying anything.”

“Yeah, you did. Hard to not notice.”

“I was - I know it’s not an excuse, but I was going through a lot and I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“So you left without saying anything?”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok… we haven’t spoken in years. I practically forgot about it.” No you didn’t.

“Did you?” He says. Was he hopeful when you insinuated he hadn’t hurt you as much as he thought he had?

“No, not really. I mean, yeah, you kissing another girl was pretty insignificant, we were just kids. It did hurt that you left without… I don’t know… There wasn’t any closure. There wasn’t a goodbye. I felt confused for a while, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry about that. But my parents were splitting up, I was going to have to leave everything behind. You were the first girl I loved and I was going to have to say goodbye and I couldn’t handle it. I was too hurt and embarrassed to even tell my friends. I wish I had done it differently.”

“Yeah, I wish you had too. I wanted to be there for you, you know? I wanted to hug you, hold your hand, tell you it was going to be ok.

“I really messed up there…”

“It’s okay Chris, you were just a kid. We were just kids.” You offer your sympathy but he doesn’t soften.

“Mhmm. Doesn’t make me feel less guilty about it.”

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, “Did you do all that stuff… you know, treat me that way, for real or where you…?”

“I was hoping you’d break up with me, get over me. That way we wouldn’t have to say goodbye and we wouldn’t get hurt.”

“I got hurt.” You admit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.” You insist. “It’s fine. We’re fine. We’re old and grown and fine. All of that’s in the past, I can’t blame you for acting like a kid. It’s okay.”

“Well I can agree with you there. We did grow up, not kids anymore.”

“You didn’t grow that much.” You laugh, he laughs too.

“You certainly did.” He’s being flirty. It could have been bad timing, but the mood felt right.

“Oh, you noticed?”

“Hard not to.” Goodness was he being direct. “You were really cute back in school, I had a crush on you for like, forever.”

“Really…Plain old me?”

“Really. And now here we are and I think I could have a crush on you all over again.”

“So you can go off and kiss another girl with braces and leave the continent?”

“No, I’m a one woman man.” He says while making himself comfortable on his own ledge. It’s getting comfortable overall, like you’re talking to someone you’ve known for the longest time, like a decade of separation didn’t do much harm.

“Well, well. And who is that lucky woman now?”

“There’s no one at the moment. I’m in the middle of some life changes.”

“Do tell.”

“I’m moving back. Well, not here, just in the country again. A big city, big job, kinda scary.”

“Seems we’re on the same boat. I just came back to say goodbye to this place forever and I’m ooout.”

“Did you finish school already?”

“Yeah… I wish I hadn’t though.” You think back on your experience with longing, lamenting it’s end.

“Wow, can’t relate. I couldn’t wait for it to end. What’d you miss about it?”

“Well, I didn’t have to work, grades were good and easy. And I guess, it was tons of fun.”

“How so?”

“Being on a campus full of horny and stupid guys - it was open game.” Chan hisses at your admission.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for that type.” He chuckles, “You would stutter for like the first two months we went out.”

“We were just kids.”

“I guess we were…”

Another comfortable silence as you stare off at the sky, your cigarette burnt through with only the spongy bud left to pinch.

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m single too, you know.”

It might have been a bad idea, you said it on impulse after all, something quite instinctive having taken over you. Maybe you were just horny and Christopher was just hot, regardless, the conversation was over. Before he could even process what you said, and the implications to it, you had already slipped back into your darkened room and out of his sight.

Chan felt like a teenager again. Not in a good way.

Chan remembered your first kiss, holding your hand. He remembered your breasts being the first he had ever really noticed, your legs being the first he ever caressed. He remembers how you’d press your bodies together while you kissed, not really understanding what both of you felt, only understanding the urgency of it.

Now he can name those feelings, the ones that once belonged to an inexperienced boy, merely dipping his toes into the surface of that world. But now that he dove, and had dived into its waters several times, he knew how to swim in them.

