#public schools are CLOSING bc of the extreme heat

[binniesthighs]

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin

it’s the last day that you might ever see him again, so, to hell with it, right? (image from straykidsfilm on twt!) 

please read the CWs bc this fic talks about body image!! this is something close to me as well, and I wanted to share some cute innie love!! <3 

hey you reading this! you’re gorgeous ;) 

don’t you forget about me | reader x jeongin 

Pairing: self insert, female reader x yang jeongin 

Genre:  fluff n’ smut 

Tags: high school crush au (everyone depicted in this fic is at least 18), virgin!reader, virgin!jeongin, plussize!reader (i think this is the right tag, if not plz correct me!) first time au, cuties in love, softdom!jeongin, (hehe ya know I love me a soft dom), sub!reader, unprotected sex (stay safe cuties!) semi-public sex, nipple play (f), fingering (f), cumshot, somewhat of a quickie, dirty talking, lil bit of a corruption kink, cute fluffy undertones!

CWs: brief mention of a fistfight and blood/wounds, insecurity over weight and descriptive narrative about body weight/appearance and negative self image 

Word count: 7.1k 

Word had spread that someone had gotten into a fight on the last day of school.  Supposedly, it had occurred during the second to last hour of the day, and it was a group of three to four boys. The rest of the details had been unclear, but you had heard mutterings about their names, or how each of them had walked into the principal’s office with bloodied knuckles, fat lips, and purple bruises to their cheekbones. You had heard that one of them had laughed in the face of the principal, claiming that they simply had it coming. 

“I heard that they were from class A-4. Or was it A-3?” 

Your friend leaned over with her skirt ruffling on her plastic chair. 

“Who could be so stupid?” She strung her bubble-gum around her finger with cracked nail-polish. “Are they looking to graduate, or what?” 

“I don’t know...” 

In your lap, you hands grew clammy with sweat. It was against your will, but you couldn’t but help thinking...

Yang Jeongin was in class A-4. 

Your chest tightened thinking about if it had been him that had gotten in the fight. 

It was no secret that you had harbored a crush on the boyishly handsome student from the other class of your same year. You had read or seen somewhere that the reason that they called crushes “crushes” was because they did just that--they crushed you to the full extent of the word. Whoever had said that, you had learned that they were 100% right. Having a crush on Yang Jeongin had been the most painful experience of your life. Since middle school, it had been something that you had scribbled in your diary, and the reason why you would hold your breath when he walked by with his friends, or when you’d see him on the same bus as you. 

You can’t exactly recall when it started, it just kind of did. 

There was nothing extremely notable about him: he wasn’t his class president, he wasn’t the ace of a sports team, nor did he even have friends who really were notable either. No matter how much you pondered it, you couldn’t figure out what it was about him. 

Yang Jeongin was known for having a kind smile and a jovial laugh, so you just decided that it must’ve been one of these things. This semester he had ashy-grey brown hair, and your best friend still hadn’t heard the end of it from you. Over time, you had learned that he liked banana milk with his lunch and kept a fox enamel pin on his backpack. He had worn the same beat up sneakers for all of high school and wore this same grey hoodie on most days when it would get cold. 

A couple times you had imagined what it would’ve been like if he had let you borrow it on the days when it would mist on spring mornings, or when snow would fall early in November. There had even been times when you imagined him holding your hand, walking down the hall, wrapping his arm around your shoulder to hold you close...among other things. Somehow, you liked to think that he would be the kind of person who would love you more than you could love yourself. Granted, you never could know for sure. Being optimistic made up half of your fantasies. 

“Just confess already.” 

Your best friend had said half a million times over the course of the years. 

The more you had contemplated it, the less sense that it made. A confession would’ve been a whole lot easier if he had known who you were. 

“There's no way.” You had said morosely. “As if he would say yes to me.” 

“Can’t know unless you try.” Your friend smiled, sucking at her lollipop on the walk home. “Don’t pretend like you’ve never written him a confession letter before...” Her backpack hopped up and down with her arms outstretched animatedly in that alley decorated with vines. “...Where do you keep them? In your desk? Under your bed? In your sock drawer?” 

“Oh shut up!!” You nudged her, sending her spiraling out with laughter. 

“If it’s the last day of school, you’ve got nothing to loose! You’ll never see him again! If he says no, no big deal!” 

The clock ticked on the wall to your classroom, the seconds hand moving silently faster and faster the more that you looked at it. Under your desk, your fingertips pricked the edges of the pink envelope. You had written your the name as nicely as you could with flowery cursive with tiny flowers. On the back, you had sealed it with a sticker: an orange fox. 

Your throat grew dry seeing only six minutes before the bell would ring, and then the metal legs of chairs would scrape on the floor, the hallway would flood with students, and you would make your way to his locker and pray that he would stop by there. In many ways, just thinking about it was enough to make your stomach do somersaults and for your hands to wet even more embarrassingly with sweat. Your knees felt limp, and you wondered if you even had it in you. 

Even worse, a deeper fear crept in the back of your mind--it was much more venomous and horrifying, but you couldn’t keep it down. You feared that he would laugh in your face, throw the letter down, and throw his head back at you and how ridiculous your moment of confidence had been. 

How could be like someone like me? 

Perhaps your biggest fear of all, even greater than the rejection, was him admitting that he could never like someone like you. 

Your skirt was tighter on you than most, at least, tighter than it was on the other girls. When you would shop at the school uniform store, you could never escape the glares from the ladies when you and your mother asked for the larger sizes that they had. Your soft cheeks were plush and squishy, and your belly striped with stretch marks that you had stopped looking at in the mirror. Because it was more comfortable, you wore leggings under you skirt, even in the warmer months, even if it made you sweat. Oversized sweaters would swim over your frame, for the very reason that you could swim in them. 

As optimistic as you could be, there had been some nights worse than the others where tears would wet your eyes before sleep, no matter how many affirmations and positive sticky notes you had pasted to the back of your bedroom door. 

How could I like someone like you? 

It would be so easy for him to say it. Words flicked off the tongue hastily are the ones that often hurt the most. You just hoped and hoped that he had been everything that you had made him to be...as unrealistic as it was. 

The bell chimed, and you felt your heart leap into your throat when the room erupted into cheers and papers and desks went flying and screeching around the floor. 

“Are you ready?” Your friend winked, and the corners of the letter pricked your fingers. 

~💌~

With some stroke of luck, he was exactly where you had wanted him to be. Even then, some small part of you had secretly had hoped that he hadn’t just so you could walk away. You would’ve walked away from him, that school, everyone who had known you and just let it be. However, fate had been much kinder to you...damned fate. 

Your heart quickened upon seeing him. He was wearing that same grey hoodie with the drawstrings that he would tie into bows sometimes, and that same enamel pin shone silver on his backpack. You realized that it even looked almost exactly like the sticker you had used. His navy uniform slacks were dusted with dirt however, and one of the knees had a bit of a tear to it. In your horror, you then saw the scrapes on his face: one right under his eye, on his left cheek, and a thin red line on his bottom lip where it had cracked open. Before you could think of anything else, seeing how much it must’ve hurt him made your heart twist.

From your backpack, you drew out the rest of the stuff that you had prepared, and tried your best not to collapse from the way that your knees trembled. 

“H-hi...” You announced, head down, and mouth deathly dry. 

Yang Jeongin whipped his head over to see you, slightly startled. Up this close you could see his adorable brown eyes that even looked at if they glistened with stars in them. 

“...Hi?” He returned, closing his locker, and wetting his lips. 

Your heartbeat rang in your ears, and you quickly presented him with the letter, the carton of banana milk with the heart sticker on top, and the tiny case of animal shaped cookies. 

With eyes glued to the floor and his beat up gym shoes, you said the words as fast as humanly possible, “I-know-that-you-don’t-know-who-I-am-but-I’ve-really-liked-you-for-such-a-long-time-now-and-seeing-as-its-the-last-day-of-school-I-wanted-to-tell-you-so-please-accept-this!!” 

You waited for what felt like hours, then he took the items from your hands with a tentative touch. “Um...thank you...for this.” 

This was it. It was happening. You had already known that it wouldn’t get much better, and the way that he looked petrified only made you feel even more heat rush to your cheeks. Even then, now that the words had escaped your lips for the whole universe to hear, it felt good in some small, relieving way.  

“Y-you don’t have to say anything back. Please don’t...don’t feel obligated to, I just...” Your voice trailed, and your eyes wandered to the exit door behind him, and the green of the summery trees. 

I should just leave. It would be better if I left. If I walk away, this is all over...

The hem of your skirt tickled your nervous fingers, and you had nearly made up your mind. You wished at least that he would say something rather than just staring. 

“I-I can just...leave, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry...how could I think that...nevermind.” 

It took everything that you had, but you blinked the tears that stung the corners of your eyes and you hiked your backpack straps up a little higher. 

You motioned to the things in his hands, “I hope that you enjoy those things and...good luck at university.” 

You flashed a feeble smile for him, right back to his astonished face. Just outside of the exit, there was the rest of the world in front of you, and you also took peace in the fact that it really was a really nice day then. 

“W-wait!!” He suddenly said with a slight crack to his voice, turning after you to grab at your wrist too. As soon as he did, his eyes widened, the the gruff voices of a group of boys echoed down the hall. 

“Where is that shithead?? This isn’t over.” The tall boy from class A-4 balled up his hand into a fist, and smacked it into his palm. The tall boy and about three of his friends also had red knuckles and scratches on their faces, each to a varying level of degree. 

“Shit.” Jeongin bit his lip, and his grip on your wrist tightened. “Uh-can you come with me?? This way?? Fuck--” He nodded toward the opposite hallway, and your head spun thinking why he would want you to come with him. 

“What?? Why??” 

