jenny needs to stop

Competition | highschool!au

Originally posted by eunwoooo

Jennie x Reader (fem)

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: ‘Jealousy does not become you, Jennie Kim.’

Requested by @jeonmyg

A/N: I apologise in advance because this is all over the place. :/ Hope you guys still enjoy it, though. 

Part I | Part II

Word Count: 6,052

Warnings: Nothing much, a couple of swear words.

“I like you.”

      You’re not actually quite sure what you had expected, but you were pretty sure it wasn’t this. Jennie looks as if she had just stared into Medusa’s eyes and subsequently, had been turned into stone. Her expression is still, too still, her eyes are wide and she is utterly silent.

     You fidget, your fingers intertwining and you bite your lip, a wave of anxiety rushing over you like a waterfall.

Keep reading

Escape:  the residency years

Warning:  This isn’t the happiest of chapters.

Special thanks to @joannclelia for her help. And to anon for the ending advice.



“What have ye for lunch then?”  

She turned the phone around to show him her tray.  Pasta, of course.  An orange.  Spinach salad.  Good.  Bottle of water.  Then, just on the edge of her tray…

“Claire.  What was that?”  

She flipped the phone back to her face.  “What was what, darling? You can see I have a very healthy lunch, and I’m sitting down, relaxing while I eat.  With Louise,” she turned the phone towards her companion, a pretty nurse with long brown hair.

“Right there!  Is that a brownie?”  He could hear her giggle, and say shhhh.

Her face was barely straight as she looked him.  “No.  That’s Louise’s, not mine.”

“Non, ce n’est pas le mien!” Jamie heard the indignant voice out of view. 

“Sassenach, I ken ye like the French pastries, but come on.  Ye had a pain au chocolat at breakfast, now this. Last night, some cake.  How about ye not give birth to a diabetic, eh?”  

Claire smiled, and blew him a kiss.  “No pudding at dinner tonight.  Promise.” 

Jamie nodded, pursed his lips, and blew a kiss back.  “Enjoy yer lunch.  I’ll speak wi’ ye later.  Take it easy, okay?”

“I will.” Claire said, as she waved at her screen.

“I love you, mo neighean donn.  Give the bairn a kiss from his Da.” 

“You mean her.”  Claire kissed her fingers and pressed them on her bump. “Love you, too, Jamie,” she said, and disconnected.

When it was time to go back, Claire gathered up her tray, and stood.  

She looked at her chair in confusion.  There was a large mark on her seat. What had she spilled?  

It wasn’t until she heard Louise’s gasp that she realized something was wrong. 

She felt the sticky wetness on her scrubs, but couldn’t really see past her belly.

A moment later she felt the rush of something between her legs.  She could smell the blood.  

Her tray dropped to the floor, bouncing off the end of the table on its way down, shattering everything.  

Far away someone was screaming.

It was her. 


“I just talked to her.  I just talked to her at lunch.  She was fine.  I just saw her.” Jamie kept repeating the same thing.  He sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, tears in his eyes, bewildered, confused.  

Jenny catapulted into action.  She snapped a finger at her assistant, pointing. The woman already had the phone receiver in her hand.  “I need Ian, here, right now.  For Jamie.  Alec needs to bring the car around right away.  And get a private plane ready to leave for Paris immediately.  Charge the company.”  

“You,” she pointed at Willie, “come with me.”  Willie, who had shown up with Jamie, was pale and panicked.  He stepped into line with her as she strode down the hall.  “We need Jamie’s passport, and -”

“Oh! I have it.  All of Jamie’s travel documents are in his office.” Willie was glad he had that, at least. 

“Good.  Now, gather all that up and, listen carefully, ye need to get his art supplies.”  Jenny stopped, and put a hand on Willie’s arm.  “He draws when he’s stressed.  He’ll need the distraction.  Get it all together and give it to Ian.” She pushed him forward, “Now go!”

Willie streaked off to do her bidding.

Jenny had Alec drive at break neck speed to Jamie and Claire’s flat.   She threw what she could into a bag, jeans, tee shirts, a few socks, trainers, jacket. She threw some things in for Claire as well.  Soft sleep pants and a softer sweater.  Toiletries.  Where the hell was his underwear!?!  She opened a top drawer and rummaged around.  

