#highschool reunion

[markiari]

Hey! Check my out this fic!

Summary:

Kara received an invitation for their 10-year highschool reunion.

(Ps. If you like my content, please visit my Ko-fi for more!)

[rippingoffkingarthur]

Retouched up old art of a banner and balloons from ROKA #154...

[battling-my-demons]

So yesterday was my school's 10 year reunion. I kept going back and forth debating on going. I didn't realize how close it was,but it was yesterday, apparently. I wasn't sure how I would feel if I missed it. Well, now I'm feeling angry, sad, and relieved. I am mad and sad because I didn't get the experience with school that others had. I never enjoyed school or the activities that others had. I didn't go to many events. I barely went to prom. I was bullied and excluded from many things. Purposely. I was barely in the yearbook. I hated it. So I was a little relieved I didn't actually have to make the decision after all. Still, I am so upset that I was robbed of the joy and the fun. These people ruined my childhood. From 5th grade to 12th, I delt with all the bullshit they put me through. So then you would say I'm lucky to not have gone, right? Wrong. I would have loved to have gone if I had a good relationship with any of those people. It just isn't fair to have missed a milestone in my life. I'm just upset now. It's a big deal and yet I am so conflicted. Now, I'd hear things like, "well, you should have gone and ignored the mean people." Or "then you're better off not going." Or "you should have gotten over it by now. " ect ect. It's not easy when you're younger years were traumatic. It's very hard to understand and express how you feel because a lot of people don't relate. Now, I feel so torn up.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: steamy ASFF???, angst, swearing, alcohol consumption, shlut shaming (fuck that old man), implied smut in the end (i didn't write smut yall im nervous)

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Chapter nine: You belong to me

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You and Joseph called consistently. Phone bills got higher, but both of you could care less. Both of you sent letters, pictures, and postcards like you promised.

Joseph often sent you pictures of him and George. He sent you postcards from Italy, Germany, and some cities in France.

You often send pictures of yourself, Callum, and photoshoots. You sent him postcards from Milan, New York, Copenhagen, and more. Mostly fashion capitals in the world.

Every letter you'd send each other would contain your days, food you tried, people you met, places you've been. But in the end of each one, there'd be the same sentence.

"I love you. See you soon."

It always said that.

Years pass, the calls get less consistent, the letters talking about your days now talk about your weeks, then they start talking about your months.

You talk about college now, parties you've been invited to, alcohol you tried.

Less and less postcards. Only three to five would come in a year now, the only thing written in them is the place they've been to.

Seven years have passed. It's 1971 now. You're 23 years old. The phone ringings have stopped. The letter boxes are empty.

Joseph was now merely a memory. Something you've locked inside you. He's beginning to collect dust.

You write in your notebook about your day. You sit on your matress, only an underwear on and some sheer shirt. Your hair is up in a messy clip, bangs blown on your forehead.

Safe to say you're famous. You've been in countless magazines, influencing famous celebrities. For example, Jane Birkin with your full bangs. You actually have her number. It's in the room... somewhere.

Life in Paris has been... alright, you could say. Sure, it smells like piss, and sure, it's filled with rude people, but you grew up here, so might as well accept it.

Callum's been a big help. He's a famous photographer and car enthusiast now. He's done almost all of your photoshoots. There were some rumours that developed about you two being an item, but you quickly shut that down.

A knock is heard on your flat's front door. Callum walks in, a paper bag in hand, and a lit cigarette between his lips.

"Pretty girl," a nickname he never seemed to want to let go, "your wine is here."

You get up from your place, strutting down some steps and kissing Callum's cheek in greeting. You head to the bag placed on the kitchen counter.

"Fuck yes. Thank you, Callum. You're an angel." I place them in a gift bag, saving them for a future event.

In three days' time, a gala was to happen. It would be filled top to bottom with riches, designer clothes and items, jewels, and anything else that screams luxury. And what you're most excited about is the fact that it's a masquerade.

You, for one, were invited to this gala. The people who were invited are sort of a VIP. Only close friends of the host would be there, and knowing the host, they were luxurious as well.

Your dress was ready. Your gift was ready. Everything was ready. Even your plus one, who is very obviously Callum, was ready. Everything would be perfect.

But you were nervous. Something deep inside your gut was telling you something would happen, and you couldn't tell whether it was a bad sign or a good one. You were hoping for the latter.

It crawled through your skin. You weren't one to get nervous, especially after all the exposure to the media in the past couple of years. So this wasn't exactly normal.

Your heart was exhilarated. Your mind was all over the place. What if you didn't look your best? This was a question you haven't asked yourself in a long while. You've been so self-assured, but what changed it now? That gut feeling sucked.

You take your mind off it. You'd rather talk about your plans for that evening.

The dress you, Callum, and your stylist picked was an archive of Audrey Hepburn's 1956 film Funny Face. It was fluffy around the bottom, the end cutting off in the middle of your calf. It was off shoulder, drop waist, coloured white with accents of pink and blue for the flowers imprinted.

Some things to add on were long white silk gloves, your mask that covered anything but your eyes, along with a pair of white kitten heels, pearl earrings, and hair pieces. It reminded you of when you were young. You, in high school with your puffy skirts, pearl jewellery, and kitten heels.

There was something bugging you. Something you're missing. It was a nostalgic memory. It's something you were trying to figure out, but before you could, Callum's arm wraps around your shoulders.

"You alright, pretty girl?" He asked, worry etched in his tone.

You simply smile at him. "Yup. All good."

××《☆》××

You were riding around Paris in your vespa, the wind blowing through your hair and messing it up. It was an hour before midnight, the air colder, and the streets lit up with lights.

You wanted some air. Something about what happened earlier made your mind jumble over what it could've been. You needed to stop it from running around. It would've kept you up all night.

Your coat was on, keeping you warm. You had borrowed it from Callum, using the excuse of the fact that it was bigger, meaning it would keep you from the cold. Which was true.

He barely even used it anyway. It didn't even smell like him. Callum smelt like new cars, cigarettes, and hair gel. This coat wasn't too far, but it wasn't that close. It smelt like cigarettes, yes, but also expensive cologne. Callum doesn't wear that type of cologne.

It got your mind running again. You roll your eyes to yourself. You thought this would help. You speed your Vespa up, making it around l'Arc de Triomphe, turning to a road and going straight ahead.