“Just--” He watched the boys coming frantically and hid behind his locker door. “They’ll beat the shit out of me again. Just....come on!” 

A nervous thrill sent a shiver down your spine feeling his hand and the warmth there while he guided you, pushing and parting the sea of bodies chatting and hugging each other goodbye. 

“Where are we going?” You called to him, and the little carton of banana milk swayed in his opposite hand. 

“I don’t know. Anywhere.” 

You followed him further and further, through the hallways that had emptied of students or any semblance of them. Shades had been pulled in most of the empty rooms, and the chairs had been placed on top of the tabletops of desks. Both of your shoes squeaked under the flooring when you turned corners, and the sound of his nervous panting became louder and louder. Where he held you, the sleeve of his sweater bushed up against you, and it was even softer than you had imagined. 

Jeongin pulled at several doorknobs, finding them to be locked, head turning to see if the group of boys had followed. At last, he found one that did unlock, and he threw it open on its hinges as quickly as he could. It was one of the storage closets for the theater department, and it was dustily coated on all surfaces and even moldy smelling, with not a window to be found. Jeongin flicked on the light, revealing the stacks of props and furniture that you vaguely remembered seeing in performances in the past. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard.” Jeongin finally said. 

“It...it’s okay.” 

“If I got caught with them again I might as well kiss college goodbye...” He raked an anxious hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to fight with them before...” 

“Are...you okay?” You softened your tone, seeing the way that the pink marks on his face must’ve been made against the hard cement of the floor outside. 

“I-I’m fine. Thank you.” 

His eyes really did look like they glistened. 

“It...it’s really funny actually...” He shoved his hand into his pocket, fumbling with the contents with a shaking hand, then took out a crumbled piece of notebook paper that had been torn. “Take it.” He prompted with wide eyes. 

“Me??” 

“Who else?” He laughed lightly. 

The note had been written in black ink, and it smudged and bled to the other side of the paper, and the scribbled handwriting looked rushed as if it was an afterthought or some kind of crazed ramble. You unfolded it all the way, starting at the first sentence. 

dear y/n from A-2, 

you probably don’t know my name, but I’m yang jeonjin jeongin from class A-4, i wanted to write this to tell you that I think that youve you’re really  pretty, beautiful and that i’ve been kind of watching you for about a year now, i’m sorry if that’s creepy but, yeah, i just think that you’re really cool and i like it when you smile. i’m sorry that i didn’t say anythimg aything anything about this sooner, i was kind of shy about it to be honest, i didn’t want you to thank think that I was being disrespectful or anything like that, but seeing that its the last day of shcool school and I don’t have a ton to lose loose lose i thought that it was worth a shot. if this doesn’t go the way id i’d like it to, please don’t stop smilng smiling ♥

-yji 

By now, the boy from A-4 was swaying his body back and forth almost violently as he waited for you to read the letter and fiddled with his arms crossed. His teeth tugged at his lip, and he anxiously awaited for you to say something. Little did he know that reading his words you were so shocked that you were certain that you had forgotten how to breathe for a couple moments. 

“M-me? You mean this...for me?” 

“Yeah?” He advanced to take the letter back, “I’m really sorry if it’s creepy, I know that you don’t know me at all and we’ve never spoken, this must be really startling but...I wasn’t expecting for you to write me one too.” 

The adorable boy blushed and rubbed the back of his neck with a tiny growing smile. 

“S-sorry that I was so quiet earlier, I was just really surprised.” Jeongin flipped your letter over too, then gasped a little seeing the fox on the back. “Oh.” 

On the other side of the door, the loud and clambering footsteps of that group of idiotic boys clomped and they grunted among themselves asking where Jeongin had went. The two of you held your breath, and soon the voices receded. Once they passed, you threw your backpack around to scramble around the front pocket, pulling out a Band-Aid that must’ve been there for at least a year, but it still worked the same. 

“Here...do you need it?” 

“Oh! Um-no, but, thank you.” 

A silence filled the dusty room, and Jeongin awkwardly moved to sit on one of the old prop couches. He patted the spot next to him, beckoning you to do the same. 

“The timing...kinda sucks.” 

You laughed slightly, “That’s sort of my fault.” 

“--My fault too.” He quickly added. “I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to know you sooner. Maybe we could’ve...” Jeongin dug his fingers into the velvety upholstery. 

Slowly, your sinking insecurities started to creep like vines with thorns, and the words spilled out of your mouth before you had something to do with it. 

Maybe he’s just being nice? Are you really certain that letter was meant for you? 

“I guess that I’m just really surprised that you of all people could end up liking someone like me. Someone...that looks like me.”

The young boy cocked his head with his eyebrows confusedly crossed. “I don’t see what you mean?” 

“‘Cause I’m like...” You motioned to your thighs, a bit chubbier, your larger breasts, and your skirt riding up your legs too. “...like this?” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with you?” 

“Psh...”nothing wrong with me”...” You laughed with sarcasm at the comment. “Have you seen the other girls in the school? Some of them are frickin’ idols for crying out loud...” 

Jeongin’s eyes widened, and he scooched in a bit closer, but slowly; carefully. “What I’m trying to say is...that there’s no one else like you! And--” 

“--That’s exactly it. I’m not like everyone else...” 

Jeongin blabbered, and his hand found yours resting on your lap. “I-I’m not s-saying that’s a bad thing! I’m saying that the reason why you stood out to me was because I think...” He shied, cheeks becoming even rosier. “...Because you just seemed so happy all the time, like, you didn’t care what others did or thought of you, I could tell, even from kind of far away, that you were someone who’s real not some kind of made-up thing that you put on every morning for the rest of the world to see you as. Also...” He giggled, “I just thought that you were really cute too.”

His thumb brushed up against the back of your hand, and you couldn’t help but smile at the small feeling. 

“I mean...I do think about what people think of me, I think about it all the time...” 

“I do too.” He said quietly. “Why else did I let it get so far that I let four guys gang up on me outside school?” 

You didn’t press him for more, but merely let your opposite hand rest of top of his as you watched his expression fall. When he was in school, you had only ever seen him smile, but now seeing him like this, it was a whole other side. He looked up at you with his pleading eyes, and they were utterly gorgeous. 

“My mom...my mom doesn’t make a ton of money. She barely makes enough to send to me school here, or buy me stuff like new clothes or uniforms each year. I almost never see her because she has to work so hard for me and my brothers...those...assholes had something to say about it and I kind of...snapped. No one can say shit about my mom when they don’t know how hard that she works for us.” 

Your eyes fell to his scuffed and worn sneakers, and it all made sense. 

“Then they found the letter...I didn’t want them to ruin the last good thing that I had going for me.” 

In that moment, the whole world became silenced. You were the last good thing going for him and you had never even known. 

Then, he smiled, broken as it was, bit it was still embodied his gentle warmth that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“But! It turned out okay I think.” Jeongin said with a sigh. He glanced down at your interlocking hands on your lap and chuckled a little bit. “Kinda cool that this worked out though. Maybe we could spend the summer getting to know each other?” 

This time, you let one of your happy tears drip down your cheek, and nodded gleefully. “Okay. I’d like that.” 

Jeongin smiled, just as you had seen him do it a hundred times, but this time you knew that it was all for you. 

“Can I...can I kiss you? If that’s okay? I-I’m sorry if this is really forward...I just...really want to.” He asked gently, then wiped away your tears with the pad of his thumb. 

You nodded, feeling  your whole body shake just a little with your nervousness and anticipation. The world appeared to melt away once he had leaned in to press his lips on yours as softly and as carefully as he could. In that moment, you had forgotten where you were, what time it was or the rest of the beautiful summer day outside the doors of that school. Here, it was just you and him. Embarrassing as it was, this had been your first kiss too. Your mind raced with a million thoughts, asking yourself if you had been doing it right, but once you felt him smile lightly into you, your chest shivered with a sense of relief. 

You had never expected kissing to feel like this, and it was a bit strange feeling something so close and intimate right on your own skin. At the same time, it felt like nothing else in the entire world had, and you only wanted more and more of it. He was cautious and respectful in the way that he had tilted his head, and loving how he had cupped your face with his hands cracked and bruised. You didn’t know where to put your hands at first, but settled one hand on his thigh, and the other on his shoulder where you tugged at his white button up stained with dirt. 

He too shook with a sigh, readjusting himself, then ran one of his hands down your arm to hold your hand were it rested on him. He tangled your fingers together, and made a tiny little gasp feeling you connect with him. In seconds, he allowed himself to grow rougher, running his lips over yours with a type of fervency that teased at your bottom lip where you felt the warmth of his tongue. It took no more consideration, and you gave him the permission to meet the heat of his tongue with yours between parted lips now becoming a bit swollen. 

Jeongin broke your connection for moments, and a different kind of haze took over his eyes. The way that he looked over your quivering lips sent shivers through your whole body, and he dragged his thumb over the tiny streak of saliva that shone on your lip. 

“Is it okay if I touch you? In other places?” His eyes fell, and you giggled at the way that a kind of lust-filled hunger seemed to overtake him. For years you had fantasized about him ravishing you like this, and giving love to every inch of your body no matter how hard it had been for you to do that same to yourself. Still, as hesitant as you were, you feared that he would get a taste of all of you, and still change his mind. 

“Really?” You stammered, instinctually crossing your arms around your chest. “You don’t think that I’m gro--”

“If you’re about to say “gross” don’t.” His expression became much more serious. “I-I’ll say it again a million more times if I need to: you, all that you are, is what I’ve been thinking of for so long, I’d love to touch you wherever you’ll let me.” 

This time, you didn’t know if the tears were happy or sad, but regardless, the fat drops still fell down your cheeks. 

“--And you can say no too. If you’re not comfortable, we can just keep doing what we were doing...there’s nothing wrong with that at all.” 

