#And His fingerprints are *all over* the last two years.

[thegreenleavesofspring]

.

[mysteriesmuse]

You’re hiding in your Hiding Place — Bakugou Katsuki’s bicep 💪

In your later years at UA, Bakugou Katsuki ends up with an —unusual reputation within class A. He’s got a notoriously famous mean streak, but in 1-A he’s also got a reputation for having a strangely nutty tough-love aura about him — which makes him a decently good person to come run to when things go wrong. Naturally, not anyone’s top pick or anything, but a good one for when you need cry your heart out, or something. And, Bakugou usually knows, which is why he’s not all too surprised when you plow into his midsection in the middle of the hall. He’s headed upstairs from a later dinner because of his internship when he sees you. You’re coming straight from the dormitory showers, a chrous of familiar caterwauling floating out from the boys side. That’s why he took his showers in the morning, if he could help it, because at least Iida didn’t attempt to sing. You look soft and malleable stepping out from the bathroom. An old tye-dye shirt boasting participation of some kind of annual charity run and a pair of sweatpants on. The cuff at you ankles revealing your — now, slightly pink house slippers due to a washing mishap that happened last week in the dorms with a certain Shitty-Hair’ed guy and his red-themed hero costume. Your arms and face are dewy with what he presumes is that moisturizer that all you girls like to lather up in daily — and your hair is still on the verge of wet and stringy, but also frizzy and fuck, you look so very tired and soft right now. Katsuki pauses, red eyes squinting at your face; your nose is pink and your face is dewy, but those aren’t fingerprints left in the wake of moisturizer — it’s old tears that’s streaked over it. He huffs from his nose, nostrils flaring before he takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers at you where they hang by the side of his hips. And it’s then that he sees your shoulders slacken slightly before you’re suddenly pressed up against his front. All causal and warm — pressed as far into his abdomen as you can get, and he can feel your boobs smush against his chest because you’re very clearly not wearing a bra — and also because he’s earned a reputation for being a decent fucking human and for being nonchalant about that stuff. Bakugou is one of three guys in the dorm you guys deem trustworthy and reasonable enough to do that with. (The other two being Shouji and Todoroki.) And thus, he’s been grappled into many squishy-boob hugs by all you shitty girls. And your cheek is pressed against the hard plain of muscle that is his chest and your arms are wrapped around him — just under his shoulder blades in an action that lifts him and pulls Bakugou in towards you just a little bit. Your fingertips pressing into the muscle on his back and he hopes you don’t feel the way his heart is lub-dubbing inside his chest at the action. And suddenly Bakugou pulls you closer to him. A bicep circling protectively beside your chin, as a big palm comes to rest atop your damp hair. His other arm squeezing around your mid-section like a python and it’s a good thing too because as soon as he puts his arms around you Bakugou can feel that strength seeping from you and it feels like he’s holding you together. And that’s when the sniffles start.

“I’m so pathetic,” you whine. “As soon as you put your arms around me I felt my knees buckle.” And you’re pressed so close Bakugou can feel the way your lips move to form the words right against his chest. And instead of Bakugou saying anything mildly helpful in this situation his says, “I have that effect.” With a slight shrug that brings the top of your head pressing against his jaw, which might just be him engulfing and cradling you completely, but who knows? And Bakugou has no fucking idea why he said that. Or how he managed to say something so flirtatiously cringy with such calm, but all you do is attempt to shake your head against his hold and mumble, “yeah, that makes sense. I’ve seen the other girls around school.” Which you punctuate with a snort, an arm moving from his back to swipe at your face. Bakugou has no idea where this is going — except for you to start “hilariously deflecting” from whatever problem is at hand. “There’s this one girl,” you start with a breath, “she’s always hanging around the hallway between classes. She’s definitely trying to catch you at your locker, but she always just ends up next to mine and Momo’s — saying something random before running off. She’s definitely into you.” You look up at him, still completely weak in his hold and Bakugou scrunches his nose at you. An action that you find looks unnatural and awkward on the sharp features of his face. You frown, hoarsely laughing, “Stop that.” About his facial expression. Bakugou can’t imagine any girls wanting to be with him. Surely he’s a terrible catch at a boyfriend.

He face curls into a snarling scoff, “Nope. Can’t see it. You must be imaging things.” He declares forcefully pressing your head back into the cocoon of him. He settles his head back on top of yours and you’re now squirming like a damn worm. And you find some strength as you manage to peek your face out and blink at him with furrowed brows. And maybe it’s cause you’re in a vulnerable state with a good friend and maybe it’s because you’ve been harboring a little bit of a recent crush on the boy, but you blurt out, “You’re a catch. You know that, right?” And again his stupidly handsome face scrunches into that weird shape again before his red eyes are staring into yours. The hand on your back clutches at your shirt fabric before he says, “You really think that? You’re not just fucking with me?” You snort, wiping a few more stray tears from an entirely different problem than the internal one that the blonde is currently having. “Yeah I really think that, Bakugou.” And there’s a little quip on the side of his mouth that might count as a Bakugou smile, but it’s gone before you can tease him about it. The explosive murder god boy being unsure about his status as attractive is entirely too precious and far too laughable a situation — which is probably why your aggressively smooshed back into his chest and why he starts waddling side to side. For some damn reason the gently rocking from foot-to-foot placebo affects you into crying it all out. Some remnant of being a baby you suppose, but it’s still annoying how Bakugou’s managed to peg it on you so easily. And you’re damn right Bakugou’s doing it on purpose because you very clearly have a problem of your own or you wouldn’t be clutching onto him for dear life like you are right now. And despite this revelation that Kirishima may be right in the fact that’s he’s attractive he’s still whirling at the thought that you think he’s a catch. Because you’re the only girl he’d probably ever want thinking that — but Bakugou tucks that piece of knowledge into the back of his brain when Momo comes out of the showers next. A giant frilly nightgown on as she scampers over — talking and whispering to you gently from within your little hiddie-hole formed by his curled bicep and forearm. And he just huffs, and continues to cocoon you in his embrace rocking back and forth like a damn rocking-chair as you rattle off whatever’s been on your mind.

What’s on his mind is for another day . . .

[whytheylosttheirminds]

I Remember Everything - Rafe Cameron (Chapter 3)

Summary: You left the island two years ago, leaving the love of your life a shattered man in your wake. Now, when you return, you find the sweet boy you once loved has transformed into a monster of a man. How can you detangle the real Rafe from the terrible things he's done?

Timeline: begins toward the end of obx season 3 and is mostly canon.

Content: this story contains sexual content, alcohol and drug abuse, and brief mentions of violence. All chapters are 18+, minors do not interact!

⯎series masterlist⯎

“I like the lilac, but I just wonder if the lavender would’ve gone better with your complexion,” your mom said as she eyed you critically. You were standing on a pedestal in the middle of Sally’s Dress Shop, trying on the bridesmaids dress your mom had picked out for you to wear to her wedding. The dress was far too frilly and pastel for your taste, but if wearing it would please your mom and make this week move faster, it was worth it.

“I think this is fine, mom,” you were trying your hardest to keep your tone polite, determined to keep this outing from turning into a fight. After all, it was your mom’s wedding week, and despite all of the history between you, you really did want her to be happy. 

By the time you had returned to the table last night, your mom had already paid the bill. The three of you drove home in silence, your mom giving you her patented silent treatment. This morning when you came downstairs dressed and ready for your fitting, she simply started talking about the flower arrangements for the reception, like the night before had never happened.

“I think you chose well,” you said before your mom could change her mind on the dress again. You’re lying through your teeth, you think this dress might be one of the worst choices she's ever made, but the satisfied smile on her face makes your discomfort worth it. 

“Do a spin for me,” she asks for the tenth time today. When you roll your eyes she pouts and says, “please?”

You smile and twirl for her again, giggling when you nearly lose your footing and fall off the pedestal, grabbing your mom’s shoulder for support. Your mom laughed too, and you realized you couldn’t remember the last time the two of you laughed together. It was nice.

Rafe has been avoiding going downtown as much as possible these days, keeping his outings to the Island Club and having his friends come to him if they want to party. Even though his dad had officially taken the fall for everything, he knew people still whispered about him as he walked by. I heard he was there. I heard he did it. They say his fingerprints were on the bullets.

Today, however, he had a meeting with a potential buyer of some of the melted gold, a jeweler on main street. He slid on his sunglasses and locked his car, trying desperately to act like today was just business as usual, like he hadn’t just put a hit on his own father.

He walked quickly from his truck toward the jeweler’s store front, but stopped in his tracks as he passed Sally’s. There you were, behind the glass, spinning in a puffy purple dress, before nearly falling on your ass. He cursed himself for the way he flinched, as if he could reach out and catch you through the window. Why was it still his instinct to catch you? 

Two Years Earlier…

“Rafe!” You squealed as he pulled you through the side door of the ballroom into the dimly lit alley. “They were playing my song!”

“That’s why I had to get you outta there,” he leans over you, backing you slowly up against the wall. “You looked way too fucking good dancing to that song.”

Rafe started rifling through the layers of your prom dress impatiently, trying to get his hands on you.

“What are you doing?” You playfully swatted his arm, thinking he must be teasing you.

“I need you,” he growled.

“Right here? In the middle of this gross alley?” You started to think he might not be kidding.

He finally gets his hands under the heavy fabric of your gown and begins kneading the flesh of your ass, making you gasp. His open mouth found yours, and you can immediately taste the alcohol on his tongue. You pull back from him and reach up to grab both sides of his face, hoping your touch would ground him a bit. He looked at you frenzied, his pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

“Baby, are you drunk already?” You said as gently as possible.

“Just on you, baby,” he slurred, attempting to dive back in for a kiss. 

“Wait,” you turned your head, causing his mouth to miss yours and land sloppily on your ear.

“What the hell?” He backed away from you in frustration. His chest was rising and falling quickly, nostrils flaring, and you wondered if he was also high. He’d only done coke once before, as far as you knew, but you remembered how panicked he was after, his heart pounding violently as you tried to calm him down. 

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “We just need to slow down a bit.”

You approached him with your hand outstretched, like he was a stray dog you were trying not to scare off. He didn’t look at you, but allowed you to slip your fingers into his, squeezing gently.

“I just wanna dance with you,” you whispered softly. Je just glared back at you, so you pouted your lips, knowing he found it irresistibly cute when you did that. He couldn’t hide the crooked smirk growing on his lips, and his breath steadied.

“We can party hard later,” you promised. “But I wanna remember this part, with you.”

He looked down at your hand in his and ran his thumb over the promise ring he had given you just a few weeks ago. You lifted his hand to your lips and kissed it softly.

As you swayed softly to the next slow song, he bent down and laid a kiss on your bare shoulder. For a moment, you thought you were successful in bringing him back down to Earth. You were full of pride, truly believing that you, and only you, would always be able to fix him when he was broken. 

Now…

Rafe stood frozen at the dress shop window, just watching you. When you tucked your hair behind your ears, it was like he could still smell your pretty coconut shampoo. When you smoothed down your dress, it was like he could still feel your soft hands on his bare skin. When you said something to your mom, it was like he could still hear your voice whispering in his ear I will love you forever, Rafe Cameron.

But you hadn’t meant it, had you? You couldn’t have, or you would’ve stayed. And if you had stayed, maybe he wouldn’t be where he was now. Maybe he would’ve married you, taken you away from this island like the two of you used to dream about. Maybe he wouldn’t be a thief, a liar, a killer. 

It was too late now, too late to undo it. Too late to get back to who he was before you left. But there was something about the sight of you, the presence of you, even through the tinted window glass, that made him want to try.

Decisively, he turned back toward his car, feverishly dialing Barry’s number. Praying to whatever God was good enough to create the girl in the window that it wasn’t too late.

Looking back at yourself in the mirror, you stopped short when you saw the reflection of a figure in the window. By the time you turned around, it was gone, and you were the one left wondering if you were imagining things.

Two Years Ago…

“Ma’am can you tell us what happened here tonight?” The cop questioned you.

Rafe looked up at you with pleading eyes. White button up stained with blood, eyes glassy and red. His suit jacket, the one you had picked out together to match your dress, had been ripped to shreds.

“I don’t know,” you said to the cop, not removing your disappointed eyes from Rafe, his bloodied face illuminated in the blue-red light of the sirens. 

“We’re going to need you to give a statement, ma’am,” the officer clarified, “for the record.”

“For the record…” you shook your head at the boy on the curb, arms held behind him in handcuffs. Arms that used to hold you every night, arms you didn’t know if you could trust anymore, “...I don’t know him.”

With that, you walked away, the shattered glass from your car window crunching under your heels with each step. Rafe had no choice but to sit there and watch you go, aching with something completely unrelated to the accident.

“Y/N!” He yelled after you, unable to suppress the pain in his voice.

You just kept walking.

Now…

You woke up with a start, clutching your bedsheets. Sighing, you tapped your phone screen and it lit up in the darkness. 5:53am. 

You weren’t surprised, you hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep in two years. You knew how this would go, once your brain was awake there would be no turning it back off. You sighed and threw the covers off, your old childhood bed creaking loudly as you stood up. You winced at the noise, your mother was a light sleeper, a lesson you’d learned the hard way too many times. 

You pulled on an old pair of leggings and a hoodie, and slowly crept down the stairs. Once out the door, you found your old bike in the shed in the backyard and rode off into the soft morning light. No clear destination in mind, you rode around the neighborhood, down to the beach. You watched the waves crash as you passed them. It had been two years since you’d seen the ocean, and you had nearly succeeded in convincing yourself you were okay with that. But now, the sun rising over the sea, salty air consuming your senses, all the hard work you did to delude yourself unraveled.  

Without really meaning to, you ended up at the cemetery. You parked your bike and let your memory lead you right to your dad’s plot.

His grave clearly hadn’t seen visitors in a while. You made a weak effort to brush the dirt off of his headstone, before smiling and choosing to leave it as is. “God made dirt, dirt don’t hurt” your dad would’ve said. 

For a while you just sat there, fingers combing through the grass as you listened to the birds chirp loudly in the trees above.

“That ever get annoying?” You asked your dad in jest. You smile to yourself, knowing your dad wouldn’t have minded. He was too easy going, the calm current that kept you and your mom afloat. Suddenly hit with a pang of longing to see your father again, you wished that you had something to leave here for him. You noticed a grave a few plots over, completely covered in fresh blooming flowers. 

“Somebody was popular,” you say to your dad’s headstone. “I’m sure they won’t miss one flower right?”

You stand and approach the grave, wondering who it was that inspired such an outpouring of love. 

“Sheriff Susan Peterkin” 1977-2020

You frowned. She must’ve died recently, then. Strange that your mom hadn’t said anything, surely Chip had known her, being on the force. You remembered Peterkin, she came to your school every year when you were growing up. Back then, she was just a beat cop who pulled the short straw and had to give the anti-bullying presentation, but you remember her being very nice.

You plucked a tulip from one of her many bouquets and felt like you should say something.

“Um, hi. I don’t know if you knew my dad, but I think you would’ve liked him. I’m sorry for whatever happened, but thanks for always being so cool.”

As you walked away from her grave, you noticed another newly dug plot a few yards away. The plot was small, if something was buried here, it wasn’t a body. Still, there was a small plaque over the fresh dirt. You approached, having to get pretty close before you could make out the name…

“Ward Cameron.”

Your knees buckled beneath you, the tulip you were holding slipping from your grasp. This grave couldn’t have been here for more than what, a few weeks? The grass had barely begun to grow. Maybe your mom could have just forgotten to tell you about Sheriff Peterkin, but surely the very recent death of Ward Cameron hadn’t just slipped her mind. Clearly, something bigger was going on. 

And Rafe…Rafe.

You regained your footing and started running, past Sheriff Peterkin’s grave, past your father’s, blowing him a quick kiss.

You found your bike and started pedaling as fast as you could. Not even pausing to think through what you’d say when you got there, just knowing you needed to see him, to be with him. Suddenly, it made more sense. He was grieving. Their relationship was complicated, but even when he was pissed at him, Rafe still worshiped his father.

You pulled up to Tannyhill, but the gate was closed. You tried some of the gate codes you remembered the Camerons used to rotate through, but none of them worked. After your fifth attempt, the system locked you out. You rang the bell, not sure if he would even let you in when he realized it was you, but you had to try. No answer, he must not have been home.

You sat by the wall for a few hours, waiting for him to get home. Eventually, your stomach ached with hunger, and you really had to pee. You decided to go home, collect yourself, and come back later. 

By the time you arrived home on your bike, it was almost noon. Chip was just walking in the front door, home from work. He had been pulling double overnight shifts to pay for the wedding and he looked exhausted. Luckily for both of you, the wedding was just a few days away now, and all of this would be behind you soon.

When you walked in the living room, he was mid-conversation with your mother, who quickly shushed him at the sight of you. He looked at her in confusion, clearly not reading the silent message she was trying to send with her eyes.

“What’s going on?” You asked, feeling just as lost as Chip.

“Just telling your mom how we brought in that Cameron boy again last night-” your mother cut him off with a harsh, “Chip!” and he threw his hands up in surrender.

You and your mother looked at each other for a long moment, saying nothing, and at the same time, everything. 

“Don’t,” she pleaded quietly.

You turned fast and ran toward the door, grabbing her car keys and your purse off the dining room table as you passed.

“Y/N, do not do this,” your mom was up from the couch, running after you as you headed for the front door. “Tonight is my bachelorette party and tomorrow we have the rehearsal!”

“I’ll be back in time, I just have to-”

“No you don’t! You don’t have to!” She yelled, trying to grab the handle of the door before you could get to it, but you beat her to it and threw open the door.

“I’m sorry,” you called behind you as you ran to her car in the driveway. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t bother,” she yelled from the front steps. 

You stopped in your tracks, hands pausing on the handle of her car door as you whipped your head towards her in surprise.

“If you leave right now,” she said, eerily composed, “If you go to him, I don’t want you at my wedding. If you do this, y/n…I don’t ever want to see you again”

Your mother had said many harsh words to you in moments of frustration that she tried to take back later, but the way she was talking to you now, her tone so even and her words so carefully selected, you wondered if she’d practiced this speech. Then it dawned on you, she knew you would do this. She knew if you found out about Ward, that you’d run to Rafe’s side. And she was fully prepared to cut you out.

You opened the car door and got in, not looking back at your mom as you peeled out of the driveway.

Twelve Years Earlier…

“No, Rafe,” you scolded, hands on your hips. “You’re the cop, and I’m the robber!”