The small gold object caught her eye.  She hadn’t seen it in years. Instinctively, she grabbed it, and slamming the drawer shut, turned to go.  She was in and out of the flat in 15 minutes.  

Ian and Jamie were waiting inside the small terminal when she got there.  Her brother was turning his phone over and over in his large hands.  She put the bag next to his feet in silence.    

When the flight was ready, Jenny walked Jamie to the steps.  Ian handed the steward the bag.    

“Jenny, I-“

“Shhhh, brother.”  She grabbed Jamie around his shoulders and hugged him tight.  His arms gripped her as he buried his face in her neck.  God, he was burrowing in like Wee Jamie after he’s fallen off his bike. She had no words for him.  She would not lie and tell him it would be all right.  Lord only knew what was happening in France.  “Give Claire a hug for me, and tell her I love her.” Jamie nodded against her neck.  She turned quickly and gave him a kiss on his temple.  

Grabbing his hand, she pressed the small oval piece into his palm.  “I found this.  Take it.  Let it give ye strength.”  

Jamie looked at it, eyes wide.

“Go on,” Jenny said.  “Call me as soon as you know something.”

Jamie let go, wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded, looking at the tarmac the whole time.  

He turned towards the plane, but found himself in a hard embrace.  Ian gripped his brother-in-law, and friend tightly.  No words were exchanged. Whatever one needed, the other would give.  They had been through too much together, their bond understood.  Ian was the one person who knew exactly what Jamie was thinking and feeling.  

How life could change in the blink of an eye.

How you could be whole, and happy, feeling right with the world, and then have your heart and mind shattered like the cracks in a windshield after a crash, spreading out in front of you until you can’t see anything of the world at all. Just fragments.  Fractures.  Shattered pieces.  Or worse yet, missing.  

Jamie sat alone on the plane looking out of the window as Scotland disappeared below him.  He still had the token from Jenny in his hand.  He closed his fist around it, hard, and looked out at the clouds surrounding him. He raised his eyes higher, heavenward.  Lord that she may be safe. She and the child.  


It was all over when he arrived.  

He was ushered to a waiting room, and made to sit by himself.  Finally, a small toad-like man entered, and introduced himself as Dr. Raymond.  His first thought was, Claire said ye looked like a frog.  She wasna wrong.  Jamie’s mouth lifted in half a smile as he stood to extend his hand to the doctor.  

Raymond explained that Claire was currently receiving some units of blood to replace what she’d lost.  Once assured Claire would be fine, Jamie had asked about his child.  

The wee man barely came up to the centre of Jamie’s chest, yet his words had the power to knock him backwards, stumbling into a chair.   

His child was mort-nè.  

Still born.  

Jamie felt fragile, paper thin, like velum, that if he moved too fast or spoke to loudly he would tear in half.   

“Your wife suffered a placental abruption.  This is when the placental lining separates from the uterus.  Sometimes the mother does not feel anything, and sometimes she feels, maybe, some pain in the back.  Unfortunately, the infant was not receiving enough oxygen in utero, so….” The doctor paused, then said in his heavy French accent, “I am sorry for your loss, Monsieur.”

Jamie nodded, and swallowed.  His emotions were so raw, he found himself unable to speak.  His thoughts were a tangle, like a net cast out to sea and caught on a rocky shore.  Fear wrapped itself around his gut, making him wonder if this was, somehow, his fault.  

“Can I ask ye a question?” Jamie said.

Dr. Raymond blinked slowly, and nodded once.    

“Is this my fault?  Should I – “ Jamie stopped.  It was difficult to talk of personal things, private things.  

He thought back to the night before she left, how he drove into his wife, hard and fast, angry that she was leaving, desperate to have her knowing he would miss her, with fear in his veins over their impending separation. More like making a point, than making love. He would rather die than to have been the one to cause the tear.

He gathered his courage, began again.  “The last time, when I had, well, sex with my wife…should I have been gentler?  Maybe….maybe been more considerate of her…of her….condition?”  

The physician simply shook his head, and said quite bluntly, “No, Monsieur. That is not the cause.  You are a fine husband.  It is not possible.”  

Absolved of his sin, Jamie sat back in the chair and exhaled.

But that didn’t absolve Claire.  Jamie took a deep breath, then said what was on his mind next, a thought that was eating at him like a corrosive.  