The dim yellow light in the room buzzed, and you had recalled all the many number of times that you had pictured the very scene about to occur. On lonely nights, you wished to have felt his hands all over you, and now, they really could be. 

“What do you say?” He asked, and squeezed your hand along with his. 

“Can we...go slow with it? I’ve never...no one has ever offered to--” 

“Of course we can.” He smiled adorably, which was a bit odd considering what he had just proposed. “But...I didn’t hear you say yes?” 

“Yes.” You quickly added with a nervous inhale, but held his gaze with your assurance. “I-I want you to.” 

The boy from the other class grinned, then took to carefully running his hands down your arms once more, and craning his neck to plant sweet little kisses into your neck: the stimulation from which made you whimper out of your own accord, and he giggled upon hearing it. 

“You like that?” He whispered greedily, then continued sucking a little harder. Jeongin shrugged down your sweater from the collar, and his wandering hands circled little rubs into your bare arms. 

Next, his fingers crept up slowly and cautiously at the bottom of your shirt, testing at first, but not pulling up the fabric all together. His cold fingertips buzzed on your skin in that drafty room, and he brought his lips back up to yours, also making tiny trailed gasps as he crept up all the way to your breasts. The moment that he touched them, both of you appeared to shiver on each other’s bodies, and your kisses grew even needier. At first he cupped over the padding of your bra, kneading and squeezing to play with the way that they jiggled slightly then pulling a bit harder, and relishing the way that they filled up his palms. 

“Does this feel good?” Jeongin asked on your lips and you nodded back immediately. 

The two of you leaned back on the aged couch, and the young man cradled your head to guide you into the cushion of the upholstery. He admired you for a few moments under him with one leg between your thighs and the other supporting himself and slipping a little on the cement floors. His thigh was just close enough to the heat of your arousal between your legs, and it ached and throbbed so badly, you were convinced you had never felt a feeling as intense as this. He leaned in closer, and pressed the muscle into your clit, and a muffled moan caught on your lip that surprised even him. 

“Can I touch you even closer?” He asked, and those ashy grey-brown strands of his dipped over his eyes. 

“Y-yes...please.” You found yourself begging, and he mischievously grinned at your desperation. 

Under the cotton of your shirt, his fingers slipped under the padding of your bra to toy with your breasts directly. He kissed even more tiny quaking breaths into your mouth, finally finding your hardened nipples and tweaking them with his thumb and index. He pulled lightly at them, making your buds even more sensitive. You cried out with a helpless “ah!” and he stopped, worry across his face as if he had hurt you. 

“F-feels really good. Don’t...don’t stop please...Jeongin...” 

Absentmindedly, your hips had started to grind against his leg, and he had taken notice of it too. Had you been a bit more attentive, you could’ve seen the way that his member had swelled in his navy slacks, and throbbed, begging for attention too. 

You could barely watch, but he hiked your shirt up, baring your cushy tummy for him to see only and you threw your embarrassed arms over your face. As long as you had kept the evil words at bay, they were much more seductive than any affirmation you could’ve repeated to yourself. 

“Oh-are you okay?” Do you want me to stop?” The young boy immediately stopped and removed his hands. “Did I do something wrong?” 

“N-no...it’s just...I’m really nervous be-because I’m--” 

He sighed, then pulled your shirt down once more. “I can stop doing that for now. But...I just want you to know...I think that everything about you is even more beautiful than you know and these...imperfections--which they’re not--is everything that drives me crazy. Please don’t think that I see you negatively at all. I promise that I want to make you feel good everywhere.” 

“Mm-okay.” You shook with a heavy sigh. “You aren’t...disappointed or anything?” 

Jeongin pressed a simple kiss onto your upper lip with a smile “Disappointed? Why?” 

“Because I don’t want--” 

“--No?? I’m not disappointed at all! You don’t owe me anything at all! Especially when you’re not comfortable with it.” 

“Hm, thank you.” 

He continued with a tiny grunt, lowering himself even closer to you, “Can I please kiss you some more?” 

You allowed him, with the warmth of your kisses' meeting in the middle. The heat in your pussy pooled even greater, and you grinded further, thirsting for him in ways that felt forbidden. For a brief moment, you felt the fear seeping back in, head racing with the dozens of thoughts that he might have if he were to see your stretch marks on your belly and on the top-parts of your thighs. The more that you found desire for him, the less that you were convinced that he wouldn’t desire you as much as you did him. 

“Do you want...I can touch down here too?” Jeongin hushed, breaking for a minute to hold your eyes earnestly. “Would that be okay?” 

He had noticed the way that you had pathetically rubbed into his leg, and this too sent your hands over your shy face. 

“M’ sorry...I can’t help...it feels good too...” 

“Don’t apologize! I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” Your crush smiled with his eyes smiling in the same way. “You can...probably tell.” 

“--But...what if you don’t like it?” 

He cocked his head, “Like what?” 

Your lip quivered and you found tears stinging your eyes once more. “Don’t like..m-me? What I look like?” 

“What!? Y/n...my head is like frickin’ spinning thinking about what you look under these clothes--can you please believe me?” 

“It...it’s hard to...” Fat tears came waterfalling down your cheeks, and once again the young boy fully stopped his advances. 

“The fact that I’m here with you, kissing you like this after daydreaming about it for so long...there’s nothing more that I want than to make you feel good right now. Trust me.” 

“A-are you sure?” 

“Y/n. I’m 100% sure. And you don’t--you don’t have to even take this off if you don’t want to...” He toyed with your skirt. “But these might get in the way.” He ran both of his hands up and down your thighs and leggings with flat palms, and you felt your whole body ache for more than just that. “Again, we don’t have to if you don’t want.” he gave you a reassuring smile, “We still have the whole summer--” 

“I do!! I...still do...” 

Your quick answer started the both you, but Jeongin still didn’t advance faster than what was comfortable to you. Instead, he carefully snaked his hands up and under your skirt, finding the elastic of the leggings then pulled. 

His eyes blew out, enamored, seeing your bare skin, and he wetted his lips too seeing the way that your underwear had glistened with your essence. It was against your will, but you had soaked through your panties which he had swiped over a couple times accidentally, and the action itself sent an aching quiver to your untouched bud. You watched his every move has he angled his hand to ghost over the wet fabric, making you squeak from the new sensation. After, he found the band to your panties, pulling them down too. 

“Wow.” He gasped, seeing the way that your bud twitched. 

Jeongin dipped his fingers into your wetted folds, teasing at first. 

“Woah.” He said with a little gasp. “You’re really...” 

You stifled a moan with your lip, feeling your cheeks grow even warmer as his digits slicked with your arousal. “I-I know...I’ve never like, done anything like this before.” 

The young boy’s thumb grazed over your clit, eliciting an immediate response, and your heels went digging into the cushion of the couch. 

“This is your first time?’ He asked gently, two fingers now filling up your entrance. 

The best you could, you tried to remain quiet, but the harder and deeper that he had advanced, the harder that it became. Your eyes wandered, right to the pressure he had created under his belt loops, and you wondered furiously what he would’ve felt like inside of you; if he could stretch you out, or what it would have felt to just be like that with another person. 

Jeongin admired the way that your face scrunched up with a prideful little smile, and loved every minute of the way that your mouth would form airy “oh’s.” 

“You like feeling my fingers inside of you? Fucking right into your wet pussy?” 

His gaze held a lusty glaze seeing the way that your eyes blew out upon hearing his dirty words, and it only seemed to make him throb even harder himself. 

“Y-yes...” You mewled, reaching out grabby hands to hold yourself steady on his shoulders, the other going to tug at his belt. 

“I-I wouldn’t mind if you...you know...” 

Jeongin rolled his body over yours, attaching his lips with yours once more just to let the words stick on your tongue. “You want me to fuck you?” 

“Only-only if you want to--” You could barely get the words out feeling your thighs to shake as he coaxed your nearer and nearer with his thumb rubbing circles over your enlarged button. 

“Of course I want to.” He assured you with even more kisses. “Are you sure?” 

You hooked a couple of your fingers to pull out his black leather belt from its confines, muttering a tiny “yes.” 

Jeongin carried out the rest of your job for you, going to quickly clink the metal of his belt away, tossing it to the cement floor haphazardly. From the boxers that he wore, there were a couple little wet stains, and the outline of his dick protruded thickly. Seeing it like this awakened something in you, something primal and feral that wanted nothing more to be connected to this boy and to have him spread you out until you could barely breathe. It was a horribly naughty thought, but as shameful as you felt, it was just as thrilling. 

The boy sprung free his erect member, pink and dripping with his pearly pre-cum, and pumped at it a couple times, eyes raking over your whole body in the way that you had only ever dreamed of. 

“This is actually...my first time too.” 

He had said the words coolly, almost like he didn’t care at all about them, but you had assumed he had done so to keep you from worry. 

“Oh fuck--” He muttered, taking his left hand to reach under your shirt once more and play with your breast roughly. “God, I can’t believe that this is happening.” 

You coyly hiked up your skirt a bit higher for him to get better access, but not all the way, just as far as you could feel comfortable. 

“I might’ve thought about this a couple times...” Jeongin said with a tiny smirk, then slowly dipped his hand back down to wet his fingers with your arousal, then coat it around his length. When he did so, he let out an unapologetic groan that wavered out of his mouth and filled up the room beautifully. 

“I’m gonna go slow, okay? I feel like I heard somewhere that it can kind of hurt for you the first time?” 

You nodded out quickly to let him know, finally becoming impatient enough to claw at his arms all wrapped up in that grey hoodie of his. 

He leaned down one final time, kissing you over before aligning himself with your pussy, kissing down your jaw, then to your neck where he buried his head as he lead himself into you. His arms shook where he held himself up, and the two of you shuddered at the feeling at last: that euphoric, tight, unreal feeling that you shared for the first time. 