“Well too bad. I wanna be a robber, too,” he said, taking off the plastic sherriff's badge you had given him and throwing it in the playground dirt. 

“We can’t both be robbers, that doesn’t make any sense,” you told him. 

The rules of make-believe were very clear, and you’d always been a rule follower. That is, until you started spending your recesses playing with Rafe Cameron. He was always in trouble.

“Sure we can, we’ll be like Bonnie and Clyde!” He encouraged, handing you his plastic toy gun.

“Bonnie and Clyde,” you agreed with a smile, taking the gun.

Suddenly, you didn’t care so much about breaking the rules. Not if it meant you got to keep playing with him.

(chapter 4)

a/n: y'all are blowing me away with all your kindness about this story!! I hope you keep loving it!!! Lots more to come (including some smut if you're patient🤫) 🫶

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[stardustlixie]

cry me a river [h.hj x reader]

trope: enemies to lovers, uni au

word count: 13.6k

warnings: not much, arguing and bickering obvi, like one badly written breakdown, mentions of abuse but no serious descriptions, a little ateez slander i'm sorry someone had to be villain, that's it i think, lmk if i missed something

Some say a child’s mind is like a blank book, and what's written in it has lasting impact, but you'd say it's more like wet clay, writing on paper can be erased, or cut down, or covered, but what about fingerprints on clay, what about the shapes it was twisted into? those cannot be undone, not without breaking.

And you're a living example.

You were the 12 year old who was told love was something you'd have to earn. You were once the 12 year old crying when your father burst out telling you ‘second is just the first loser', you were the 12 year old shaking, lest the test paper with an 82 on it warrant physical pain. 

You were the 13 year old who spent their birthday evaluating what made up a human's worth. Kindness, faith, and community were things that your mother would have said, but certificates, achievements and excellence would be your dad's answer. And for the next 8 years, it'd be yours too.

Young minds are beautiful places, but they trust to a fault, taking whatever is presented to them as absolute truth, often hurting themselves to a point where they find themselves unable to trust when older. And yet, painfully unable to shake the beliefs embedded in their psyche.

Your father isn't in your immediate vicinity to remind you that you're not lovable if you don't have something to offer and he'd be surprised if someone ever loved you for who you are. But his voice still lives in the back of your head, it's enough reminder of your uselessness without Hyunjin exiting.

Hwang Hyunjin, how you hate his guts and how your father would have loved him. All things good: funny, smart, popular, skilled, but most of all, the best at everything. 

Always first, always a step ahead of you, prettier than you, smarter than you, more friendly than you.

More than you.

Being the best comes easy to him, hell, everything comes easy to him. Especially making you feel small. He sucks the oxygen out of any place you are in.

It seems like his only purpose in the universe is causing you problems, putting you down, destroying your self esteem, getting into the most sensitive corners of your mind and evoking intense emotions that you didn't even know you were capable of feeling.

He brings out the worst of you, makes your insecurities pop out like bright red on a white canvas. 

Maybe it's you who's fragile. But not being affected is difficult when most of his attacks seem to mirror your father's statements.

You don't like Hwang Hyunjin. You know it, Felix knows it, Minho knows it, Hyunjin knows it, the entire campus knows it. 

You don't remember when exactly Hyunjin got to this point, but it didn't start like this. 

It seems like forever but it's been just about a year since you met him at that party. It's no question that he's good looking, but he had an allure to him that day. Though he was reserved at first, you both soon began to get along and your friendship began to turn into a playful rivalry.

The light hearted competition in everything was welcome at first, but there came a point where it wasn't light hearted anymore. And maybe one of you unknowingly crossed a line or two, but you were hurling sharp insults at the other in only a couple of months of meeting.

You were enemies before you were really friends.

But you blame him for that. You weren't at fault when you recieved your first semester grades and first thing he said was “Seems like second is what you'll always be.” 

You weren't over reacting that day when he suggested getting drunk at a party was your only chance of getting laid because “Your personality will distract any sober person from your looks, no one would stay with you long enough to reach that level of trust.” 

You weren't overreacting when you'd grabbed him by the collar and told him “Talk to me about trust when someone shows interest in something other than your reputation or face. Talk to me about human connection when you know what it fucking feels like.”  

That was probably the harshest thing you'd said to him, and you knew that, because this was his fragile point. He brought it upon himself though. He wasn't seen around for a week after that. But then he was back, the same, with remarks on everything about you, not always prime hurtful, but always unwelcome. There was nothing you did that deterred him from being so disruptive. So you learnt to let it be. 

But your friends didn't get the memo. They seem to get along with him really well. To this day they've been trying to get you two to ‘settle your differences’. You reckon they'll get tired one day.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

This was a bad idea. They should have given up after two of their previous attempts.

Closed rehearsal room and your friends who thought of inviting the bane of your existence to join for a dance practice session.

“Darling you're not even trying,” he condescends, “though I don't think it'd make much of a difference if you did.” There goes that smirk.

Felix pauses his movement momentarily to look at the situation, but Minho, ever the strict teacher, orders the three of you back into position. It's been an hour of trying to come up with a choreography for a song of his choosing and you'd be worried about his disappointment in the lack of progress if you didn't have a 5 '10 problem to deal with.

Whose idea was it to attempt getting you and Hyunjin to be friends? 

You've been trying your best to focus on the instructions Minho gives but Hwang Hyunjin can be really, really annoying when he needs to be. And you're reaching the brink of your already limited patience. 

“That's it, Min. I don't know which of you two decided this was a good idea but I really hope this guy isn't in this room the next time I am. I'm not doing this anymore.” You declare and walk to get your bag when, ofcourse, Hyunjin comments.

“Oh come on,” he fakes a pout, “you're disappointing your best friends. And me.” He says, like he matters. 

“Well then,” you glare him down, done dealing with him for the rest of your life, “cry me a river and drown in it.” 

He winces and puts a hand over his heart like he's hurt, before laughing, “As you wish darling.” You're very close to snapping but you just take a few steps towards him till his back hits the wall. “Shut up, will you?” 

“Oo, how scary.” His hand reaches out but you smack it away before it does anything, your attention would be on his red ears if it wasn't on that stupid smirk.

And as you walk out you swear to yourself to wipe it off his face someday. 

When Minho and Lix brought him along and introduced him to you, he was nice, polite, quiet almost. But now it seems like he is on a personal vendetta to get on your nerves. 

His attacks go from just annoying to ignorant to personally hurtful when no one's looking. And you hate him for it. 

Felix keeps attempting to get you and his bestfriend to not be at each other's throats all the time. You can't say it's working but you've gotten more used to having a constant source of irritation around.

Is there more layers to your hatred of him than just this? Yes. Would you ever admit that? Probably not.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

The next you see of him is in your dorm, on your dinner table. Actually your trio’s table but he doesn't belong here either way. 

He lifts a hand and waves, mouthing a ‘hey there’, to which you flip him off. You reach the table and just stand beside your friends till they feel obligated to provide an explanation. Felix speaks up first, keeping his mug aside,“Hi yn!” but completely ignores your apprehension, prompts you to sit down instead, which you do with a huff. 

You don't spare him another glance but you can feel his eyes focused on you.

“Answer a question l/n.” He seems to be studying your stance for some reason. “What even is the point of you?”

You take a deep breath. You don't wanna smite him in your own kitchen. “You ask me that like your own life has any meaning.”

“So you don't have an answer?”

“Do you get off of the annoyance you cause other people?”

“Probably. You're my favorite though.” He winks and you have to use the entirety of your self control to not break his jaw.

“You done?” Minho says to Hyunjin, though it feels as if he's addressing you both.

“There’s a group dance competition in late November,” he sees both you and Hyunjin open your mouths but he cuts it off early, “it outright says groups of four or more.” 

“Then I'm out.” 

“So am I.”

“You both calm your asses right now,” Minho gives a look that promptly gets you both settled in your seats, though he ignores Lix’s giggle, “the prize money for the winners is huge.” 

“And I know you don't need the money like us,” he looks at Hyunjin, “but Hongjoong is bringing his team. I'm sure you'd like to participate.” 

Hyunjin nods his participation but Minho isn't done. “If I see whatever problem you both have with each other becoming a problem to practice..” He concludes himself with silence and you swear Hyunjin gulps as you hold eye contact with Minho, as if challenging him to finish. 

You've known him since his shy highschooler days, you're not about to be intimidated by this doe eyed example of a man.

“I think they'll manage!” Felix cheers Minho so he disrupts whatever staring contests you both are in. Conveniently dragging him out and inconveniently leaving you and Hyunjin together. This is the first time you're alone with him in a couple of months.

You get up as if he isn't sat across from you to make yourself some tea. It's almost done when he speaks. 

“So…. truce?” 

“I’m not acting friendly with you just because that rodent wants me to” you clear and set down a mug of tea on the table with some force, “don't make yourself comfortable.” 

He looks nonplussed at the cup in front of him and looks back at you.

“You were staring at Lix’s tea like a dying man. Drink it. Or don't. Whatever.” 

“Aww you do care about your arch-enemy after all!” He makes a face that makes you wanna hurt him. 

You walk out.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

“But wouldn’t that seem like piracy in dance? A dancepiracy?” Felix exclaims, in his usual manner of what-even-is-his-vocabulary when Minho has all of you gathered in a practice room on campus. 

“Lix, I'm sorry, what?” 

Hyunjin enters, a bit late as he always is, “Hi-” 

“Don't talk to me.” You cut him off and receive an eye roll before walking off to Minho and he beckons the two of them to do the same.

“Alright, let's decide a general vibe we're going for and then we'll pick a song based on that.” 

“How about a contemporary mix?” Hyunjin says, and before Minho can say something, you do.

“You're so clueless it's almost cute. You're gonna fight Ateez, with contemporary?” You scoff like it's the most ridiculous thing you've heard and he gives you an offended kindergartener look.

“Alright break it up, we'll club every idea together and then eliminate.” Minho says, already getting tired of the setting. How will he do this for a few more weeks?

Almost half an hour passes before the animated discussion about concepts, styles and which one of those could be used by potential opponents ends and you all try to decide on a song.

“But if we do Charisma we're gonna run out of energy pretty quickly and the power of the song is gonna overrule the moves.” You say and for the first time, Hyunjin agrees, so Minho has to drop it. 

“We should try k-music, how about Overdrive? The one by I.M.?” Hyunjin says and you almost pat him on the back. 

“That, Hwang, is probably the only good idea you've ever had in your life. Let's do it.” If hyunjin replies, it is tuned out by the sounds of a happy Felix. 

☆

“Hyunjin if your hand touches my face one more time I'm gonna rip it off!” Minho says, much to effect, Hyunjin shudders and his hand never reaches a foot’s radius of Minho again. He looks hilarious like that, cute even. Wait. No.

“Alright, that's probably all we can do today, I want all of you here tomorrow at 5pm. Don't be late, Hyunjin.”

“Hey, why are you pointing me out?” Hyunjin whines and you reply for Minho.

“Because you're the only dumbass who ever actually is late.” 

“You say that like your middle name is punctual.” He retorts and he looks unreasonably attractive while doing so. You hate him for that.

“And? I've hardly been late to anything dickwad.” 

“Oh well, I might be 15 minutes late to practice but I'm still better than you aren't I?” 

“Oh fuck off,” you scoff. “You're about as better than me as I am better than Kirsten Dodgen.” 

“Come on, instead of making excuses, how bout you dance better ln?” He scoffs.

“How bout you shove your attitude up your ass, Hwang? Bragging doesn't make you superior.” He bends down to your face in the most condescending way ever. “Having something to brag about is what makes me superior, darling.” You're done with him.

“You'd be so much more likable if you weren't an utter bitch.” You see his gaze drop and you find yourself scoffing. If he chooses to make a conversation escalate he should deal with what's to come.

Before he can say something in return though, Minho interrupts him and drags him out. You walk out before Felix gets the chance to lecture you. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You're in your common room snacking as Minho and Lix argue over their makeup styles. 

"Lemme do your makeup please?" Felix asks for the third time, giving Minho his best puppy eyes, and he is close to cracking, but he has a little bit of dignity left, so he turns to you for help. "Only if yn says so."

"I think lixie's style would look quite pretty on you Min." You munch on a chip, Felix jumping up with a 'yes!' while Minho just looks at you, betrayed. You give him a small smile as an apology.

You are lost in thoughts of how much you adore these two, heart warming at their silly dynamic when you hear a knock on the door. 

“I'll check it.” 

Out of all the people who could have possibly been at your door for any possible reason, it has to be Hwang Hyunjin. 

“Why are you here?” He doesn't give you a direct answer, which isn’t like him, but just looks at his shoes. 

“Can I talk to Lix-”

“He's not here.” You know he is, Hyunjin knows too, but you're not very keen on letting him in. But he doesn't try to force it, he looks almost desperate when he replies. 

“Please just let me talk to him for a moment?” Hyunjin isn't usually polite to you, so you don't actively block him and step aside to let him enter.

Felix is doing Minho’s eyeshadow when he sees him, mutters out a greeting, and only senses something is off when he pays attention to Hyunjin’s face.

“What's up, hyun?” 

“I- uh this is kinda weird but, there's a spare bed in your room right? Since your dorm is for four people.” 

“Jinnie hyung what happened?” 

“Well they're doing some emergency repair work in my room starting today evening and me and Jisung need a place to live for like a few days. Hotels are expensive.” Hyunjin looks the most embarrassed you've ever seen him, you don't know why but you definitely don't want him to stay.

“Jisung already found a place and uh, it's just for a few days-”

“It's ok hyung you can stay in mine.” Felix smiles at him and tells him to go get all the stuff he'll need for those few days. 

As soon as he's out the door you start, “Felix, what the fuck? Did you just invite him to stay over?” He sighs and gives you a look. 

“Look he's my best friend, he's not that bad, besides he's gonna be in my room and I'll keep him in check I promise. It'll be fine.” 

You didn't think it'd be fine. With Hyunjin around it'd never be fine. But you can't think of any way out other than shutting yourself in your room. That works fine for a few hours, Hyunjin brings over his stuff and you can make out sounds of the three boys playing games and goofing around. But you are human. You're hungry. 

You try your best to tiptoe to the kitchen, and you get in safely, but on your way back, you slam into Hyunjin. How fun.

“Come on, yn, at least walk properly.” He brushes himself off like he just touched dirt, and something about that gesture gets to you. In a moment he's shoved against the wall and his breath is knocked out of his lungs. You have him by the collar. 

“What is your problem with me, huh?”, you interrogate, his ears are red but his face is unyielding, “why do you insist on being such an asshole to me? What have I ever done to you?” He gulps but his gaze on you doesn't falter. In another world you'd see what your hand around his neck would feel like.

“You're the one who likes acting superior, someone has to remind you you're not.” He says and some thread of resolve deep within you snaps. 

“Look Hyunjin, I don't know what deep insecurity of yours makes you hostile towards me. But I'm tired of this,” you glare, “I'm tired of you.” 

“You think you have the right to say that huh?”, he scoffs at you, “you were so nice at first why did you decide to hate me all of a sudden?” It's ridiculous how he almost looks hurt. It draws a dry laugh out of you. 

“I'm sorry but I should be the one saying that. Because you were the one who decided to be offended in secret and suddenly start sounding like my-” you almost say it, the reason his words affect you so gravely.

“Like your what?”

“Nevermind.” You let go of his collar and step back, he's not worthy of hearing about your reasons. He stays in place, staring at the ground, when you're about to walk out he speaks.

“It's because I hate you.” He says, you turn to him as he continues. “Rephrase, I hate how nothing budges you. You make me think of everything in my life that's out of my control. You're this seemingly perfect human and nothing gets to you. I wanted to see how far you could be pushed before you break. But you didn't, you never do. And honestly, you make me insecure.” His gaze is fixed on the ground but the irony of the situation gets to you. 

A laugh is drawn out of you at the prospect. “That's low, even by your standard, Hyunjin.” 

“I wanted some confirmation that you're human, that you have insecurities and fears and triggers, but you never show them.” 

“Haven't you pulled enough of my triggers already? Why’re you so hellbent on creating problems for me?”

“Because I don't wanna be less than you,” he says, and the irony makes you wanna strangle him. He mutters a curse. “I have a question. Why did you say that last year?” He asks, much to your confusion.

“Say what?” You ask, he inhales deeply and bites his lip, you're momentarily distracted despite the situation.

“That party at Seungmin’s after summer? I heard what you said.” He looks almost vulnerable but you still don't know what he's talking about so he continues.

“You were talking to someone that day, I heard my name so I was curious, you said I remind you of all the bad things in your life. That you hated me. And you'd been acting so harsh with me that week.”

“What?”, it takes you a moment to register what he's talking about, “oh. That.” 

“Forget it, it wasn't about you.” You say and he smiles at the ground, “So you do hate me.” 

“No, it's not that-”

“Then what is it?” 

“I-, it's my dad. I don't wanna talk about it in detail but you're everything he's ever wanted of me, you remind me of him and you talk the same way. That summer was when I told him I'm not taking his shit anymore. I was telling Minho about it.” Hyunjin looks stunned at the confession. 

“I don't hate you, you know? You just seem like someone too good to be a friend of mine.” He says and you laugh.

“You're so dumb Hwang Hyunjin. I don't forgive you but for the sake of our friends,” you look up at him and he's never looked so expectant, “truce?” His expression changes and you can sense the teasing coming your way.

“Did you just say that? You do like me that much huh?” You slap his arm. 

“Shut up before I change my mind.”  

“Oh, by the way, Lix is playing Moana in a few minutes, he said it's one of your faves, go sit with them, he'll like it. I'll fetch snacks like he told me to.”

You end up watching the movie with them, your snacks are attacked, you discover that Hyunjin does have a sense of humor.

The next day is smoother, you didn't expect Hyunjin to stop being a loudmouth, and he doesn't, but it's more bearable than before, it's not quite friendly yet, you both need time to work to that level after the spontaneous truce, but it's bearable.  

A group study in the library that all four of you agreed to just turned into a heated debate about literature and he may beat you in a dance competition but you'd be damned if he ever beats you in a debate. 

“I may have mistaken the quote for a Khalil Gibran one because it was similar but you quoted Oscar Wilde in a hetero scenario. Come on. You didn't even know what place Odesseus ruled or why Troy happened.” You're in disbelief.

“Ok fine. You got me. I know nothing about literature, especially Greek. Happy?” He admits defeat and you've never felt better. 

“Oh, very happy.” You're sure the grin on your face is annoying the hell out of him. 