“I never wanted her to come, ye see.  She…Claire…she doesna do things in half measure, ye ken.  I worried she’d overdo.  So.”  He looked Dr. Raymond straight in the eye, and asked, “Did she?  Did she do too much?  On her feet all hours?  Not stopping, or getting proper rest?” 

Jamie rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them.  He felt ice cold to the marrow of his bones.  “Tell me she rested.  Tell me she took care, that this wasna her fault, either,” he whispered, ashamed, “because I don’t…I don’t want to hate my wife.”  

Dr. Raymond looked at this red man.  The aura around him.  He would fight to the death for the things he loved.  Raymond understood he was fighting now. Fighting for the love that was being consumed by his fear.

“Monsieur Fraser, I can tell you that many times the cause is unknown. Sometimes the placenta does not attach in a place that provides adequate support, and it may not develop appropriately, or it may separate as it grows.” The little man leaned forward in an effort to reassure Jamie, “I can tell you that Dr. Fraser was not reckless or foolish.  Anyone could see that the child in her womb came first.”

The door opened then, and the young nurse he’d seen from Claire’s video called for the doctor. He couldn’t follow all of her rapid French, but when Dr. Raymond jumped up, Jamie instinctively followed.  

He stepped inside the room.  Claire’s room.  A Dhia, she looked so pale.  She was as stark a white as the hospital linens, the dark of her hair like an ink blot on the pillow.  Her arm thin, slack, even though the deep red liquid flowing through the tube in her arm was promising life.  

He understood a few words.  Fever.  Infection.  

Jamie watched in shock as the little man laid his hands on Claire.  Her shoulders, her arms.  Murmuring in French the entire time.  He sent the nurse for another drip, and she scurried out of the room hardly sparing Jamie a glance.  He flinched as the doctor ran his hands over Claire’s breasts, and down her torso, lightly but touching her all the same.  The healer then placed his hands over his wife’s womb, and Claire writhed in pain.  

More blood.  Jesus, God, how could there be so much blood.

And then, his name.

Ripped from Claire.  In pain.  In desperation.  Like a magnet, it drew him.  It was strange, how his name dragged from her remaining strength reverberated in his soul.  He took a step towards her before he’d realized he’d moved, and found himself stopped with a vise grip on his arm.  He turned to find a large woman, Hildegard according to the name tag, telling him, “Vous devez partir, Monsieur.”


When she woke up she was a bit disoriented.  Memory surfaced.  Grief washed over her like a tidal wave.  For a moment she could not breathe.  

Turning her head she saw her 6’4” husband folded into a tiny chair beside her bed.  She had no memory of his arrival. 

He was sketching.  He looked tired, wan, pale.  His eyes darting over his drawing as his big hand moved in strong sure strokes.  

“Do you hate me for it, Jamie?” she whispered, wanting to know.  Her biggest fear, that Jamie would blame her.  What was more pain?  Better to roll it all into one great big ball of grief, and deal with it.

He jumped.  “Didna realize ye were awake, Sassenach.”  Jamie set down his computer.  

Claire relaxed at the use of her nickname.  

“Jamie, I’m so sorry.  So very, very sorry.  I put myself before our family.  This is all my fault.”  

“Shhh, mo neighean donn.  Yer a doctor, ye ken well it’s no’ yer fault.”  Jamie moved his chair closer to her bed, and took one small, weak, long-fingered hand in his two large ones. Tears slipped from her eyes at his gentleness.  

Jamie didn’t have any words.  There was nothing to say.   He couldn’t fix what happened.  He couldn’t change the loss.  He could just share it.  

They sat like that for some time.  Glancing at each other.  Letting their hands speak for them, thumbs stroking, fingers squeezing, softly rubbing.  Jamie’s thumb touched her ring from time to time.  

Finally, Claire spoke.  “I want to see her.”


“My wife,” Jamie stopped.  Cleared his throat.  “My wife wants to see our child.” He stood in front of the nurses’ station, hands clenched into balls at his side, standing as tall as he could.

“Ce n’est pas possible, Monsieur,” said Nurse Hildegarde.  It wasn’t the answer Jamie wanted.  He had been powerless to this point.  This, however, he would control.  

“I didna ask yer permission.  I didna say can she, I said she wants to.  So she doesna have to imagine.”  He willed himself not to raise his voice, to keep his anger in check.  