Yet, seeing you made him feel like he didn’t. It made him feel like he couldn’t swim, like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was drowning.

The first moment he saw you on his doorstep he felt his stomach drop, a pang of guilt that had lingered on his mind during countless of sleepless nights hitting him with full force. He didn’t expect it. He thought he would never see you again.

And after taking another look, a longer look, it was like he was swimming in completely different waters. He felt submerged, and he didn’t know which way was up. He wanted to open his mouth and swallow it all up, let you drown him.

He hadn’t felt this raging feeling since he was a teenager. He certainly hadn’t had a specific woman make him feel like this until you.

It made him feel another kind of guilt. Shame even.

The following days he’d watch you, shamefully. His mother had him painting the house and when he stood on the rooftops he took his time to enjoy the view of you swimming in your pool, wearing tiny bikinis that stuck to your skin and showed the buds of your niples and the lines of your labia through the fabric. He would admit, shamefully, that he stopped watching from the roof because he needed to get closer to see these beautiful details.

He now watched you from over the fence in his backyard. Getting incredibly hard watching you swim, watching you oil your body down.

It was all horribly, horribly shameful.

But weren’t you the one that mentioned you were single? It had caught him off guard. He was being cheeky in that moment, but he didn’t know what waters he was testing then. Now he knew, and it was making him behave so, so shamefully.

Should he go over there, push you into a corner of the pool and pull your bottoms to the side? Should he kneel at your feet while your rubbing yourself with that golden oil, and beg you to let him fuck you?

It wasn’t just the thought of sex that drove him mad, it was you in general. How inferior he felt in front of you, like he had to prove himself. Every day he worked shirtless, hoping you’d get a glimpse of him, but you were just so unbothered by it all.

It was driving him fucking insane.

If only you knew.

Except - of course you did. Of course you did. This is what you craved, what you were best at. Driving boys, technically men but boys sounds tastier, to be absolute slaves to their desire for you. Christopher wasn’t doing a good job at hiding it. Did he really think that you would suddenly spend every day swimming in the tiniest bikinis after having not left your couch for over a week? They really are such stupid, fuckable animals.

And Chris was particularly fuckable.

Day four of his perverted project, he was hammering away at some boards in the back porch of his house. Your mother wouldn’t be home for hours, his parents were away for a couple of days.

Everything was perfect.

“Chris?!” You call loudly over the fence from your chaise lounge, carelessly flipping through a book. The hammering stopped, he had heard you. “Chris, it’s hot today. Don’t you think you should come over for a swim to cool down?”

Why on earth were you acting so damn unbothered and confident, he thought. Why on earth were you asking him over?

It’s only a matter of time before he circles his own house and slides in through the gate on your end. He’s still wearing jeans and a utility belt, gloves too. No shirt.

“You can’t really swim in those, take them off.” You hardly peered at him from over your sunglasses. He was just standing there, frozen. That’s usually a sign that you’re working your magic well. Good. “Come on Christopher, take them off.”

“I - uh, I’m actually not wearing trunks right now. Uhm… I’ll be right back.”

“Oh, you don’t have to go.” Insert unbothered page flip. “Why don’t you just undress and get in the pool so I can join you?”

“W-what?” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He genuinely thought he had imagined it, maybe all of his hornyness was driving him insane.

“Christopher!” You whine. “You’re ruining the fun!” You slam the book shut and throw it over to the side, taking your sunglasses and hat off. “Chris, I think it’s obvious. Do you think I haven’t noticed you being a peeping tom for the past half week? Look! You’ve already got a tent in your pants and everything!”

“Fuck.” Shit, you were right.

“This is like, hmm, like an open invitation to fuck me.” You say with an eye roll, but your eyes roll toward his abs because they are absolutely distracting you.

“Are… are you serious?”

