#State Department Daily Briefing

[p1hypen]

TERRIBLE TWOS — P. SUNGHOON

SYNOPSIS! A rash decision on your end causes you and Sunghoon to break up. What you think is for the best turns out to be the complete opposite, actually. Cue two years later when a random encounter with your ex forces you to revisit past feelings that has never quite fully departed from either of you. PAIRING! Chairman!Sunghoon x Fem!Reader WC! 11.4k (Got carried away)

GENRE/CW! Exes getting back together, fluff, slight angst if you squint, smut (fingering, brief mentions of fem oral receiving, sunghoon has a 7 inch cock; i headcanon that, unprotected sex, missionary, creampie, lots of tongue kissing), swearing, reader is in denial just a tad bit, ft. non-idol!yunjin, reader is a struggling fine arts major, etc. MDNI

A/N: originally, i intended for this to be a simple one shot but it somehow turned out to be greater than that in the end lol. this was also my first attempt at writing smut; i've always wanted to try it but damn is it kinda hard. i feel like the title doesn't match or capture the story as good but whatever-- it used to be called 'seasons,' yet that didn't make sense either so... terrible twos it is! i hope you enjoy <3

“Y/n?” 

A trace of uncertainty laces the man's voice, his mind racing with the possibility that he might have mistaken a stranger for someone from his past. Internally, he winces at the prospect of this awkward mix-up, dreading such an encounter with a random person. He clings to the hope that his intuition proves accurate.

Could it really be her? Amid the bustling crowd, she always managed to stand out, an unmistakable aura surrounding her. Her presence eclipsed even the most vibrant of settings, radiating a unique energy that outshone a field of flowers.

When he tentatively calls out her name in a hushed tone, she spins around on her heel, and for an ephemeral moment, Sunghoon feels as though he's stepped into a scene from a classic romance film.

Time stills and so does he. 

Each of your movements steals his breath away. The way your hair dances in harmony with the wind, and how your eyelashes cast the most delicate shadow upon your high cheekbones. Your gradual unveiling leaves him struggling to swallow past an inexplicable lump in his throat. 

Sunghoon notices the moment your eyes widen. Behind those enchanting orbs, he discerns a flicker of nostalgia and a touch of melancholy. During your time together, he had the uncanny ability to read those emotions hidden within the depths of your eyes.

“Sunghoon…” You say no louder than a mere whisper that could easily get lost in the summer’s wind that passes through the both of you. 

Your heart throbs in your chest. The biological response is far too overwhelming that you can feel your stomach tying itself in double knots. You think you might need to be pointed to the nearest bathroom so you can barf up the swarm of butterflies that disturb your system. No doubt, does crossing paths with an ex whom you share a long history with manage to do that to you. 

“H-how are you?” You’re the first to strike up a conversation despite that being Sunghoon’s unspoken responsibility. 

How am I? Sunghoon has to brace himself to collect his messy thoughts. 

“I’m pretty good, and yourself?”

His response is curt and short. In any other setting, he would have elaborated on his answer but he wasn’t sure how much information was too much to reveal to an ex regarding the state of his well-being. You nod at his words, not really expecting much nor having high hopes that he would give you more to work with in this conversation of playing catch-up between an ex. 

See, your relationship ended amicably, with both of you acknowledging that the spark kindled between you two had faded out. With your mind elsewhere, too focused on your academics (so you like to say), and Sunghoon preparing to inherit his family’s business, there was little room for romance in either of your daily routines. Your typical weekend dates were swapped out for meetings with major corporations and other soon-to-be-chairman-related activities so that he could fully understand what the rest of his future held for him. 

Even though you missed having your boyfriend's undivided attention, you refused to act as a temporary roadblock that prevented him from making significant progress. Despite your heart and brain being at war with each other, you made the conscious decision to slowly back down from being his lover and tucked your face in the pages of your academic textbooks.

With Sunghoon too busy to even acknowledge that his girlfriend was distancing herself from him, you were the first to come forward, bearing the news that breaking up would be the optimal solution to your and his fading presence in one another’s lives. 

That night when you bid goodbye, he felt half his heart shatter inside of him. Little did you know that you carried the other part wherever you went, but now that you were no longer capable of sheltering that missing piece, it almost made him want to die inside more than just a tad bit— a lot, actually.

He pretended to play it cool as your back turned to him and he watched you retreat to your car, feeling both helpless and defeated. With an unflinching countenance, a tightly clenched jaw, and fingers gripped at his sides, Sunghoon longed for his feet to have chased after you, preventing your departure from his life. He yearned to undo whatever had driven you away, to rewrite his mistakes and reshape your shared history.

Sadly, not even the first star in the sky he saw at night could grant him something as demanding as that.

On the contrary, had those things happened, he wouldn’t be here today on a Thursday afternoon rekindling a connection that got tossed up in the air and fell through his fingertips.

“I—“ Before you get a chance to deliver your sentence Sunghoon’s hold on your arm prompts him to draw you to his chest. 

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat, eyes simultaneously widening for the second time thanks to a certain ex. You look up at the taller one with crinkled brows. A mixture of confusion and a looming feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach that hasn’t quite left, tugging at your heartstrings. His intoxicating scent of Dior Sauvage is all too overwhelming for your nose to take in. You swear your head could start spinning any minute now. 

He’s so close to you. You’re so close to him. If someone were to come by and accidentally bump into you, you would be pressed up against his chest, breaking what limited distance is keeping you two apart. 

A bike rider disrupting pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk whizzes by, obnoxiously ringing the bell attached to their handlebar as if they aren’t to be blamed for riding on the concrete pavement, and it’s only then do you realize that Sunghoon was protecting you from getting hit. His body relaxes once he declares that it’s safe for you to comfortably stand in the open from any oncoming obstructions. 

“Sorry… acted on impulse.” His grasp on you immediately retreats to the inside of his pant pockets and you swear that his touch leaves a ghosting sensation on your skin. 

Sunghoon refuses to meet your lingering gaze, eyes averting to some random couple walking their dog across the street from where the two of you are standing. It’s almost funny how he fully believed two years ago that one day both of you would be exactly like that: dog owners who take their beloved fur baby on walks together and enjoy the simplicity of the little things that a relationship has to offer. 

“It’s okay, thank you,” You murmur, unsure of where things should go from here. 

A beat of silence comes and goes before Sunghoon has the chance to take the initiative to prove he’s different from his past self. 

The past self you witnessed throughout the duration of your shared romanticism. The past self who failed to convince you to stay because he never wanted you to leave his side. What he wanted was to work things out and to understand what he could do to change and make things better for the two of you.

Even if that meant you breaking up with him first to realize this.