The wind blew harsher, your nose getting irritated from the cold. You guess Callum's coat wasn't enough. You make some turns again till you get to Pont d'léna, now making you ride face to face with the sparkling Eiffel Tower. You got here in time for it.

Your awe for the tower never really faded even after seeing it almost every day for the past several years. Many people wish to see it for the first time again, but you, it will always feel like the first time.

You turn your head back to the road when you go right, on your way back to your flat. Your neck hurts a bit from craning it to the tower, but most of the time, it's worth it.

Again, you feel nostalgic. There's a tall figure standing on the side of the road looking up at the tower. His hair was messy, so as yours, and he was smoking a cigarette. He had something wrapped around his head. You couldn't quite focus on what he looked like exactly from the speed you were going.

You turn your head to the road again. What was that? It was probably a man you've seen around the streets, or somebody you worked with. You shrug it off and continue your ride home.

××《☆》××

It was the morning of the gala. It would start somewhere around six in the evening for dinner. You woke up early for the day.

You're outside a café with Callum, sipping on piping hot coffee and eating your pastries. Every once in a while, a flash is seen in the corner of your eye. Fans or paparazzi, you pay it no mind.

"Is there anything else we need to do or get before we prep for the gala?" You say, putting your cup down gently onto its plate.

"Nope. You seem a lot more nervous than usual. Is there something you wanna change up?" Callum asks, taking a puff out of his cigarette. You shake your head.

"Yeah, I don't know. I've been feeling it since yesterday. There's just... I think something's gonna happen. Something big." You shrug, crossing your arms and leaning on the table. Callum nods, leaning forward too, mirroring you.

"Ah, well, is it good or bad?" He questions, butting of his cigarette. You think for a while, reminiscing on the feeling.

"Actually, it might be good. That's why I'm nervous, you know? I don't want anything to get messed up. Because if something bad were to happen, well..." I shrug, hissing. Callum chuckles.

"Well, alright. We'll double-check everything so it goes smoothly for you, pretty girl." He pats your arm, reassuring you. You grab a hold of his hand, squeezing it and saying "Thank you."

It was afternoon now. You began to prepare for the gala. Your team came in a few minutes ago, and they begin working on you. You're sitting in your chair with your makeup artist fixing you up when the phone rings.

"Callum, can you get that, please?" I shout towards him. He comes out of the kitchen and into the living room we were in. He picks the phone up. You had a clear vision of everything. He leans against the wall, greeting the caller.

Then, his face shifts. It morphs into something you can't read, but Callum seems to hold in a smile. When he notices you looking at him, he turns his back towards you. Instead of speaking in a normal volume, he began to whisper.

What the fuck was that? Who could the caller be? It's probably one of his hookups, for sure. You let it slide. You'll ask about it after.

When Callum hangs up, you immediately call after him.

"Callum, who was it?" Callum turns around, hands in his back pockets and lips pursed. He does this when he's trying to hide something. You raise your brows.

"Just... someone special." He flashes a quick smile and then runs out of the room. Oh. You were right.

"Someone special" was a code name for one of the boys he fell in love with during your time here in Paris. You both were still in college. He was from the architecture department. Things happened, and things fell apart.

But then, you weren't so sure. Every time someone special called our place after their relationship, Callum was always sad after. Maybe something new happened?

When the clock hit five, everyone was on their way down stairs. You were fully prepped now, in your makeup, and dress with your jewellery and heels. Your mask was on, and you put on a large white fur coat.

Upon exiting your apartment complex, bunches of paparazzi blocked by barricades took pictures of you with their bright flashes. Callum and your team huddled around you, trying to get you safely in the car.

You get in your vehicle, and Callum had made an arrangement that he was to drive it. Nostalgia has filled your senses these past few days. You wonder what would come next.

When you arrived at the venue, wlaking through high ceiling halls and large oak doors, the room was filled with masked people, all dressed in various colours. They stood, laughed, and talked, all while drinking their preferred drinks.

It was a bit chilly in here, and you started to regret leaving your coat in your car. You didn't want to ask Callum to go with you to get it, seeing him already in conversation with the guests. You decide to go to the bar area instead.

You get your drink, fiddling with your hands as you wait. The ballroom was elegant, so much more brilliant than you thought it could be. Though, it felt rather lonely. You shake off the feeling once you receive your poison of the night.

Then, an announcement was heard. Everyone was to grab a partner to accompany them to dance. You promised Callum to enjoy the night, and you guess a dance could fulfil that.

You opted to a man who was sitting in the same bar you were in. He brought you a sense of familiarity for some unknown reason. He was slouched in his seat, ash brown hair a bit messy. He was turning his glass in circles.

"Hello." You greeted. When he turned to you, your eyes widened in wonder. He only had one eye hole, the rest of his face covered like yours. He blinks, and you could slightly hear him breathing.

"Hi." He says simply. You scan him, and there's a feeling in you that you definitely knew who this was, you just couldn't pinpoint it.

"I know I'm not in the position as a woman in this economy," you roll your eyes, "but, would you like to dance with me?"

His back straightens, and you think you've made him uncomfortable.

"Oh. I'm so sorry for even think-"

"Yes." He cuts in. He offers you a gloved hand as he stands from his barstool. You're surprised. He's taller than you imagined.

You take a hold of his hand. It's warm. Familiarly warm. He leads you into the middle of the ballroom, other guests already forming into formation. He gently takes your risks into his hold, moving up to his chest. Again, it's so familiar.

He drifts his hands to your sides and clutches it a bit. You feel as though you knew these hands. Like you've memorised the lines on the palm, the way the fingertips swirl, or how the muscles twitch and the joints move.

The orchestra starts to play, and you start to move. There's a flow you follow, and it feels so easy. You hadn't even known there was choreography, but the man you were with did. And he showed you through it.

You couldn't stop looking. Even if your neck started to hurt from looking up, even if you twirled, even if your eyes started to dry. You couldn't stop. And you didn't want to.

His eyes stayed on you all throughout the dance. The way he held you, the way he felt. He was so warm even if his body was covered in multiple layers of fabric. You could feel it. Like you've sunk into his skin.

When the dance ended, and he asked you to go with him, you agreed. You didn't know what he looked like. You only feel like you knew him, but you weren't sure. But even with that running through your head, you agreed.