The young nurse, Louise, looked up at him.  She looked at her superior. Stand-offs like this were rare.  Usually no one questioned Nurse Hildegard. Everyone stopped to look at the large, grieving, red haired man.  Nurse Hildegarde opened her mouth to speak again, but caught sight of the little practitioner behind Monsieur Fraser.

“Soeur Hildegard. Presénter l’enfant à Dr. et M. Fraser.  Vous avez ma permission.”   


Claire was sitting up in bed when he entered the room.  The bundle in his arms was so tiny.  A pink blanket.   As he came nearer she could see the tiny face peeking through.  Sleeping.  No, Claire remembered, not sleeping.  

“Her hair,” Jamie said, smiling sadly, “she’s got my hair.”

Claire raised her arms for the baby, and Jamie gently handed her their child as if handling fragile glass.  There was that awkward bobble of a new dad not sure what he’s doing to a new mom too eager to hold her baby.  They both chuckled at that.  Jamie sat on the edge of the bed, his arm around his wife, the other under her arms that held the baby.  They stayed like that, silently, as Claire unwrapped parts of their bairn, counting ten fingers, and ten toes. Stroking the luminescent skin.  She chuckled at the tiny ears, which stuck out a bit, like Jamie’s.  He nudged her in understanding, chuffed.  So beautiful.

And then Claire began to sing.

When Nurse Louise came in an hour later she was moved by the tableau before her.  Her friend, Claire, rocking slowly, humming.  Jamie, her husband, sitting stoic beside her.  Neither taking their eyes from their child.  

She approached the bed. 

“Ma Chere, Claire.  Il est temps.”

When Louise left the room closing the door behind her, Claire thoroughly and completely went to pieces.  

Jamie held his wife across his lap.  

And did the same.


Sitting on the private plane to go home Claire looked out the window at the terminal traffic.  Everyone so busy, oblivious to the people they were shuttling on to planes, the bags they were loading, the lives they were moving along. Jamie sat beside her, holding her hand.  They spoke little.  She still couldn’t believe they were alone on this plane.  Jamie insisted.  He said he’d had enough of strangers.  

“I don’t want to forget her face,” Claire whispered, head back, curls pressed against the head rest.  “I’m afraid I’ll forget her face.”

Jamie let go of her hand.  “I ken it may be strange.  I’m sorry if it bothers ye. But I had to,” he said, quietly, apologetically.  He fumbled in his pocket.  “For Jenny.  For my sister.  She would want to see, ye ken.  She’s all I’ve got for family, other than you, Claire.”

There, on his phone screen, looking as if she was sleeping peacefully, was Faith Elizabeth Fraser. 


One year later

They walked slowly through the cemetery.  Jamie’s hands deep in his pockets, as he did when he was nervous.  Claire’s arms were crossed in front of her, as she did when she was nervous, a bouquet of tulips gripped in her hand.  They walked as if they really didn’t want to arrive at their destination, lost in their own thoughts, steps hesitant.  

It was the first time they would visit her grave.  One year to the day when she passed.  

“She should be over here.”  Jamie hung back and let Claire step up first.
Claire’s gasp was audible from where he stood.  She dropped to her knees, and laid a hand reverently on the stone.  A stone.  She hadn’t expected a stone.  They hadn’t ordered one.  She expected a simple marker, not this beautiful, pale pink granite slab. 

Jamie crouched beside her.  He cleared his throat.  “A Da can only give what he can to his bairn.  I’m an artist.  So.  I gave her a resting place, wit’ her name and our names, and placed her in the care of her grandparents.  Yers and mine.”  He brushed a leaf off the corner of the stone.  “And I left a bit of Scotland wi’ her.”

She traced the tiny gold medal imbeded in the stone under Faith’s name. “What is this?”

“It’s St. Andrew,” Jamie said.  “My father used to carry the medal around in his pocket. It would remind him to pray, to ask for intercession when he needed it. It became mine.  Jenny gave it to me when I left for France.  When I ordered the stone I gave it to them, along with the design.”  

They stayed for a long time, holding hands, lost in their own thoughts.  
Jamie stood, and pulled his wife to her feet.  Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he buried his face in her sweet smelling curls.  The sun shone warm on their faces, as Jamie swayed from side to side.

“So.  Now would be a good time to tell me something, Claire Fraser,” he said, next to her ear.  “Anything ye like.”  

Claire butted backwards and hit her husband in the crotch.  He let out a soft “oof” and laughed.