“Listen, why don’t we…” He suddenly starts. Sunghoon analyzes your face and when your features evidently show that you’re all ears for what he has to say, he takes a deep breath to compose himself. “Get dinner. Together.“ 

Although the question comes out more like a demand rather than a request, you’re slightly taken aback because you were almost certain Sunghoon probably resents you for the breakup— at least that’s what you tell yourself— and that he doesn’t want any business involving you entering his life for a repeat performance. The only different thing is that you’re his ex.

Can you blame him? It was so sudden.

The concealed hurt he tried to mask but failed to do so when you told him you wanted to end things, hoping it’d be left on good terms, rambling about how much you do and will continue to care for him no matter what he does in life or who he chooses to love after you. It seems you did more talking than he got the chance to, and Sunghoon wasn’t sure if you had this all planned leading up to that moment, or if he should’ve seen it coming. 

Whatever it was, Sunghoon could never hate or repent you, but you’re no telepathic mind-reader and wouldn’t know how he feels about you now unless you asked. 

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you ponder the idea of sitting in a fancy restaurant with Sunghoon and sharing a long conversation over an expensive meal that is highly overpriced for its ridiculously small portions. 

“On one condition,” You quip. Sunghoon gestures for you to keep going and you clear your throat. “No five-star Michelin places, okay? I just want a simple dinner to make up for lost time.” 

The older male chuckles, nodding his head sensibly. If there’s one thing Sunghoon learned about you is that you were never hard to please and preferred the opposite of a high-end luxury lifestyle that he naturally grew up with. 

“Tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 8, how’s that sound?” 

“That’s perfect but um—“ you purse your lips. “Do you… Do you still remember where I live?” 

“Of course. It would take a lot more than time and distance apart from each other, for me to forget your every being.”

Sunghoon leans in to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. The underlying intimacy hiding beneath his actions has you contemplating what the course of your relationship would have looked like for the two of you, had you not broken up with a man as sweet and thoughtful as him.

Was calling it quits between you two a mistake? Should you have stuck it out just a little longer? 

You can only shove those thoughts to the farthest point in the back of your mind and recenter your focus to the handsome ravenette. 

Sunghoon, sporting a warm grin that gradually grows into a pearly white showcase of his perfect teeth and adorable canines, makes it worth marveling if second chances are a thing that people still stand by. 

The next evening, Sunghoon unexpectedly arrived at your front door 20 minutes ahead of your readiness. While you were trying to situate yourself into your cami dress that paired well with the current season, a knocking sound coming from the entrance to your studio unit startled you in its wake. You tapped on the screen of your phone to check the time and crinkled your nose when the numbers staring back at you read 7:40. 

Sunghoon’s habit of arriving for an occasion earlier than expected was not unusual for his character. The taller's mannerisms crept into other facets of his social life after years of being trained to believe that "early is on time" and "on time is late." However, 20 minutes ahead of schedule was definitely new to you, and part of you can’t help but think if this is stemming from anxiety or if that’s just you projecting your nerves onto his much early arrival. 

“Just a sec!” You struggled to reach for the zipper to your dress, stress-sweating due to the pressure of having to rush through the rest of your routine.

After what felt like a millennia you finally managed to seal yourself shut into your attire and scurried to the front door where poor Sunghoon was waiting for you to answer.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t get to the zipper of my dress and I don’t think me flashing you or my neighbors in semi-public is socially acceptable.” You awkwardly laugh, strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck and forehead from the accumulated sweat you managed to produce. 

Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head at your guilty tendency to overshare too much information for the dramatics.

“No worries. I know I showed up earlier than expected. Don’t worry about me, do what you need to do.” He smiles softly and for a second it almost slips your mind that you’re no longer romantically involved with each other. 

Oh, how you wish you could leap at him and smother the dashing man with kisses all over his Greek god-like, beautiful face…

“Here,” The taller unveils a bouquet of flowers that he attempted (underline, attempted) to hide behind his back. In reality, you could already see bits of it peeking out but chose to play coy about the item he was holding back from giving you. 

You fawn at the striking arrangement of tulips that come in different shades of the prettiest of pinks. Tulips. Of course, he would remember that those are your favorite. His words from yesterday ring in your ears, and believing them, you truly start to confide that Sunghoon could never boot you out of his memory as easy as a snap of his fingers.

“The prettiest bunch of flowers for the prettiest girl.” Sunghoon cautiously says, unsure if that would be stepping a line. To be fair, there isn’t an official handbook on what you should or shouldn’t say to an ex— except for some of the more common phrases; whatever that may be.

You let out a lighthearted laugh at the bold, yet cheesy, compliment and invited Sunghoon into the safe haven of your apartment, ignoring the way your heart practically skipped a beat when he said that. 

He’s been here on plentiful occasions so he’s really no stranger to the arrangement of your flat and could probably draw out an entire floor plan if he wanted to. At one point he almost committed to the thought of moving in with you, but you were a firm believer that it would be best if he stuck to the minimalist mansion he decorated himself; it was passed down to him from none other than his father. Needless to say, Sunghoon was a pouty puppy that day.

“I’m almost ready I promise.” You say. “I just need to add some finishing touches and then I’m all yours for the night.” Immediately your hands fly to your mouth when realization dawns on you about the delivery of your words. 

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, and luckily, you miss the faint smirk that tugs at the corner of his plump lips teasingly.

“You know what I mean!” You panic, waving off the metaphorical atmosphere that surrounds both of you.

You excuse yourself and escape to your room as the tips of your ears start to flush with embarrassment.

Once the door leading to your bedroom shuts behind you with a mellow thud, your back presses up against the surface of the entryway. A loud sigh that you weren't even aware you were repressing since Sunghoon arrived breaks out past your tinted lips. With your mind a foggy mess and your heart threatening to leap right out of your chest, you’re under the impression that you resemble the stereotypical anime school girl the way your entire demeanor changes when you’re around him. 

But that’s the thing.

It’s only Sunghoon. 

It’s just Sunghoon.

So what if you guys dated in high school and partially during college? So what if he was the first and only guy you’ve been with, and even though you have no one to compare him to, he would still be the best ex you could ever have? So what if you regret breaking up with him because you got ahead of yourself and refused to be transparent with him? 

So what if you want him back…

You pat both sides of your cheeks to wake yourself from a philosophical dilemma. you refuse to go down a rabbit hole of emotions especially when you’re about to go out to dinner. 

You shuffle through your wardrobe in search of a certain pair of Converse that a special someone gave to you as a birthday gift. When you find it neatly stored away in its original packaging and the box that it came in you’re almost too eager to slip your feet into the collar of the Chuck Taylor’s.