The outside was cold but warmer than inside. You still shivered as you did before. Just then, a coat is wrapped around your shaking shoulders. You look up at the masked man. He took his coat off, now only dressed with a white button-up and a vest matching his pants. His already messy hair messes up even more now. It's in perfect condition to run your hands through.

You both make your way to the large railing of the balcony, taking a seat on it. It viewed the beautiful Eiffel Tower, its lights sparkling in the night. The wind blows once again. It's peaceful.

You turn your head to the man, and you almost fell over the rail. Sitting in front of you, his face finally unmasked, was Joseph Descamps. Out of all people, you didn't expect your first love to be sat in front of you. Seven years have passed, and he's still beautiful.

Your eyes began to sting as you lifted your hands to your face, discarding your own mask. He smiles, his pretty pink lips curving upward. He looks down, fiddling with the inseams of his pants. Again, it's familiar.

"Hi, Y/N." He whispers gently, taking a hold of your shaking hand. He takes your gloves off, putting them aside. He connects the tips of his fingers to yours, then encapsulates it in his warmth.

You can't speak. You can't breathe. You can't stop your heart from beating the way it was now.

"Seven years, and I finally see you again." He shows his teeth in his smile, and again, you can't stop looking.

"Still not talking?" He asks with a teasing tone, tilting his head.

"Did you know?" You asked, your voice so low you were surprised he even heard. Of course he did. He payed the closest attention to you.

"Know what?" He raises his eyebrows, anticipating your next words.

"That it was me?" He chuckles and shakes his head.

"Of course I did. I mean, I recognised you with one eye. I think I'd recognise you blind." He moves closer, bringing your hand up and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You laugh. You lift your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into it, head laying heavy on your palm. He looks up at you, his eyelids heavy. Fuck.

He closes his eyes, taking his other hand to clasp at your wrist. He kisses your palm, leaving some wet patches from his open mouth. He trails his kisses up to your pulse, and you can't help but grab on his hair.

"Y/N, I've been looking-" Callum says as he runs towards the entrance of the balcony, stopping in his place at the sight of you.

"Oh, you finally met." Finally? You furrow your eyebrows, trying to figure out what he meant. Joseph pulls away from your hands, keeping his eyes on Callum. You turn my head back to the man in front of me, raising an eyebrow.

"What does he mean finally?" You ask Joseph. Callum walks towards us slowly, hands clasped behind his back.

"Uh..." Joseph looks to Callum. Callum raises his hands up. Joseph looks back to you, licking his lips before answering. "I planned it... sorry?"

"Planned it? Sorry? Joseph, why are you saying sorry? This is the best thing ever." You exclaim, and the two men just look at eachother.

"Not to ruin whatever the fuck you guys were doing just then, but the host wants some pictures, so..." He gestures to the door. You purse your lips in disappointment but nod. You get up and straighten your skirt, wiping off any wrinkles.

"I better go." You take your gloves and mask from where you were seated. "Can I see you after the gala?"

Joseph nods. "I was already planning on it." After prepping fully, you just stand there. You then lift your hand. "Bye."

Why was that so awkward? You'll save your self-beating bit later. Before you could even walk a step, Joseph takes your wrist again. You turn around to be met with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

"You look as gorgeous as the day you left." He whispers and presses another kiss on your cheek. They're beet red, you can feel it. He walks away, waving a bye to Callum, too. Callum slowly turns his head to you, then ushers you to go with him.

"What was that?" There's a cheeky smile on his face, and you try to hide your growing one.

"I don't even know."

××《☆》××

He was... clingy. The host, you meant. He was tall and built, but he was honestly so annoying. He kept bragging about his riches and talking about himself. The only time he shut up was when he took a sip of his whiskey.

You look around subtly, trying to keep yourself from rolling your eyes in front of the man, even though he could barely see them from your mask. Speaking of, he didn't wear one. This might've just been a party to make him somewhat the centre of attention for standing out.

"Dance with me, darling." You grimace. You're very glad for these masks. That nickname will be the death of you. And in a bad way.

"I don't feel like dancing. My feet are starting to hurt." I shrug, pointing to my ankles. You thought you were so smart, but he was just so insistent.

"Well, why don't we go upstairs? My office is free, and, you know," He comes disgustingly closer. You can smell his bad breath from his rotting yellow teeth. "I can help you with the aching."

Before you could retort, an arm wraps around your waist, keeping you still. You would've pushed away if you hadn't recognised his touch or his scent.

"Excuse me, sir. I must bring Ms. Pardine home immediately. She is busy tomorrow. And most definitely busy tonight." He turns his head towards you. He felt so tense. Like he was keeping something within him. A feeling so strong.

The man huffs like a child. "And who are you supposed to be?" He crosses his arms. He looks so immature, even with that saggy and wrinkley face.

"A close... friend." Joseph's hand slid down to my hips, clutching it slightly. He tugs you in closer, making you lose balance and place a hand on his chest. You refuse to look his way, or even anyones.

The other man scowls, disgust now visible in his face. "What a slut." He mumbles, finally leaving you alone. Joseph's grip on your hips tightens, and it starts to hurt you a bit.

"Joseph." You say, trying to gently push his hand away. He immediately lets go, turning to you worriedly.

"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you." He rubs your hip to relax it, but you don't relax one bit. Your heart hammers in your chest, and there's a feeling deep in your stomach.

"It's alright. Just take me home." I caress his neck before grabbing his hand, moving through the crowds of people. You try to look for Callum, but when you find him, he's talking, or quite literally eye fucking some guy he was conversating with. He can get home, you guess.

Joseph takes you home in his car. This felt weird. Not badly, just that you've never been driven by him. It felt comforting. You could get used to this.

You tell him the directions to your place, and when you make it, you pause.

"Come in?" You turn your head. Your masks were already long gone, and all you could see was his beautiful face again.

"Are you sure?" He asks, voice shaking. You can't believe he's still nervous with you, especially with that stunt he pulled with your wrist on a public balcony. You'll tease him about it soon.

"With you? Always." So then you went up to your room, and as soon as you did, his hands were on you again. He backs you up until your back hits the wall behind you. You're both breathing so heavy it's the only thing you could hear in the entire flat.

"I missed you. And I need you. So fucking much." He whispers, one hand cupping your face and the other roaming your waist. Your legs go wobbly, so you take your heels off, making you shorter than you already were standing in front of him.