You all get home groaning about not wanting to work to make dinner. One thing none of you expected though, is that all of you will miss the snowstorm alert and the notice of classes being canceled. 

“GUYS WE'RE FUCKED!” Felix shouts from the couch where he and Hyunjin are playing a game as you and Minho cook, everyone gathers around the boy as he reads out the alert emailed to all students. Minho groans, you sigh and Felix sits dejected. 

“Why are you all so down? It's just a snowstorm.” Hyunjin says and Felix fills him in about the deteriorated condition of the heater and the potential threat of a power cut. Also the inevitable delay that will happen to his dorm’s repair work.

The dinner is silent not just because of the news but because Felix and Minho know tomorrow is your birthday. 

Felix and Hyunjin are just done doing the dishes when the younger perks up, “I know what to do! WE'LL MAKE A  WARM PILLOW FORT IN ONE OF THE ROOMS!” 

“Lix I don't think that's a good idea.” You're not very excited to do this with Hyunjin around but Minho makes it worse.

“See that makes sense, if all of us sleep in one room it'd be warmer.” You know there's no going back from that so you assist in moving mattresses and blankets to make the nest looking thing ‘for the slumber party’ as Felix says.

Someone's (yours) laptop is propped up on a piece of furniture and a Disney movie, this time of Hyunjin's choosing, is played.

Looking at it positively, there's snacks, you're warm, everyone is having fun while there's a snowstorm outside, you have no classes for two days. It's not that bad. 

No one knows who falls asleep first, but there's no power when you wake up way too early, you wish yourself happy birthday and get up for tea when you're ambushed. Minho seats you back down as he and Felix softly sing the Happy Birthday song in the dark, Hyunjin shifts and wakes up, confused very much at the strange spectacle. 

Phone flashlights are turned on when a Felix-made box of brownies is passed to you, Minho lights a mini candle that you blow out and make a wish. 

“You'll have to wait a little longer for your gifts, though.” Minho says as he gives you a hug. 

The day starts early and the power comes back on in a few hours as the storm calms down. You're told to dress up for the gift giving and Hyunjin is made cameraman. 

Felix gives you a novel you've been wanting for a while along with a beautiful necklace and Minho gets you perfume and calligraphy pens. Hyunjin apologizes for not knowing it's your birthday but you tell him you don't mind.

You're not allowed to help when Minho dictates Felix and Hyunjin as they make some of your favorite food. The spectacle is amusing as can be, Hyunjin is absolutely clueless about cooking and looks lost while Felix runs about trying to manage his tasks as Minho is busy at the stove. The meal is one of the best you've had in a while. 

This is how you like your birthdays, homely, cozy and a little bit silly. 

You didn't expect even a birthday wish from Hyunjin so it's certainly a surprise when he finds you later in the evening and hands you a small painting of a chrysanthemum. 

“I don't know what to give you so I made a painting of your birth flower, but I know you like blue so I made it blue.” 

“I don't- I didn't know you paint so well Hyunjin, this- it's lovely, you didn't have to. Thank you so much.” He just gives you a small smile, which you return.

The flower is beautiful and you notice it's the exact shade of blue as your outfit. You'll keep the painting safe. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

There's a couple of weeks left for the competition but your team is making great progress, you're all skilled, Minho is a great mentor and you find that Hyunjin's choreography style is quite similar to yours.

Speaking of Hyunjin, you've been getting along with him better. His jokes aren't as much attacks as they are annoying, he's dramatic and he's stupid but he's also quite thoughtful. Maybe he isn't all that bad.

Hyunjin makes a very unfunny joke and you lightly punch him in the ribs, looking up to find Minho giving you a suspicious look. “What?” He doesn't reply.

When you're all packing up to leave practice when Hyunjin speaks.

“I think we're friends now.” His tone is of false disbelief, he almost looks cute with that exasperated expression.

“God don't say that. I still wanna kill you every time I see you.” You say, but you're laughing. 

You wanna kill him, but you also kind of wanna kiss him. 

Wait. No. 

He's invited over to the dorm today despite his dorm having been fixed long ago. He's bringing Jisung with him, Felix and Jisung are already friends and Minho has taken a unique liking to the boy. 

The offer is of studying together and then later hanging with snacks to find an excuse to ditch a party none of you wanna go to. 

“I call dibs on the big chair!” Jisung yells and Felix claims the next best spot in his own room. Hyunjin settles on the floor because you claim Lix's bed before him and Minho claims another place. 

You throw a folded blanket at him, “Cushion your ass Hwang,” you smirk, “if you have any that is.” Jisung snorts in the corner. “Don't insult the man’s cake like that, yn!” 

A few hours pass with Jisung and Felix chatting between their work and Minho giving them endearing looks, you and Hyunjin just work but you can't help but notice how his eyes flicker to you every other minute. 

You find yourself staring at his lips as his tongue reaches out to wet them, you involuntary mimic his action. He's beautiful, undeniably, but he looks so soft in his pastel blue sweater that you almost forget you used to hate him. You wonder what his hugs feel like.

Wait. No. No, you don't. 

You run to your room to fetch your strawberry lipbalm. 

“Hyunjin put your laptop down for a sec,” he throws you a questioning glance but complies, the other three are too busy to notice what you're doing, the pad of your ring finger swipes the tinted product across his slightly chapped lips, “There.” 

You don't realize what you've until he gulps, “Shit, I'm sorry, I should've asked-”

“Thanks.” He looks a little red and you figure it's the embarrassment of it all. 

☆

You run across Hyunjin again, as he's returning from the kitchen and you're heading there, you walk towards him, not knowing what you're gonna say when the glossy red tint on his lips is so, so enticing. He doesn't protest when your hand is on his face, examining it. 

“The shade suits you.” His breath is uneven and he gulps, you notice his eyes darting down to the same shade on your lips. You don't know why you do it, or how you'll explain it. 

But you kiss him, his lips are every bit as soft as you imagined them to be everytime he bit them. You think you've fucked everything up until he kisses back uncertainly.

You part and your eyes drop down, so does the hand that was previously on his face.  

“I-”, you curse your words for failing you at that moment and the thousand jumbled thoughts in your head that make it difficult to think.

“This never happened.” You say, finally, as you step back. 

“Consider it forgotten.” He confirms. 

Him and Jisung leave after almost an hour, you won't be able to sleep today.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆ 

You said ‘this never happened’, you don't have any explanation of why it proceeded to happen many times afterwards. You would talk about it if only you understood what you're feeling, but you don't. And it's not messing anything up and none of you is ready to give the other an explanation.

There's two days left in the competition, and the preparation is finally done. All of you are satisfied with the final choreography and the decided outfits. Maybe you're a tad bit too interested in the pictures Hyunjin shows of him in his outfit.

Minho insisted for a last run with counts before the hour ended. You look at Hyunjin’s form as he dances, he has complete control over what beats he does and doesn't hit, he looks the best here, you think, in his element. Besides there's certain thoughts you have about his tank top and sweaty body, thoughts that you don't wanna acknowledge. The song ends and Hyunjin stops moving, much to your disappointment.

You look straight at him as you play 'Industry baby' and raise an eyebrow at him in challenge. “You first.” He accepts. The things you do to get Hwang Hyunjin dancing again. 

Minho and Felix both cheer on as the dance battle continues. You beat Yunho on this song and both of them know it. You see Hyunjin's eyes widen when you hit a beat in the chorus with your entire body. He whistles and you take that as an ego boost. The battle was in your favor. 

“Admit I'm better than you,” you say to him, he laughs in response, but not in the mocking way you're familiar with.

“It'd be a cold day in whatever hell you came from before I do that.” He raises a brow at you though he's smiling.

“Gotta tell my dad to turn the AC down.” You deadpan and the three boys snort. 

“Are your trauma jokes always necessary?” 

“No but they're funny so..” 

☆

You're at Hyunjin and Han’s dorm after practice and for a godforsaken reason, Minho and Felix are both somewhere else while you sit awkwardly in Hyunjin's desk chair with your drink. He's still in the shower, you were all previously in this room but the three decided to leave you alone with Hyunjin. They're doing that a lot these days. Hyunjin's blow dryer is loud. 

He steps out and you almost choke on your boba. He's shirtless. You look in the opposite direction as fast as you can.

“Don't worry, darling, you can look. I know I'm irresistible.” 

“Shut up before I throw my boba at you.” but you look anyway, he somehow looks better than what you'd imagined was under his tank top. 

This time you let your eyes trail over him, from collarbones to the slightly visible v-line above his sweatpants, just to see who looks away first. He feels your vision on him like it's cold winter air, but doesn't look away. 

You take that as a challenge, you put your drink away and walk to him. He doesn't look away. Your hand finds his waist, he inhales sharply and you pull him to you. Your other hand finds his nape when there's barely any distance left between you. He still doesn't give up. 

“It’s almost like you want me to do something,” you let your eyes run shamelessly across his skin, “tell me to stop.” He doesn't, so you kiss him. And he kisses back, this time with certainty. You let the feeling soak into you for a moment. It's him who takes it further, and you retaliate, you bite his lower lip right when you give his hair a little tug and he gasps into your mouth, his hands roam your body and you let them.  

You push him back until his knees hit his bed and he lets himself fall, his hands find your waist again as soon as you're straddling him, this time your hand is on his neck instead of his hair, you let him kiss you once more before your lips are attached to his jawline, then down to his collarbone, your teeth nip at his skin and your hand presses at the sides of his neck experimentally, his arms tighten around you and he moans. You peel yourself away from him to look at his face, the redness from his face has bled down his neck to half his chest. Cute.

“You're.. extremely red.” You say.

“Shut up.” 

“Like.. cherry red.” You tease.

“Go to hell.” You laugh but gasp when he pulls you down to lay over him and engulfs you in a sort of bear hug. It feels surprisingly nice. 

“I can't go back home right now but your company is a better substitute for hell don't you think?” He pushes you off of him at that. 

“Hey I was kidding-” 

There's a knock on the door and Hyunjin runs for his shirt and you run to fix your hair and grab your drink.

“What’re you guys doing in there with the door closed?” It's Han. You'd strangle him if he wasn't Minho's favorite.  

“Mind your own Jisung, I just got out of the shower!” Hyunjin yells, “And y'all were the ones who left me alone here what the fuck Han?” You add. 

There's things one only notices when they're very, very close to someone. Hyunjin has a faint mole under his left eye.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

It's competition day and you have a problem. In the heat of the moment, you'd forgotten how low cut his stage outfit was. Now you're trying not to look as Jisung and Felix interrogate Hyunjin about where he got the hickeys from. He doesn't give anything away, thankfully, you're not ready to explain something you're not even sure about, but Minho has been awfully quiet and you think he's suspecting something. 

All thoughts leave your head as you hear the host of the evening start introducing the event, the order of performances is announced and Ateez is called on first, everyone expects them to win. There's a few more teams before you and your team is close to the last, you count a few possible opponents who are good competition, like the Soobin and Yeji’s teams, you know most of the participants from Uni. 

Watching others perform, you can feel the familiar pre performance adrenaline taking over. You love it. This rush is part of the reason you do dance competitively. 

Hyunjin comes up to you and gives your hand a little squeeze, “let's kill this yeah?” “Oh we absolutely will.” 

And you do. The cheers get louder as the performance progresses and choosing a song this heavy on beats may have cost all of you your lungs during practice, but you move like you know each other's bodies and Ateez doesn't look so smug anymore. The hyped crowd is all so worth it. 

As Felix predicted, the bridge is the part which gets the loudest cheers.

There's only two performances after yours and the results come in soon after. The host thanks the sponsors and announces the positions bottom to top. Yeji’s teams is runner up.

Soobin’s team is third. The boys hug each other before they run to collect their prize, their friends cheer for them. But your heart starts beating violently soon afterwards, you're standing behind MinLix, so Hyunjin takes your hand, he's jittery so you let him.

Ateez, Hongjoong’s team, is second. You heave a sigh of relief and Hyunjin relaxes, though he doesn't let go of your hand. Ateez boys look upset and you suppress the urge to smile. 

Your team is announced first place and the four of you jump in joy and you hear Jisung screaming from the audience. 

☆

You're all dizzy with laughter when Jisung excuses himself to go to the bathroom and MinLix leave to find a friend. Why do they keep doing that? 

Ateez takes this as an appropriate time to approach you two, though they don't even acknowledge your presence. Yunho keeps looking the opposite way, he always does that around you since he was beaten in the dance battle.

“You won't always keep winning Hwang.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes at him but looks uncomfortable, you identify this boy as Wooyoung. A more slender boy? person? human? approaches next with shocked eyes. 

“Is that a hickey, Jinnie?” Though he uses a nickname, it's clear that he means nothing good when he pokes Hyunjin's collarbone with his finger. Hyunjin mumbles a ‘shut up’ but they ignore him. Hyunjin looks like he'd rather be anywhere than here. The next one to say something is Hongjoong, you've seen him around. He's no good.

“Looks like the pretty boy has finally found himself a girlfriend. Or did you find a sugar daddy, Hyunjin? Where'd you get the hickey from?” The whole group snickers behind him and Hyunjin is clenching his jaw. He looks angry and you decide to do something.

“Well he got it from me. You got a problem with that?” You raise a brow at the man, he's barely taller than you.

“Oh come on, l/n. Everyone knows you hate him. Why defend him just because he's on your team?” You take a step further, and look directly at him. 

“Are you calling me a liar, Kim Hongjoong?” He smirks back at you and you never thought any smirk except Hyunjin's could ever make you this angry, but you wanna punch him in the face right here. 

“No, l/n. I'm just saying that's a little difficult to believe considering you were at each other's throats not long ago. If you want us to believe, why don't you give us some proof, eh?” He sneers, clearly expecting you to falter and deny the whole thing.

You laugh at his face, “You want proof huh? Well, how about this?” You turn and kiss Hyunjin, with your arms around his shoulders and his around your torso. Deep enough to make them uncomfortable.

“Alright we get the point. Enough. You're in public, l/n.” When you part, Hyunjin smiles at them in a way you know will piss them off. Because it did the same to you not long ago.

“Well you're the one who wanted proof Kim. Now fuck right off. If I see you bothering my arch enemy again, you won't be allowed into the art history class anymore. Mark my words.” 

You drag Hyunjin to a quiet corner, away from the crowd and shoot a text to the other boys telling them to meet you both at Hyunjin's dorm. 

You check up on the boy and he looks miserable. “Hey. You fine? I'm sorry I should have let you deal with it without interfering.” You apologize but he shakes his head.

“No, that was really funny, I'm sure it pissed them off, just- I'm sorry you had to witness that.” He looks dejected and you can't find it even in the cruelest parts of you to not help him.

“Hey. Listen. I don't care what they think of themselves but they don't deserve to make you feel bad about anything. And I don't think any less of you because they decide to be assholes, if anything I respect you more now.” He gives you a small nod and a smile, this time, an actual, genuine smile.

“Would mind if I just..” he wraps his arms around you and his head comes to rest on your shoulder, “stay like this for a bit?” You hug him back and nothing needs to be said for a while. Hyunjin's hugs do feel nice.

When you bring him back to his dorm, the joke on the tip of Jisung’s tongue doesn't get the chance to escape. He looks concerned for Hyunjin, that's the first time you've seen the boy serious. They exchange glances and it's like he just knows what happened. 

The evening is a quiet sort of celebratory, and you find yourself trying to avoid Hyunjin as much as possible. How are you going to explain anything you're feeling to him when you can't even explain it to yourself? Minho and Jisung make everyone ramen and a sleepover ensues. You're all in Jisung’s room, him and Minho in the same bed, you, Felix and Hyunjin on the floor. Why Hyunjin's not in his own bed is weird to you. Maybe sleepover spirit.

When you wake up to get water you find Hyunjin isn't in his place anymore. He isn't in the kitchen either. You're avoiding him but you don't wanna be the prime suspect if he's found dead. 

You roam around and find him his room, sketching in the faint light of his night light like the lunatic he is, you smack the back of his head, you forgot how dramatic he can be, and you have to cover his mouth so he doesn't scream. “Shut up, you idiot. It's me,” he licks your hand, “eww. Filthy.” You wipe the hand on his shoulder.

“You literally made out with me in public, how's that filthy?” You notice what he's wearing, a white shirt, with the first two buttons undone. You smack him again.

“You idiotic dunce! Do you wanna catch a fucking cold it's literally late November!” He winces and reaches for the sweater beside him, you try to see what he's sketching but he hides it with almost superhuman speed. “Chill Hyunjin, I don't wanna spy on you.” 

“Why are you awake?” He asks.

“I could ask you the same thing.” 

“I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep.” 

“Samesies. Though unlike you, I don't voluntarily ruin my eyesight when I wake up a bit too early.” You gesture to the lack of light and he sighs.

“What do you do then?” The question catches you off-guard, it sounds genuine and for some reason you answer it genuinely.

“I write poems. In light.”

“Poems about what?” 

“That's none of your business.” Your voice suddenly sounds cold and you curse yourself for turning out so hostile with your reply. 

“Sorry. I won't intrude-”

“No. I- I don't like sharing it. I don't like sharing at all actually.”

“I get that. There's parts of me I don't like sharing either. Don't feel bad about it.”

“Why didn't I ever notice how thoughtful you are?” 

“Maybe cuz you never tried to.” He presses his lips together and you suddenly feel bad about yourself. 

“Hey,” he says, “I wanna say sorry. I know how much of an asshole I've been to you. It doesn't deserve much forgiveness but it's bothering me a lot. So I say it again: I'm sorry for everything I've said and done.”

You search your brain for any reasons to not forgive him. But with the way he's been the last month, you don't find any. “I forgive you.” You say, and it's like some invisible tension is released from his body. He smiles at you. “Thank you.” 

“Hyunjin?” 

“Yes?” 

“Let's get to know each other more.”

“How?” 

“I'll ask a question, we both answer it, then you ask one.” He nods, so you ask.

“What's something you'd do if money wasn't a factor? I'd be a philosopher or a writer.” 

“I'd be an artist or a dancer maybe. If you could live in one fictional universe, which one would it be? I'd love to be in the Harry Potter universe but the author’s racist.” 

“I think I'd like to live in either Dan Brown's or Rick Riordan’s books.” 

“What's something you wish more people in the world understood?”

That night you feel closer to him than you've ever been. You discover Hyunjin is an incredibly sentimental person, he also is a romantic, he's an only child, his parents are divorced, he has a dog back at home. So many things you never knew about him. He's flawed, you're flawed, but he’s not a bad human being. You hope you aren't one either. 