You whimpered out, digging your nails into his back, and his breath hitched in his throat too. 

“I-its...s-so..tight.” Jeongin barely got the words out, but merely let himself throb around your velvet walls for a moment. “Y-you okay?” 

“Mmhm.” You said, barely able to get more words out than this. 

Truthfully, it did hurt just a little, but not as much as you had pictured it to be, but it was more like a pressure, and it only grew heavier as you got used to him. 

Jeongin started to thrust his hips slowly, even painfully so, but he maintained his pace dragging his hips over yours. He filled you up so fully it was unfathomable, and his length pressed up against your deepest spot, sending a kind of electricity through your whole body. 

He settled into a rhythm, finally getting comfortable enough to return back to your mouth to slick his tongue across yours, and cradle the side of your face in his hand. You let little whimpers fade into his mouth, as he did for you, and after long, he had decided to speed up just slightly to milk himself off with your tight walls. To your surprise, he reached his hand back down to your clit to rub at it erratically. His pattern made little sense, but compared to how he had been stimulating you deep inside too, you could barely hold on. 

Jeongin grunted, biting into your lip with a trace of teeth. “I-I want you to c-cum first--I can’t...I can’t--” 

Before you could even understand what he had said, the young boy snapped his hips harder, eyes closed and tiny bits of sweat forming on his brow. The pads of his fingers pushed harder, and you found yourself spinning even closer to an orgasm by his hand, the thought alone was enough to fulfil your deepest fantasies. 

“I want you to cum all over my dick for me, okay? Sh-shit...” 

“Jeong--” 

“God, you’re...fuck...” He laughed a little. “I really really like you y/n. I really...” 

It was as if the words had been stolen right from his mouth, and his voice had abandoned him, but all he could do was press harder, faster, glide his hips over you rougher...

“M’ gonna--” You gasped out with your whole core tightening into a knot that was just about ready to snap. The pressure behind your clit was intense and burning, and you became light-headed nearing the brink. 

All at once you came with a searing and inexplainable white heat--much more intense than you had ever felt before in your whole life, and every single muscle in your body quaked as you did so, and you threw your head back to that dusty cushion of the couch. Your eyes rolled back on their own accord, and the best that you could do to muffle your moans was throw your hand over your mouth--which was quickly removed by the young man to do the job himself. 

Your thighs violently shook and you felt yourself tighten around him. He too strung out explicatives as if they were the only words that he had known. You breathed out shallow gasps into his palm, and soon he tore himself out of your walls with incessant breaths, only having to jerk himself off for a few moments before his swollen tip burst with the white strings of his cum. He continued jerking himself as such until he had nothing more to give, and his own thighs shook where he had straddled you. You could feel his warmth on your thigh and the way that it dripped and slicked with the sweat of your leg. 

Jeongin’s entire face flushed with pink, and he stammered out realizing the mess that he had made all over you. 

“I-I’m so sorry...I-I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking...I just...” 

While it was a predicament, you mustered the best smile that you could for him, secretly and utterly loving the way that it felt on your bare skin.   

“I’ve got...I can figure something out--” 

“--Jeongin?” 

His attention snapped back to you in your afterglow, and you could practically see the boy melt right then and there. 

“--Don’t worry about it.” 

Just as he had been before, his smile creased into a shy and awkward little line, and he could barely hold your eyes. After the initial embarrassment, he couldn’t help himself but admire you.

“Hey Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve ever heard this before, but I really do think that you’re perfect. If not perfect for yourself, I hope that I can show you how you are to me. You’re perfect for me. You’ve always been.” 

“So have you.” You admitted to him in that cobwebbed room that held all kinds of forgotten trinkets and items. 

“And thank you for giving me your letter too.” Jeongin raised the back of your hand to his lips where he placed a chaste kiss, then helped you carefully back up as to not make a mess of your skirt with the white staining your leg. 

Your crush smiled, then let out a gleeful exhale, “I can’t wait for this summer.” 

~🌹~

Bunch of (Ro)ses!

@minaamhh @dazzlehoseok @synnocence @jjewibeans @hyunsluvv @unexceptional-h @bobawithchaitea @lechanters @sailorhyunjinz @silencefavarchive @eunaeiekim @lunarskzzz

[yrbutchgf]

hey, i'm feeling a bit insecure in my identity rn and i was wondering if you have any... tips, or anything like that. i'm a lesbian who feels more comfortable in a masc role, and i think i would identify as butch... but i feel like i'm too emotional. i cry SO often. my mental health has been less than stellar for the last 10 years or so lol, so that plays a part, but i'm also just a crier. things that make me cry: criticism, heated discussions, presentations, movie/game/book endings, all music with violins, some music without violins, christmas commercials, those miniature food clay charms... literally everything. and it's always in public too, which is embarrassing enough as it is. and i know that doesn't have to mean anything for my gender identity, but the whole "boys/men don't cry" thing kind of did a number on me lol. i always feel like a little girl when others watch me cry, even though i want to be the protector. sorry for rambling, but i feel like you always have good takes on butchness and stuff like that, so i was wondering if you have any tips on feeling more secure in my butch/masc side :)

ok before i say anything else, thank you, i’m honestly really flattered you think that highly of my takes lol <3 i do try my best, i’m glad i’m able to help people to whatever extent i do with my posts. also, bit of a length warning -- i always set out with the intention of writing succinct responses to asks, but it always gets away from me, and this time "getting away from me" meant "turning into a manifesto." well, oops. c'est la butch/femme.

now to start this answer off: i definitely relate. i’m also pretty emotional. when i get stressed i get really shaky, especially in my hands, and then after that my body turns on the waterworks. i also have a fairly exuberant personality in general, and i'm very expressive with my hands & body language. the only times i’ve ever really fit the stoic archetype have been on accident, usually when i’ve felt uncomfortable in a social situation and it’s come off as strong silence. at the same time, i also don’t like when people see me cry or be emotional in general, especially in public. it makes me feel vulnerable in a way that i don’t like to give most people, and the fact that i can’t fully control when or if i do is uncomfortable. and i think disliking that feeling is totally normal, or at the very least it’s a common boundary to have. regardless of sexuality, gender, or presentation, there’s a social urge to cover up when we’re feeling our feelings, but even beyond that there is, i think, a reflexive, self-preservation level urge to cover up what can be easily damaged. so to an extent, i think it’s natural to shy away from vulnerability.

at the same time, the urge to push down one’s tears is not necessarily a HEALTHY urge, only a COMMON one, because you’re right: emotionality has no bearing on your gender or what roles you can take up. some of my best butch and masc friends are also extremely emotional people, and they’re very open about it, and in a lot of ways that openness almost feels to me more masculine or more butch, because they’re embracing their feelings, and that’s obviously a really hard thing to learn to do, so it’s powerful, admirable, and also to be honest, it’s attractive! the ability of someone to be brave enough to be vulnerable can in many situations make the people around them feel more at ease, and i think it can become a very steady, very stabilizing sort of masculinity. in other words, someone who is very comfortable in their tears is also very good and healing to be around. so i think in a lot of ways, when you learn to own your emotions rather than push them away, that can very easily augment your butchness rather than take away from it.

now obviously everyone views butch/femme differently, whether as genders/sexuality labels/dynamics/what have you, but for me no matter what at the center of these terms there is always this nexus, this core focus, of care. in the dynamic, butch/femme is about butches & femmes caring for one another in complementary ways both in- and out-side of romantic relationships. so when we talk about butchness standalone, you and many other people reach for words like “protector,” and i don’t think there’s anything necessarily wrong with that, i think protection can and often is a key role, but my point here is, where is that urge to protect coming from? it’s from love, from caring about the people you love. and i think it’s important to remember that and to frame it that way, because when you do, it becomes pretty simple: your emotionalism is more than anything a sign of that urge to care/protect/provide in you, or a driving force to those urges, however you want to frame it. far from taking away from your butchness, your emotions are at the very foundation of what it can be. i talked about this in the butch/femme server a bit, and thren @lesbiandaemon said it perfectly:

i genuinely think i (and many others!) would feel so much safety and security being w someone who allows themself to be vulnerable and earnest abt their emotions and it definitely augments butchness, from my perspective as a femme. i envy and care deeply for the butch whose emotions and vulnerability are on display, there's a strength in that imo, even if you've been made to feel self conscious and dysphoric and "less than" bc of that. i think of phrases like "the strength to remain tender", "the violence it took to be this gentle" in the lens of trauma but if that applies and you're ok w it, i think it could also apply here too [...]

whether ppl know it or not, sometimes the way one carries themselves can be projected onto others; there's already an example in how anon mentions the "big boys/men don't cry" thing, vulnerability being shut out and dismissed/disparaged isn't going to make anyone more eager/open abt their emotions. and like, going back to the butch/femme dynamic, it does feel so much more stable and steady if someone has the courage to acknowledge and let themselves feel their emotions, it's very welcoming and validating, knowing that someone can have a strong image and show their tenderness, knowing that you're safe and free from mockery/scorn to do the same when someone protective of you knows how it feels and will care for you because they feel touched to their core and have let you know in more than one way.

and i want to add an important caveat here: obviously not everyone who cares very deeply is going to be outwardly emotional or show it in the same ways. that’s true for all kinds of reasons. i think a lot of the stoicism we see in traditional depictions of butches can come from how people relate emotions to masculinity (that is to say, how people view masculinity as inherently based around a distance from one’s “softer” side), but also, honestly, i think this may also have roots in the historical coping mechanisms that a lot of butches took on in the face of a world that was unkind to them.

in stone butch blues, for example, there’s a lot of talk about this idea of “hard” versus “soft,” or “going stone,” especially when jess is first getting into the bar scene and she’s still fresh-faced to violence. and going stone in this context isn’t just about sexuality, it's also about how so many butches learned to stop letting people in even at a basic emotional level. for them, hardening up was an inevitability of circumstance, not an inherent facet of their personality or a building block of butch identity. i’m sure plenty of old-school butches would be glad to know it’s no longer inevitable or necessary for a butch to close themselves off completely in order to survive.

of course there are also plenty of butches who are just naturally reserved with their emotions, and that’s also fine -- that doesn’t mean they don’t feel things, or that they don’t care. they care -- all of us do! some of us showing it more or less than others doesn’t reflect badly on any of us, whether we’re of a more stoic or a more open variety. but some of us really can’t help showing it, and that’s okay. that’s just how the love spills out. the right person won’t see that as weakness or a crack in the fine china of your masculinity or whatever, they’ll see it as a lovely and endearing part of your whole and warming butchness. so embrace your emotions. do your best to honor the role they play in butch/femmeness. try to love your emotions, or at the very least not to be afraid of them. and remember: you are strong. your tenderness will not destroy you. in fact, it’s what built you to begin with.