"Fuck." You mumble. "Kiss me already."

He smashes his lips against yours feverishly, and you could taste everything he had that night. Wine, whiskey, cigarettes, and even strawberries. His tongue swipes your lips as he lets out a groan.

He pulls you closer, kneeling a bit to grab your thighs, then carrying you with ease, all while he loses his breath from kissing you. He lets go of your face to let his hands roam the area, not wanting to accidentally hit your wall.

"Bedroom?" He asks, parting for only a millisecond before placing his pretty pink lips on yours again. You have to fight the urge not to drown in him.

"To the left." He nods, continuing to kiss you as he reverts his way to the left side of your flats. You bump a few things on the way, like some side tables and magazines.

You finally make it to the bedroom, and he lies down gently onto your bed. He slows his lips, savouring the way you tasted. It makes you squirm in anticipation, and you feel a smirk on his lips as he continues. He parts away, a small string of saliva accentuating it. He pants before he speaks.

"I wasn't lying. I really fucking need you. Please. Please, tonight." He whimpers, arms wobbling from where he placed it to hover over you. You just can't say no.

One nod sealed the deal for him, and his lips were on you again. This time, it's on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, your eyes.

He pecks down to your neck. Everything inside you feels so fuzzy, especially when he kissed and sucked on those sensitive parts. He lowers down to your shoulders, and you can feel the bruises forming. You love the way it feels. You love the way he feels. You love him.

××《☆》××

End - Chapter nine: You Belong To Me

Next - Chapter Ten: I love you

××《☆》××

WHAT'S UP GUYS??? So, like this is nice (i need him so bad OMFGGGGG) totally can still breathe after that last scene (i can't i want him pls omg) so like hope you enjoyed THAT cliffhanger. It's better than my old cliffhangers, right? But overall, i hope you enjoyed THE WHOLE chapter bcs its real nice, and it's all me. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!

[imposterogers]

I fully believe that not only is shawn spencer bisexual but he’s also in love w gus but like. it’s not an angsty ‘I need to ruin this friendship before my feelings ruin it’. it’s just a personality trait. bc him & gus are already SO close. codependently close. they can hardly go a day without seeing each other, are practically psychic in the way they communicate, spend major holidays together. they’ve both had significant and fulfilling romantic relationships & have settled down. but does that change the fact that shawn would kiss gus at the drop of a hat? not at all

[ragzonacamrencruise]

Azutara #48

azutara highschool reunion au lets goooo!!!!!

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REMEMBER WHEN WE . . . ?

One can only hope.

One can only hope that they have carefree fun with their childhood best friends, seeing them after, like what, 15 years? Yeah . . . give or take. Playing, ‘recognise that one?’ And catching up non-stop the whole time for one single beautiful night.

But, one can only hope.

Katara hoped too. Of the same carefree night, when she entered the huge hall, looking all around in awe at the population inside, chattering away merrily. She approaches the reception with a warm smile on her face, and the young girl sitting behind the desk returns her smile with twice the radiance.

"Your name, please?" The girl asks, prying open a giant list.

"Katara Imeq" Katara grins.

The girl instantly rushes through the list and finds Katara's name a few seconds later. She then finds a label sticker, writes Katara's name down and offers it to her, instructing her to stick it on her dress and make it visible. Katara does as told, thanks the girl, and walks into the hall bustling with energy and laughter.

Hope, as it turns out, is not her strong forte. Katara spends literally 5 minutes of catching up with a friend group when she notices.

It's her.

Katara's worst nightmare.

She's here.

She'd hoped against all hopes that she wouldn't be here. That she's too much of a diva to ever come to a party as lame as this. That she wouldn't even look twice at the reunion invitation sent out to every class '09.

But here she is, standing at the other side of the great hall, gaining a whirlpool of attention around her.

Azula Sei'naka.

She's wearing the finest looking silk robe Katara's ever seen. It's flamboyantly blood red. Any other person wearing it to this casual, friendly party would've been standing out painfully against all the suits and the formal dresses. But THE Azula Sei'naka wears it with such ease and confidence that she's the one that's complimenting the robe and not the other way around.

It's a feast for the eyes even from this distance, but Katara would never admit it.

She'd also never in a million years admit that the very sight of the woman gets her heart to race annoyingly faster. It'll be like she's just another dumb nobody, swarming around the diva, calling out her name, thinking her every move to be sent straight from the spirits or something. Forget saying, even thinking her name was too much for Katara. She doesn't know how these imbeciles are even nearing the diva without spontaneously dying.

Katara busies herself making small talk with her group of friends. She's seeing Suki and Tami after a long time and she's not gonna let some jerk spoil her mood. The last time she saw them, they were graduating. And she surely does not want to think about the last time she and the diva had been in the same room together, unintentionally plaguing her mind. She's better off staying at this side of the room, thank you very much.

It's relatively easy. All Katara has to do is hide behind her friends and talk as much as she likes and the whirlpool surrounding the diva does the job for her, making her stay well out of sight.

But paradise, can only last for that long. The blue-eyed woman excuses herself out of habit to go get a drink in order to make the catching up and embarrassing stories a little easier to handle. She stands at the makeshift bar, smiling politely as the bartender fixes her a drink. She runs her eyes over the bartender’s face. His hair falls over to cover his eyes partially but that does not hide the fact that the left side of his face, around the eye, is scarred. Katara can’t help but feel that he’s familiar.

She gets her drink and returns back to her friends.

She lasts two minutes before it happens.

A clearing opens up in the whirlpool of heads surrounding the diva and Katara’s glance is timed perfectly in sync when golden-brown eyes suddenly fall on her like a dart hitting the bulls-eye. It happens so fast that Katara almost physically flinches with the sheer force of that intense pair of eyes she’s gone 15 years without peering into.

All these years, she’d gone without thinking too much about her high-school days. But this night, is especially made to think about it. And Katara feels the force of memories come crashing down on her with just a single glance. Their gazes stay connected for a long moment, before Katara wills herself to look away, feeling an odd shiver up her spine.

Her peripheral vision tells her that the diva’s making a move, striding slowly around the hall to meet with everybody, finally breaking away from her audience. Exactly a minute later, Katara hears that drawly, nagging voice beside her.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is. The woman in STEM.”

Katara doesn’t immediately turn. She doesn’t have to. She knows exactly who it is. One might think that even after all these years, she would forget that voice. But she didn’t. She can’t.