“I have nothing to say, James Fraser,” she said, in her haughtiest tone.   

“Hmpf,” Jamie made a Scottish noise, and turned Claire around to face him. “Yer sure, then?”  

Claire stood on tiptoes and kissed her husband full on the lips. “Five days is not a long time, you know that.”

“Aye, but yer never late.”  He grinned at her.  “It’s fine, Sassenach.  I’ll wait. Besides,” he said softly, “I have you.  And faith.”  

Little Ham Man (Small!Hamilsquad x Reader) Part 15

A/N: If the format is off I’m so sorry I typed up all of this on my iPad (I’ll edit it later!)

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter


You laughed nervously, looking at the boys. They were all staring at Jenny, wide-eyed. Thomas was frowning, a sneer on his lips. How in the world could you tell her that she was right? I mean, did it even make any logical sense?

“I can explain, Jen,” You started, not actually knowing how you were going to explain this. Jenny nodded, waiting for you to continue.

But of course, one of the boys had to interrupt the peaceful conversation.

“You know, it’s polite to apologize at this point in a conversation,” Thomas said, looking at Jenny. You sighed, sitting on the stool.

Here it comes.

Keep reading

10

“Paris. That’s when it must of happened.
The two of them alone, in another world.
Putting their lives in each others hands everyday.
Not to mention the long nights.
It was inevitable.
Nothing is inevitable.” 

Bully

Genre: fluff and angst 

Pairings: jennie × reader

Words: 2,269

Warnings: bullying

Originally posted by officialjisoo


You weren’t going to lie, you were a nerd. Just like the ones in romantic comedies right before they go through a shocking transformation, except this was real life. It was a romantic comedy and there certainly was not anybody coming to give you a makeover anytime soon. The glasses, the hundreds of books, an insane amount of knowledge. and sadly even the bully.

It was in kindergarten when you met your bully for the first time. Shockingly, your first encounter with her was anything but horrific. If anything, it had been sweet.

Even as a five year old, you were quite the outcast. You were always left alone to watch as the other boys and girls in your small class played around and had fun. Not that you really cared, but it changed when she came around.

You had no idea how you hadn’t noticed the girl before. It wasn’t like there were many kids in your class, so it she would have been hard to miss. Even at the small age of five years old you were able to tell that she was beautiful. The brunette plops down next to you and stares at you in curiosity. You stare back at her, equally as curious but probably a lot more intimidated, until she gives you the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen in your life. Then again, that probably didn’t mean much considering you had only been alive for five years, but you didn’t know that.

The girl decides to take you under her wing that day, soon after you find our that the pretty girl’s name is Jennie. You weren’t even sure if you necessarily agreed to being her friend, but you never complained. After that, you become inseparable. There’s never a day that goes by where you aren’t following the girl around like a lost puppy, and there’s never a day where Jennie isn’t playfully ordering you around.

That was until the 7th grade.

A lot of things began to change about Jennie. She became distant and cold around you without an explanation, and she eventually branched out to other people and completely ditched you. At first you had been devastated, but soon the devastation turned into nothing but anger.

Eventually in the middle of 9th grade, you learned to live with it. That was until Jennie approached you with a few of her friends, and began to bully you. After that terrible day, the bullying didn’t stop. Jennie continued to call you names, laugh at you, make fun of you, and even resorted to pushing and tripping you in the hallways.

It was starting to seem like you’d be stuck with Jennie forever.

You were sitting alone on the phone with your best friend, Yeri, as tears filled your eyes.

“I’m not even sad anymore at this point Yeri, I’m just… pissed. What have I ever done to that girl? She’s the one who ditched me, not the other way around.”

You hear Yeri sigh, “Have you ever tried talking to her?”

You scoff,” Wendy she’s a bully. If I even step in the same area as her she tries to do something to me, along with her friends. You really think that she’d listen to me?”

“I don’t know, Y/N. I’ve never had to deal with anything like this.”

“I know, and I’m not asking you to deal with this or anything, I just needed some to rant to.” You say, wiping the tears from your eyes with your shirt sleeve.

“I’m sorry that i’m not able to do much, but please just know that I’m always going to be here for you, okay? I’m not like Jennie, I promise that I’ll never leave you.”

You smile slightly, “Thank you Wendy.”