Ofcourse him being a thoughtful person doesn't rule out the annoying ass he is.

You both don't go to sleep again, you chat while he continues his drawing and you scroll through your notes app editing your writings. You find yourself enjoying his company. Two months ago, if someone told you you'd find peace around him, you would have laughed. 

☆

The five of you seem to stay together almost all the time now that Jisung is also a part of the group. The text comes when you're all out eating a few days later. Minho is offended when you forget to answer his question in favor of staring at your phone. When he sees your expression is when he realizes something's off. 

“What's wrong?” He says, and everyone’s eyes are on you. 

“He wants to meet me. Tomorrow. He's coming here.” Minho doesn't need another word to understand what you're talking about, but the rest of the boys stay confused. Yet no one questions why you excuse yourself in the middle of the meal to go back home. 

Minho doesn't disturb you when you lock yourself in the room you both share, choosing to sleep in Felix’s room instead. He knows you'll need to deal with your father alone. Even if the man refuses to let you be when you've practically abandoned him. 

The next day you leave the house after they're both gone for their last classes. You don't expect the meeting with your father to be anything good, but you know that he'll hunt you down to your dorm or lectures if you don't go where he wants you.  

He never is genuinely happy to see you, you learnt to tell his expressions apart when you were 8, and his smile right now is definitely a fake. He orders a coffee for himself and you politely deny his offer to get you one as well.

He says the same thing he does every time you meet him, trying to convince you of God knows what. You're tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“Don't do this to me. You're my child.”

“I’m not just your child, I'm a person. You've done enough damage. Stay away from me.” 

“But how can you leave me alone? I'm getting older and I have no one to rely on-” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“I'm sorry! Ok? But you don't respect me, can't I even want respect and company from my child?” The statement makes you wanna punch him but you just laugh. 

“Don't start talking about respect. Respect is earned, and you did nothing to earn it. And if you couldn't give me the love and support you should have given your child, at least give me the privacy and independence every human deserves.” 

“But-”

“I told you that day. I don't know you anymore. It'd be wise of you to stay away from me if you don't want the police called on you.” 

He tries to say more but you just walk out of the cafe and back to your dorm. You know he won't follow you. He's too egoistic for that. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Minho hasn't slept in his own bed for two days, and you haven't seen sunlight in quite a while. The stream of texts your father sent you after your meeting, accusing you of being an ungrateful offspring and a useless human were much more depressing than the real conversation, the one you didn't allow to happen. Finally blocking him felt good nonetheless. You're tired of the responsibility of interacting with him.

You get out of bed and your entire body feels stiff, and your eyes are glitching. Maybe keeping the blinds down for two whole days wasn't a good idea. And you smell. But you still can't find the willpower to shower. 

There's a knock on your door. Minho.

“Yn? You there? I need something from my closet.” You open the door for him and his demeanor softens at your state. He knows you since highschool, he's the only one who knows what's going on and the extent to which it matters.

“Hey. Why don't you go shower, hm? The boys are all outside, they're concerned cuz they haven't seen you for some time but I'll tell them not to worry, ok?” You probably should shower. You nod at him and step out to go to the bathroom. 

Your body feels a lot better afterwards, but the world still sort of feels colorless, you decide to go get some food other than the snacks you lived on for two days. Maybe some actual food will make you feel better. There's a sticky note from Minho addressed to you on the microwave.

‘your meal inside :) finish it all’ 

You smile. He never stops taking care of all of you, that's how he shows you love.

The meal makes you feel a little alive, but the color in your world is still absent.

The boys ask you if you're ok on you way back to your room, you give them a small smile and true to Minho's words, none of them tries to dig you for information. You do notice the unexpected concern on Hyunjin's face. Weird.

Maybe you should go to your classes tomorrow.

☆

The crowd of the noon classes will never be something you like, but at least your first class is something you like and share with Hyunjin and Felix. You zone out somewhere in the middle of the lecture and your brain, your actual enemy, decides to give you thoughts about your upbringing. No matter how hard you try to focus on something else, your mind gets stuck on how unfair your father always was to you. How he deserves to die alone. How you don't feel sorry for saying that. Your lungs have been restricted since that day, but it's becoming more difficult for you to breathe every minute. You need to get out of here. You really need to get out of the crowd before you start hyperventilating.

Hyunjin saw you hurriedly ask the professor to excuse you, he asked the professor to let him go after you, and seeing how you looked, the professor let him. 

You haven't had a meltdown in a long time and your lungs burn as your breathing becomes labored, you find a quiet corridor to hide from the footsteps behind you. 

Your legs go weak and the weight of the ceiling doubles and presses down on your head. You drop to your knees. 

“Yn!” His hand is on your shoulder and you swat it away before you can even comprehend it. Things are too fast, way too fast for your brain to help. 

“Get away!” You can't have him here right now, not when you're vulnerable and he has the power to rip you apart. Your brain doesn't trust him with this.

“Let me help-” 

“I don't need help! Es- Especially from you.” You never see the hurt that flashes in his eyes because something that feels like a strong blow to your chest knocks the air out of your lungs. You clutch your top, even the fabric feeling like a restriction on breathing. 

You hear him mumble a ‘fuck it'  before he knnels down beside you and you're pressed to his chest in a protective hug. Your mental barrier collapses. 

Tears escape you like a dam overflowing, your brain not functional enough to form a coherent sentence. Years of bottled up hurt, the emotionally overwhelming events of the last few days and the unpleasant reminders of everything you lack flow out in ugly sobs as Hyunjin runs a comforting hand across your back. No questions asked. You surprise yourself with how broken your crying sounds.

Your breathing is choked and painful, quite like your life in your childhood home. But there was no one to help you calm down there, no one telling you ‘its okay, you're safe, try to follow my breathing hm?’

You follow his instructions the best you can, calming down enough for some air to flow into your lungs. He makes you drink water and runs to the lecture hall to fetch both of your backpacks. He takes you back to your dorm and gets you a snack without asking a single question. He deems your own room too depressing for you to stay in so he brings you to the kitchen. He observes you carefully until he's sure you're fine.

“I know you don't trust me to help you,” he sighs and regret washes over you like a wave, “forget about the rest of your classes today, get some rest. I'll go back now-” He reaches for his backpack when you speak up. 

“Hyunjin- wait.” He says nothing, but just looks at you, wanting you to continue. 

“Stay,” you say, your eyes still burn from the crying and you don't want to feel alone anymore, “please.” 

He sighs and sets the backpack down. 

“I don't want you to tell me everything, but I can't help if I have no idea what's wrong.” 

He lets you reach out to hug him, you ignore all the confusing feelings in the back of your head. 

“I'm sorry. Even talking about it reminds me of the details. And that usually ends up worse than what happened a few minutes ago.” 

“Mhm.” His hand pats down your messed up hair and you don't remember a touch ever being this comforting.

“It's my dad. I met him a couple days ago, he tried to get me to stay around because apparently he doesn't wanna die alone. But I refused and walked out. He resorted to his old behavior and flooded my texts with all the things he always keeps saying about me. About how I'm useless, no good at anything I do, disrespectful and not worthy of any love and things like that. It got to me more than it should have, but hey, I finally blocked him.”

“I'm proud of you for doing that. And let me tell you something. You're incredibly good at everything you do. You're so smart, and such a good dancer. I was so jealous of you when I first met you.” He says, and you believe him despite your brain saying he's lying to you. 

“Your friends all love you so much. Would you really let a man with no company tell you whether you deserve love or not?”

“But I haven't earned it. I've done nothing to deserve that love.” He makes a disbelieving sound at the statement.

“Love isn't something you have to earn, it's something that is given out of will. And if someone gives you their love without you asking for it. Then you certainly deserve it. Whoever tries to tell you otherwise is lying to you, ok? It took me a while to understand this but trust me. It's the truth.” You nod into his shoulder before you break the hug to look at him. 

“Since when do you care about me, huh?” You joke, not even expecting an answer but he gives you one. 

“Since when? I don't know. All I know is I care about you a lot. I don't like seeing you hurt. Which, again, makes me feel guilty as fuck for acting like I did to you. I don't know why I was so selfis-” 

“Shh, it's in the past now, we're even. I don't mind having you around now.” 

“Is that you being soft for me darling?” There goes his teasing, this warrants the punch in the rib you give him. He grunts in response but laughs anyway. 

“Would you find it funny if I ask you for cuddles right now?” You say, and he looks surprised, but happy nonetheless. 

“I'd find it adorable.” You drag him to your bed. 

“We need to make your room look less depressing after this okay?” He says and you nod before you let yourself fall on top of him, getting an ‘oof’ in reply before he arms come up to hold you. 

You feel puzzled about this whole situation with him and matter how much you like it, you need to clarify it. 

“Hey, Hyunjin?” He hums.

“This, whatever it is, do you want it? Should we like, talk about it?” He doesn't get angry like you expected him to, but replies calmly. 

“I like whatever it is. If you wanna talk about it, we should. I'm not sure I even have a name for it though.”

“I don't have one either. I don't really understand feelings. But I don't want this to stop. Do you?” 

“No. No I don't.”

“Minho knows something's up with us.” 

“I know, I've seen him looking at us suspiciously, though I don't think he hates it though.”

“He's my insurance. Just know he'll murder if you decide to become a bitch to me again.” 

“I won't. Promise.”

☆

You're both up before the other occupants of your dorm come back with Jisung inevitably tagging along. When Minho comes back the first thing he does is check up on you. You tell him about the little breakdown and Hyunjin helping you. He stares at Hyunjin for a good minute as if gauging him for signs of danger but then shrugs and thanks him.

You explain your complicated relationship with your father in minimal detail to the other two boys just so they don't worry too much in uncertainty. It is decided that everyone will go out together to eat and celebrate the upcoming winter break. 

You don't go home for winter break, but Felix and Minho do, so does Jisung, so it's just you and Hyunjin together for Christmas. You don't hate the prospect. 

Two days after the three boys are gone you two decide it's better staying in one place than continuously having to meet each other to prepare for the celebration. You don't hate this either. 

Hyunjin is fun to be around, he's hilarious on top of being beautiful, you're almost sure you have feelings for him, feelings of what sort and how deep, that you don't know. Maybe you'll add one more poem about it to the collection that has been growing everyday. 

You learn he's much more affectionate than you thought he'd be, he's almost always close to you. He isn't clingy per se, but he's always close. Like right now. 

You're trying one of Minho’s recipes and he has got you convinced there's flour on your face, though you're sure you've added more flour to your face in your attempts to remove the original bit because he's laughing like you're a clown. 

“Hyunjin if you're not helping I'm going to the bathroom to wash it off-”

“Wait.” He cups your face and swipes his thumb at your jaw to get the first bit off, he's closer than he needs to be, though you don't think you care. The second bit of flour is on your forehead apparently, that's where his hand is even though his eyes are on your lips. You're almost certain he wants to kiss you. So you do the next reasonable thing. 

Put flour on his nose and run. 

“Hey! Not fair!” He tries to catch you but fails, and like you're toddlers, a game of chase starts.

“Come back here!” He laughs and you return it. 

“Nope. Not coming back there.” You run up to Lix's room.

“Alright have it your way.” He grabs a pillow and before you can tell him no, you're in the middle of a pillow fight. He tries to hit you on the head but misses, and your pillow lands square in his face. He recovers soon after though, and somehow manages to snatch away your pillow and pin you down on the bed.

You're both dizzy with laughter. “All I wanted was a kiss! The betrayal! I want payback!” He complains like the dramatic toddler he is. “Well deal with it Hwang. You're not getting any kisses on Lix’s bed, have some shame.” You push him off in a moment of weakness and take off again.

“NOT AGAIN!”

“The stuff in the oven will burn dumbass!” 

The dinner is made and eaten without incident, thankfully. You make Hyunjin sleep in Felix's room, being pretty doesn't give him an automatic ticket to yours, you like occupying all the space by yourself.

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You're cold. Too cold. It's almost as if the coldness has seeped into your bones. With every moment the pressure on your body increases, you feel like you're drowning, when your eyes open all you see is a distorted sheet of blue. You are drowning. Your body is slowly sinking deeper. The pressure is pressing down on your brain and your ribs, you call for help but your words aren't heard, not even by you. You scream but no sound escapes your watery prison, you strain your throat with how hard you're trying to make a sound, to scream for help- 

You wake hyperventilating, like you always do from this same nightmare. It takes you a good minute to catch your breath. 

The next thing you do is calculate how much self respect you can sacrifice from your dwindling resources to fall asleep again. Because you certainly won't be able to sleep alone for the rest of the night. 

His door’s open. Maybe disturbing him a little wouldn't hurt? Well that would be the case if he were sleeping. 

“Are you fucking nocturnal?” You say, and you watch him jump and the phone fall from his hand.

“God who even lurks in the dark like that? How do you not make a sound? Are you a vampire?” 

“I dunno. Instincts. Not a vampire though, sadly. Why’re you up?”

“Can't sleep. You?”

“Stupid dream.” You seat yourself beside him. You both seem to have something against sleeping properly.

“Wanna talk about it?” He's put his phone down, you notice. 

“Only if you tell me why you never sleep.” He contemplates for a moment then shrugs. 

“No details but nights never meant good things for me growing up. I'm a light sleeper and on the bad days even footsteps wake me up. Sometimes I can't sleep at all.” He shrugs.

“I can sleep most nights, but I have this recurring dream where I'm drowning for some reason. I can't sleep after waking up from that one. Why are nights bad for you? Memories?” 

“Yeah. I don't like talking about it.” 

“You wanna try going back to sleep or you wanna do something else?” You ask.

“I’d go back to sleep but it seems impossible now.” You don't remember ever relating to him as much as you do right now.

“C'mere.” You gesture to the space beside you, to your surprise he doesn't protest. “Talk to me about anything until it's morning or one of us starts feeling sleepy.” And he does. Your discussion goes from fiction to emotions to the way people behave and then back to anime then to art to poetry and then what not. But when you wake up, there's so much light in the room that you're almost sure it's noon. And you can't move. 

“Hyunjin. Wake up.” He doesn't. “Hyunjin! You stupid ferret, get off me.” He budges a little at that. So much for claiming to be a light sleeper huh? You need to push him off of you before you can get up and check the time. 

11:40 am. Wow. That's a solid 7 hours of sleep. 

You get up to clean up and find something to eat. By the time you shower and dig into your bowl of cereal, Hyunjin finds his way to the kitchen with a puffy face. Adorable. 

“Good Morning, ferret. Sleep well?” You joke. 

“Very well actually, why're you eating cereal…. sitting on the table?” 

“I dunno,” you shrug, “seemed fun.”

You're never witnessed an actually groggy Hyunjin before this and it's hilarious. He's dazed and almost hit his head on the counter. Thrice. It's almost surprising that he manages to get himself water without breaking anything.

“You left me alone.” He complains when you're done washing your cereal bowl. 

“Well I'm sorry but I had to. I was hungry.” 

“No fair.” In a few seconds you discover handling the weight of a tall guy is quite a task. Is it a hug or are you being crushed to death? You're not sure. “Ok I'm sorry let me breathe please!” 

You can finally breathe when he lets go of you, “Now go shower. Your breath’s nasty.” He doesn't reply but just messes up your hair before running off. 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

You should have known. Maybe you can't let good things happen to yourself without attempting to destroy them.

“You're not the brightest outside class, are you Hwang?” You're watching him struggle with figuring out what spice is what. 

“You only say that cuz you're jealous of my class smarts.” He rolls his eyes at you.

“Oh please, you were behind me by a whole grade in two classes last semester.”

“That wasn't my 100%, I had stuff to deal with.” 

“All excuses, aren't they?” 

“Everything is a competition for you isn't it?” He sounds disappointed but you're not the bigger person.

“Isn't it for you too?” 

“No it isn't. Forgive me for not wanting to compete for everything in my life.” 

“Why? Scared?” The conversation escalates before you realize it and you blame your tendency to argue with him.

“Why are you so obsessed with being the best?” He's no longer calm.

“You tell me. You were the one mocking me for always being second for a whole damn year!”

“Oh come on, there's more to it! Why are you so fragile about it?” 

“You and your taunts are all there is to it and I'm reacting like anyone would. Why were you so insistent on beating me in everything?” 

“Oh, come on! There's definitely stuff you're not saying, why can't you open up to me?” 

“I don't want to say anything. Why the fuck do you even want me to open up to you?” 

“Because I want to fix this!” 

“And why does fixing it matter?” 

“Because I like you god damn it! Are you that dumb?” 

“Bullshit. You suddenly like me after a whole year of hating me huh?” 

“Why else do you think I'm doing this? Why else would I agree to this?” 

“Maybe cuz it'd make for a very funny scenario don't you think? ‘Hey look at them developing feelings for me just because we stopped trying to kill each other’ sounds hilarious doesn't it?” You don't even know where all this is coming from but you never completely ruled out the prospect of all this being an act on his side. 

He didn't think so, that much is visible on his face when you finally find the guts to look at him. Fuck. You just can't stop hurting people in your life huh? 

“I'm sorry.” You apologize before you turn to leave, but he doesn't let you. Instead of being angry like you thought he'd be, he just pulls you into a hug. The gesture does something to you that you can't quite figure out. 

“Let go of me.” You don't want him to, but you can't find the courage to face this. You're too weak.

“No. I'm not letting you go anywhere.” 

“I don't deserve this Hyunjin. Staying for me will get you nowhere. You're stupid if you-”

“Well, I’m sorry I fell in love with you, okay? But it happened and I can’t do shit about it.” 

“You… what?” That's not a confession one would expect out of him. But you can't say you didn't do the same.

“You heard me. And I'm not letting you leave without even trying.” You've never heard so much emotion in his voice, even in the few months that you both spent together, you're sure his eyes would be glossy if you look at him now. So you don't.

“But-”

“We need to sort this out, yeah? You can't keep running from everything.” 

Your tears always choose the worst time to appear. 

“I'm so fucking sorry, I didn't-, I'm not…… used to feeling this way ok?” 

“I know. And that's fine. I never expected this to be easy. It's okay.”

“I'm sorry I- I want to trust you. I want to. But it's so difficult..” 

“I don't blame you. We both barely know about the things that we had to deal with. Trust doesn't happen without communication does it? That's why we need to talk to each other. About everything. Even the stuff we don't like sharing. Nothing will work without that, right?” 