“What do you want, Sei’naka?” Suki, the ever protective companion that she is, lifts her chin up, facing the diva. “Your little pity group is over there. Why don’t you go and entertain them, as you should.”

Katara places her hand on Suki’s arm gently. When Suki turns to look at her, she indicates with her eyes, not to engage anymore. It’s a terrible waste of time, Katara knows it. And they’re adults now, for spirit’s sake! This is turning out to be petty.

The diva clicks her tongue in mock pity. “And here I thought I was welcome here to catch up with everybody. It’s a damn shame.” She shakes her head.

It’s only then, Katara’s eyes find her. “We have nothing to talk about.”

The diva doesn’t answer. She narrows her eyes just a sliver, a smug smile on her face. Her gaze is intense and sharp, piercing Katara’s soul, making her want to fidget and bury herself into a hole. A long moment of silence passes between them. Katara looks all around, trying to keep herself from losing her sanity and that’s when she notices Ty Lee and Mai standing at either side of the diva.

But then, Azula’s ember like eyes are in her line of vision again, and Katara can breathe no more.

“Nothing at all?”

The diva’s voice is a low drawl, meant only for Katara to hear. Katara’s eyes snap, catching on pretty quickly that the diva is insinuating something far different than what the others around them can perceive. It makes her skin crawl. Especially because she catches on to the exact thing she’s trying to make her pay attention to.

She doesn’t want to think about it. She really does not. But, it’s all her mind can go to. The dusty supply closet. Her splayed open lab coat. Azula’s dark hair under her fingers. Her aching sighs. She can almost smell the air and feel Azula-

Katara breaks herself away from her own little hell-hole. “Nothing except surprise, seeing these two still in touch with you even after all the things you did to them in high school.” She motions at Mai and Ty Lee behind the diva with a single, lazy finger.

Azula pulls her head back, just as Mai ad Ty Lee steal a quick glance at one another.

“They were kind enough to support me when I went through a rough time. You wouldn’t know, would you?” The diva says, with a slight shake of her head.

Katara frowns. THE Azula Sei’naka is capable of uttering words that aren’t inherently mean?! When?! How?!

“Whatever.” Katara sighs, before walking away from the place.

Suki and Ty Lee have been friends over Azula’s back and that led to a series of events that ensued a power struggle through the entire junior year. Katara, as always, had sided with Suki that led to a tense rivalry between her and the diva. Now that Katara thinks back to it, it’s kinda lame, and petty. It was a stupid fight and didn’t really matter anymore.

But that doesn’t mean that she’s over her hatred towards Azula Sei’naka. That girl single-handedly made not just Katara’s but everybody’s life living hell in high-school and she’ll never not hate her for it. But that all came crashing down, that one fateful day in the supply closet. The day Katara can never forget, even if she lives a million years. Even if she dies.

***

Katara finds herself sat at the bar with a freshly made drink in her hand again. It’s loud. Too loud. People are flocking in, along with their plus ones and it’s getting crowded and chaotic, almost like it’s a club party.

Suki, Mai and Ty Lee are chatting in the distance. Well, at least Suki and Ty Lee are. Mai’s just, there. She watches them for a little while, before turning around on the stool to face the makeshift bar counter.

“No plus one?” She hears a voice beside her.

And again, she doesn’t really have to turn her head to know who it is. It’s the same raspy drawl she can recognise anywhere.

“Spirits! You’re everywhere.” Katara sighs, sipping her drink for liquid courage.

Azula slides herself onto the stool right beside Katara, leaning on the counter. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Of what business is it to you?”

When Azula doesn’t answer, Katara looks to her side with a slight frown. She’s taken aback when she finds Azula’s eyes scrutinising her curiously with no mockery in them whatsoever.

“What?”

Azula shrugs. “Nothing.”

It’s strange. So strange. Katara’s never seen Azula behaving this way. Never.

Azula’s gaze falls on the glass in front of Katara and she reaches out to grab the drink, downing it in one gulp. Katara squints her eyes in offence. For a proper, high-end actress, Azula’s lack of manners is still astonishing.

“Are you for real?” Katara asks, disgusted with her behaviour.

“I could’ve fixed you your own drink, Zula.” Katara startles as the bartender speaks up from behind the counter. “You didn’t have to trouble her like that.”

"But where's the fun in that, Zuzu?" Azula replies, a smug smile on her face.

Katara watches on, confused. Then suddenly, it clicks. Her eyes widen ever-so-slightly as she looks at the bartender again.

Zuko Sei'naka.

Azula's brother. He was their senior, before he graduated the class of '07. But how his sister went on to become a rising, talented actress and he's standing here bartending, Katara will never know.

"Stop being mean." He says, wiping the counter clean. Then he moves away to the back, leaving Katara and Azula alone on the other side.

The raging party around them, drowns Katara in her thoughts. She almost forgets that Azula’s right beside her, until she hears her talk.

“What?” Katara leans towards her, not hearing her over the din.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Azula leans a bit closer too, raising her voice a little.

Katara gives her a curious look, not really sure if she’s being serious. They’re not the kind of girls who have a girl’s night out just for the sake of it. Hell, they were rivals during their high-school years, picking up petty bickering whenever they can. It’s no surprise that they don’t even have each other’s number. All the interactions they’ve had before this evening were purely superficial (well, except for that one time, of course, but Katara doesn’t like to count that as an interaction). So, she can’t really be blamed for her astonishment when such a proposition is kept in front of her by THE Azula Sei’naka.

The Azula Sei’naka who broke their friend group. The Azula Sei’naka who jabbed her with insults and trolls whenever she spotted Katara in the school hallways. The Azula Sei’naka who lit Katara’s project on fire and made it up as an ‘accident’.

But it’s the same Azula Sei’naka who kept Katara’s sexuality a secret when she didn’t expect her to. It’s the same Azula Sei’naka who made her feel things she didn’t know she could feel – both mentally and physically. It’s the same Azula Sei’naka who made her shiver and shudder and-

Katara gulps. “W- Where?” She asks, voice unsure and unstable.

The glint in the diva’s eyes doesn’t go unnoticed. “Somewhere that isn’t a room full of noise pollution.” She says before getting up. “You coming?”