“Well… You want to, I want to. You’re nice, look like you’ve become quite a decent man - and I’m not just referring to your physique Chris. Maybe, just maybe, it would be an excellent idea if we finally fucked this tension away.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You’re here for a few weeks, so am I. Why not enjoy each other while we can? After that we can just go our separate ways, just like before except we’ll end it on good terms.”

Too many points for him to argue with - you were right on all of them. He couldn’t disagree. In fact, he eagerly agreed. Little did he know you had this pitch rehearsed to perfection, to your benefit, because he seemed to be completely subdued by it.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath. Fumbling with his belt, zipper, exposing the line of his abdomen down to his hardening cock. A fat, heavy cock that swung between his muscular thighs. He was fully nude now, standing in front of you, his tan skin glistening in the sunlight. You’re quick to urge him over with a finger.

He pounces, but once he’s crawling over you on that narrow chair, he becomes slow.

“Hi.” You manage to whimper out, now feeling a bit small beneath him, feeling nervous even.

“Hey.” He’s just as nervous but there’s an energy that goes beyond either of your wills pulling you toward one another.

He kisses you. It’s a kiss you melt into, and he sinks his body against yours, with you spreading your legs so he can slot between them. His cock rests against your lower abdomen, his body pressing further into you.

You can’t help but slide your hand between your two bodies in an attempt to finger yourself, prepare yourself, but he stops you and pulls back.

“No.” He growls.

“No?” Is he going to leave you like this?!

“Let me.”

And you do. Chan lowers himself, adjusting you so he can easily bend over the chair while kneeling on the ground, and his hands shake as he dips the tip of his fingers into the hem of your bottoms, just slightly tugging at the material, playing with it before he starts to play with you. You’ve got the perfect view of him basically drooling over you.

He slides the bottoms to the side, but you pull at the strings at your hips, so they come undone and he pulls them away completely. Your lips and the juices coming from between them are just as glossy than your oiled skin.

He can’t help but dig in. Fucking you with his mouth, jamming his fingers in you. It’s an animalistic frenzy and it’s hot and slippery and sticky. You cum and your fluids spill over the impermeable cushion below, pooling under your ass. He can see every sparkling droplet fall from you.

It’s just a haze, he nearly jumps on you, bending your legs nearly over your head, bouncing his pelvis on your cunt like a trampoline, smacking with every thrust. You’re completely glued to one another. If he’s not abusing your mouth with his tongue then he’s biting on your shoulder or grunting, growling, into your ear. It’s filthy. You’re absolutely sure you’ve never been fucked like this.

He cums, several times, as do you. He pulls out each time, jerks himself off on your body, although a couple of times you urged him into your mouth and face. He pulls the triangles on your top to the sides, so your breasts are exposed. He made sure to cum on those too. Semen, sweat, squirt, oil, spit, everywhere there are droplets of your fluids shining on your body like jewels.

It ends with him lying on top of you, nearly sleeping from exhaustion, and your lips feel deliciously sore and sensitive, almost ticklish as he softens inside of you.

It happens again. Several times in fact. Many, many times. When his parents are away, when your mom is away, you fuck all the time. Just a little call of his name over the fence or from your window and he’d be running to you. You were too comfortable with one another to bother with formalities, it was like you’d never been separated. You’d wait for him on all fours, wet cunt on display for him to dive in, but he’d always greet you with a gentle kiss.

Fucking each others faces, drinking eachothers fluids. You even let him fuck you in the ass, multiple times, and he was the first guy to make you cum that way. You were just as hooked and as desperate as he was.

Things started to change though.

The welcoming kisses became longer, you’d talk between the rounds…

You’d fall asleep in his arms, or he in yours.

You’d fuck slowly, deeply, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’d talk to him, tell each other stories of all these years, asi if you had been together the entire time.

You’d smile as you made love, gently. You’d let him cum inside of you.

He’d hold your hand again. They were as soft and warm as you remembered.