Yeri hums and hangs up the phone, leaving you in silence as you stared into the distance. It was late in the afternoon and you were sitting alone at the park, underneath a tree after another irritating day at school. The more you thought of school, the more tempting the idea to talk to Jennie became. Jennie and the rest of her friends may have been bullies, but they seemed to be careful. It’s not like they’d ever beat you up, at least not on school grounds. The worst they could do was push you and shove you and around a bit, and you were already used to that. If you talked to Jennie, nothing too bad could happen.

But the inner scaredy in you was starting to make a reappearence. What if everyone started staring? What if those girls really didn’t care about getting in trouble and they just went for it? What happens if you talk to Jennie and it doesn’t even work? What if her bullying just worsens?

The stresses of bullying, exams, and everything else must have finally gotten to you, because you finally started to break down into tears.

Little did you know, a very guilty, confused, and familiar brunette haired girl was watching you from afar.


“Why do you think she hasn’t been bothering you?” Wendy asks.

“I don’t know, but it’s scaring me.”

You’re curled up on the couch with Wendy blankets and pillows surrounding you both as you talked about Jennie and her suddenly nonexistent bullying

“Y/N, this is a good thing. She’s been bullying you since we’ve entered high school. Aren’t you at least at little happy?” Wendy says, combing her fingers through your hair.

“No, not really. I mean I’m glad it’s stopped for now, but who knows what Jennie might be planning. She might be planning to murder me, or something.”

“I don’t think Jennie is that evil, Y/N.”

“You never know.” You say, shrugging slightly.

The two of you put on a movie and continue to cuddle peacefully, shoving different snacks into your mouth, before you get a text from an unknown number.

its jennie

can we talk

You freeze, staring at the three messages in shock.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Who is it?” Wendy asks in confusion.

“It’s Jennie, apparently.”

“What? What does she want? How did she even get your phone number?” Wendy’s eyes are wide as she looks at you.

“I - I don’t know. I’ll ask her right now, okay?” You begin to tap back a response, your hand shaking slightly.

How did you get my phone number?

You hit send, and wait for a reply.

that doesnt matter

what matters is that I know that ive done alot of crappy things to u, but I’m trying to fix everything

i want to fix us, our friendship.

You stare at Jennie’s messages, and somehow you’re even more confused than you were at first.

How do I know this isn’t some big setup?

You could just be tricking me.

“What did she say?” Wendy asks, peering over your shoulder.

“I don’t know. I’m still waiting for another response.” You say with a sigh.

u have every right to think that this is a setup. but its not. I promise.

we can even talk on the phone if that makes you more comfortable.

i just need to talk to you Y/N

please :)

You turn around to look at Wendy, “Should I just meet up with her?”

Wendy pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue, and sighs, “It’s a bit risky, I’m not going to lie. But she did say that she’d be willing to talk to you on the phone, if she really wanted to do something to you, I don’t think she’d say that.”

You bite your lip, and look back at the conversation on your phone.

When and where do you want to meet up?


As you sat in the tiny cafe near your apartment complex, hands shaking, you realized that you were probably making the biggest mistake of your life.

What kind of idiot would agree to meet up with their high school bully with barely anybody around? It seemed like it was straight out of some kind of teenage high school romantic comedy. This was going to be the part where the bully pretended to befriend the nerd, all just to pull an incredibly mean trick on the poor nerd only a few days after meeting up.

Every part of your brain was telling you to just run, change your phone number, change names, change states, and to never return to the crappy place that you called home. But, sadly, your body seemed to be determined to stay put.

You look at the time on your wristwatch, realizing that Jennie was now almost twenty minutes late, and you were starting to think that she wasn’t going to show. You should’ve known better, bullies probably don’t care enough to show up on time.

You look out of the cafe window that you were sitting near and you let out a sigh of annoyance. The park was right across the street from the cafe and you had a perfect view from it, with all of the trees blowing gently in the wind and the birds chirping, it was the perfect day to go for a walk. You could’ve been there right now, but you were too busy waiting for someone who was barely worth your time.

Suddenly while you were moping about your life, you see Jennie pass by the cafe window, barely bothering to look in front of her.

Your eyes widen, and you fix your appearance quickly in the cafe window, just before Jennie walks through the door, setting off the bell that rang whenever someone came into the cafe.

You see Jennie scan the room, until her eyes finally land on yours, and she walks over to you and sits across from you.