[oftenderweapons]

Mold Me New (1) – Taehyung

A Small Town Swoons story

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Genre: ceramic artist!Taehyung, divorced!reader, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff, Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: 18+ (for future smut and explicit thoughts)

Hello to my readers!!!  Welcome to the Small Town Swoons Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Introducing the reader’s backstory, exploring her life as a wife and then as a single woman who is slowly getting to know herself as an individual person.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are mild curse words, a bit of a sad vibe regarding falling out of love and getting a divorce, description of several bad dates and good ones that end badly, mention of getting drunk, mention of sex toys, mention of one night stand.

In case you like my writing, here is my directory for idol!AUs, scenarios and imagines, and in case you need it, here’s the Spotify music companion.

I forgot to mention, bc I’m dumb and bc we’re becoming one body with two souls, but this chapter (as most of the decent, edited things I post) was beta read by the magical @joheunsaram​ (she’s recently lost her previous blog and she’s rebuilding it, please go say something nice and YOU SHOULD FOLLOW HER SHE’S A QUEEN ,,,,, my queen 🥺✨)

Enjoy 💜✨

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 

When you fall in love with someone, the feeling is like entering a chocolaterie. The scent engulfs you, full and rich and sultry, igniting your senses, the heat making your skin glisten in a light sheen of perspiration, making you exceedingly vulnerable to pointless stuff, like the way your lover exhales. Or their hands skimming your arms.

At least, that was what your best friend had told you.

You had none of that. To you love was a daisy being twirled under your nose, sharing cotton candy, the smell of crisp apples, flannel sheets, the sound of dead leaves crackling under matching footsteps, a sturdy but shiny steel band around your finger suddenly substituted by a golden one.

That had been the beginning of the end. When practicality and simplicity had turned into conventionality and disinterest.

When gifts stopped being things you loved and became things he thought you loved. And then things everyone loved.

When love became a chore, that's when everything crumbled. When kisses became just a good morning and a welcome back, when there were no more laughs echoing in the kitchen, when leaves kept falling but it was your footsteps alone making them crackle, when flannel sheets kept feeling warm but still something was missing — because someone was missing — when suddenly there was no more time for fairs and cotton candy, when daisies became roses, Love stopped making sense. It stopped having a meaning for you.

You were no longer sure of the life you had built with the man of your dreams, the boy you had fallen in love with when you were eight, the guy who had walked with you across the corridors of your high school, who had made you twirl under the lame disco ball of your prom, who had gone through college finals with you, who had spent three summers making your hangout spot into a home, turning the small old shack into a proper place for you to build a new life together. He was your first kiss, your first valentine, your first time. He was the man at the end of the aisle, the man who would walk with you until the last of your days.

But one day he started running and you still walked.

Or maybe you were both running in different directions, no longer on the path to the same destination, your priorities somehow switched.

Of course, it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't yours either.

You had both participated in this small unraveling, and you had both expressed the intention of changing, of finding compromise, an in-between, without either of you actually making the effort of fixing your trajectory, small habits and old pet peeves pulling you even farther apart.

The attempts — multiple ones — were painstakingly embarrassing. There were tears on both sides as you wondered what had caused this sudden rift that separated you — except it wasn't sudden, only your realisation was; the crevasse had been there for way longer. Maybe it had started as a small chipping the very day you met him, and it wasn't until now that you realised how the small sign had turned into an ominous presence, and then into unfathomable, inevitable doom.

And then the divorce.

It had been disgustingly easy, both parties agreeing on the procedures.

You didn't want the house. And you didn't need it. He didn't either.

Selling it had been exceedingly painless, you had shared the money, since he wanted to offer you stability. He already knew you would both suffer and he didn't want you worrying about rent. He was still your friend, after all.

Going back to being alone scared you at the beginning, until you realised that few things were truly bothering you. At least there wasn't this ghost of a human making you doubt all of your plans. You could plan dinner five days ahead or improvise. You could go to the restaurant as a last minute deal. You could go on long walks without the 'I'm sorry baby, emergency' making you rush back to town.

It felt like a bit of a liberation.

And your family's bookshop was doing well enough, since it was situated near the college and it also offered printing service.

Of course there were bad days. Sometimes you woke up searching for a body beside yours, however that feeling had significantly subdued after you had gotten used to the new bed. You missed human contact, being close, intimate with someone, having someone who knows you that deeply.

And then the true nightmare.

Finding someone new.

You were genuinely uninterested in dating. You had given it a go and it had sufficed.

It wasn't your world.

How could it possibly be?

You had never dated. You had basically offered your heart to the person that has always owned it. It's not like you had any experience in that labyrinth that is dating. All those unspoken social norms and the pining and tension. You only knew the comfort of a warm hug, the beauty of a kiss sparking from innocence and affection and slowly turning into steady, warm passion. You didn't like infernos, you liked candles. You liked the domestic hearth. You liked moderation.

And dating was all about extremes, from strangers to 'I'm inspecting your throat' on date one. And then suddenly it's date three and the same guy who brought you to a pizza place and a diner is suddenly going out of his way to bring you to a pretentious, expensive restaurant as a way to propitiate the possibility of you dropping your panties.

You had allowed this foolery only three times. Apparently all the suitable suitors were either really prone to pushing the pedal or had a passion for tongue gastroscopies.

The first one, Albert, had been quite the gentleman on date one. On date two he started making inappropriate jokes with a heavy body shaming undertone — a bit cliché for the stereotypical gym rat. And on date three he had dropped all pretenses at politeness and had outright palmed your ass in public, which made you rightfully uncomfortable. As you pointed that out, he proceeded saying that after all it was your third date and it was time to loosen up a little.

You didn’t even bother staying for dinner, left a bill on the table and left.

No matter the first disappointment, you decided not to let that disrespectful fool slow you down. And since your best friend knew everything about rat headed number one, you allowed her to set you up with one of her colleagues after she reassured you he was nothing like the one before.

Except somehow he was. The first date was at the local pub, and you somehow found yourself getting along well, his jokes were funny and he had good timing, he was relaxed, confident but still a bit clumsy and shy. He could be a good candidate.

But that was before he pushed his tongue to your tonsils as he kissed goodbye.

You gagged.

On date two he admitted you weren’t exactly his type. You were glad to reciprocate the statement after he told you his dream was having four children and a farm, alluding to the fact that his bride needed to be the perfect housewife.

You were pretty adamant that was not the kind of future you wanted for yourself.

Candidate number three was a guy you had met while grocery shopping, and somehow he had impressed you in an absolutely positive way on date one and two. Everything had been perfect, he was kind, considerate and well-mannered. Date three had been innocent, simple, down-to-earth. And then date four. Perfect dinner at his place. He had made you swoon and he had a very pretty cat he was very affectionate with.

He was the first man you had felt desire for in a very long time — almost eight months after your divorce.

The sex had been decent for being a first time.

And then he had entirely disappeared and never texted or called you back, which didn’t sit entirely wrong with you. You wished him all the best but you were actually glad. You liked being you and doing your own thing: having someone too much down your neck, getting in a relationship, having to check in with another person again felt more like a burden than a win.

Maybe it was just a coping mechanism to avoid facing the fact that he had been someone you could have liked, someone you could have built something with.

You were a happy woman, and it’s not like you really felt lacking or incomplete, like some of your single friends felt. And you had no intention of starting a family anytime soon, no matter if your old high school classmates had begun popping out kids left and right. You were more than happy to live the teen and early-twenty years you had spent in a relationship.

You were getting to know yourself in a way most of your friends didn’t have time to — you could already see them going through a midlife crisis after their kids became old enough to navigate life by themselves, which meant no more need for overprotective, and sometimes borderline suffocating, mothers, who suddenly found themselves with too much free time and too little tasks to complete.

Knowing your needs made you a stronger, better woman, and solitude had gifted you a level of introspection and balance that you doubted they could ever reach; maybe that was an arrogant consideration, but you knew there was no way knowing and loving yourself would ever bring you to crying over disrespectful, ungrateful youth whose only fault was that of growing up out of their mothers’ plans.

Unfortunately, there was no way your family — especially your grandmother — could ever tolerate the idea of you not needing a man and a family to be happy.

“Oh, come on, isn’t it time for you to bring a nice fellow back home?”

You shook your head as you and your grandma took a walk along the river, the sunny March afternoon feeling way too nice to stay at home. “Granny. There’s no people like Grandad anymore.”

“Oh, darling. You’re starting with the wrong role model. Not even back in my days we had men like him. He was the exception.” She nodded to herself with a sweet smile, remembering the husband she had lost a few years back.