You halt in your steps when you reach your vanity and grab your everyday bottle of perfume, spritzing one pump, then two, then three, and four more of the floral scent, that you’re showering yourself in it at this point.

When you've deemed that you’re completely ready and satisfied with your appearance for the evening, you exit the inviting comfort of your cozy chambers. Sunghoon’s back is facing you as you ascend into the living room. You can’t make out much of what he’s doing and he’s seemingly too preoccupied to notice your footsteps stalk across the wooden paneling. His neck is craned downward looking at something on the decorative table where you have a neat arrangement of framed pictures. 

“You still have this?” He turns around revealing the photograph that he was referring to, now in his possession. There’s a distant glimmer of emotion that you can’t quite make out peeking around the curves of his irises. 

You let out a resigned sigh. 

You’ve been caught red-handed for leaving a single trace of the past out in the open. 

Of all the furniture and miscellaneous objects that collect dust on different surfaces in your flat, Sunghoon chose to go for the photograph of you and him standing under a cherry blossom tree in Ilsan Park. Your arm was hooked around his waist and his was wrapped around your shoulder. The brightest of smiles stretched across your faces as petals danced around you. It was the perfect moment captured in stillness and you wish you could leap through pictures to relive that special day. A distant memory that feels like it happened not too long ago.

“I couldn’t get rid of it. It’s— That’s one of my favorite pictures of us.” You simply explain. 

It was true, because out of all of the selfies, candid photos, and other pictures you shared together with Sunghoon, your date to Ilsan Park remained your number one core memory as a couple. 

You watch intently as Sunghoon places the photo back where it originally belonged on the console.

“I think that’s one of my favorites, too.” He says as a matter of fact. “That or the one where we went to Lotte World and wore matching uniforms together.” The taller laughs.

You giggled, the recollection of your amusement park date flashing across your mind. You dragged him to go on each and every attraction with you as he stumbled in your tracks, struggling to keep up with your social battery. You felt like two high schoolers in love at the ripe age of 20 because being with Sunghoon gave you the impression that you were your 15-year-old self again. 

“I like that one as well! I thought I looked pretty cute in that uniform.” You grin sheepishly.

Sunghoon chuckles and it causes you to whip your head to survey him. His eyes crinkle before they’re no longer crescent and back to their original doe-eyed shape. 

“You’re still cute, y’know that?” 

The comment sends your heart ablaze along with the blood that rushes to the surface of your cheeks. You can only hope that the thin layer of makeup and blush you applied is strong enough to camouflage the effect that sunghoon has on you. It’s no secret that he was always a smooth talker and still is. It makes you wonder if he’s ever used that flirtatious skill on other women he’s come across after you— or if he has. 

You tut your tongue at him and reach for your crossbody purse draped on the couch that you lazily tossed aside yesterday after coming home. 

“Ready, m’lady?” Sunghoon twists the knob and pushes the front door open, supporting the weight with his broad frame to keep it from closing in on you two when you exit. 

“Wait!” You pip, halting in your steps. You briskly retreat to your room and grab the bouquet of tulips you left on the side table next to your bed. 

You scurry over to Sunghoon, cradling the arrangement of florals like it was your baby. The haired boy opens his mouth to say something but you’re too fast to retort, 

“I wanna show it off. They’re too pretty to be left at home.” 

He nods and motions his hand for you to leave the unit first. The taller gives himself a mental pat on the back for inquiring in a floral shop before coming to retrieve you for dinner.

Tulips are a girl’s best friend, after all. For you, at least.

Coincidentally dinner happens to occur at the one restaurant you frequently visited when you and Sunghoon were dating. It was a simple ma and pa spot only locals in the area knew of. They were popularly known for their cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup. You like to think of it as a secret only two of you know about and continue to gatekeep it from your friends or families from ever coming across of it. 

The owners grew familiar with both of you through your frequent visits and friendly conversations. your rapport with them resulted in a warm welcome every time you returned, often accompanied by a generous discount as a token of their appreciation. Since your last visit to their restaurant, a while has gone by, and you both have been overdue to make an appearance at the restaurant.

“Aigoo, Sunghoon-ah, it’s been so long!” Mrs. Kim exclaims, wearing the biggest and brightest smile that brings out the crinkles in her complexion when she notices two familiar faces. “And Y/n, it’s good to see you too!” She turns to you with the same mien still permanently plastered on her face. 

You bow your head. Her contagious smile has you mirroring her grin. 

“Come, come, sit.” She waves her hand for the two of you to follow in her trail as she leads both of you to your— undesignated but designated— table that you and Sunghoon would constantly sit at.

Before you even have a chance to pull out your chair, Sunghoon beats you to it with surprising swiftness. The aged wood scrapes gently against the floor as he courteously pulls the chair back for you. A warm smile tugs at your lips as you appreciate this chivalrous gesture, unable to contain a soft giggle of delight. 

Mrs. Kim watches the interaction between the two of you and smirks, completely out of the loop that you have broken up; still under the assumption that you’re both dating to this day. Who could blame her when in her eyes you were the perfect missing piece for one another in this world like you were made for each other from the start. 

“The usual?” She asks despite already knowing the answer to her question. 

“Yes please,” Sunghoon nods.

He sits after folding his blazer in half so that it can rest neatly on the chair's backrest. To add some fuel to the flame, he unbuttons the cuffs to his long sleeves and rolls them past his forearms so that they stop an inch below his elbows. The expensive watch that rests snugly on his wrist glistens, almost blinding you. You’re reminded that the man sitting across from you is responsible for an entire company under his name and capable of powerful things.

You gulp. You feel like you’re watching something you shouldn’t be and instead take an interest in the condiments that are pushed to the side of your table. 

Soy sauce, vinegar, napkins… 

When you think that you’re ready to re-center your attention onto Sunghoon once your racing heart has calmed down from its high, the taller has his eyes closed as he combs his fingers through his hair. His lips are parted ever so slightly and there’s a shine to his plush tiers.

He has to be doing this on purpose now.

You watch the way his Adam apple bobs when he swallows and you swear it should be a sin to look this effortlessly good in warm overhead lighting. 

You huff, a little too audibly for the male across from you to hear and his doe eyes flutter open. The sudden eye contact catches you off guard and you’re struggling to maintain yourself from the tension your mind is projecting. You shift around in your chair trying to find a more comfortable position.

This is going to be a long dinner.

After Mrs. Kim returned with your delectable dishes, the food vanished quickly as you guys delved into stories and shared the exciting highlights of your respective journeys. You and Sunghoon spent the rest of your meal at the table reminiscing about the past two years including the many ups and downs you’ve dealt with.