Katara isn’t sure. This is turning out to be not what she had expected at all. All she wanted was a peaceful night, catching up with her friends. But, this ain’t it. She eyes the diva incredulously, not really certain if she’s genuine or wants to secretly murder her in an alleyway or something. But, she already feels like dying, so murder doesn’t seem that deadly or far-fetched either. She looks at Azula’s expectant eyes and immediately comes to a decision. She doesn’t know why.

She huffs out a short breath before pushing herself up and away from the bar stool. “Alright.”

***

It’s still early for the night, but the winter hangs over them, darkness engulfing the world quicker and Katara wishes she was wearing something thicker instead of her thin strapped, azure-blue, crystal, flowing dress. She looks over at Azula.

The diva had gotten rid of her long robe, and everything underneath revealed a whole different Azula. A short sleeved, red, tank-top that went splendidly with a greenish-blue, high-waist jean. She has a jacket and an overcoat on, wearing the expensive garments like it was second nature to her.

Cold breeze flaps against her dress as she steps out of Azula’s car. The setting sun illuminates the beauty before her eyes. An enormous lake, surrounded by lush, green trees and a winding pathway around it, filled with warm glow from some old-fashioned lamps studded all along, makes Katara reel.

Azula walks around the car and smiles. Katara’s pretty sure people will go to war with her if she ever tells them that Azula’s 32 years old. She looks not a day older than 22. She’s matured, sure, but she still has this young glow over her. The orange sun hits the diva’s eyes and it glimmers with rare elegance. And that’s when Katara knows that the diva’s career choice fits her perfectly.

A faint murmur of people already present at the lake reaches Katara’s ears. It’s a welcome distraction from the crowded party hall and the ever increasing vision of Azula’s lips in front of her. She clears her throat and hugs her arms, averting her gaze to the glassy mass of water.

Katara becomes suddenly aware of a slight problem though.

“Is it safe for you to be out in public like this?” She questions, worry creasing her forehead.

Azula shrugs, locking her car and starting to walk. “As long as they don’t recognise me, we’re good.”

Katara follows right behind. “Are you sure? You don’t even have your bodyguards around-”

“I’m not that big of an actress, STEM. We’re good. But it’s cute to see you worry about me.”

“I’m not-” Katara’s taken aback, not by the bluntness of Azula’s statement, but by how right she is. And even after all these years, she still calls her STEM. Katara doesn’t know what to make of it.

Azula laughs softly. “Yeah, yeah.”

They walk a short distance to step into the path running along the circumference of the lake. It’s silent between them, unsaid words and tensions taut on Katara’s shoulders, waiting to fall off any moment.

It’s Azula who speaks first. “You got into medical school?”

The question startles Katara. She glances to her side briefly before nodding. “It was tough. But, yes.”

“Tough how?”

The genuine curiosity hanging heavily in Azula’s tone makes Katara frown in confusion.

“You really wanna hear about all the tests and preparations I went through to get into medical school?”

“If it gets you talking, then yes.”

The frown gets deeper on Katara’s face. She abruptly stops walking, not really sure whether to keep going, or run like crazy cuz, Azula’s being somewhat cordial towards her and it’s genuinely making her question her whole existence, getting scared for her life as this is turning out to be every horror movie’s beginning.

“Sei’naka, what’s going on?” She questions.

Azula looks back from where she’d walked forward without noticing that Katara’s left behind. She stops too, fully turning around to stand before Katara. “What?”

“This-” Katara begins, not really sure how to articulate what she’s feeling.

Azula steps closer to her. “What?”

Katara looks up at her for a moment, before gesturing wildly with her hands. “I don’t know! This whole thing! Why are we here?! Why are you being nice to me?! Why are you asking about my life as if you’re my fucking friend?! What’s going on?!” Her voice becomes a little softer. “I feel like I’m going crazy.”

A sudden chilly breeze picks up from the lake and drifts to their lithe bodies. Katara hugs her arms instinctively, shuddering.

Katara notices the way Azula’s eyes run over her body, before immediately removing her overcoat and wrapping it around Katara’s shoulders in one smooth motion. The blue-eyed woman is instantly hit with warmth and Azula’s intoxicating scent, without warning. It makes her head go dizzy, her body tingling and buzzing. Azula grabs the collars of the coat and pulls it close in front of Katara’s chest, wrapping her up like a giant burrito. Katara’s stunned into silence, and she’s not really sure why. Maybe it’s the sudden proximity.

“I’m not the same person I was years ago, Katara.” The diva’s saying and Katara can’t hear it over the loud cacophony of feelings rushing over her. “That little idea you have of me in your head? Throw it out.”

Azula motions with her eyes to continue walking, and Katara can’t help but obey.

She pulls the collars closer together around her body, basking in the warmth that it provides. She involuntarily begins to breathe deeper, not really realising that she’s doing it for the sweet scent.

They walk for a little while in silence.

Katara can’t help but notice the pretty glow of the lamps as they pass each one. It fills her with an uncharacteristic feeling. One that makes her want to cherish this moment forever in the fear of it disappearing suddenly.

Azula leads them both to an empty bench at the edge of the lake. The chirping of birds coming home has died down a little, giving rise to owl hoots and cricket trills. The sun’s set completely, and the light of the lamps bounce off of the peaceful lake. They sit, basking in serenity.

Katara’s the first to break the silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Azula silences her. “I understand why you’d think that way. In fact, I’m the one who should be making an apology. I’ve been a complete asshole to all of you. I know my age doesn’t really excuse my behaviour, but I truly am sorry for all the things that happened during our childhood.”

Katara can do nothing but blink, hanging her jaw to the floor.

This is like some kind of fabrication her brain’s desperately making up, trying to paint Azula as a better, decent human being. But, no! The coat is still warm around her and she can still smell that damn intoxicating smell. Surely, you can’t feel and smell stuff in dreams, right?

“I- I don’t know what to say-”

“You don’t have to accept my apology right away, STEM.” Azula’s perfectly manicured fingers raise up. “I know it’ll be hard for you to do that.”

Is it hard, though? Katara can’t help but wonder. All her life, she’s been living in this mental image of Azula Sei’naka being top of the food chain, preying on everybody else. But to think that her image’s been wrong for over a decade, stuns Katara.

“Okay. But I need some time.” Katara hesitates. “It’s not like we’re going to meet again after tonight.”

Even in this dimly lit setting, Katara can still see Azula’s face fall. “Right.”