It feels like he knows how to take your jumbled up mess of thoughts and feelings and make sense of it in ways you don't even understand. So you talk, about everything you don't like sharing, about your fears and their origins, about the troubles you have with trusting people, about the insecurities you relate to your image, about the pressure you keep putting on yourself to be the best there is and why you do so. 

And he does too, about the way he feels out of control of everything and why that happens, how it feels like an obligation to put his own feelings aside and live by the reputation expected of him, about why loud footsteps or just loud sounds scare him, why yelling brings back bad memories, how he feels like he's carrying a heavy weight from his past along with him wherever he goes, how his coping mechanisms have caused both of you damage. 

And by the end of the conversation it doesn't feel so difficult to trust him anymore. He wouldn't hurt you, not on purpose at least. If he does, well, maybe you want to take the chance. For the sake of it. Maybe you don't hate the feeling of vulnerability. 

“If I fuck this up,” you look at him as you speak, “promise me you'll leave.” 

“You won't. I know.” 

“I hope you're right. I'm sorry for being so stupid.” 

“If we want this to work the first thing you'll have to do is stop apologizing for everything.” It's almost like you're a toddler being scolded. 

“I'm sorr-”

“Not again.” 

“Shit my bad-”

“Hey!”

“Okay! I get it! No saying sorry for everything.” 

“Good.” 

You like his hugs. They're warm. But you also like chaos. So you pinch his waist, the boy is dramatic, of course he jumps and looks at you with the most disbelieving wide eyes.

“What was that for?” 

“That was for being stupidly pretty.”

“So we're doing compliments now, darling?” He's never gonna stop doing this is he?

“If you use the tease voice I'll pinch you harder I swear.”

“Not sure I'd mind,” before he can finish the sentence though, you have him trapped between your arms and the dinner table, he seems quite happy with it, “you seem to like me quite a lot, don't you darling?” 

“And? What if I do?” 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Your roommates expected to find stuff when they returned from their homes, but stuff definitely didn't include you and Hyunjin arguing over who gets the last piece of cake. The fight seemed…. unserious.

They definitely didn't expect it to end in you and him sharing the last bit. You and Hyunjin. Sharing. Unheard of.

The real surprise came when they were done unpacking. You caught Felix in his room. 

“Hey Lix, guess what?” Poor sweet soul of his, already interested in what you have to say.

“What?”

“I'm dating someone.”

“WHAT? Who?!” 

“Try guessing.” He looks confused but attempts nonetheless.

“Soyeon?” 

“Look I mentioned her being hot one time. That don't mean I'm dating her.” 

“Then who?” 

“Who did I spend winter with?” He gives you a look that says ‘bitch tf’.

“Oh come on. I may be a little clueless but there's no fucking way you're dating Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Oh yeah? Why don't you go ask him? He's explaining the same thing to Minho right now.” 

You find them in the kitchen, and as you expected, Minho looks like it's a normal day for him. No surprise at all. 

Felix however, is quite close to losing it. 

“Hyunjin. Tell me they're making a fool of me.” He says, but Hyunjin stays silent and you fear Felix is actually on the brink of insanity. 

“What the fuck.” It's almost a whisper when he says it. Both you and Hyunjin cannot hold back your laughter. Their reaction was exactly what you predicted.

Minho is the one who speaks up next.

“Come on, Lix. These two weren’t even that subtle. Where'd you think Hyunjin got that hickey from? Just a few weeks after these two stopped fighting? Why do you think I insisted on leaving them alone together?” 

You knew it was his plan. How else would you end up alone with Hyunjin at the most convenient times ever?

“Lee Minho you little fucker, you better sleep with one eye open.” You joke.

“Look at how ungrateful you are. I helped you and you give me death threats? Betrayal,” he's smiling at you, when he turns to Hyunjin however, he looks murderous, “if I hear you hurt my best friend in any way, the world will run out of places for you to hide in. Trust me on that.” 

“Enough Min, you'll scare away my boyfriend.” 

Boyfriend huh? That felt nice to say. 

“Now who's gonna tell Jisung?” 

“Let's all just head to his dorm. Help the boy with unpacking too.” 

“You seem keen on meeting him, Min. What's the matter?” The question only gets you elbowed in the rib.

Jisung's reaction is as loud as you anticipated but he doesn't seem too surprised, you ask him why.

“Oh Hyunjin always rants about things, I'm his roommate, I figured something was up with you.” 

Later, when you have your boyfriend to yourself, you decide to ask him about it.

“So, about what Jisung said”

“Don't believe him, I beg you.”

“Save the begging for other things, I'd say it's pretty plausible, considering you rant about a lot.”

“I do NOT monologue about my crushes, case closed.” Hyunjin really needs to control his fidgeting if he wants to get away with lying. 

You cup his face, “Why are you denying it? It's adorable.” 

“Not funny?”

“Maybe a little funny.” The urge to kiss his nose is strong, so you don't fight it. You die a little when he scrunches up his face on reflex. 

He's adorable and maybe you're a little obsessed.

“I can't believe cornering you somewhere is all it takes to make you blush!” You laugh, because you have him cornered right now. Against his desk this time. 

“It is not!” He defends himself to no avail, it makes you laugh, you're growing increasingly fond of him. 

“Such a pretty liar, huh? Quit trying to deny it, love.” That's the first affectionate nickname you've given him. And its effect is visible, if the smile on his face is anything to go by.

“Shut up and kiss me.” 

“How demanding.” But you do it anyway. And he takes it forward, like he does everytime, this time you're not confused. You want him. He wants you. And it's the best feeling ever. If he walks out of this room with hickeys later on, you don't need to act clueless. He's yours. 

But with the way his lips attach to your skin, maybe you'll be the target of your friends’ judgemental glances as well this time. You don't mind. You're his. 

If Jisung comes knocking now you're pretty sure you won't hear it over Hyunjin. The boy is sensitive. 

☆

“Maybe getting those two together was a bad idea, I can hear them and I'm sitting in a different room!” 

“Leave them alone, let's go to ours. We can't keep sitting here any longer like we're not hearing anything.” 

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

Hwang Hyunjin, how you love him and how his existence is a slap in the face of your father. He's everything good. But first off he's yours. And he loves you. Maybe clay doesn't need to be broken to be fixed, maybe if you just paint over the fingerprints and love the shapes as they are, you'll see some beauty in it. Hyunjin sees beauty in you that's for sure, he never seems to get tired of drawing you, being someone's muse is a wonderful feeling. He's your muse as well though, with the entire collection of writings he's prompted by simply existing. You recited some to him one day, maybe you'll give him a handwritten version of the rest on his birthday.

☆

You think it's ironic, you're back where you started, movie night in your dorm. Only this time you're tangled up with Hyunjin and the three boys are in a weird heap of limbs. Whatever they are, they're your friends. You're not gonna judge. 

But they will definitely keep judging the PDA Hyunjin makes them all witness. 

“You're both disgusting!” It's Jisung, and he's pulled back to sit by a worked up Felix. “He meant disgustingly cute!” 

“Why are you running damage control? They are disgusting.” That's Minho, just trying to eat his pudding.

This is how you like stuff, cozy, homelike, and a little bit silly.  

☆

“HWANG HYUNJIN DID YOU EAT THE LAST CUPCAKE?” 

“I didn't know it was yours!” You will chase him around the place until you get payback. You can hear the other boys laughing their asses off at how terrified Hyunjin is. 

He tries to take off in the opposite direction of you but is a few seconds late. 

“Caught ya! Now apologize!” You pinch his ear and his yelp is the most amusing thing for Jisung, it seems.

“Ow! I'm sorry your majesty! I will never touch your food again.” You almost think you've won before he runs off. You catch him again, obviously. This time in your room. 

“You little thief Hwang, I hate you.” You're out of breath and you're laughing. “Hate and love, same thing aren't they, darling?” He will never stop with that teasing tone. 

“Hmm, maybe you need a better lesson. You're lucky you're pretty, love.” His hair is messed up and he's slightly out of breath, there's a lopsided grin on his face. He's probably the prettiest being to ever exist.

You lean close and the expression on his face shifts a little, he looks a little doubtful, uncertain, almost vulnerable.

“Do you really want me?” He wants you to affirm it, to assure him.

“You know I do.”

☆⋆｡°⁠☆

[suzayaaa]

ೃ⁀➷ LEAVE, NOW ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: jeno x fem!reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.6k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: angst, breakup

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: cursing, cheating

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: can i just say i’m proud of this one…

𓆩⟡𓆪 requested by some of you!

𓆩⟡𓆪 this is an additional part 2 of jeno’s texts in “when will you leave me?” post, but it also works as a separate oneshot if you don’t want to read the texts.

It hurt.

Your heart, your mind, your body. No part of you was able to keep itself strong, to have any kind of energy to be. You were tied to your bed, sinking into the cold sheets with each move like a lifeless animal on its last breath. The breath that hurt so much, grabbing your sore heart and squeezing it violently as you shut your eyes with tears down your cheeks because no matter where you looked, Jeno was there.

The sheets you were lying in wore the scent of his musky cologne. Most of the pictures on your wall were with him, of him, or the moments spent with him. Hell, even the wrinkled t-shirt you were wearing was his. But the worst of all, you only had him in your mind.

No matter where you went and what you did, he followed you like a spell that had to be undone by a witch to let go. In a way, he did put a spell on you—the moment that caused all of this replayed in your head like a broken record, mocking you ruthlessly until you begged on your knees to stop this madness.

The words you’d never imagined to hear, the situation you’d never imagined to happen.

It was a pretty day. Clouds formed what you could call a shadow of blinding sunlight dodging the skyscrapers to reach and lit up your face. A perfect day to surprise Jeno.

You did most of it almost automatically, like a routine. A takeout from his favorite restaurant in one hand and a bag filled with your clothes and skincare products in the other; everything needed for a sleepover.

After three years of calling yourself boyfriend and girlfriend, you were bound to have some sort of security in your relationship and maybe even further and more serious plans for the future. Jeno had suggested first to add your fingerprint to the doorlock of his apartment. You didn’t mind not having it before, but the offer made you smile. It sounded like the next, although tiny, step in your relationship.

You unlocked the door and entered quietly, hoping he wouldn’t be anywhere near the entrance. Just as you were about to put the bags down and take your shoes off, you heard two familiar male voices, but the words were more distant than ever.

“Wait, so you cheated?” Mark asked, voice cracking slightly.

The silence was excruciatingly long. Your heart froze, bruising with each second passing.

“We talked, then she kissed me.” Another pause, shorter, yet more damaging. “It was good… I felt something I never felt with her.”

Her.

He couldn’t even say your name properly.

You were a fool. A stupid, hopeless, desperate fool.

You were now just her, yet you still waited and hoped for him to reach out to you, explain himself, and apologize.

You damned yourself over and over and over again. You were the one who got hurt. Why did you want him back if he stabbed you right in the heart and twisted the knife inside?

Why did you want a cheater back?

Those words wouldn’t leave your mind even for a moment, trapping you in a self-pitying bubble that was too strong and too painful to break through.

You checked the time on your phone. It was still early afternoon, but time wanted to torture you, slowing down and rolling at its own distorted pace to make sure you took a hit with every thought that crossed your mind. Your phone was dry. The only notifications were a daily reminder from a mobile game you haven’t played for a good week and a text from Jaemin you were not ready to deal with yet. Swiping your fingers on both, your eyes clung to the lockscreen for a moment. Just yesterday you would smile looking at it; you and Jeno, beaming to the camera in a cat cafe. He was always so sweet, then he decided to ruin you in the worst way possible. You opened settings, quickly changing the photo to something that would sting your soul a little less. Now it was an old photo of your family dog that never liked you that much to begin with, but dislike was still better than betrayal.

The doorbell sound rang in your ears, forcing you to get up from your bed. You dragged your feet on the cold floor and made your way to the door. Your hand reached for the handle, opening it slowly, not expecting anyone. The sight knocked you down more than any bullet ever could.

Na Jaemin with a firm frown and behind him, the reason for it all.

Lee Jeno.

You wondered if this was how you’d looked like when you’d found out. Eyes glued to the floor, hunched back, arms limp, head down… Did you also look so lost, like the ground was sweeping from under your feet brutally slowly, letting you fall and bruise your body, letting your body take the damage for your mind? Did you also crumble to the ground, looking for any steady thing to hold onto, because hope wasn’t one of those things anymore?

You’d thought you would feel if you saw him. You imagined yourself over a hundred times screaming your lungs out at him, ripping the skin away from his bones, ending his world just like he ended yours.

You should’ve been mad. You should’ve grabbed him by his hoodie and torn him apart to pieces. You should’ve made his heart bleed slowly and painfully, blood dripping on the floor one by one, drip, drip, drip until he was drowning in it. You should’ve ripped your throat yelling every insult you could think of into his face.

You were static. No screams, no cries, no choked-up laughs. You just looked at him, trying to meet his eyes for once. You wanted to get into his arms, cry into his chest, silently blame him for all the pain he had caused. You wanted to understand, but you have never wanted his pain. You have never wanted him to be the same wreck you were now, because nothing hurt more than seeing someone you love being hurt.

“I’m sorry for bringing him,” Jaemin glared at his friend, “but I think he needs to explain himself. It’s better for both of you if you do it immediately.”

Jaemin bowed his head to you, eyes softening in a mix of pity and compassion when he looked at you. He didn’t say anything more, opting to leave you both alone with no choice but to face the inevitable.

“I’m sor-”

“Take your things please.”

Serenity was the look on his face when his eyes met yours. It was clear, clearer than the day you’d found out, that he already knew and expected.

“You won’t even let me explain?”

“Get inside and take your things.”

You didn’t want to let him talk. If you did, your mind would listen to your heart and you would let him stay a little longer.

You watched him get past you into your apartment, muscle memory leading him to your bedroom. You followed him, but stayed at the door. He was quick to start shuffling around your room, taking any belongings of his he could see.

Jeno had always been careful. Those little details you forgot about, like leaving your jewelry in your bathroom after showering or losing your phone somewhere in the sheets every time the alarm went off, Jeno had never missed out on. He almost knew you better than you knew yourself. He knew how to wound you and he still did it, even adding salt to it, making sure the suffering was obvious.

You watched him throw his clothes into the bag he’d once left at your place, arms crossed and a sour frown on your dried face. His back was facing you, thankfully, because you wouldn’t be able to say the things you wanted to his face without shattering your soul entirely.

“I thought I knew you,” you started. Jeno halted his movements, but didn’t turn around, “I thought you were…” the one? No. You wouldn’t say it to him now, he didn’t deserve to know. Choking the tears inside, you continued, fists turning into stone, knuckles white, hiccups turning into venom on your tongue, “You were so casual saying it… You don’t even regret it, do you? You don’t fucking care. You never did.”

Jeno’s voice was hoarse, barely audible even in the uncomfortable silence. “I did.”

A scoff and a single laughter. “No. If you did, you would think about me at that moment. You would think about hurting me, you would care about me, but you didn’t. You don’t care… You know what? Nevermind. Leave, Jaemin will take your shit.”

The bag dropped on the floor with a thud. No words were said anymore, nothing needed to be said; it was over. You met Jeno’s eyes for the last time, stone cold, as if you were a burden or a meaningless obstacle on his way. His shoulder was harsh when he bumped into you, and for a short moment when he’d reached for the door, you hoped.

Maybe a simple sorry would do, maybe it would only crush you more. You wouldn’t know, you let his actions speak instead of words.

The door slam was your goodbye.

Tears flooded your already swollen face, your whole body shaking uncontrollably, sinking into the floor. At that moment, a memory echoed in your mind. A piece of conversation with Jeno you would’ve never thought about, but now, when it was all you could hear, a bitter smile barely creeping up to your face, realizing you always knew.

“When will you leave me?”

“I won’t, baby.”

“Don’t lie, everybody leaves. Some just do it later than others.”

[naughtystiel]

A small teaser of a fic I've been working on! :)

The year is '98 and Spring is approaching fast. For most, the season is a symbol of new beginnings with Mother Nature's chaste kiss that breathes life into everything once more. It's inspiring, peaceful and beautiful. So, the fact that this is exactly when a certain serial killer loves to strike makes Detective Winchester's blood boil. Two years in a row now, the guy has slipped through his fingers, not leaving a single trace behind. No clues, no leads, just murdered women in the most picturesque places imaginable. And the worst thing of all? Sometimes Dean catches himself admiring the killer's work.

10th of March 1998

“Sheep have excellent peripheral vision. Their large, rectangular pupils allow them to see almost three hundred sixty degrees,” the woman on the TV screen explained, her smile big as she stroked a small lamb she was kneeling by. “In fact, they can see behind themselves without turning their heads!”

Dean sipped on his beer, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue. Blindly reaching for the TV remote, he nudged away the thick file by his thigh, then changed the channel – this just wasn’t something he wanted to see right now. Instead, he mindlessly stared at a documentary on Britain’s Chernobyl. The watch on his wrist indicated that it was already past midnight, and he rubbed his burning eyes. There was never anything good playing this late unless he wanted to see some porn or random documentaries. Not that he was able to focus anyway. Heck, he couldn’t remember the last time he was in the mood for… He frowned at his crotch.

Yeah.

His whole body ached and there was a dull pain behind his temple. He rubbed it, hoping to ease some of that uncomfortable sensation, but he knew it was pointless. Perhaps alcohol wasn’t the way to go about it, and eight hours of sleep would be a better option, but with the sofa hugging him, the cushions basically moulded to his shape now, he had a feeling he would crash here once more and then wake up a few hours later with a painful kink in his neck. That ritual repeated more often nowadays, to the point that sometimes his bed was left untouched for days. Longingly he looked in the direction of his bedroom – he hadn’t spent so much money on a comfortable mattress to let it be nothing more than a part of his home decor. 

It had been over two years now, nearing three actually, since the first murder. One thousand and eighty six days, to be exact. The case had been on his mind constantly, but with the Spring approaching the sense of impending doom loomed over his head. He didn’t have to pull the file into his lap to know the contents of it, the edges worn out from how many times he had skimmed the pages, over and over again. The quiet months, as good as they were for potential victims, made Dean antsy. Quiet equalled no new evidence and they were stuck, unable to move forward. Truth be told, they had fuck all on the guy – no fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses, not even a single strand of hair.

Oh, they had a name! But it was given to him by the press, The Wolf Shepherd.

[lazypanartist]

Ivo Robotnik isn't used to closeness. Whether that be from his upbringing, his personality, or the nature of his job, he tends not to form lasting connections.

All of this to say, he's not entirely sure what to do when he wakes up one morning, still at his desk, a blanket now draped across his shoulders like some overbearing mother - in his eyes - had decided his conditions were too harsh for his "frail body".