“It’s so frustrating. And after all that happened… You know how it was. We were together for years. He was the only one I had. I don’t even know how to do these things. And books cannot teach you stuff like that. The more you read, the more you realise that most of these men had never even seen a rom com.”

“Oh, come on, but you have the internet these days! Can’t you find him in there? You have all these phones and computers and everyone has them, there must be a good one in the internet.”

She always said that “in the internet”. Like it was a physical place.

“I don’t even want to look in there, Granny. There are so many dangers in there.” You shuddered as you thought at the funny instagram pages where the people posted screenshots of the worst descriptions. All the embarrassing playboys and the fishermen and the lame wanna-be poets.

“Right… How can you know he is really is a person?” She considered, patting your back proudly. “You’re pretty. And you’ve always had the most perfect bum of all your cousins. Just like mine!” She grinned cockily, giving a playful smack to your ass, making you laugh loudly.

“It won’t last long.” You said, looking down. Solitude scared you sometimes. Being old and alone could be hard on the spirit and you had a feeling that old hag you would curse your dumb arrogance and inconsideration. However, for now you were still somehow making it through. Your divorce was finalised almost ten months ago. You could still consider yourself just fresh out of it.

“You’re smart. And I’m sure you have a lot to offer. You’re a good woman, and you’re far from being too old. There’s never a thing such as too old. Don’t let yourself be fooled. Look at me.” She said. “I’m still living a good life. Herbert has left me but I’m still here. Walking. Cooking. Drizzle keeps me good company.” She smiled sweetly at the mention of her dog, a lovely large poodle elegantly strolling at her side, its light grey fur finely trimmed by your grandmother’s expert hands. She had been a hairdresser for decades: learning how to keep Drizzle’s coat had been a cup of tea for her and he’d kept her distracted from grief after your grandpa passed away.

Her face formed a meditative pout. “Maybe you should just get a dog. Or even better, a cat. You’ve always looked like a cat child to me. So quiet and focused, like you knew some secret that nature would speak to you alone. You were always so attentive as a child!”

You smiled and looked at the path under your feet. Drizzle stayed unbothered as a loud, angry dachshund walked towards him, barking annoyingly. You had never felt sympathy for that small evil breed.

“I think I could get a kitten one of these days. Or a cat, from the shelter.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it in the internet!”

“So we’re really doing the party thing?”

“Listen, baby. It’s gonna be your first party as a free woman. Real mind blowing birthday sex.”

“I’m not a virgin, you know?” You stared at your face in the mirror, spreading some moisturiser over your forehead, inspecting the small lines there. You shrugged and let them be.

Maybe you would spend your best years single and find a sugar baby in ten or twenty years. Wait, weren’t those called toy boys?

Who cares.

Maybe it was time to get the post-grad you had always dreamed of. You would need to check your bank account before making that decision — maybe finally telling yourself yes could be the real birthday gift. That is, beside the huge dildo waiting in your drawer. Not being attracted to men or women didn’t mean you didn’t like sex.

You just found it difficult to imagine being with someone.

“Darling I’d bet an arm and a leg he never gave it to your right. You just need a bit more experience.”

All you needed was a hot bath, some candles and a good book. No man, no one night stand, no birthday sex could possibly make you as happy as decent jazz, wine and a novel.

“Why aren’t we doing that wine tasting at the winery out of town?”

“Because I want you choking on cheap alcohol, having all the fun you didn’t have on your twenty-first birthday because you were planning your own wedding. And I bet you’re the only one who wasn’t fucked in the bathroom of the Wickhead.”

Terry could be incredibly crude, but you loved her nonetheless. You loved her even more for it. She had never hidden anything from you, she had told you even the most embarrassing details of her own life. And she had always been the kindest, most faithful friend: she had driven you way out of town when you were eighteen and your period was late and you needed to buy a pregnancy test without all everyone and their dog knowing; she had chosen your wedding dress for you, spotting it and telling you it was going to be the one before you could even see it. When your marriage had started crumbling, she had spent countless nights with you, keeping you company when your husband was busy with his business trips. Though Terry had insinuated cheating, you knew he would never break your trust like that, and she had decided to trust your better judgement.

You had simply fallen out of love with each other.

And when you had moved into your new apartment, Terry had helped you repaint the walls and build the extra bookcases and install the shelves and fill your wine stand. Before leaving she had grabbed an unfamiliar box from her car, placing it on top of your bed, opening it and spreading out a set of “single necessaire”, as she called it. A couple toys, lube, condoms. To celebrate your re-found sexual promiscuity, she had said, though you objected, it was hard rediscovering something you had never had.

She had shaken her head and left you to “familiarise” yourself with everything.

“You know I’m not exactly a party person, Terry. This will end badly.” You said, sitting on your bed with your back against the headboard, your legs stretched out before you.

“You can allow yourself some fun once in a decade, you know?” You could hear her scoff on the phone.

“But I do have fun. Book. Wine. Bingo!” You explained, rolling your eyes as the booed.

“Come on, do it for me. Do it for your single friend who wants to get drunk and possibly sixty-nine? Please?” The other thing wrong with Terry is that if you ever met her in person, you would face the sweetest five foot three and a half — she insisted on the half — human being you could ever meet, with pretty wavy blonde hair and wide, sweet green eyes, the most boopable button nose and a sprinkle of freckles on her golden skin. She literally glowed in sunlight and her flowy gowns always made her look like a goddess: you could see men fighting for her, dying for her and going to war for just one of her gentle smiles.

“Don’t you have a FWB for that sixty-nine thingie?” You asked with an exceedingly inquisitive tone. It had been a while since she last updated you.

“Dumped him.” She replied curtly.

You tutted before exhaling. Emotionally constipated people — what’s wrong with them?

“He’s dating someone since he was ready for a relationship.” Terry sounded a bit colder than usual.

“And you weren’t?” You asked. You felt your tone hesitate with slight concern. You knew she would just put up a wall and ignore your question.

Fortunately, she didn’t. “I’m not ready to talk about that. It’s complicated, Frog.”

She was hurt and wanted a distraction.

“Okay, Terry. We’re going to get rip roaring drunk this Saturday.”

The line went silent.

“You know I love you right?”

“I love you too, sweetie. Now go to sleep, you have an early shift tomorrow.”

The line went silent after you bid each other goodnight, your body settling underneath the sheets once you realised your eyes were fluttering shut  as you tried to read a few pages to put yourself to sleep.

Placing down the book, you hugged the extra pillow, settling your face in the corner between your sleeping pillow and your spare one, the heavy woolen comforter acting like a weighted blanket. You placed another pillow behind your back, making a soft cocoon all around you.

Yes, sometimes you still missed being hugged to sleep.

The taglist is open!

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7

[snapsnapmyturtleback-blog]

Headcannons for the Group Therapy fic thing cuz it was requested like twice that I continue this so. I might do a fic later, no promises.

This also includes stuff already mentioned in the fic ‘Group Therapy’ which I wrote :D

I know someone else made some headcannons that i kind of base some of these on ? but i read a lot of headcannons so i dont exactly know which are based and what theyre based on. Sorry.

-Eddie has social anxiety and is a huge germaphobe

-He and Stan bond over cleaning things and how neat things should be.

-Eddie is very nurturing and will disregard his germaphobia if it means he can comfort someone

-also very badass ??? Eddie will use all of his first aid kit for his friends and he’ll punch people in the face if they mess with them

-Eddie is the only one that Stan will touch him bc Stan knows that this kid washes his hands more than Richie makes crude jokes and he basically bathes in hand sanitizer so he’s the cleanest

-Eddie is so good at handling emotional episodes and panic attacks that the others go through ?

-Like he’s internally freaking tf out but in the outside he’s so cool and collected that it’s hard to feel threatened around him

-has like friend crushes on everyone ? Like he only wants to date Richie but he loves he others so much that he hates being apart from them

-Stan has OCD and is obsessed with the number three.

-He prefers Stan over Stanley because Stan Uris is three syllables.

-Everything in his room is sorted in three; pants, shorts, and underwear. Polos, button ups, and t shirts. Etc.

-Everything he does is in sets of three and he’s constantly bullied bc of the panic attacks he’ll get during class or when he helps the teacher clean up and ends up sort everything in the classroom into threes.

-Stan’s dad took him birdwatching in an attempt to get Stan out of the house but at the same time keep him in a calm environment and he loved it so much so now they regularly go birdwatching for exactly three hours

-Stan goes to school two hours early so he can arrive at six and he is allowed to leave three minutes before everyone else so he doesn’t have to come in contact with people

-for the first week of school, they forced Stan to try and be like everyone else and it didn’t work ??

-like he doesn’t know what they expected but he couldn’t do anything bc if he wasn’t having a panic attack, he was compulsively tapping his desk or the wall in threes in an attempt to calm himself down

-Stan wakes up at five thirty am every morning

-he goes to bed at nine pm

-it’s like fucking clockwork and if he’s even a minute off, he’ll be hella upset and no one wants to see Stan upset

-Mike has insomnia and stays awake for days on end.

-He survives purely on coffee from the coffee shop located down the street from the school where the rest of the losers go to

-he’s really good at hiding the bags under his eyes by keeping his head tilted forward so the bags look like shadows and no one looks close enough to tell the difference.

-if it gets bad, he uses make up to cover up the bags under his eyes

-he loves talking to people so much ? Especially kids his age bc he isn’t really exposed to anything back at the farm

-he was actually the only one who was really excited to do the group activity

-Bev and Richie were okay with it bc they knew they’d see each other but Mike was excited !!

-new people to meet and talk to ??? Hell yes !