You learned that a month after your breakup, Sunghoon’s father officially stepped down, handing over the reins of the company to his son as the new successor. The ravenette confided in you, revealing that even though he had been groomed for this role his whole life, the transition wasn't as smooth as he had envisioned. The weight of responsibility felt overwhelming. Taking charge of a major company brought with it a level of pressure he had never experienced before. The expectations were high, both from the company's board and the employees who had known him since he was young.

As he grappled with the complexities of his new position, Sunghoon couldn't help but reminisce about a simpler life. He missed the carefree moments he used to share with you, the laughter, and the ease of his unannounced visits when he would turn up at your door with snacks he bought from the corner store and canned beer. 

Eventually his determination and drive to persevere kept him standing strong in the face of these obstacles. With his family behind him, a supportive workforce, and you in the back of his mind, he knew he had people to look back on and make them proud. 

You praised the older for his character development, gushing at his transition from uncertainty to confidence, while sympathizing with the initial troubles he first started off with. Being a chairman at his age is bound to weigh heavily on his mental and emotional health, and you can’t help but wish that you had stayed by his side through it all in order to be that support pillar he needed at immediacy.

“So, what about you? I didn’t really get to hear your answer yesterday.” Sunghoon asks.

You blinked. “Me? Well, uhm…” 

A bubble of insecurity creeps into your stomach. Your mind races through a mental checklist of your own achievements, or rather, the lack thereof, especially when compared to Sunghoon’s impressive journey. While your lives have taken very drastically different paths, you can’t shake the feeling that at the end of the day, the two of you are worlds apart from each other. He’s the chairman of a highly respected company. And you? You’re just a college graduate with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. A pursuit that feels miles away from Sunghoon’s milestones. 

During the period that he was absent from your everyday life, all you managed to build was your art portfolio, which you eagerly sent to numerous galleries in a desperate bid to gain recognition as a struggling artist. Rejection letters became an all too familiar sight, each offering the same hollow praise— impressed but not interested. Those were dark times, where self-doubt loomed large.

Thankfully, your situation started to improve when you summoned the courage to step out of your comfort zone. You took to social media, opening art accounts on Instagram and Twitter, and sharing your artistic odyssey on TikTok. Yunjin, one of your closest friends and best friend since middle school, commissioned you to paint a mural inside a cafe she was working at. “I begged my boss for this to happen!” She said enthusiastically over the phone the night she asked you for the favor. Everything to you was a leap of faith, a glimmer of hope that prompted you to fully believe in the light at the end of every tunnel. 

In spite of your situation turning out for the better, it was impossible to ignore the inescapable sense of solitude and loneliness that clung to you like a shadow. It followed you everywhere you went. A mental reminder that, no matter how bright life was starting to seem, you still felt trapped and not completely content with yourself.

You convey these exact thoughts and feelings to Sunghoon in a messy ramble, hoping that this unintentional therapy session you’ve turned dinner into won’t scare him off. You can only hope that you’re not ruining the evening with a sob story of another art kid struggling to make a name for themselves in a society, where choosing art as a career path is at a greater disadvantage in comparison to your stronger counterparts. 

When you find yourself coming to the end of your rant, a wave of silence washes over the table, and you grab the nearest cup of water to gulp from. Ignoring the condensation that sweats around the glass and soils your palms. Your eyes look everywhere, purposefully avoiding Sunghoon and the tragic visage he’s probably giving you right about now.

“Y/n, look at me.” 

You raise your head, complying to his soft demand. 

“I’m proud of you,” he begins, and in that instant, a surge of emotion that has been suppressed for far too long wells up within you. “It takes a lot of courage and willpower to continue to follow a path you’re uncertain of.” The comment makes Sunghoon chuckle dryly, closely reminded of himself, shaking his head. “But look at you, you’re doing so great.”

The warmth in his voice, the sincerity in his eyes— they combine like a gentle storm, and suddenly, tears brim your eyes, begging to spill over. Your vision is splotchy and you refuse to blink, save for ruining your mascara. You weren’t planning on being an emotional wreck tonight, especially over dinner with your ex.

“I understand how hard it must have been dealing with those struggles alone, and I wish I was there by your side to help support you when it happened.” Sunghoon continues. He pauses to take in a breath before resuming, “But I’m here now… I’m not going anywhere, and if you’d let me— I want back into your life again, Y/n.”

A solitary tear breaks free, followed by another, and then another, until suddenly your eyes unleash a torrent of waterworks like a relentless downpour from a stormy sky. You hide your face in a handful of napkins you hastily grabbed, unaware that Sunghoon got up to move from his seat and slipped into the chair next to yours. His touch catches you off guard but you immediately relax as he guides you into his embrace, allowing you to hide yourself in his arms; your face tucked away in his chest. He caresses your hair, his slender fingers thread through your styled locks as he lulls you to comfort from your shaken state.

The two of you stay rooted in that position until you confidently and mentally reassure yourself that you are okay; you’re going to be okay. Your breathing has calmed down from its high and returned to a normal, healthy rate as your tears subsided and are non-existent.

No longer conscious of your makeup— a matter far from substantial to care for anymore— you wipe away the mess around your eyes. Black clumps of mascara and some concealer transfer onto the napkin. Seeing the stains garner a weak laugh to emit from you. Sunghoon cranes his neck to survey what you’ve become engrossed with. He sees the ruined makeup and laughs lightly into your hair. 

You’re thankful that there aren’t many customers dining in tonight and that it’s just you, Sunghoon, and three other parties who are far too busy drinking, conversing, and laughing amongst themselves to acknowledge the young couple tucked away in the corner.

Mrs. Kim leads both you and Sunghoon out of the restaurant with a warmth akin to a grandmother bidding her grandchildren farewell, her heartfelt wish for your safe return home evident in her loving smile.

“Goodbye, Mrs. Kim. Thank you, again, for another delicious dinner.” Sunghoon bows at a 90-degree angle and the formality stirs a boisterous laugh from the frail old lady. You mimic his actions, also expressing your gratitude for the lovely meal and free dessert she served to you guys ‘on the house.’ 

“When you guys come back I better see a wedding ring on her finger, Sunghoon-ah.” Mrs. Kim scolds lightly. You almost choke on your own saliva at the remark, coughing awkwardly to cover up your bewilderment. Sunghoon does his best to maintain his composure for the sake of the elder’s oblivion.

“You guys disappear for two years and still no diamond in sight. I was hoping some big change happened!” She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth, crossing her arms.

Sunghoon dips his head again in an apologetic manner. “You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.” 