None of his underlings mentioned it. Nobody acted suspicious, and nothing was ever said of the incident.

The first incident, of many.

Several lower-level assistants, come and gone. Some higher lever, as well. Very few consistent figures in his ever-changing staff with clearance high enough to enter his personal office, with a blanket, and enough time or tact to keep the door and their mouth both shut.

He takes it on like any other mission of his, with a small caveat - he refuses to check the security footage or logins to his office. He wants a challenge, not merely a victory.

Every night he passes out at his desk, every morning he wakes up with a small gesture of kindness from one of his underlings, and every morning he goes through any other inconsistencies in his office. Moved papers, books, fingerprints.

All leads come up empty. His perpetrator is smart enough to use gloves, and the only change besides the blanket seems to be his goggles resting next to his face instead of smushed into his forehead.

He chooses not to confide in Stone - his personal assistant, one of many over the years. Nobody received special treatment, nobody was exempt from scrutiny in his personal little investigation.

From job to job he went, waking up with his small token of kindness around his shoulders, a smaller and smaller pool of suspects until he has the overlapping employees narrowed down to two.

His realization only comes with the introduction of Green Hills. Of course, he has a small team, and only one of his two suspects is accompanying him.

And when he wakes up the night after tracking down Wade, blanket over his shoulders and Stone already at work in the lab, he knows he made the right choice in hiring the man, the sycophant - the only human he feels any sort of connection to.

[lurkingshan]

Things That Have My Attention in 4 Minutes Episode 4

Congrats to the Dome is Tonkla's brother truthers!

Let's talk timelines again. I still think we're working with two timelines, but I no longer think they're cleanly separated. Because if they were, you could not have some of these things happening concurrently. If we only had an Original timeline and a Redo timeline, then everything Great changes should be part of the Redo timeline. But in this episode Great saved Nan in the same timeline where Dome was dead, which we know because Great got Nan's location by getting Korn trashed after Korn fought with Tonkla over his abandonment in the aftermath of Dome's death. These things are all connected, so we can't cleanly sort events into one timeline or the other.

Which means it's most likely that the two timelines are bleeding together, making things unstable. This would explain Great's experience of overlapping moments last week, and Tonkla seeing Dome briefly before things went all weird and he disappeared at the end of today's episode.

By the way, it turns out those cold opens are not of the future--Tonkla has already done the murder in the same timeline where he's messing around with the cop. ETA: @my-rose-tinted-glasses pointed out that this is not necessarily true if the scene of Win getting the fingerprints and the phone call is also in the future. So back to square one on that!

Speaking of, what is up with Win? He is fully engaging in an affair with a murder suspect and doesn't seem to be investigating Tonkla at all. And I cannot let this pass without comment: why on earth did Win not put his pants back on during the long scene of him listening to Tonkla and Korn?! Was this really an appropriate situation to Winnie the Pooh it???

The flashback to Tonkla and Korn's beginning gave good context for why Tonkla thought he might be able to have more with Korn. I appreciated the details there: Korn was giving him money before they even had sex the first time and was lying to him about his intentions from the start, while Tonkla had zero experience when they met and didn't know how to recognize the signs of Korn's lies. Korn basically groomed this kid to be his sidepiece and has strung him along for years.

Tonkla definitely feels like a tragic character heading for a bad end, though perhaps he will also be saved eventually by the timeline shifts. In the timeline where Dome is dead and he's fucking Win, Tonkla is being incredibly reckless. I couldn't believe he just moved a new man into the home Korn pays for, he's gonna get caught.

I was grateful the show did not actually go all the way with Korn assaulting Tonkla, but it was clear he would have if Tonkla had not managed to distract him.

I continue to find the emotional tenor of Great and Tyme's scenes kinda weird. I don't understand why Great is so willing to betray Korn to help Tyme after just meeting him, I don't understand why Tyme revealed his face only to run away and then accused Great of being in on the conspiracy after already confirming he's not, and I don't understand why they were acting all blushy and awkward in that sex scene rather than leaning into the adrenaline high for a more sultry tone. They have been on one (1) date so the emotional investment is not really tracking for me for two experienced adults, but I can't tell if I am supposed to find this all weird and confusing or just go with it. It feels like the show just wants me to accept the shortcuts and buy into them as a serious romance, so okay I guess!

Speaking of betraying Korn, Great's plan was abysmal. He steals the information from Korn's phone (so considerate of him to spell out his criminal conspiracy including names and locations in one convenient text chain), tells Tyme everything without any knowledge of what his brother did, then walks right into an active hostage situation in his designer whites and shows his face to all Korn's goons. Korn is gonna know you did this, bro! Do you care?

It seems that Nan has a friend who was killed in a similar fashion to Tyme's parents, though I'm still curious how they connected and came up with this plan.

I still got nothing on this Lukwa connection. Why are she and Great the only two experiencing this phenomenon, and why did they see each other in this liminal space?

Also noting that there were several sex scenes this episode and no condoms or lube anywhere. I guess this show only depicts safe and realistic sex when they have a sponsor paying them.

[kindwarrior]

Tucker Carlson is Outing Obama as Gay. But Everyone is Missing the Big Story. I’m Obama’s College Classmate. I’ve Been Trying to Warn America for 15 years!

By Wayne Allyn Root

I’m Barak Obama’s college classmate at Columbia University, Class of ’83. I’m also the author of the #1 bestselling hardcover book in America in 2012, “The Ultimate Obama Survival Guide.”

I’ve always had Obama’s number. I understand what makes him tick. I understand his goals.

First let’s get the “gay issue” out of the way. I’ve reported on both my radio and TV shows for 15 years that my wealthy, connected friends in Chicago have always said, “Obama frequented gay bath houses and gay clubs. Everyone in the know, knows Obama is gay.”

Now that we’ve heard from Obama’s biographer that Obama wrote about his daily gay fantasies, I think it’s pretty clear my Chicago pals were right. Tucker Carlson is onto something!

But gay is not the issue. The issue here is fraud. If Obama is in fact gay, then he was lying to the American people from day one. He portrayed himself as a happily married family man with a wife and two beautiful young daughters. That’s called fraud.

If America had known the truth in 2008, does anyone honestly think Obama would have been elected president?

But all of this is small potatoes. This is not the big story.

Why does any of this matter now? Because Joe Biden is a brain-dead puppet. This is the third term of Obama. The proof is we are all reliving the nightmare Obama economy. Great for Wall Street and billion-dollar multi-national corporations. But a disaster for the American middle class and Main Street.

Second, Biden is fading fast – and everyone can see it. At the same time Biden’s cognitive health is in freefall, all of his corruption from the past is pouring out of the closet. Biden is finished. He is toast. He will never make it to 2024.

Sometime this fall Biden will have a very public “episode” and be hospitalized. Soon thereafter he (or Jill) will announce he is stepping down for “health reasons.”

Who will replace him? Either Michelle Obama or Gavin Newsom. But whoever it is, Obama will be calling the shots from his nearby Washington DC mansion. That’s why this story matters.

I’ve had Obama pegged from the first day. Obama is the ultimate “Manchurian Candidate.” Gay is unimportant. What matters is he was groomed to be president by the Deep State and communist, fascist, globalist enemies of the United States. What matters is Obama is a radical Marxist tyrant carrying out the destruction of America.

Obama was tame in his first two terms. He was “boiling the frog slowly.” But Trump ruined his plan. Now Obama is trying to destroy this country as fast as he can before Trump has a second chance to undo the damage. And at the same time, Obama is coordinating the attacks on Trump to either imprison him, kill him, or disqualify him.

My guest on my show, “America’s Top Ten Countdown” on Real America’s Voice TV last week was former Illinois Governor Rod “Blago” Blagojevich. Blago’s Governor’s mansion was raided by an early morning FBI Swat team. Sound familiar?

I pointed out to “Blago” that Obama’s fingerprints were all over his frame job… and FBI SWAT raid… and long prison sentence. Obama set him up. Obama took away his freedom. I asked him to comment. Blago reported, “Obama set up the meeting that led to my arrest.”

Do you get it now? It’s the exact same M.O. as what’s happening to President Trump. The same FBI raids, persecution, frame job. The same weaponization of government to destroy Obama’s political adversaries.

I’ve always said the key to understanding Obama was his time at Columbia University.

First, there is the “Ghost of Columbia” mystery. I was a Pre Law, Political Science major. So was Obama. He had to be in all the same classes as me. But he was never in one class. I never met Obama, never saw him, never heard of him, never met anyone at Columbia who has.

Obama got in, so why didn’t anyone ever see him? My educated guess is Obama was in the Soviet Union studying communism. Columbia had a “sister school” in Moscow. That would be the only real answer as to why Obama was rarely if ever seen at Columbia. He was being groomed way back then by the enemies of America.

Secondly, at Columbia we learned a plan to destroy America called “Cloward Piven.” I’ll bet Obama spent two years in the Soviet Union at our “sister school” becoming the world’s expert. Look around. Everything happening in America today is Cloward Piven…

The open borders bringing millions of foreigners into our country, changing our demographics forever.

The explosion of welfare and bailouts.

The Green New Deal.

The destruction of our military.

The end of the dollar as world reserve currency.

The plans for pandemic lockdowns, climate change lockdowns and Central Bank Digital Currency.

The censorship, banning of dissent, and weaponization of government against conservatives and Christians. Defund the police.

The vicious criminals let out without bail.

Critical Race Theory and Transgender brainwashing.

Persecution of PTA parents.

Conservatives and Christians classified as “domestic terrorists.”

The arrest of political opponents.

87,000 new IRS agents.

It’s all about Cloward Piven and communist-level control.

Sound familiar? It’s what Obama the “Manchurian Candidate” learned in the Soviet Union from the best. This man was groomed from day one by the communist and globalist enemies of America. He was sent to destroy us.

Now he’s working behind the scenes to finish the job. He is the man who ordered the spying on Trump. The framing of Trump. Now he’s the man directing the nonstop government attacks against Trump. Just as he did to Blago.

So, Obama being gay is the least of it. America is being destroyed. Obama is at the root of every evil thing happening.

[thatone-brightstar]

The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)

Chapter 5: The Fantastic Mrs. Fox pt. 1

Words: 4.3k

Summary: Carmy deals with his nightmares while you deal with your family.

a/n: This is more fluff but I'll make it up with smut on the next one ;) Hope you enjoy! xx

PS. Reader is latina in this and if you are too, you’ll probably understand the families…

He could not remember the last time his lungs didn’t ache from the lack of air. It felt like he could finally catch a decent breath and his neck wasn’t strained from its constant outstretched position, trying to hold his head above the murky water before it pulled him under the current. The pressure in his chest was rubbed away by dexterous fingers covered in velvet clay as you molded him into one of your beautiful art pieces, fingerprints permanently etched into his surface.

He didn’t want to give credit of his newly found good mood to whatever you two had, he wasn’t the kind to let anyone influence over his emotions. Many years of abusive behavior in the world’s best kitchens had made him believe he was above all that. He could whisk a Hollandaise sauce by hand in less than a minute, while some entitled asshole butchered his self esteem with every word and yet it would still be the best shit that had left that kitchen. He didn’t believe he was above it, he knew.

And yet, a single ‘hope ur having a great day xx’ text from you was enough to dissipate the boiling irritation beginning to grow after a very shitty day, the simple sentence curling his lips into a small smile.

The week had been going smoothly. Apart from the day where he had to break the news to the team that you wouldn’t be coming back to work due to… personal priorities, everything had been smooth sailing. At least as smooth as it can be when the ship is held by duct tape and is constantly on fire. The payment on their meat deliveries was finally up to date, meaning that they could order more product, which in turn meant more sales for the restaurant. 

He called you after closing and while he finished scrubbing a few grimey spots on the floor he told you the good news. You were just as excited as he was, probably even more, because this meant that his plan to turn The Beef into a respectable business was finally starting to take shape. 

In a low whisper you told him how glad you were and when he answered that ‘there’s still so much more left to do’, you replied with ‘Yeah, but that’s one less thing to worry about. I’m really proud of you for it.’

Your words had trickled through his veins, sticky sweet invading his body and keeping him warm as he drove home and settled on his couch to rest his eyes.

The warmth, however, had now dissipated into thin slivers of distress that circled his throat and constricted his airway. Mirages of blinding white tiles and glistening stainless steel haunted his vision, no matter how hard he closed his eyes. A booming voice that sounded like his own but laced with unknown malice vibrated in his skull and crept under his skin as it repeated the familiar mantra for the tenth time in a row, ‘Mikey was wrong, you can’t handle it’. The taste of smoke filled his lungs, drawing heavy droplets of water from his eyes and forcing him to the floor, heaving in desperation. Roaring flames invaded his view, crawling up the walls and swallowing everything around him in an angry orange blaze.

Carmy’s body jerked awake, wild eyes scanning the dark surrounding for the immediate threat. The lulling sounds of the cooking channel were no more than static to the ringing in his ears and the tang of inexistent smoke felt heavy inside his mouth. He rubbed his eyes ferociously, hoping this would clear the image of his burning kitchen now carved into his mind. Through the cloudy haze of adrenaline and angst, his own thoughts seemed far in the distance, like he was floating away from his own existence, like if nothing was real.

A pang in his chest made him grip over his heart with shaky fingers, the all too familiar bile beginning to strut its way up his trachea at the intrusive thought that maybe you too had been a vision fabricated by his fucked up head. It would only make sense, how someone as perfect as you had just suddenly appeared like a lifeline, bright and beautiful, taking a liking to him of all people. Maybe he had finally lost his marbles, The Beef and everyone in that fucking place had finally broken him,

“Okay, okay, okay, get your shit together.” He mumbled to himself and rubbed a hand over his sweat covered face. 

He tried to breathe in as deeply as he could with his aching lungs, hold it in then exhale shakily, like he had once read in one of those psychology posts that seemed irrelevant until now. With fingers pressing tightly against his temples, he continued the breathing exercises until he no longer felt like his chest would concave into a black hole. He dragged his other hand to the space between his torso and the backrest of the couch where he could feel the hard surface of his phone and unlocked it with slight trembling fingers.

His thumb hovered over the call button in your contact info, doubting if he should inconvenience you with his mental crap, especially at four in the morning. Instead, he moved to his gallery where the bright image contrasted between pictures of gloomy skylines and invoice reminders. Bright green gelée with vibrant edible violets stared back at him through the lit up screen while he readjusted himself in the small sofa, the pastry soothed the turmoil of negative thoughts regarding your existence and served as the confirmation his head needed to allow his worked up body some desired rest.

**********

It was Sweep’s turn to play the music for the day, and while normally he would just tune it out until service hours, the insistent bass mixed with his sleep deprivation, drilled a consistent hole right between his brows.

“Yo chef, turn that shit down, will ya?” He asked Syd, who stood close to the radio, cutting onions.

Despite their system functioning slightly better, Carmy couldn’t help being on edge from the moment he walked through the door, expecting anything and everything to go wrong. He could blame the nightmare still fresh in his mind, but he knew the sudden waves of anxiety had begun way before forcefully inheriting The Beef. Somewhere between New York and Noma.

Remnants of the conversation with his sister the week before surfaced from the shallow water and he remembered the pamphlets he had been skimming over right before discarding them completely when you had gone in to quit. A soft smile covered his face as the memories of everything that happened that night replayed in his head, then he cleared his throat to cover it up. 

He finished dicing the vegetables for the giardiniera with mechanical ease, then threw everything in a low pot with vinegar, water, salt, pepper and a few bay leaves, leaving it to simmer. When he asked Tina to watch it for him, he only received a soft grunt as a response, which he answered with a ‘thank you, T.’ and retrieved into the office to find the pamphlets and give another good look over them. 

Maybe Sugar wasn’t so crazy to suggest Al-Anon Family. God knows he needed somewhere to vent after all the shit that had happened in the past couple months. He was never the type to ‘talk about it’, no one in his family was, which was probably the biggest reason why the thing with his brother had happened. He was used to swallowing it down, whether it was his brother’s rejection or the constant verbal assault of America’s Next Top Chef Imbecile. He was used to keeping it controlled, letting it simmer slowly in the depths of his stomach, until it reduced into a thick red paste that invaded his veins and darkened his vision. 

Before the voice in the back of his head convinced him that ‘It wasn’t worth it’ and that ‘all you need to do is man up, not fuckin therapy’, he saved the number in bold black letters to his contacts for safe keeping, promising himself he’d call during his next break.

Three soft knocks on the flimsy material of the open door caught his attention as he saved the papers into one of the many crowded drawers. He turned around in his chair and a new wave of found air reached his lungs. 

“Hey ” You whispered, stepping into the small space, bottom lip caught in your teeth. “Am I interrupting?”

“Hey…” He breathed in, and for the first time in a while, he felt like the oxygen had finally filled his lungs. “N-no, no, no, of course not. What’s up?”

Carmy stood from his seat with renewed energy, stretching a hand to caress your forearm but stopped himself midway when he remembered that you hadn’t really talked about how you would approach this new situation whenever you visited the restaurant. Your eyes flickered to his stagnant hand and your grip around a grease stained cardboard box tightened. You threw a quick glance over your shoulder to make sure no one was looking, then softly pushed the door closed with your boot, until you heard a click. Immediately after, you carelessly dropped the box on his desk and circled your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down to your hungry lips. His arms automatically closed around your form and a soft hum escaped your throat as you melted into his warm embrace. It was absurd how quickly he had gotten used to the tender movements of your silky lips on his, because at that moment, he could not remember how he had lived so long deprived of such a delightful experience. 

A light laugh escaped your mouth when your side hit the edge of his desk after he unconsciously spun you in the small space.

You pulled your face to take a few deep breaths as well as calm your thundering heartbeat, and when you finally opened your eyes, he swore you held the entire cosmos inside the dark, glittering voids.

“I just came to drop off family, but this is nice too.” You joked under your breath and he followed along.

“Hmm..what’d you make?”

“Empanadas.” You answered with a warm smile and reached for the forgotten box behind you. “See?” A savory scent invaded his nose from the moment you opened the lid, his stomach registering the estranged sensation of hunger after the long day.

“Shit… that smells fire.”

“You wanna take one now? Knowing them, there won’t be many left.”

“Oh no thanks, I’m good.”

You stared at him with a blank expression, then pushed the open box to him. You looked at him expectantly, then at the box and back at him. He sighed but reached into it and took one, placing it over a closed binder on his desk.

“Happy?” 