-he and Ben hang out pretty regularly at the library to find history books and discuss them

-they’ve gotten into some pretty awesome debates that would end abruptly bc they’d get really heated and the two boys would start laughing bc they can’t take each other seriously

-Mike likes to draw and he does it mostly when he can’t sleep

-One time Richie had spilled some water on a picture that Mike was drawing and Mike didn’t talk to Richie for a week and a half

-Ben had to convince him that Richie didn’t mean it and that Richie was probably sorry

-of course Eddie made Richie apologize

-it wasn’t very sincere bc Richie + an apology is just a mess

-but Mike accepted it and forgave him nonetheless

-Bill has mild depression and can see and hear a clown (Pennywise) talk about his brother

-no one else can see this thing so Bill feels like he’s tripping balls 90% of the time

-he can see Georgie too which is why he’s so adamant about finding him alive bc he can’t be seeing Georgie’s dead ghost ?? That’s not allowed ??

-Bills stutter had gotten so much worse after Georgie’s disappearance and at this point he just doesn’t talk in public

-Bev steals money from her father for cigs and weed that she buys from Richie because he charges her a lot less then most of the dealers she’s encountered

-she has like three outfits that she wears but that’s it. Don’t even try to buy her clothes bc she just won’t accept it.

-she smokes her sadness and fear away. That’s how she copes and it’s really not a good habit but she doesn’t really care

-Beverly and Richie smoke up on the rooftops during gym class and sometimes whenever Richie needs a break during whatever class bc the boy gets very overwhelmed very easily ??

-Bev is the only person who can tell when he’s getting overwhelmed and since they had every class except for Spanish and geography, she’ll always pull him aside and go for a smoke whenever he looks tense.

-Beverly is such a fucking babe ? Like she does literally nothing and she’s so pretty ? But she hates compliments with a passion.

-only Richie can compliment her without getting slapped

-I’m living for the Bev and Richie friendship tbh they’re like siblings and will die for each other.

-one time Henry Bowers was hitting on Bev and wouldn’t leave her alone and Richie fucking decked him

-Richie left with a black eye, busted lip, some cuts, and some burn marks (curtsy to Patrick) but it was fucking worth it

-Bev is like 10/10 great at making deals. Patrick and her are actually acquaintances bc Bev gives him new lighters when his run out of fuel from terrorizing people and his weed goes missing all the time so she give him some of hers so he’ll leave her alone

-Ben is so fucking soft ?? I love him so much

-he is literally the embodiment of a book, flower, and warm aesthetic

-Ben cares about people so much ? Like he will fuss about his friends eating but then he will forget (or sometimes purposely) to eat

-he’ll be so into writing poetry for someone cough Bev cough that he’ll just not do his homework or remind himself to stay hydrated

-but what’s weird is that when he reads, he’ll be brought back down. Like the self image problems and the forgetfulness temporarily go away

-he’ll be reading a history book that he borrowed from Mike and suddenly he’ll remember that he hadn’t eaten all day and he’ll ask his mom for something to snack on as he reads

-or maybe he’ll be reading a book for school and then he’ll think “shit when was the last time I had some water ?”

-And he spends most of his free time in the library reading or writing so he knows the librarian personally and uses her first name

-he even has his own little place to go with a mini fridge so he has something to eat whenever it hits him that he needs to do shit to s u r v i v e

-Richie doesn’t even want to go to therapy but it’s helping him so he just deals with it

-Eddie and Bev being there is also a plus

-Richie is broke asf so he basically makes Bev pay for his sessions in exchange for weed

-He steals the weed from Patrick and whenever the school decides to have drug dogs come, he just slips that shit right back into Patrick’s locker

-Richie really likes Eddie ?? And he sees Stan as like a little brother that’s easy to annoy

-he’s indifferent towards Ben and Mike bc like he doesn’t interact with them very much but when he does, they’re okay

-Bill is a fifty fifty. Sometimes Richie respects him bc the dudes brother is dead and here he is getting help that’s pretty fucking cool but other times it’s like shit does this kid ever take less then ten minutes to say something ?? And who tf does he think he is telling Richie what he can and cannot say

-Richie has little to no sexual experience so everything he jokes about is purely based off of what he’s read online

-the little experience that Richie does have is making out with Bev while they’re high

-Richie is always the second to arrive (Stans first, he arrives three hours early) and he’s always the last to leave with Eddie.

-he does the same with school, even if he does skip a lot

-he’s really fucking smart tho so skipping class never fucks with his grades

-he tries to stay out for as long as possible bc the boy doesn’t like staying home alone or with his drunk mom

-he has some anger issues

-he and Bev have a thing where every night they go out and break shit

-he really cares about these idiots in his group therapy

-like he could get extremely annoyed with them sometimes but he will fight for them

-Stan was once trapped in a locker by the Bowers gang and Richie was the one who found him

-Stan was freaking out bc he was in an unsanitary locker and he was supposed to have left two hours ago

-Richie calmed him down and took him home

-now Stan allows both Richie and Eddie to touch him

-Stan is basically Reddie’s son at this point

-Richie steals everyone’s clothes all the time and he just walks into they’re house, except for Bev.

-Knocking is not a concept to this kid and it pisses everyone off

-Richie once walked in on Bev and Ben making out in Bens room. He simply smiled and said “wow the new kids on the block poster must be a real turn on for this sex fest, eh ?” and left

-Richie now has a burn mark on his collarbone from Bevs cigarette

-Richie has to take like three different medications and when they were trying to figure out the dosage, it was a rough couple of weeks

-basically these kids are all fucking messed but we love them anyways

[charletteharrison-blog]

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Plumber Service Contractor Close By Coal Harbour

In this article below you can find a good deal of decent news related to plumbing and heating.

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We have a few goals for our clients. One is to be available for you. It is very uncommon that when you call us we are unable to make it within the same day. We give our repeat customers priority service so if you’ve used us before and you have an emergency, we are going to do what we need to, to get someone there.

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5 Different Types of Plumbers (Plus Tips on Hiring the Right Type)

Types of Plumbers On The Basis of Job Scale

When we talk about types of plumbers, the scale of the job is extremely important. Based on the scale of the job, plumbers can be put into one of three major categories:

Commercial Plumbers

Residential Plumbers

Service and Repair Plumbers

1. Commercial Plumbers

Plumber working on pipes.

Commercial plumbers are skilled and qualified professionals who primarily work in large commercial settings. Commercial plumbers are skilled to work in large-scale public and industrial settings like in schools, universities, large shopping malls, hospitals, factories, and manufacturing plants or any other environment that has large industrial equipment involved.

Commercial plumbers are responsible for the installation, repair, and maintenance of pipes and tanks in commercial and industrial buildings. Mostly, plumbers who are specialized in one particular job are not able to perform plumbing activities where different skill set and technicalities are involved. For example, if a residential plumber has to do a plumbing job in commercial buildings and factories, he won’t be able to fulfill the job as accurately as it should be done.

This is due to the lack of sufficient exposure, training, and experience. There are significant differences between each plumbing type and hence, the skill required for each type is different too. For instance, the major difference between a commercial plumber and a residential plumber is the number of pipes, tanks, and pipe outlets they encounter and deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Naturally, a commercial plumber deals with way more pipes than a residential one, and these pipes are larger and often more complicated.

For residential plumbers, the number of pipes they have to fix each day is significantly lower than commercial and service plumbers. Moreover, most of the time, residential plumbers deal with pipes fitted between two or three floors at max. However, commercial plumbers juggle between more floors, more sinks and toilets, and more complications in the piping patterns. The increased workload makes the job for commercial plumbers more time consuming and burdensome than casual residential plumbing.

Other profession-based differences include the magnitude of problems faced by a commercial plumber on a daily basis. Commercial plumbing is beyond just fixing and installing faucets and pipes; it also includes frequent extensive and large scaled waste removal procedures and water system installations for large businesses. This generally involves excavating trenches and drains and putting in pipelines, which are then linked to the main buildings and the local water reserves as well as the sewage systems. Commercial plumbing is more challenging and holds a lot more risk than residential plumbing.

Commercial plumbers are also actively involved in the regular repair and maintenance of systems that they have installed. These servicing rounds are crucial because the systems installed are expensive and require constant care and services.

2. Residential Plumbers

Plumber working on the pipe under the kitchen sink.

Residential plumbers are the plumbing professionals who you call whenever you face a plumbing problem in your home. These plumbers gain experience and training by working on apprenticeships and residential jobs like on new construction sites, housing schemes, and home renovations. They mostly acquire their skill set by working under the umbrella of plumbers that are more experienced and getting hands-on experience.

Residential plumbers mostly carry out and master the procedures of pipe system installations in residential homes and housing blocks. They are strictly involved in small scale residential plumbing jobs and do not often venture into commercial plumbing due to their lack of experience and qualification.

These residential plumbing experts are primarily involved in and responsible for ensuring the proper functioning of the water systems, pipes, and toilets in homes. They repair and service plumbing systems, houses, and residential flats to keep them running smoothly.

3. Service and Repair Plumbers

Plumber fixing a leaking pipe.

A service and repair plumber is an expert who is mostly hired for repairs and maintenance of plumbing systems at homes or commercial business. The service and repair plumbers receive technical training and are experienced in problem-solving and fixing plumbing issues. They are experts in jobs like fixing reduced pressure, leakages, cleaning, and servicing. Service and repair plumbers specialize in regular leakages and clogging issues.

https://www.homestratosphere.com/types-of-plumbers/

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Emergency Plumbing

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We're able to promptly take care of any type of plumbing dilemma that might occur at your house or business. For any plumbing emergency, get on the phone to us. We've got an emergency 24-7 plumber available on call who will be sent to your home as swiftly as possible. Any time of the day or year, you will be able to depend on us for timely and attentive help in any emergency. We at Pioneer Plumbing realize just how annoying plumbing dilemmas tend to be, in particular when it is an urgent situation after the regular business day.