You whack the taller’s arm giving him a what-the-fuck-are-you-talking-about look, eyebrows scrunched with perplexity. The last thing you want is to continue to feed into Mrs. Kim’s false reality that the two of you are still a couple. Who’s to say that Sunghoon isn’t actually on the same page as you and everything is just a facade? I mean, sure, he’s been flirty here and there, bought you flowers, comforted you at dinner, and practically asked you to take him back… 

Your trust in Sunghoon has clearly waned, a result of your fluctuating self-confidence that leads you to confide in the pessimistic "what ifs." Your clouded judgment and self-doubt gnaw at your thoughts, casting doubt on the possibility of a reunion between the two of you. 

Sunghoon ignores the daggers slicing at the left side of his face and the buzzing pain you inflicted on him from the harsh impact of your hand. His digits dig gently into your side, drawing you closer to him. You stumble ever so slightly and flash an unconvincing awkward smile to the old lady.

You situate yourselves into the driver and passenger seats of his Hyundai Ioniq. You’re quiet when you pull the seat belt over your upper half, and for the first 10 minutes, not a single word was uttered from either you or the male sitting behind the wheel. Your mind loiters as you watch the building lights illuminating the dark troposphere of Seoul whizz by at 2x speed.

You and Mr. Kim will be the first people we come to with a wedding invitation.

Yeah right… You almost roll your eyes but catch yourself prolonging the idea of a hypothetical engagement and wedding ceremony with Sunghoon as your groom. 

Would he have gone down on one knee to propose to you had both of you remained lovers? 

You shake the contemplation loose from your prefrontal cortex. 

“Is it okay if I roll the window down?” You’re the first to break the ice. Sunghoon nods, his attention still focused on the road in front of him. Without looking, his fingers find the car’s air-con button to turn it off and he gives you the ‘go’ to proceed with your desire. 

The tempered glass descends and you’re immediately greeted with the beating rush of the summertime air. You giggle and rest your arms on the weatherstrip trimming of the Hyundai, your head poking out like an excited dog who’s riding in the car with its tongue hanging from its mouth. You close your eyes, taking in the wind that messes with your hair and brushes past your skin. It’s enough to transcend you into a different headspace, almost forgetting that you’re in a moving vehicle and not on some speedboat skidding across the water in Europe.

Sunghoon looks your way, unable to suppress the natural smile that lights up his face whenever he sees you. You truly are a surge of energy he needs when he wants to uplift himself if he’s feeling down. You’re his happy pill— so much so, that he wishes he could keep a chibi version of you for him to carry in the pocket square of his suits and let you rome on the wooden surface of his office desk to help him get through the work day. It’s silly and love-sickening, but Sunghoon only knows how to act a fool with you around him. 

His fingers drum against the padding of the steering wheel, waking you from your daydream. You hadn’t realized that you’ve already made it back to the city and are soon approaching your apartment complex. Your neighborhood is only a couple of turns away from your current destination as the two of you sit at a red light. You roll the window up, at least it was fun for the duration it endured. 

When he pulls up on the side of the street in front of your building, you try to find some lame excuse to stay with him for another minute longer, not wanting to say goodnight to him. You’re scared that this evening will be a one-off event and you'll return to your old ways, enveloped once more in the arms of self-isolation that consumes you completely.

Your grip on the door handle tightens. 

“Sunghoon,” you shift your view in his direction. “You don’t mind walking me to my front door, do you?” 

The male smiles with his eyes.

“Who am I to not accompany a lady when needed.” 

Sunghoon makes quick work to unbuckle himself from the driver’s seat and rounds the front of the car to open the door for you. He holds out his hand for you to take, which you generously do so, and grants him the unspoken permission to whisk you away into the levels of your residential building. 

The elevator ride is a close resemblance to the trip back to your place, however, there’s a contrasting atmosphere waiting to burst like a champagne bottle and spill over. Sunghoon’s holding your hand the entire way and you don’t resist the notion. 

When you approach your unit at the end of the hall, you fish for your keys that are sitting at the bottom of your bag. Sunghoon’s hand slips out of your grasp and you almost whine at the loss of his warmth and touch, but you know he’s only doing it for you to use both free hands to ultimately unlock your door. The click! of the lock coming from the other side is an indication that you can push past the door once the knob is turned.

You stand there, hesitant to enter your own home. 

“I guess— this is it?” You murmur tentatively to yourself and the taller. You rock on your heels purposefully stalling time as you force both him and yourself to stare a little longer at the iron numbers detailing your front door. 

You let out a rigged breath.

“Tonight was great. The longest I’ve been out of the house in a month, really.” You cringe pathetically at the confession knowing that a month ago Yunjin was the one who pulled you out of bed to get some fresh air and sunlight because you were hiding away like a vampire. "Thank you... Sunghoon, for treating me to dinner and spending the evening with me..."

He remains stoic and unusually quiet, making it challenging to decipher what he’s thinking or feeling. You wish you could enter his mind to get a glimpse of how his brain functions. You’d hate to seem pitiful for hoping that his advances from today were, if at all, genuine.

If what he said at dinner was coming from the heart.

As you contemplate what might be your last encounter with your 'the one who got away,’ Sunghoon astounds you with yet another trick up his sleeve, when he secures your wrist in his delicate grasp. Forever one step ahead of you, his lips collide with yours in a passionate fervent. The only appropriate reaction that you can give him in response is to return the kiss with just as much fervor. The strap to your purse slides off your shoulders and lands below you with a little thud thanks to Sunghoon’s antsy hands pushing it out of the way.

He cages you against the surface of the door, your back bumping into it when he forces the distance between your bodies to dissipate. Bothered by the tiny gap that prevents you from being as close as you possibly can to him. The only active barrier is now the layer of clothing he’s wearing and the tiny dress that nearly clings to your every curve. He can’t wait to impatiently rip you out of it and slip in a “I’ll buy you a new one, princess.”

Your hands find sanctuary in his soft hair. How you missed tugging at their roots when he’d go down on you in bed, on the kitchen counter, and in the shower with your one leg supporting your entire weight as Sunghoon made the other side dangle over his shoulder. Those positions are tempting, and biologically the flashbacks of your sexual activity with the male feed into the expansion of your slick that gradually soils your panties.  

You squeeze your thighs together. The pressure of your inner fat is an empty feeling of pleasure that you wish Sunghoon could replace with his tongue, fingers, cock, or all three one at a time. The male notices this cry-for-help and trails his right hand down the sides of your waist. He stops at the lace hemming of the cami dress, bunching the material to provide easy access to your mid-thigh. His fingers dance on your skin, traveling upward ever so slowly in an antagonizing fashion that almost infuriates you for his teasing manner in the heat of the moment. 