“Mhm, very.” You answered with a satisfied smile, standing on your toes and giving him a chaste kiss. “So, whatcha lookin’ at?” You ask, dropping your bag over the familiar spot.

Carmy let you go and sat back down on the revolving chair with a sigh, analyzing how much of the truth he should tell you. He wasn’t sure if you knew about Mikey and all the shit that had gone down. From what he remembered, you had come in when the waters had finally settled and only the disaster after the storm remained. 

The same wrenching feeling from the night before invaded his mind at the thought of dragging you into his mess.

“Just uhm…” He rubbed his face with his elbows resting on his thighs “Some accounting stuff I can’t get my head around.” He answered instead.

Your soft touch combed through the knotted curls of his hair, careful fingers massaged the neglected scalp and an involuntary sigh parted his lips. It’s like the simple act had triggered his neck to lose hold on his head because soon he felt the soft fabric of your shirt pressed against his forehead and eyes as you stood in front of him, massaging his worries away. You stepped between his separated legs, racking your nails from his scalp down his neck and to his tense shoulders, disarming him completely. The swell in his chest grew for a very different reason when he realized just how touch starved he truly was, as he could not remember the last time someone had treated him with such tenderness and care. If there ever was such a time.

“Maybe you just need some rest…” You said softly. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

His hands rubbed absentmindedly along the length of your thighs, humming in response to your caring words. He rose his head from its comfortable place to look up at you. You smiled delicately down at him and cupped his face between your hands, then placed a loving kiss in the valley of his eye brows.

That was enough for the lock that guarded the Pandora’s box in the back of his darkened mind to break in two. His mouth parted lightly as the Adam's apple in his throat grew two sizes too big for words to escape, and he knew, though not if it was good or bad, that no one else would ever top the rush of emotions you had made him experience with such a simple gesture.

Your brows raised in confusion at his expression. “What?” You asked through a nervous laugh.

He shook his head with a light smile, gripping tightly at your hips where his hands had stopped, then stood from his chair.

“C’mon, let go feed these fuckers.”

Carmy placed his hand on your lower back as the other held on to the box, then after you opened the office door, you walked to the dining area where most of the bustle came from.

“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in and left to die!” Richie’s voice boomed above everyone else's, making the team turn in your direction.

There was a sudden screech of chairs as the group got up to greet you with enthusiasm, the sound made Carmy’s small migraine pulse but the sight of your excited expression soothed it back down.

“Look at you, all pretty in your blue aprons!” You said between laughs scanning your ex coworkers’ uniforms.

“Jeff says it compliments my eyes.” Tina joked, batting her lashes up at you.

“He couldn’t be more right.” You answered, hugging her side and turning to him with beaming eyes. 

Marcus took the box from Carmy’s hands excitedly, opening it on his way to the table and setting it in the middle for all to take.

“Yo, these look sick! You made them?” He asked you after everyone had settled back down and you took a seat between Carmy and Syd.

“Yeah, well, my grandad helped. They good?”

“Tastes like shit..” Ebra mumbled through a mouthful of dough and everyone laughed.

“They’re actually an invitation-”

“I accept.” He interrupted and you snickered lightly.

“Where to?” Marcus asked.

“My grandpa’s turning 76 tomorrow. I was supposed to invite you guys like two weeks ago but I kinda forgot. So as long as you don’t tell my mother, I’ll make sure you leave on the verge of alcohol poisoning and with enough food for three days..”

He heard a few ‘Niceee’ from the youngests of the group, while Angel tried bargaining the amount of rations per person and failing miserably, bumping it down to two days and receiving a light smack in the head from Manny.

“Wow, wait I don’t think I can make it. I gotta work tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, me too babe, sorry.”

Marcus and Sweeps let you know and when he turned to you, he could see your brows drop very slightly in disappointment.

“Yeah, I think we’re all on the clock tomorrow…” Richie said from his corner of the table.

“O-oh” He saw you swallow slowly, then smile softly to hide your expression. “No biggie, then. I’ll just tell her you’re all busy, she’ll understand.”

A few sorry’s spread through the group as they continued eating. 

He remembered Tina had asked him for Sunday off a week ago and so did Sydney, so he assumed they would be there, but he knew how much it meant to you that everyone could go. They were your other family, after all.

Without overthinking it, the words bubbled in his throat, spilling over the edge before he could stop them.

“We could close.”

The movements stopped completely when everyone turned around to him, stunned. He cleared his throat out of nervousness from the sudden attention, then spoke again.

“For dinner, I mean.” He specified.

“Seriously?” Syd asked in surprise. “Cause even with our off days we’ve been opening daily for the past, what like two and a half months?”

“Yeah, but we’re finally up to date with the meat sourcers and we have at least a two week parachute to keep us off the ground.” Carmy flicked his eyes to your confused face, then back to the group. “Plus, I think we’ve all earned a good rest, right?”

The family erupted in delight at the good news, clear skies ahead as they felt they were almost out of the woods. Besides, no one could say no to a night of free food and booze.

While they finished eating, they arranged plans on how to carpool for the next day or on who would be the unlucky idiot to be the designated driver, at least out of the ones that could drive. Under the table, Carmy snuck his hand to rest over your knee, slow enough to not catch the attention of the crew, and yours cupped over it gingerly. A glowing smile covered your features when you looked at him, mouthing a very much heartfelt ‘Thank you’, that reached the dingiest parts of his tethered soul and appeased the flames bubbling in his core.

**********

You had not known a single moment of peace since the second your mother barged into your room to throw the covers off you around eight, nagging on how late it was for you to still be in bed at that hour. You could hear the familiar Spanish ballads playing on the TV, which indicated it was Sunday morning in your household; as well as the rowdy laughter of your aunts, scraping pans around as they made breakfast for everyone in the crowded apartment.

The morning was spent between answering personal questions about your dating life and hauling decorations down the multiple flights of stairs into the patio beside the complex. After bribing the maintenance guy with twenty dollars and the promise of free booze, he agreed to let you use the space in private for the afternoon, even helping you hang the string of paper decorations around the available tree branches and offering an extension cord for the fairy lights. Joshua carried most of the tables and chairs, ones he borrowed from a friend of his who owned a rental shop and after half an hour of figuring out the best layout, you were finally done. 

You were quite proud of the turnout. The mismatched chairs and different colored tableware felt warm and inviting, just like the red carnations that sat in the makeshift wine vases along the main table. Your heart warmed at the sight of your grandmother’s favorite flowers, before closing the backdoor and walking up one last time to eat something then get ready.

“So, is your boyfriend coming?” Joshua broke the silence as you passed the second floor.

“The fuck are you on?” You asked back, a soft tint rising up your neck.

He turned around from a few steps above you and snickered. “C’mon, Fox. I saw him drop you off the other day.” His smile grew when he saw you swallow hard and that was confirmation enough. “I’m not telling ma, jus’ so  y’know.”

“I know you won’t,” Your step quickened up a few stairs, then you kicked his right foot to his left while it was in the air, causing him to almost trip on himself. “cause if you do, I'll tell her about the time you and Nico took the car to go see titties and you were almost arrested.” 

He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Dude, that was like two years ago, when will you let it go?!”

“When you two incels pay me back the bribe I had to give the bouncer so he wouldn’t call the cops on your asses!”

“Alright, fine! I won’t say shit..”

“That’s what I fuckin’ thought…”

“What do you care anyway?” You asked after a few silence filled seconds.

“I don’t, '' he answered defensively. “Just makin’ sure it’s not that tall asshole from your job.”

Now it was your turn to snicker. “Who Richie?”

Your little brother shrugged and the story Richie had told you on your first day, about the nerd that punched Carmy, came back to mind. A malicious smirk curled on your lips as you reached your floor, one hand lifting to pat sarcastically up on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry bout it weasel, it’s not Richie… It’s the other one.” You said, walking ahead of him. “The one you punched, ‘member?”

You heard the squeak of his sneakers at the sudden stop and you had to bite your cheek to not burst into laughter as you crossed the open apartment door.

A wave of scents and sounds invaded your senses the moment you walked through the threshold, overwhelming to the point of a starting headache. It also didn’t help that all your stomach had processed was a cup of coffee a couple hours ago and that you had wasted most of your energy running up and down trying to make everything look presentable. You crossed the hallway and moved directly to the kitchen to find something to eat before getting ready. 

You were greeted by the welcome committee of your three matriarchs, all working on a different recipe around the counter, covered to the brim in ingredients.

“Ay, mi amor, you grew so tall!” Angie called excitedly the moment she saw you walk in.

“I've been the same size since senior year, tia, but thank you.” You laughed, hugging her shoulders softly to not move her hands cutting up veggies.

“Ya terminaron?” Your mother asked, kneading some dough inside a bowl.

You pulled a pear from the fruit bowl and nodded towards her. They continued gossiping as they worked through the ingredients and you chewed on your fruit in silence. 

There was something you found peaceful about the women in your family, especially in these sorts of events. How they all knew with perfection their role, their gear that worked in synchronicity inside the machine. It was always so beautiful to watch them cook together, even as a child you were astonished at how they moved with ease around each other, knowing their needs without having to voice them. It was like watching a ballet company that had been training on perfecting the same choreography all their lives. They were the main reason you had gone into cooking before anything else was even considered an option. They made you see it as a dance, elegant and exact.

A sudden slap in the back of the head brought you back from your thoughts. 

“Ay! Pendejo!” You shouted at your brother, rubbing your head and glaring in his direction.

“Mom’s talking to you!”

“And that’s why you hit me, you fuckin’ idiot!?”

A chorus of warning ‘Hey's was thrown to both of you, a reminder to behave on the important day.

“I was asking you if you invited your friends from work.” Your mother asked again.

“Mhm, they’ll be here around noon.”

She nodded slowly then looked back up at you with a subtle smile. “And did you invite that Carmy boy?”

“Ooh, who’s that?” Tere pitched in, now drawing the women’s attention towards your topic of conversation.

You bit back into the pear, ignoring the question as your mother took over for you.

“Oh, a boy that works with her, has the loveliest of blue eyes.” She said, widening her eyes and causing a wave of chuckling from her sisters. “What is he, russian?” She asked you.

“Italian.” You mumbled, through your chewing.

“Italian, that’s right!” Then she gasped as an idea came to mind. “You should introduce him to your cousin Sarita, y’know how lonely she’s been since her divorce…” Her voice shrinked into a whisper, as if she were telling a long kept secret.

You stopped mid bite at her words, sweeping through the sets of eyes that now waited expectantly for your answer. Joshua stood across the counter with a mocking smile and an apple in hand, while his other arm circled Angie’s shoulders.

“That’s a great idea ma, you should totally introduce ‘em to Sarita.” He said, then bit into his apple to hide the stupid grin invading his face.

You wanted nothing more than to lodge the fruit so far down his throat that he’d live with two Adam’s apples for the rest of his days, but you knew you’d have to answer for your crime against your mother’s darling boy. Instead you swallowed the last bite and left the space with the excuse of getting ready for the evening.

‘My mother wants to set you up with my cousin.

How good are you with kids?’

Read the text you sent Carmy while getting ready to take a shower. Your phone pinged less than a minute later and the little blue heart you had added next to his name made your stomach flutter.

‘Once sedated a party full of ‘em.

But other than that, pretty decent’

A loud laugh vibrated through your chest at his answer and you saved it in your mental folder under ‘stuff to ask him about’, next to the swirling designs on his torso and on how he had ended up stuck with The Beef, of all places.

Chapter 6.

Taglist: @pearlstiare @teteminne and that’s it lmao

[kings-highway]

I had a drabble written for this and idk if I will ever post it but I wanted to share this idea with you since your Ushiten posts are so adorable:

Basically I was thinking about Tendou returning to Japan from Paris for a vacation and Ushijima is very determined, adorably so, to show Tendou how much he missed him and likes loves him.

And he cooks dinner for him, something easy on the stomach in case he feels queasy from his flight. And when Tendou shows up at his doorstep Ushijima gives him this tight hug that just makes Tendou melt before he can even say hi. (Mind you, they don't really... Hug a lot.) And Ushijima is worried it might come off as sudden but he really did miss Tendou, he missed having his company and having his partner by his side who understood him so fully. He doesn't say it, he doesn't know exactly how to articulate that feeling.

And Tendou is just so amused but enamoured by this whole thing. He teases Ushijima for it but goes along, enjoying it. The jet lag and everything is exhausting him and everything at the air port was so loud but Ushijima's place is dim-lit, quiet and homey.

But then there's dessert. And Ushijima pulls out these cupcakes, these chocolate cupcakes that Tendou had given him the recipe for ages ago. There is some tempered chocolate on it as decoration and Ushijima comments how he didn't know if it was tempered correctly (they don't have a themometer) and Tendou is trying not to actually cry because it's one of the sweetest gestures someone's ever done for him (the chocolate is not tempered correctly at all, Tendou spots a fingerprint or two on the decorations but he doesn't say a thing)

Aaaanyways yeah they're totally not the sweetest thing ever. /s

eepers jeepers McMan, post the drabble! since you already have it written i'm just talk about some of my own highly related headcanons for how they handle long distance that i may or may not have written/are writing into some of my wips so enjoy~ (and post the damn drabble):

tendou being incredibly, unbelievable homesick in a way that he hadn't expected to be, because his whole life he's felt like an outcast and had cheerfully gotten on the plane to leave, finally expecting to be free of his childhood baggage and make his own path in like

ushijima, who had always been 100% content alone, who had been absolutely thrilled by tendou's success and his ambition moving across the world, who'd seen him off at the airport, wishing him well and making him promise to eat healthy, so proud of his best friend for chasing his dreams and never thinking twice about it.

an airport goodbye that had not a single tear shed, because their mutual lives before hand had set them up perfectly for this moment. nothing but excitement and crackling energy of possibility.

tendou's near instant feeling of otherness stepping foot in France, trying to make a place for himself and realizing that all his bravado about "starting over" and "finding somewhere he belongs" has actually set him back 3 years, and that he'd willingly chosen to be the outsider and the freak again, that France is not inherently easier to survive than Japan was, he's just older now and there's something to miss back home

while Ushijima's confidence over always being okay alone is immediately shattered, because the truth is he *wasn't* alone for the last 3 years, he hasn't been a loner since he met tendou, actually, and he let him go without a second thought because he simply hadn't realized that.

they both regret not hugging goodbye a little tighter at the airport - and there's no amount of video calls and phone calls and texting that can quite make up for the fact that they just really, really miss getting to be beside each other, to have someone watching their backs in a way that they *fucking forgot to realize they were doing.*

so yes, yes yes, when they are finally set for a reunion, when one of them finally gets to see the other, the first thing Ushijima does - despite it being incredibly out of character - is hug Tendou as tightly as he can, head pressed down into his neck, fingers digging into the clothes on his back and holding him as if trying to compress him into himself, and it shocks tendou, not just for the intimacy of it, but for the purpose. Ushijima doesn't hug him to greet him, or out of some sense of social obligation to show affection - he is hugging him purely because he doesn't want to let him go. Because he cannot stand the idea of being separated again. And *that* realization, that Ushijima has been just as desperately homesick despite never setting foot off Japanese soil, almost breaks Tendou, because never in a thousand years would he have guessed that he'd willingly walk away from someone who wanted him so deeply and so authentically to *stay*, but they'd already made their choices - they made their choices stupidly, a year ago, and Tendou's flight is booked for just seven days from now and there is simply not enough time before they have to redo that airport goodbye, and there is no more excitement, no more sense of wonder and progress, but just intense, aching sincerity as they hold on as long as possible until Tendou has to go through the security gate.

[floofyroro]

With my ✨golden birthday✨ approaching, I think I’ll finally post part 1 of my Crosshair/fem!reader fic this week. 👀

I’m itching for feedback so I think this will be good motivation to polish and edit this week so that it’s ready to be uploaded by Sunday evening, CST.

Here’s a sneakpeek in the meantime.

Consider it a small taste of what’s to come. 🤫

The Herbalist

Summary: A year after rescuing Omega from Tantiss, Crosshair is still adjusting to life on Pabu. You're the island herbalist who has just returned from a year-long pilgrimage on Naboo. As you familiarize yourself with the island newcomers, you grow close with Omega, who becomes your little helper in the gardens. Somehow, you continue crossing paths with her intimidating brother and you find that you're drawn to his elusiveness. (Slight AU because Tech is alive.)

His name is called amidst the clamor of the crowd and Crosshair squints as he scans his surroundings, only to find Omega waving from a corner stall. The humidity clings to Crosshair as he parts through a throng of people and he’s lost track of how many times he has cursed the climate. The familiar training blacks he’s worn for most his life were recently confiscated by Omega, in the name of ‘relaxation.’ 

You need a fresh start. I think most things hold memories, whether good and bad, she had argued.

After that, their unconventional squad were given the island’s finest garments made of kelpcotton and linenfiber, courtesy of Shep. The boys knew it was all Omega’s doing as it has her fingerprints all over it. Crosshair shoves thoughts of his beloved training blacks aside when he’s met with Omega’s eager energy as she stands next to another stall.

She’s practically beaming as she holds a jar up to him. It’s seemingly filled with an organic mixture of sorts, the contents rolling to one side due to Omega’s tilted grasp on it. She then pops the lid open and a waft of earthy aroma hits Crosshair’s senses immediately. 

“Do you recognize it?”

Before Crosshair can even respond to Omega’s prompt, his brother interjects.

“Our evening tea!” Tech leans in closer to sniff. “We made our last brew just last night. Excellent thinking, we’re in need of a restock.” He winks at her then, and Omega nods in resolve, snapping the lid shut. 

She then motions behind the stall, bringing attention to you. 

That overpowering aroma of tea hits Crosshair's senses once more. You emit an air of quiet confidence as you stand surrounded by what he surmises is your livelihood; hanging foliage, dry and fresh alike strung together, creating a cascading effect around your stall. Vitality is the word that resounds in his mind, perhaps due to the nature of the items you’re offering to sell. 

And maybe due to the healthy glow of your skin.

Omega tugs at his sleeve, drawing his attention from you. 

“You’ve been sleeping better at night, right?” 

He pauses to consider. It’s been evident that the past two weeks have garnered the most restorative rest Crosshair is able to experience. Nightmares still plague him most nights, but considering his sleep over the past three years, the difference is night and day. He ignored Wrecker’s comment the other evening that he no longer resembles a human skeleton and that his skin has lost that dull, transparent sheen to it. 

One could also blame that on the relentless sun, Crosshair had countered. 