Installations of All Types

Pioneer Plumbing is proud of its long standing for high quality work. Regardless if you want to have a bit of pipe insulation, or a brand new kitchen sink installed, or you are looking for a re-pipe or installation in a residential or commercial building, we've got the expertise and the practical experience to make certain it is done to code.

We are additionally a recognized leader for modernizing plumbing systems in older houses, a thing that we've been undertaking for a long time, in particular in some of the amazing properties in Vancouver's West End.

Our dedicated residential and commercial plumbing service is the ideal choice for either contemporary homes or older homes all over Greater Vancouver.

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1101-1202 Harwood St Vancouver BC, V6E 1S3 Phone: (778) 839-2040 Place ID ChIJfSdjui5zhlQRyb_bmeZDqSo

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Plumber Service Contractor Close By Coal Harbour

[pa-awesome]

Small Lies That Escalated Into “This Is My Life Now”

• Found out a coworker was from the same city I grew up in. He asked what my "old man's" last name was. Being an unmarried woman, I assumed he was asking about my father to determine if he knew my family back home. Apparently he was asking about my non existent husband, so until he quit I carried on the facade that I had a husband from back home.

• My mom gave my sister a chocolate orange about 15 years ago and she kind of embarrassed the family by saying it was gross. I didn't want to make my parents feel bad so I said that I'd eat it. It was gross but I pretended to like it. Now every year for Christmas I get a chocolate orange.

• Pretended to be a girl on World of Warcraft for a solid two years. I didn't actually set out to do it, just never corrected anyone when they assumed I was and by the time I thought to come clean it seemed too awkward.

• I convinced pretty much everyone in my life that I was allergic to coconut at a young age. I simply just didn't like it at all and it was a good way to avoid eating it (logic of a pre-teen mind). My mom played along. It wasn't until about 3 years ago when my mother in law had a surprise birthday party for her husband and she made a german chocolate cake. The kicker here: she did HALF of it coconut and half without so I could enjoy the cake and not have an allergic reaction to it. I broke down. Laughed. Told them it wasn't true and I actually am not allergic. Her face melted. I hadn't realized how long I had kept up the lie until that very moment.

• When I was 12 years old, I lied about my age and made myself older for about 3 years, so I could still be somewhat cool in WoW. Now some of my WoW friends settled over with me to other games, and whenever I meet someone new, they're likely connected to them. At this point it's too awkward to explain that I'm not the oldest, but in fact the youngest in our friendgroup.

• Told one guy i was canadian bc they asked why i apologized so much. That was in 1st grade, im now a junior in highschool and people are shocked when they find out im not canadian

• I dated a guy who's father was a minister. I liked this guy a lot. I knew their church was one of those loud, dancing talking in tongues churches and his parents asked me to come to church with them. The dad did this whole long ass sermon about premarital sex and being saved. The guy I was dating kept nudging me and his family kept smirking so when they asked who felt the Holy Spirit and wanted to be saved I walked up to the front, everyone was jumping around and people were getting popped in the forehead and going into convulsions on the floor. I pretended to feel it. They smacked my forehead, I fell back, I just laid there with a few other people on the floor with my eyes closed wondering if I should twitch or something. Afterwards everyone was hugging me and his parents were crying.....

• I was working at a small company about 10 years ago, around the holidays. It was approaching Thanksgiving, and the ladies in my department had organized a pot luck luncheon. I was adding my contribution to the sign-up sheet when I noticed that one particular co-worker had signed up to bring brownies. She was a nice, single, older woman who had many pets at home (2-3 cats and as many dogs) and was regularly covered in a layer of pet fur. The day of the party had arrived, and everyone was going around filling their plates. There they were on the dessert table - the brownies. I didn't want to eat any of them, but I also didn't want to be impolite - so I told her I couldn't have any because I was allergic to nuts. Fast forward 9 years, and I am out with a friend (who had also been a co-worker at this company) I had kept since that job. After a few drinks, I tell her, tearfully, that I have a confession to make - I'm not really allergic to nuts. She burst out laughing, thinking it was going to be something much more serious than that. She is the only person I have made this confession to.

• A dude I knew was giving this girl some shit and she kicked him in the nuts. Ok, extreme reaction, but such is life. He doubled over in pain, but since he was kind of a douche anyway, no one cared much. The next day (a Friday) his dad took him out of school for some reason. Then when he returned on Monday he learned that the big rumor was that his balls ruptured from the kick, and he had to get emergency surgery. Rather than correcting anyone, he went along with it. This went on for years. People made fun of him, and he just joked about it. There were idiotic songs people sung about him. He laughed about it. Never denied it once, in fact participated in some of the joking at times. Finally, one day about 3 years later he comes clean. She didn't even actually kick him in the balls, just in the gut and it really knocked the wind out of him. After all this time, the dude who got kicked in the balls was basically his identity. Strange turn of events.

• When I was 16, I humored some Mormon missionaries to make my best friend and his family happy (they were Mormon). So after a few home "lessons" about the LDS church I had already showed a lot of fake support and interest. Being awkward, I didn't want to admit to not being interested. When they asked if I wanted to be baptised weeks later, I said yes, imagining I'd eventually back out. I didn't. Became an athiest Mormon. After months of living this double life, attending church, etc, my mom decided to show support by becoming Mormon. I was mortified. My recovering Catholic dad pulls me aside and asks me if I really believe this stuff. I explained everything to him and he thought it was hilarious. I also made him promise not to tell Mom because, again, awkward and too far deep. She asked me to baptise her and I refused. This insulted her. Fast forward a year or so and I distanced myself from church people while still maintaining the close relationship with my friend and his family. It's been 12 years now, and we still hang out weekly and nobody considers me Mormon. I never explained this to him.

• The second or third week of college my freshman year I stumbled into a room where a newly acquired friend and his roommate were playing kingdom hearts. We briefly talked about how much they loved the game, etc. Eventually, I fall asleep on their futon from general college induced exhaustion. An indeterminable amount of time later, I wake up to them quietly talking about what to do with the person napping on the couch. Not wanting to be rude, I tell them "Oh sorry - I wasn't really napping" They call me out on my buffoonery, and I decide to double down that I WAS NOT NAPPING. We get into a pretty heated argument about what constitutes a nap and the specific things that I was doing if it were not napping. I do not back down and start essentially yelling at them that I was not napping. This grew into an uncontrollable inside joke where whenever I would go anywhere with these guys they would say something like "man, its a good thing bendernas doesn't take naps", he'll be the life of the party. Or some shit. This slowly spreads to basically everything we did (small school of ~ 3000 students, where most people had some sort of obscure connection to most other people) and I eventually became known as the person who didn't take naps. (edit: i love naps) A few years later we became roommates and the proceed to wake me up basically every single day whenever I took a nap.

• When I got out of college, I got accepted in an internship. After that internship, they hired me. When they asked about my diploma, I said the truth, that I needed a few more general classes(French and PE) to finish and get my diploma. They said: No problem, but you have to get your diploma. I said(the beginning of the lie): It's alright, I'm already registered for the classes next semester. They said: Ok but make sure you get it soon! Then never asked about it again, even after changing HR management twice since then. I've been working here for 10 years now, never went back for my diploma. I know it's stupid, but let's hope I end my career here or something.

• Living in a College Town, every year around spring graduation there's one or two "I'm here to see my kid graduate, but I haven't been able to locate them" families. Usually kids that stopped going, pocketed their parents money, and/or just gave up and couldn't handle telling the family. It ends sadly sometimes. That's a big lie/deception to deal with and maintain. It almost always comes to a head.

• My first relationship. A few days in, then-girlfriend tells me she isn't ready to go public just yet and if we could just pretend we weren't together for a few days then she would be ready. Six months later, I had lied to so many people for her I can't tell whats real anymore and any time I asked her if we could stop because it was messing with me she refused and argued her way out of it. Looking back on this fucks with my head to this day. Amazing how much things like that can snowball.

• One time someone who I wanted to be better friends with showed me a metal gear solid meme and me being me I pretended to understand it. I then was forced to research all the games and their plots, Easter eggs, quotable characters, and other memes to better fake understanding. I still have never played a metal gear solid game.

• My fiance has a great one. She's a picky eater, and rather than tell her best friend that she doesn't like bananas, she told her "I'm allergic to bananas." For YEARS, her best friend would make sure everything was banana-free. From cakes, to desserts, to even clearing her house of anything banana related. After close to 15 years, my fiance finally told her "Hey, I just don't like bananas." Nervous, thinly veiled hatred in the form of laughter ensued.

• One teacher at school said my name wrong and I was too anxious to correct him. Long story short it’s almost been a year and I’m in too deep to say anything else.

• I live in Cambridge, UK and my go to answer to those "interesting-facts-about-you" moments (you know, corporate icebreakers or interview stuff) is that I got knocked over by Stephen Hawking whilst on the pavement near my house. Partly true as in he lives in the city, travels out and about on said streets. Truth is I just saw him on a path once. I was driving. People love that it's a bit different so imma keep using it.

• A buddy of mine's dad had a funny ongoing joke of sometimes referring to his son's friends by similar, but incorrect names. Trent became Trevor, Scott became Sam, Ethan became Eric. Just silly stuff like that. So in that vein he starts calling me 'Donald' (jesse is my middle name, my first one starts with 'D'). At first I thought he was joking, but he just. Didn't. Stop. Its been years, and now that we're all moved out and on our own I rarely ever see him. But he still calls me Donald whenever I do, and at this point its way too late to correct him.

• This is a small thing, I don't go by my full name but when I sign up for classes at my gym, it's done through an app and shows up on the roster as my full name. I never thought that anyone there would eventually know me by name, so when the instructor would take attendance I just never corrected in. But now I'm a year in and I'm casually friendly with most people there and I'm in way too deep to correct them now. It's not that I mind my full name that much, I have just never really gone by it.