Sunghoon reluctantly breaks the kiss. The evidence of your already smudged matte lipstick has left a faint trace on his plump tiers. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, mouth ready to latch onto the sensitive area he knows best that will cloud every crevice of your mind with nothing but want and lust. At the end of this night, all that you will know is how to be his obedient cocksleeve like the good girl he’s conditioned you into.

The sound of someone clearing their throat on the opposite end of your apartment’s hallway is akin to a record player scratch. You’re grateful that the construction workers, or whoever built this place, designed the structure of your building to be a certain way so that the split-off point from the elevator wasn’t a simple corridor style where you could see both fire exits at each side. Instead, it was more so a wide V-shape. 

In other words, no one really caught you and Sunghoon in semi-public eating one another’s faces. 

You stop to share a quiet laugh with Sunghoon and ultimately enter the safe space of your flat, out of your neighbors point of view where they could have had a free, front-row seat to some juicy content. The door closes behind you, you can barely get out of your shoes and make it past the front step leading to your living room when Sunghoon’s haste to have you underneath the sheets with him in your bed has you stumbling backward. He catches you before you can register that you would have fallen onto your ass against the hardwood. His lips serve him well, contributing to the situation as a distraction that redirects your every inner thought bubble. 

Sunghoon casually kicks off his shoes, adding them to the haphazard pile alongside yours— the least of his concerns at the moment.

The kiss from outside repeats itself, and this time, Sunghoon can contently resume what he intended to do had another tenant not interrupted the mood. But the voyeurism exploration kink in him would have liked either sequence of events. 

His tongue traces a wet stripe up your neck, sending a shiver cascading down your spine. You dully bite down on your bottom lip, trying to stifle the whimper that is sanctioned at the back of your throat, trapped by a surge of lust and anticipation. Sunghoon’s mouth ghosts over the shell of your ear, and his hot breath tickles. 

“I wanna hear you, baby.” He slurs. “Don’t be shy on me now.” 

Sunghoon’s lips sheathe that sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to gasp. Your shoulders tense at the foreign feeling of his mouth on your body, and you’ve forgotten how good it was to receive a hickey. You relax under his touch when he gives the soft fat of your waist a reassuring squeeze.

His canines graze your skin while he sucks on the same patch, switching interchangeably to lap his tongue at the area when he begins to see a blossom of red and purple hues mix together, creating the prettiest bruise that would surely take more than a couple of days to fully heal. You groan when his teeth apply the right amount of force onto your flesh, leaving indents in their wake. His perverted mind relishes in the fact that only he is capable of marking you in ways that no other man could ever come close to.

He steps back to fully appreciate his canvas, that is you, and the absolute masterpiece that you are to him.

He leans in, pressing another kiss to your lips, this time with a gentler, more tender spirit, devoid of any sloppy motions. It’s delicate, a striking contrast to the heated lip-locking session the two of you were entranced with just moments ago on the other side of your apartment door. His larger palms cup your face as the pads of his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks, making you feel loved and cared for.

Sunghoon lures your tongue into his mouth, clamping his lips around the muscle. He suckles at it, eliciting the cutest whimpers that he missed hearing from you since you’ve been gone. 

“Hnngh… Hah,” you pry yourself off of him, a string of your shared saliva connects the two of your equally moist lips. 

Your puffy lips shimmer in the moonlight streaming into your livingroom, as if the moon itself decided to play a starring role tonight. You squeeze his bicep, noticing that the muscle has doubled in size since you last touched it. You peer up at the taller through your eyelashes and Sunghoon has to conceal his primal instincts from fucking your throat with his raging hard-on. 

Your fingers graze the fabric of his long-sleeve collar, tracing delicate patterns across the black tie donned around his neck. Something about being able to witness a man up close in a suit never failed to provoke a flood of arousal from overwhelming your erogenous zone. Specifically, Sunghoon. It’s a shame— not really— that it eventually has to come off. With a deft touch, you begin to unravel the four-in-hand knot, a testament to Sunghoon’s meticulous self-preparation. The silk unravels, revealing its intricate texture beneath your fingertips. 

You assist Sunghoon in removing his suit jacket next, observing it gracefully descend to the floor. You briefly wonder why he's so nonchalant about leaving such an expensive garment on the ground, but he dismisses your concern with a wave of his hand. After all, as a chairman, he has the means and privilege to easily replace such clothing items.

You decide that it’s your turn to take the lead for once and initiate another heated session of sultry lip service. Your mouth kisses Sunghoon’s with primal hunger. Teeth clash, and you see no remorse for your hostility sponsored by pent-up sexual frustration and longing for some sort of relief that only Sunghoon can render. 

In a poor attempt to unbutton the last layer of clothing that shields Sunghoon’s upper half, your fingers fumble with the small disks that are fastened by the slits. You whine frustratedly against his lips once you realize you’re not making much progress. It is incredibly hard to multitask when your tongue is being manhandled by his.

“Here, lemme do it.“ Sunghoon mutters in a low growl. 

He tears open the placket just like he would to a bag of chips, and the buttons you were struggling to relieve him of pop off in ease, taunting you for your lack of efficiency at getting him out of his attire. He wriggles his arms free from the restraints of his sleeves and shrugs the apparel from the summit of his shoulders, allowing the ruined piece to join his suit jacket on the floor.

“Your turn, babe.” 

He twirls you around, your back fully pressed against his front as the tent in his pants pokes at your globes. The thrill of his length nestled between your ass spurs you to grind yourself on him, a staggered exhale of his hot breath fans the curvature of your trapezius, prickling your skin. The cotton material of your underwear cultivates a sticky sensation the longer you stay trapped in it.

“S-shit baby, you’re a fucking tease.” Sunghoon grabs your chin, forcing your head to turn his way so that he can seize your lips in an inconsistent kiss. Alternatively, it’s a tongue duel of him wanting to shove the muscular organ down your throat.

“A-ahh,” You moan helplessly.

He yanks the zipper of your dress. The item peels off of your bust, exposing your bare skin and naked torso simultaneously. You have to wriggle your hips past the remaining fabric in order to fully reveal your bare figure to Sunghoon— besides your damp panties that is.

“No bra today? It’s almost like you were expecting this to happen…” Sunghoon taunts.

“N-no…” You squeak, shaking your head.

“No? Use your words baby.”

You turn to face him, your perky mounds that come into his view are a sight for sore eyes. Even in the dark and scant amount of natural lighting from the celestial object in the night sky, is Sunghoon competent at reading your flustered features. How you manage to be cute yet look so lewd all at once is beyond his comprehension.

“I-I didn’t wear a bra because I thought it’d be easier to go without one.” You mumble, telling the truth.

“That’s better,” Sunghoon coos. He pecks your cheek and you smile at the reward.