Silence falls between them again, and the blue-eyed woman is determined not to elongate it any further. “Getting my application accepted was hard. But they eventually did and I was the happiest girl on the planet.”

Azula perks up. “Medical school?”

Katara smiles. “Yeah.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well-”

“OH MY GOD IT’S AZULA SEI’NAKA!!” A woman’s screech echoes through the open lake and both Azula and Katara jump out of their skins.

Wide blue eyes meet annoyed golden-brown and panic sets in.

“I swear, they have like a seventh sense or something.” Azula grumbles before taking Katara’s hand in hers. “Quick, before a crowd settles here.”

They get up in a flash, rushing towards the direction of Azula’s car. Katara’s pretty sure she’ll never get over the feel of her hand in Azula’s.

***

The first thing that Katara notices is the delicious warmth. And only after that does she lay her eyes on the expensive furniture laid out in Azula’s mansion as she steps in through the door. It’s huge. Katara’s entire house can fit into Azula’s living room. And yet, she doesn’t feel intimidated. They had been laughing when they arrived and the mirth dies down on Katara’s face and a look of complete awe replaces it.

“Wow.” She breathes.

“I know, right?” Azula smiles behind her.

Blue eyes scan the entire space. “Beautiful.”

Golden eyes never leave Katara. “Yes.”

Katara turns around in a flash. “You could at least try and be humble.”

Azula just chuckles.

The over coat’s still around Katara’s shoulders.

“Drink?”

“Just water.” Katara replies, making herself comfortable on the huge couch. The whole house seems abandoned. For such a star, this seems to be such a lonely life to lead.

A few seconds later Azula hands her a glass. She takes a big gulp, before setting it down on the table set low in front of her.

“Remember that one guy who always had to skateboard everywhere, even into the classrooms?” The diva asks, sitting down beside Katara.

Katara almost chokes on her water, remembering it. She swallows hurriedly before speaking. “One time, he literally ran over my foot and didn’t even apologise!”

“The nerve!”

“Oh, please! As if you wouldn’t have done the same.”

Azula pretends to think for a while before nodding. “You know what? I would have.”

Both of them share a giggle.

Silence falls between them again, making them sober up from their laughter.

“Hey.” Katara says after a while.

“Hm?”

“You mentioned earlier about a rough time you went through . . .”

Azula’s gaze falls on her. “Yeah . . .”

Katara pauses for a moment. “I mean . . . If you’re not comfortable talking about it-”

“No, no. It’s fine.” Azula sighs. “I went through this whole psychotic phase triggered by my mother leaving and my father being a bitch about it . . .” She notices Katara’s expectant glance and continues. “Long story short, I got over it by contacting Mai and Ty Lee again. I don’t why I contacted them of all people, but maybe it was the child in me reaching out to the happy days with them again or something. And . . . here I am.”

Katara’s eyebrows knit together. “Wow . . . I . . .”

Azula lets out a dry chuckle. “My brother and I coped in different ways. But we coped, and that’s what’s important.”

Katara nods.

She moves closer to Azula on the couch, with the intent of comforting her. She reaches out a hesitant arm, not really sure if she’s allowed to do it. The diva’s waiting, looking at Katara’s hand with a strange expression that she can’t decipher.

When a few seconds pass with Katara not progressing even a bit, Azula chuckles again, shaking her head. “You’re bad at this.”

The blue-eyed woman huffs out a breath and her arm falls limply on the couch. “You need not add fuel to the fire.”

“Comforting people isn’t my strong suit either. But I learned from the best. Here, let me demonstrate.”

Katara’s heart stops when pure warmth moves from one side of the couch to sit right next to her in one fell swoop. She watches on with bated breath and deer like eyes. The diva’s arms open up wide, inviting her. Katara stares at her open arms for a long moment. “W- What am I looking at?”

Azula rolls her eyes. “You’re supposed to hug, silly.”

“Oh.” She leans forward, not really opening her arms for a hug, but purely intent on just, going with the flow. She’s hesitant at first but then, when she sees that Azula means no harm, she allows herself to fall completely.

Azula’s arms instantly wrap around her, like a second over coat. It’s crazy how Katara can feel her heat even over the enormous coat. It’s like she doesn’t even need it anymore. She’s tense for a bit, but relaxes rapidly as she understands how comfortable this is.

“See?” She hears Azula’s voice vibrating near her ear. A hand wraps around her waist and pulls her forward to make her lean on the sturdy chest, more comfortably, and Katara just short-circuits. “This is comforting.”

“I’m pretty sure this is called cuddling.” Katara mumbles out from underneath layers of clothing and warmth, half buried and half trying to hide the faint red of her cheeks.

The laugh that ensues, emerges from deep within the diva. Like an earthquake waiting to spill. “Well, in that case-” She says, before removing her arms from Katara’s lithe body and moving back.

Katara whines almost immediately. She wasn’t even aware that she did it until she hears Azula’s confused, “What?” above her.

“Don’t!”

“Don’t what? I thought you didn’t want to-”

“I never said that!”

Azula pauses for a moment. “Okay, then . . .”

Katara feels the warmth of Azula’s hands returning back to her and she instantly feels at ease.

It’s crazy, really. If you’d gone back in time and told a teenage Katara that she’d be cuddling with THE Azula Sei’naka, she would’ve probably slapped you across the face. But things are different now. Things are blurry and grey and somehow also ruminant and luminous. Almost like Azula’s singlehandedly slurring a clear pond.

“Remember that one time you wore heels to class?” Azula murmurs against her hair.

Katara nods, or at least tries to. “I would’ve tripped and ate dirt if you didn’t . . .” She lifts her head up slightly, looking into soft golden-brown orbs, “If you didn’t catch me.”

She doesn’t know what comes over her. Maybe it’s the alcohol still in her system. Maybe it’s the quiet of the night. Maybe it’s the rush of feelings at the old memory. Maybe it’s their proximity. Maybe, just maybe it’s the look Azula’s giving her. She isn’t quite sure. But the next thing Katara knows, she’s reaching her head up closer to Azula and capturing the actress’ lips in a soft, hesitant kiss.

It only lasts a second, before Katara pulls back, reeling at the feeling. A slight sense of panic settles in her heart, her mind racing to the possible things that could go wrong, and if this was a bad idea. But the smile that paints Azula’s face slowly, pulls her back to reality. It’s a huge risk, Katara knows that. And yet it’s something she’s willing to take.