The both of you sit in awkward silence for a second, before Jennie starts to speak.

“So, the weather’s nice today.”

“Today’s supposed to be the hottest day of the year?” You say in slight confusion.

“Right, sorry.” Jennie mumbles, continuing to stare at the table that was separating the two of you.

Neither of you talk for a while, before Jennie starts to speak again, “Okay, I need to stop being a wimp. We both know that we’re not here to talk about the weather, so just ask me any question, and I’ll answer it completely honestly.” Jennie says, leaning back into her chair.

You stare at her in shock for a second, before asking the question that you’ve been dying to ask Jennie since the day that she stopped talking to you,

“Why?”

Jennie licks her lips, “Why what?”

You roll your eyes, “You know exactly what I mean. Why did you ditch me? Why did you start bullying me?”

Jennie diverts her eyes from your face, then sighs, “I don’t know, I mean I do know, but at the same time I guess I kind of don’t?”

“That makes no sense.” You say bluntly.

Jennie smiles slightly, “I know. It’s just.. hard for me to say,” Jennie bites her lip, “I had a crush on you, and I guess I still do. That’s why I stopped being your friend, and that’s why I started bullying you. I guess I didn’t really know how to cope with the idea of liking a girl, especially my best friend, and I kind of lost it.” Jennie looks up at your shocked face expression, and continues,

“Listen, I’m not asking you to be my girlfriend, or even my acquaintance, but I am asking for your forgiveness. I know ive been really crappy to you, and I’ve done things to you that nobody deserves, so I’d also understand if you’d want to like.. punch me in the face or something.”

“Are you asking me to punch you in the face?” You ask, in confusion.

“No, but if you wanted to, I wouldn’t blame you, but that’s not the point. I’m not the best at expressing my feelings, so I know that I probably don’t sound very sincere, but I am, so, do you think you’ll be able to forgive me?”

You stare at Jennie, your arms crossed against your chest, before dropping them to your sides, “Jennie, I can tell that you’re sincere, but it’s not going to be that easy for me to forgive you. You’ve made high school a living hell for me, and an apology in a coffee shop isn’t going to make me just forget all of that… but I will give you a chance to make up for everything. After I’m positive that you won’t just turn around and start bullying me again, then maybe we can become friends, or best friends, or something more.”

Now Jennie is the one that looks shocked, “Something more?”

“Don’t get your hopes up.”

Jennie nods, “Trust me I’m not, I’m just glad you’re even giving me a chance.”

Both of you stand up, out of your seats and grab your bags, ready to head out of the cafe, before you block Jennies path, “Wait, what even made you suddenly want to apologize to me? It’s just so… out of the blue?”

Jennie smiles sadly, “Trust me, I’ve been wanting to apologize to you for a while. I think I was just too scared of losing everything. All of my friends would’ve dumped me in a heartbeat if they found out that I was going to apologize to you, so I went along with it, even if I felt terrible. I guess I just realized that you’re much more worth it then a group of assholes.”

“Obviously.” You say with a small smile.

Jennie rolls her eyes and punches you in the arm playfully, “Nerd.”

“Bully.“ You say, sticking your tongue out.

hufflepuff jenny calendar aesthetic

“i just wanna help.”

Pause and remember— Stop mentally abusing yourself. Stop agonizing over your past mistakes and worrying about the future. Life is hard enough without the added fear, panic and anxiety. Your soul is crying out for love and encouragement. Take a moment to breathe deep, get present and find some compassion for yourself. Then, go out and treat yourself right; pamper yourself and take care of your needs. You are worth it!
—  Jenni Young

I really don’t like the idea of Abbie and Katrina teaming up and fighting evil. Nawl. I’m good. I want Abbie to as stay far away from Katrina as possible

Miss me with the “why can’t we have two strong women getting along!!11!!”

Well, if Katrina wasn’t a danger to everyone she came across then maybe, but no.

Stay away from dem white folks abbie. Self-preservation, boo. 

First of all, I want to address the suit, which has really changed my outlook on life and fashion. It makes me feel like a lady version of Willy Wonka. I have four suits, and the more I post on my Instagram … people are starting to turn on the suit. They’re starting to comment: “God, Jenny! You really need to stop wearing that suit. Like, right now!” And I just wonder why would anyone wear anything other than rainbows if they had the choice?
—  Jenny Lewis (x)