“Eeek! S-Sunghoon!” You burst into a fit of shared laughter and giggles when said name scoops you into his arms, your body cradled against his chest, as your legs dangled over his one arm while the other supports your back.

“Just practicing when we’re both walking down the aisle at our future wedding.” Sunghoon jests.

Tenderness fills your eyes when you look up at him. He’s joked about the hypothetical conception of marriage twice in the night that you’re fully convinced it wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea. Given that both of you are ready and first rekindle the status of your relationship, of course.

Sunghoon grins. There’s a gentle kindness to his pearly whites, and you reach up to press a chaste kiss to his jawline.

He relocates to your bedroom. Gently, he lays you down on the bed, your body propped up on your forearms, bearing the weight of your upper half. With an unwavering gaze, you study Sunghoon closely, every detail of his expression and every nuance of his presence.

His eyebrows knit and meet in the middle, fixated on undoing his pants to escape from their restraints, followed by his underwear soon after. His stiff member rebounds off his lower abdomen, precum leaking from the mushroom tip. A satisfied exhale leaves his mouth. He stalks over to you with a sly smirk, towering your smaller frame when he crawls on top of the bed, his knees plant themselves into the mattress and his additional weight dips the space where you lay.

You whine when his length ghosts at the expanse of your inner thigh, suspense and arousal continue to bubble inside of you. Sunghoon murmurs for you to lay back. “Make yourself comfortable,” were his initial instructions before hooking the waistband of your panties with his fingers and dragging them below your legs. The undergarment was tossed to the side.

You nibble at your bottom lip and screw your eyes shut when a slender finger circles the perimeter of your labia.

“You’re so wet babe,” Sunghoon purrs.

Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when he slides his index finger through your inner lips, gathering an abundance of your slick to bring to his mouth for a taste. Both eyes flutter open in time to witness Sunghoon suck at the digit drenched with your arousal. The sight is sinfully lewd, nearly too much for you to handle. Your face reddens and you fight the inclination to hide behind your hands.

“You taste so good, too.“ He licks at his lips. “Wanna try?” Sunghoon cocks his head to the side, and you can’t find it in you to turn down his offer when he looks so innocent— yet acts like the devil himself when he’s overcome with lust. You nod your head with approval.

His duality needs to be studied at Harvard, you think in the back of your mind.

Sunghoon plunges his index finger past your hole, triggering your back to arch an inch off the bed. He chuckles lowly and watches as your hands grab desperately at the sheets beneath you to steady your sanity. The singular digit curls inside of you. Your unforeseen shock is vocalized in the form of a moan and Sunghoon repeats the motion several times.

“O-oh my god—“ You gasp.

The ravenette withdraws his finger and taps at your mouth, signaling you to open. You submit to his implicit dictation. Your lips encase his pointer, tongue swirling around it like a piece of sweet candy you’re tasting for the first time.

You bat your eyelashes prettily and moan. “Mmmh…”

“Dirty girl,” Sunghoon sniggers. He retracts his finger and you let it slip past your mouth with a ‘pop’ sound.

“Can you please give me your cock now?” You plead with a pout, doing your best impression of an endearing set of puppy eyes.

Sunghoon chuckles. “Let me at least prep you first, baby. How long has it been since you’ve had someone’s cock inside of you, anyways?”

You part your lips but close it just as quickly. To be candid, you've never been one to actively immerse yourself in the 'I'm single' scene. Your only foray into it was with Yunjin, roughly three weeks after your split with Sunghoon. The two of you ventured to a club, but it proved to be a brief endeavor. Within two hours, the fifth shot became a catalyst, turning you into an unending fountain of tears.

“Y/n?”

“Huh? Oh. Sorry…”

“I’m sorry baby. Did I overstep your boundaries?” Sunghoon cups your face with his right hand, his eyes scan yours, sincerity and concern laced in those chocolate orbs of his.

You stifle a giggle. Of all boundaries he could have crossed he draws the line at asking for your body count and not him fingering you.

“What? What’s so funny?” He asks.

“Nothing just… I think it’s ironic you ask me that now and not before we did all of this.” You motion to your bare bodies when you say ‘this.’

Sunghoon’s ears redden.

“But don’t worry, Hoonie.” You hook your arms around his neck and pull him closer to pepper his face with several reassuring kisses. “I don’t mind it all. Now can you please fuck my brains out!”

Your ex (whatever he is to you at this point) throws his head back to share a quick laugh, shortly pressing his forehead against yours.

Without warning, he buries three fingers in your pussy; your hips twitch at the sentience. They slide in and out without strain and together the two of you watch as he finger fucks your hole to “prep” for his cock. The squelching noise of your juices fill the room in addition to your moaning, and Sunghoon confronts a hurdle of his patience wearing thin, wanting to fuck you senseless.

His digits leave your hole and you whine immediately at the loss. Sunghoon uses the mass quantity of slick as a substitute for lube to lather on his angry cock. He shuffles against the bed, forcing your legs even further apart to fit himself in between them. The stretch burns your muscles but is soon forgotten when the tip of his length is rubbing your folds, occasionally bumping your swollen clit which generates a needy whine.

Sunghoon’s face screws with ecstasy when his shaft inches past your entrance. Your walls hug his length and he whimpers at the tight muscles that suffocate his erection. You squirm under him, tensed and breathing heavily. It’s hard to relax when seven inches feel like it’s splitting you in half after a long hiatus from sex. Sunghoon notices your discomfort and stills his hips from pushing further, allowing you the necessary time to adjust.

“Sorry baby, I know it’s been a while. You can take it, right? Like the good girl you are?”

You nod. He kisses your forehead, cheek, and lips to soothe your anxiety, using his lips as a distraction to keep your mind from zoning in on his cock. He seizes the opportunity to fit the rest of his length inch-by-inch, and you feel like a virgin all over again when the burn of his cock stretching you open is almost too unbearable.

“Sshh, it’ll be alright, baby.” He wipes away a loose tear. “I’m gonna move, tell me when and if it’s too much, okay?”

“O-okay, Hoonie…”

Steadily, Sunghoon recedes his hips, cock following in suit, just enough for the tip to be the only thing that your pussy clenches on. He snaps forward, your boobs jiggle at the motion and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head when he repeatedly thrusts at a steadfast pace. The pain you were once scared of is no longer a fear you have to worry about, as pleasure is the only thing you know how to feel.

“F-faster, harder, p-please Hoon.” You fight through broken moans to let your voice be heard.

“Shit—“ He curses.