You were holding his hand on one particular pink evening, your head resting on his heaving chest, teaching circles into his pecs and nipples. On your bed, in your quiet childhood room. It was a painful silence now. It had been weeks, weeks closer to your respective departure dates.

“I wish I had never left.” He eventually says. You don’t know what to say. “I wish we could have stayed like this for longer.”

“Maybe we would have broken up eventually, or left for college.” You ponder.

“Maybe I would have taken you to prom, or we would have had sex together for the first time…” He returns.

“On this bed? Hmm? With my cute school uniform?” You tease. “Yeah, maybe.”

“But I guess this is what was meant to be.” He sighs, as do you.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can say.

“What for?”

“I don’t know, I just feel bad. I started this and now we have to go our separate ways again.” You feel something sting in your eye. You can’t cry now.

“Shh…” He coos as he hears you sniffle and feels you twitch. It makes his heart ache like it did all those years ago when he left.

“I - I…” You cry. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go.”

He pulls you into his arms, crushing you in an embrace. Your eyes are closed but you feel the tears fall from his face, he’s crying too.

“I know… but what else can we do?”

There was nothing left to do, other than fuck the days away, crying, holding each other until it hurt. It was a horrible, horrible thing to have fallen in love with Christopher Bang this final summer.

You didn’t go with him to the airport. You didn’t want to say goodbye, you didn’t want to see where he was going.

But he did slip into your room that final night. You made love quietly, he kissed you as you cried.

He said it was the second time he loved you, and the second time he had to leave you.

It hurt much more this time around. Maybe you shouldn’t have done it, maybe you shouldn’t have gone next door.

Being in your house was unbearable once Chris wasn’t next door.

A week later, you’ve arrived at your new place. It had been a whirlwind and you stayed at a hotel the first couple of nights while your new furniture got brought in, most of your personal belongings only fitting in a couple of bags.

It’s kept you busy. That way you think about him a little less. Crying into pillows that have that certain ‘brand new’ smell isn’t quite as comforting as you’d expect. Everything seems unfamiliar, strange, artificial. Nothing here reminded you of him - it was for the best and you hated it.

The place is nice, bright. It’s on the third floor of a small apartment building, a couple of other doors beside yours in the hall. You go downstairs to grab a few packages that have arrived, carefully treading up the stairs in a kind of balancing act once they’re piled in your arms. It’s a choreography you can dance to with expertise, always denying any help from your neighbors.

However, you do fumble with the lock and handle once you’re at your door, holding the boxes up by pressing them against the door with your body as your hands blindly fumble with the keys, nothing but cardboard in your sight.

Nothing you can’t handle, until they start to slip.

“Woah, let me help you with that!” someone says behind you, and in your complicated state it’s a bit difficult to process what happens but the boxes are soon out of the way, said someone pulling them from you and freeing you.

And then you see him.

Him.

Your him.

He says your name and you’re too stunned to react. He’s in awe too. He drops your packages, and you’re certain some of them contain some makeup palettes but you don’t give a damn at the moment.

“What are you doing here?” You finally ask, frozen in place.

“I… live in 304.” He says.

“You live in 304?” He nods. “You? You’re serious?” He nods again, eyes still wide.

You both stand there, processing it all. This can’t be real.

“I live in 302.” you manage to say, after some time. Your voice is weak, all the air has left your lungs. You shake.

“You do?” He asks. Now you nod.

This can’t be.

But he cups your face, holds it like you’re precious and delicate, he kisses you. It is real. You kiss him back, harder. Eventually you’re both clinging to one another, gripping each other’s clothes desperately.

“You live here.” He says, little tears sparkling in the corner of his eyes. You nod, the same tears coming to you.

“I do. Mm-hmm.” The sniffles you let out seem so sweet to him, he swoons with how happy you are to see him. Knowing you feel the same joy he does - it makes him feel complete.

“I live here too!” He cries, laughing, smiling, beautifully.

One more kiss, just to make sure it’s real. You pull him in and kiss him one more time.

It’s real.