Or on the meditation! Omega had chirruped.

So, Crosshair waits for Omega to continue because surely she has some sort of agenda to share. 

“Well, that’s thanks to the herbalist,” Omega finally says, pointing to you. “She’s been showing me how to take care of the island’s garden plots and greenhouses.” 

A connection is made then; when Omega wants a break from training, whether that be piloting with Tech or hand-to-hand with Hunter, she’ll disappear from the household until it’s time to commune for dinner. She almost always returns with tousled hair and a thin layer of dirt coating her skin. Your name is mentioned in passing during their evening meals but Crosshair has never thought twice about you. Now he’s putting face to name and realizing that she’s been assisting you all along.

[uchihaharlot]

Shisui talking to his child.

Shisui: go tell mom that you want a little sibling😊

Child: But I want a dog🤨

What would Shisui do if he had a child who wanted to remain an only child?

ohhhh nonny.

You and I think a lot a like!! 🥹 Though, and I've said it before and I say it again. You cannot outwit a master manipulator...

NSFW; Shisui being much like a damn kid with his son; what a lucky man; I wish I were his wife; white wine induced writing; ya'll getting blue balled here too 😈

While Shisui is definitely a shinobi with integrity, he regularly barters with his son. Candy, toys...a puppy?? This is a little more than just a simple request from his dear heart little one. And Shisui adores his first born tremendously. Would give up his right so to speak.

That being said, there is a tit for tat he wants to run by his shit grinning kid, as he is asked for a four legged friend. Ultimately he's gonna get the damn puppy regardless, he wants a dog too...but his son is nearly six. Which means Shisui has only bred his wife in theory over the years, and birth control is a real bitch.

'Sounds good pumpkin,' gives his son a charming smile. 'I'll make you a deal.'

Now, Shisui needs to be smart about this. He hasn't necessarily had the talk on the birds and the bees with his boy. His son is essentially a fingerprint of his own genius and Shisui does't really deign going into detail daddy's need to fill mommy with his seed.

'Ok Papa.' Gods his kid is cute, but devious as hell.

'Ask mommy very nicely,' he pauses, thinking appropriately the next words, 'tell her you want a little sibling.'

This damn kid tilts his head, 'why?'

Ok, this is a good time to bitch about kids not doing as they're told. 'Because, just tell her and then we can get a puppy.' Tries not to baby talk his own kid, but he's just so damn cute and menacing. Like his father.

'What if I don't want a sibling?' Little fucker tilts his head, again, but in the opposite direction.

Now, Shisui is not what I would call a desperate man. But with this? He might be. 'If you want the puppy, you need a sibling. Dogs are a lot of care and you're gonna need someone ton help pick up after it when the puppy gets bigger.'

'...Why?' Shisui rubs a palm over his face, and smiles wickedly kind at his patience testing kid.

'Thats how this deal works kiddo.'

'But...' Shisui is forced to listen to little boy ramble off the plethora of peers with animals and no siblings. Even adds that is why most of them have an animal companion to begin with.

It seems luck is not on Shisui's side today. The damn kid is a cock block, not really but, for the love of the gods. If Shisui has to pull out again he's going to impale his forlorn heart on a steak.

Cue his lovely, and adoring wife. They lay in bed. Her reading, Shisui going over some scrolls. Mundane absentminded conversation between the two as they wind down and snuggle into bed.

Silence is usually the last thing Shisui notices before falling asleep, but his wife so sweetly big spoons him. And, well, she's quelled their silence with three simple words whispered at the nape of his neck.

'...a puppy, huh?' Snakes her soft hand over his chest, it only goes lower.

Let's get this straight, Shisui never gets nervous. He faces enemies on a regular basis, but his damn wife asking about the puppy their son begged for earlier didn't fall short on her eager ears. He groans, out of arousal and disbelief that she heard them.

'Heh... You heard all that?' Not so much a nervous chuckle as it was a soft exhale. Her dainty little fingers are already slipping into his pajama pants.

'Only the important parts...'

She needn't say anything else. Shisui was on her before she could even register the two fingers that squelch in her cunt. Goddamn heat seeking fingers. 'So are we getting a puppy?'

When Shisui looks at her like she held all the answers, fingers crooking in soft wet pussy, coaxing her to cum with sharingan eyes. Sexual coercion was his best quality in the bedroom. That and his cock.

'Yea..' Bitch, yea. They're having another baby. Right here, right now. 'Don't even need...to ask.' So beautiful when she's halfway to cumming and wetting his lips with a desperate swipe off her tongue.

[thewitchywitch]

Palmistry 100

Okay so these aren't exactly notes per se, but this is the first post in a series I'm planning to make about palmistry, and this post is dedicated to breaking down misconceptions and false information that I've seen a lot of people hold onto in their palmistry practice.

This post is a bit long, so I've put everything under the cut!

So first off:

Palmistry doesn't tell you "the future", it's not at all like typical divination methods where you can divine stuff about the future (knowing that it's always changing of course). Palmistry also doesn't tell you when you're going to die or the cause of death like is shown in plenty of movies and shows.

Palmistry does give you insight into someone's character, both externally and internally (which we'll get into later on). A good palmist can also offer advice about strengths and weaknesses in someone's personality, and offer communication techniques as well.

Anyone can learn palmistry, regardless of intuitive abilities or background.

A very common misconception is that because the practice is referred to as "palmistry" that only the lines on the hand are read. This is false, as the entirety of the hand is read from the major and minor lines, to skin texture, to finger length, angles of some knuckles, dermatoglyphics (fingerprints and palmar ridges), and even the way someone holds out their hand for you to read. You can actually get a very solid reading based on finger length, skin texture, and dermatoglyphics alone without reading into the major and minor lines on the palm.

Another common misconception is that only one hand—the dominant hand—is read. Any good palmist knows to read both hands and they would show different aspects of someone (this is something I'll go more in depth on in the next post)

And last but not least, the palms—or hands, rather—change over time. Skin texture, minor lines, knuckles, the plushiness of the thumb, and other signs will change over time, especially with age. I can point out specific minor lines on my own palms and say "This one wasn't here 6 years ago," or "This one has gotten deeper and more prominent in the past 4 years," or "There used to be a line right about here 2 years ago." A good way to keep track of changes is with taking a print, which I'll also explain in the next post.

Also, not a misconception, but something I see in a lot of palmistry resources is gendered language. I find that relying on gender to determine different qualities of a factor in someone's hand is lazy, cheap, and exclusionary. My younger brother has some qualities on his hands that are considered "feminine" or "usually found on a woman's hands," and I don't subscribe to that sort of language when reading palms because it's often exclusionary and doesn't offer any information or true insight. You can't take something as diverse as people's hands and try to shove them into two boxes, it doesn't work that way.

Also not a misconception, but something I want to address now before moving forward with this series of posts is a brief note about "parlor palmistry" and "elemental hand shapes". I'm sure many of you have seen those posts going around explaining the different elemental hand shapes, and I'm not going to discount it; because when I was a beginner in palmistry, I used to base a lot of my knowledge of someone off of the basic shape of their hand, and I was usually fairly accurate. I consider this part of parlor palmistry, which is usually done in very brief readings and is mainly for entertainment. It offers a very broad look at someone's personality without much deep insight. And it's perfectly fine to do in the right setting, like at summer camps or cafes, or doing a free reading in the break room at work. Parlor palmistry should never be done for profit, however, as it offers no real and deep insight, sorta like trying to tell someone details about their inner ways of thinking based only off of knowing that they're a capricorn. So that being said, we won't be going over parlor palmistry in this series—we'll be going into the nitty gritty details of true palmistry.

So there we have it, those are some common misconceptions and brief points about palm reading that I wanted to make before we get started with this series. Also, as this is a very visual practice, I will be using real pictures and diagrams to show certain points when necessary, because I personally can't stand reading about palmistry and not being able to see an example of what they're talking about!

I'm still drafting out how I want to format these posts, especially when I get into more detailed topics (I'm afraid of the dermatoglyphics posts, I'm going to need sooo many example photos). So if y'all have any questions about anything or points you want me to explain/cover, please feel free to comment under this post or send me an ask or message.

I'm absolutely going to start collecting pictures now from any willing volunteers. If you have any marks or lines or features you think would make for a good example in my posts, please send them my way! Anyone who sends me a picture will get a brief explanation of the visible features as a thankyou :)

[compacflt]

Rumors from Pearl Harbor.

When Admiral Kazansky first comes to Pearl, he brings with him about half of his previous staff, all exceptionally-hardworking people hand-picked over years—advisors, flag aides, secretaries, ranks all over the board. But his new hires, upon getting acquainted with the old guard, are shocked to discover that his previous staff still hardly knows him at all.

“He keeps to himself, mostly,” Lieutenant Commander Hartford explains over a pint. “I made the mistake of asking him once what he did for fun. You know, like, hobbies and stuff. He blinked at me for a second, and then said, ‘I read.’ That’s it! I read! My advice to you newcomers would be, don’t ask him questions about his personal life, because it tends to be pretty boring.”

“It sounds to me like he’s a walking, talking Wikipedia page,” says Captain Calvert, who worked for the previous two Pacific Fleet Commanders and thinks she knows how to deal with them by now. “We owe it to ourselves to figure him out. It’ll make our lives easier, anyway. So, let’s put our heads together: what do we know about him?”

What they know are his habits, which they’ll come to learn intimately over the next few years, and which are admittedly pretty boring. Admiral Kazansky is one of the first to show up to work in the morning and one of the last to leave in the evening. He often answers e-mails past 2300 hours, but never later than midnight. Jokes never catch him off-guard; he rarely smiles, and when he does, it has an ulterior motive. When he’s not working, he’s scheming and making plans to go back home to San Diego, and his requests for leave are always granted, because he works like a pack mule from home anyway. He signs off every e-mail with “Sincerely,”…

“Is he sincere, though?” asks Chief Warrant Officer Kent halfway through Admiral Kazansky’s first year. (Admiral Kazansky is surely unaware that his staff now spends the second Friday of every month chit-chatting about him over drinks in downtown Honolulu.) “I can’t ever tell. And he lives in Hawaii. San Diego’s nice, I know, but what’s so different about the beaches there that he can’t get here?”

“I genuinely don’t think he’s human,” confesses Commander Stoddard. “People warned me about that when I came here, and I laughed it off, but… he keeps his desk biologically sterile. Not one fingerprint, but I’ve never seen anyone wipe it down. I’ve looked through his drawers. Don’t judge me, I got curious. Everything squared away, like he’s goddamn Einstein or something. Have any of you ever seen him in his civvies?” No one has. “God damn it, where does he shop for groceries? No one’s seen him at a grocery store? Does he even own a pair of jeans? Does he wear his uniform to bed, too?”

“He probably goes grocery shopping on the whole other side of the island to avoid all the enlisted kids,” laughs Captain Calvert. “Come to think of it…you know how he always eats lunch in the office? It’s always a salad. And always the same kind of salad. This guy survives on one cup of coffee and one spinach salad a day. Maybe he really isn’t human.”

They build out their wealth of knowledge and come to learn that Admiral Kazansky is defined by his extremes, by what he always does and what he never does. Admiral Kazansky gets his uniforms dry-cleaned every week, though he never spills anything on them. No one has ever seen Admiral Kazansky stumble over his words while giving a speech, or trip over a sidewalk curb, or push a “pull” door. He is always polite and never friendly. Sometimes he is cold, and sometimes he is cruel in his patience with you when you’ve fucked up, like a cat toying with a hemorrhaging mouse. But he never raises his voice. He is always immaculately put-together, well-groomed, constructed every day like a product on an assembly line. Nothing is ever out of place. Allegedly his umbrella once turned inside-out during a rainstorm; he disdainfully shook it once, as a hunter might pump a loaded shotgun, and it flipped itself right-side-in again. The laws of physics do not seem to apply to him. Nor do the natural embarrassments that come with being human. Admiral Kazansky is never flustered, never harried, and never falls apart.

“I found this old picture of him shaking hands with another pilot on the Internet,” says Chief Warrant Officer Kent in Admiral Kazansky’s second year. “Smiling like the Cheshire Cat. Never seen him smile like that in all my years working with him. And he had frosted tips, too. Like Guy Fieri on a diet and steroids. It was the eighties, sure, but it’s like he knew how to have fun, once upon a time. Wonder what happened to him.”

“I feel lonely for him sometimes,” says Commander Stoddard. “Strict guy like that, no family, no friends, no wife, nothing to live for but the Navy? He’s like a workhorse with blinders on. Nowhere to go but forward. That’s a lonely existence.”

“Not if you’re a robot,” says Lieutenant Commander Hartford. “I swear, sometimes he breathes and it makes me jump, ‘cause I forgot he was alive!” —What else doesn’t Admiral Kazansky do?

That’s when they realize that none of them, not the old guard nor the new, has ever, not once, ever seen or heard Admiral Kazansky sneeze.

And they all finally give up the game and quit arguing and agree that, no, he really isn’t human after all. He must be some cyborg from the future sent to whip the Pacific Fleet into shape, and you can’t ask for too much humanity from someone who’s doing a pretty damn good job of it.

The rumors start soon after that. Jokes that could get them all tossed out of the Navy, but probably won’t. Jokes that accidentally spread like wildfire.

Yes, Admiral Kazansky could be a cyborg, but he also could be a Mormon fundamentalist, or a Scientologist, or a really weird Catholic. Maybe he goes home to San Diego so often because in his spare time he’s really a mule ferrying cocaine across the Mexi-Cali border. That’s what he does for fun. He eats spinach salads because he’s a reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man, and he needs all the super-strength he can get to deal with the Navy’s modern-day bullshit.

“I don’t know if that story makes sense,” laughs Captain Calvert on the phone with her husband in Washington, “but it makes more sense than the real Admiral Kazansky does!”

So the rumors get spread around.

“I don’t know if you know this,” Maverick comments, watching Ice make their bed from the relative comfort of the bedroom doorway, “or if I should tell you this, because you might crack down on it, which would be a shame, ‘cause it’s funny. But every time you send a mass e-mail to the Pacific Fleet commissioned officer corps, you become the main topic of conversation between all of us officers for a solid day and a half.”

“Oh?” says Ice with a smile, struggling to fit the last corner of the fitted sheet to the mattress. He sighs, tugs on the strings of his old ratty-ass hooded sweatshirt, and looks at Maverick balefully through his glasses. “Help me out over here, would you? —What are people saying? All good things, I hope.”

“Not really,” Maverick says, stuffing a pillow into a pillowcase as he stares out the window into the San Diego sunshine. “Some pretty crazy shit, actually. Hard as hell for me to keep a straight face. I heard this one—you know, people are saying you eat nothing but salads?”

“Oh,” laughs Ice, hospital-cornering the free sheet. “Yeah, that one’s kind of true. I bring salads in to the office sometimes.”

“You hate salads.”

“I know, it’s torture! Move over.” He bumps Maverick out of the way to tuck in the last corner. “But, I figure, if a man torments himself with spinach-and-arugula salads three times a week, you ought to respect his commitment. It’s all an act. You get to a certain Defense Department paygrade, it all starts being storytelling and stagecraft.”

“Or trickery and deception, depending on how you look at it.”

“Sure. But you could say that about everything. —Besides, I’d rather the Navy discuss my salads than discuss… well, this.” He gestures to Maverick, then down to the bed. They start tugging the comforter over it together. “How much slack you got over there?”

“‘Bout a foot.”

Ice pulls his side down a couple more inches to match, then flips the top up. “Is that it? That’s all people are saying about me?”

Maverick grins and bends down to pick up a pillow. “They’re also saying that you’re the reincarnation of Popeye the Sailor Man. I yam what I yam and that’s all what I yam, and all that. Think fast.”

Ice doesn’t think fast, and the pillow hits him square in the face, and he laughs again as he catches it in his arms. “Shit, that’s good,” he says; “I was just about to call Slider, think I’ll tell him that one. That’ll make him laugh. Popeye Iceman.” He tosses the pillow onto the made-up bed and pulls out his cell phone, but—then he frowns, grimaces, mutters “Ah, no,” and turns away to sneeze.

[mcflymemes]

QUOTES TO A LOVER, PART TWO *  slightly implied nsfw

my heart beats faster when you take my hand.

you are the only one that made me risk everything for a future worth having.

i fancy myself in love with you.

you know it's you i want.

i'm in my bed, you're in your bed. one of us is in the wrong place.

when i'm with you, the only place i want to be is closer.

maybe i'm too late to be your first, but right now, i'm preparing myself to be your last.

i shouldn't want you this bad.

this feels better than any dream.

bring me your pain, love.

i wanted your kiss to leave a mark. that's how i knew i loved you.

chemistry is you touching my mind and it setting my body on fire.

i fall for your smile every single time.

for thousands of nights i dreamed of making love to you.

you are the one i am lit for.

it's so beautiful when you smile.

i don't want to be one good memory.

i get excited when you describe exactly what you're going to do to me.

your body will haunt mine.

i have been waiting years for you.

i want to feel your skin. i want to breathe you in.

let go of your inhibitions.

i knew from the moment i saw you.

i will die with your kiss on my lips.

you look beautiful wearing my heart.

i crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.

i always want more with you.

tell me you'll always be by my side, or on top of me, or under me.

i don't want comfortable. i want passion.

you burn me.

over everything, i choose you.

i want to be a body for you.

i yearn for you.

at least i'll die with love.

some of the best moments in life are the ones you can't tell anyone about.

no one compares to you.

i want it all tonight.

i want you to cut me, sharpen me.

when it comes to you, i don't like to share.

there's this place in me where your fingerprints still rest, your kisses still linger, and your whispers softly echo.

i long to hold you in my arms.

the solar system and everything beyond it isnt nearly big enough to hold how deeply i love you.

it's not what you show; it's what you have in mind.

while i sleep, i dream of you.

please touch me.

i found you, and now everything is music.

the proof will be my body.

your kiss still floated on my lips.

i bet you know how to kiss.

i want to stop the time so that you're always mine.

i will not go another breath without you.

i want you in the worst way.

my passion for you is intoxicating.

i get carried away when i'm with you.

it took us so long...

i've come to care for you.

i was your exception.

you kissed me. i felt hot wax on my forehead.

i like you most with a smile and without clothes.

as if you were an archer with your swift hand at the bow, the arrows of delight shot through my body.

i will touch you with my mind.

you are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

i want someone who will kiss me like it's the only thing keeping me alive.

this feeling is too big for the universe.

that does something to me.

if i had a camera, i'd take a picture of you every single day.