“Remember when we did that?” Katara asks softly, searching golden orbs for something that she herself isn’t sure of.

Azula exhales in a rush. “Maybe if you do it again, it’ll come back to me.”

Katara lands a slap on Azula’s chest in mock anger. “Asshole.”

The giggle that erupts from the diva’s chest instructs Katara to feel it more. She moves impossibly closer to Azula, eyes staying locked on her, heart thundering away inside her bruising chest. She feels like a teenager again, head giddy and giggly.

“Remember when I did this?” Azula gushes, immediately before dipping her head down and placing an open-mouthed kiss on Katara’s soft neck.

“Azula!” Katara gasps, her eyes shutting close involuntarily.

And Azula’s hot breath is against her ear. “I love how you say my name.”

Katara shudders. She’s rarely called Azula by her name before. She simply did not see the need to do it, as people often knew whom she’s referring to without even the mention of her name. This is probably the second time this has happened. The first time, well, Katara would blush beet-red just thinking about it.

Azula’s skin is unfathomably soft. Her gentle hands scout Katara’s tan skin, before pulling her own coat away from the healer’s delicate shoulders. Katara shivers at the sudden hit of cold air, but then, Azula’s mouth is upon her shoulders, enveloping her in pure heat.

“Azula . . .” She’s whispering. Maybe she’s whining, she doesn’t really know. But it’s all she can say right now.

When Azula looks back up, Katara knows exactly what’s supposed to happen now. And she does just that. Their lips crash in sync for a bruising kiss, hands desperately trying to pull each other as close as possible. It’s aching and urgent now, kinda like how it was all those years back in their school’s supply closet.

It’s insane how the same kind of energy is buried within them even after all these years.

They get up in a hurry, making their way to Azula’s master bedroom, stumbling and crashing into random stuff along the way. When they finally make it, it only takes Azula a fraction of a second to push Katara to her back on the bed.

When the clothes come off, Katara feels Azula’s eyes on her, drinking in the luscious sight, hungrily raking her gaze everywhere, unashamedly.

“I can’t believe you’re here, in front of me right now.” The actress is saying, climbing on to the bed, to sit right in between Katara’s legs. She loops her arm around Katara’s waist and lifts her up, pulling her close. The motion causes the healer to land right on Azula’s lap, her leg wrapping around the actress’ sides.

The noise that escapes Katara is sent straight from hell.

The only coherent word out of the healer’s throat is, “Azula . . .” and everything after that, becomes a pure, warm, fuzzy, mesh of feelings and desires that she didn’t even know needed satiation.

***

Katara’s fingers trace soft lines over Azula’s bare chest. Their bodies are entangled in a way that has Katara unable to differentiate between her limbs and Azula’s. It’s quiet and serene, with only their breaths for company.

“Azula . . . ?”

“Hm?” The actress is barely awake, exhaustion from their long list of satisfying activities creeping into her system.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Do what?”

Katara hesitates. She looks up lazily at golden-brown orbs that are half closed. “No one’s ever . . .” she pauses, “done that.”

Azula’s eyes fly open when her brain registers what Katara’s talking about. “No one’s ever gone down on you?!”

The healer flinches a bit, guilt rushing over her system. She shakes her head, ashamed.

“Oh Agni!” Azula exclaims softly, noticing Katara’s reaction. She sits up a little, properly looking at the healer. “Why are you sorry for it?!”

Katara averts her eyes to Azula’s chest, unable to look at her anymore. “Well, you know . . .” she shrugs, “I’m inexperienced, and . . . it’s not something I’ve ever explicitly asked for or anything-”

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“It’s fine, Azula. I don’t deserve it any-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Azula’s voice is stern and firm. “Oh, you beautiful piece of shit . . . do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

Katara blinks. “What?”

Azula huffs. “Do you know how many days and nights I’ve spent thinking about doing that to you but was unable to?”

“Azula, what are you-”

“And here you are telling me that you don’t deserve it?! Hello?! What in the whole world-?!”

“Please, calm down.”

“No, STEM, you need to understand. It’s a crime that no one’s ever gone down on you!”

“Well, most of the people I’ve been with told me that-”

“Most of the people you’ve been with are jerks. You have no idea of how wonderful you are!”

Katara blinks at Azula’s outburst, wide-eyed and astonished.

“You deserve everything good and to think that they were stupid enough to make you think that you aren’t good enough for it just-”

She gets cut off with Katara’s mouth planting itself heavily on hers in a searing kiss. Azula’s stunned.

When Katara pulls apart, she has this seductive look on her face that makes Azula’s insides go bananas.

“Prove it then. You don’t have to keep thinking about me anymore. I’m right here. So, prove to me that I’m good enough.” Katara’s breathing against Azula’s face and that’s enough for Azula to roll on top of her, intent on securing round 2.

***

okayyyyy this has been sitting and steaming for a LONG time now and i didn't wanna keep you waiting anon, i'm so sorry.

hope you enjoyed this!!

[professorllayton]

love when I post literally anything to do w trc and all my mutuals come flooding back in like yaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyy u guys r still here haven't seen u in a while <3333

[thedndgoblinwholivesinyourwalls]

guys. i’m already sad today and i have to listen to the dndads finale at home with no wifi and nobody to scream about it with uhmmmm

[sturdydate]

she scared him so bad

[amourlly]

" i … i don't know what you expect me to do . i'm engaged . i have a fiancé now . i can't just leave her . "

[ashvalentine16]

Am I the only one, or has anyone else also thought of how they'd look for a high-school reunion based off outfits from their favorite anime or jrpg characters' party outfits or fan art?

[allergic-to-semen]

literally no one looks the same as they did in high school. Please stop comparing your current body to your high school body.

[mimi-ya]

I’M GOING TO AN ANIME RAVE!!!

it’s in September and i’m so excited! but now i need to think of some sort of rave friendly cosplay?? (all ideas welcome! 😅)

[caracello]

doyiu have any idea how hard it is to have this guy make up a formative amount of your mid-to-late teenage years.

[iliveinprocrasti-nationn]

i was talking to my mum and i was like “yea i’m really struggling to connect to my peers and even some of my friends” and she was like “well you have kinda been through the wringer and had to mature super fast in a way that you can’t relate to them about” and. yeah.