Sunghoon’s fingers dig into the plush fat of your waist while his other hand presses into the space of your bed next to the side of your head. His eyebrows knit, focused entirely on increasing the speed of his thrusts. He continues to piston fuck your pussy, abusing your hole in the utmost gratifying procedure. Your thighs jiggle each time that his balls slap against your skin. Everything reminds him of an amateur homemade video he’s seen from other couples perform on Pornhub. He’ll have to ask you some other day if you’d ever be open to filming your own tapes to watch back.

“Mmh, right there, Hoonie.” You sigh dreamily, locking your legs around his waist and linking your ankles together. “You’re fucking me so good— Aah!” A high pitch squeal slips from your vocal box when his tip probes at your G-spot.

“F-fuck,” Sunghoon leans in close, relying only on one forearm to hold himself up from crushing you with his entire weight. He hides his face in your boobs, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud that hardens in response. He persistently thrusts deeper, his cockhead pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Hnngh… Y-yes, yesyesyes!” You chant. Your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, scratching gently at his scalp and tugging whenever his mouth would suck or massage at your breasts. “You’re gonna— make me c-cum!“

Sunghoon’s unrelenting despite your warning. He can feel your walls clamping around his shaft, signaling your impending orgasm, and it taunts him to force himself deeper within your warm cavern at every jerk of his hips. Your hands fall to his biceps. Nails digging into his skin as your face distorts into extreme pleasure.

“I’m so close too, baby.” He groans. “Just.” Thrust. “A.” Thrust. “Couple.” Thrust. “M-more!”

“I’m cumming! I’m c-cumming—“ Your hips tremble with a frenzied urgency as your pussy pulsates around Sunghoon’s cock. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp and a long, impassioned moan escapes your lips. The sheer intensity of the moment leaving you incoherent and lost in ecstasy.

Sunghoon twitches inside of you. “Hah— you’re so— fuck!— s-sexy,” He grunts. Your head thrashes at the overstimulation of his length continuously pumping into you and you push at Sunghoon’s chest weakly, crying on his cock for him to slow down. You whine, whimper, plead for mercy so that your pussy can recover from the intense orgasm you just experienced not too long ago. In spite of that, he ignores your pleas and concentrates on finishing. It isn’t until white ropes of cum are shooting at your walls when his thrusts start to get sloppier and progressively come to a stop.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon exhales through gritted teeth. Both of you are a panting mess trying to catch your breaths as your chests rise and fall synchronously. The ravenette pulls out slowly and he groans when he sees his seed spill out of your hole, it closely reminds him of those hentai comics he’s read through illegal websites.

“I’ll get something to help clean you up.” Sunghoon lifts his weight from the bed but you reach for his forearm to grab him. You don’t have to say anything for him to understand that you don’t want him to leave your side. He brings a hand to yours, the pad of his thumb grazing the hills of your knuckles soothingly. “It’ll be fast, I promise.”

Not even 30 seconds has gone by when he re-enters your room with a damp cloth. He wipes at the areas where a mix of your cum and his seed litter your skin with sticky residue. He discards of the ruined cloth before joining you in bed where you welcome him with open arms. He plops down next to you and you turn to lay on your side so that you can get a proper view of his handsome face in post-sex afterglow. You reach out to gently touch his moles that adorn his features. The moles you missed seeing as the first thing in the morning when you’d wake up with him by your side. He grins lazily and cranes his neck to bring his lips to your forehead.

“Sunghoon…?” Your faces are merely inches apart from one another. Though the close proximity is not a foreign situation— especially after just having sex— you speak to him with a hushed tone.

“Yes?” He inquires.

“At the restaurant, you implied that you wanted to get back together again… Is it true? Do you really mean it?” Your lips are quivering and you mentally berate yourself for being so soft hearted in these types of scenarios where emotions are high, vulnerable, and transparency is called upon.

Sunghoon breathes shakily. “I really mean it. I miss you, Y/n.” He tucks away loose strands of hair that fall on your face. “These past two years without you have been hell. The first couple of months were so bad, I almost reconsidered being the chairman for father’s company so I could fight for us. Fight for you. I’m sorry if that part of my life got in our way as a couple, and I wish I had made more of an effort to be around you.”

You sniffle, “It wasn’t just your fault. I should’ve communicated instead of thinking I know better and that I thought what I did was for the greater good— because it wasn’t. And you’re right, the two years I spent without you were awful. I never wanna go through that again.”

Sunghoon loops an arm around your waist and guides your head to bury against his chest.

“We don’t have to.”

Morning rays gently infiltrate the room as Sunghoon stands before the full-length mirror in your shared master bedroom. His voice carries across the space as he greets his loving wife, 'Good morning, Mrs. Park,' while he meticulously adjusts his tie.

You stir in bed. The unwelcome intrusion of sunlight forces you awake despite the supposedly blackout curtains you requested when you first moved in with Sunghoon. You sigh in irritation. Dismissing the hope of another ten minutes of sleep, you push yourself upright, your arms stretching above your head, accompanied by a vibrant yawn. Sunghoon, amused by your morning ritual, chuckles softly.

“Still sleepy?” Your husband turns to face you after successfully finishing the Windsor knot of his tie. You blink away the fog of grogginess from your eyes and grin when you get a clear vision of your husband clad in his usual work uniform.

“Mmm… you’re so handsome.”

Sunghoon's face lights up with a genuine smile, touched by your kind words that always seem to set the perfect tone for his day. He approaches your side of the bed with a confident saunter and takes a seat beside you.

“Any plans for today, my lovely wife?”

You can't help but giggle at his endearing habit of calling you 'wife' and 'Mrs. Park.' It's become a sweet tradition between the two of you, a reminder of your loving bond that has grown since your wedding day. You twist your hand to observe the silver band that ornaments your ring finger. The diamond twinkles back at you in the bask of the light.

“I think Yunjin and I are getting brunch, then we’re going shopping right after, and later in the evening we’re gonna drink some wine and paint as we gossip about our husbands.”

Sunghoon laughs. “You’ve got a busy day ahead of yourself then.” He nudges your side playfully and you giggle. “Don’t forget to fit me into your schedule. Let’s go out for dinner tonight.”

“Cold noodles and ginseng chicken soup?”

“Where it all started.”

You envelop yourself in your husband's embrace, showering him with affectionate kisses. Starting from his moles and moving to both cheeks, his nose, forehead, and, ultimately, his irresistible lips, you express your love and absolute adoration for him with each tender peck.

“I love you, Mr. Park.” You murmur against his plush tiers.

His fingers delicately sweep aside the loose strands of hair obscuring your face, as he lovingly takes in every captivating feature, examining them with deep worship.

“I love you more, Mrs. Park.”

Two years ago you and Sunghoon sealed the knot in California. The ceremony took place at the Alila Ventana wedding venue, perched on a cliff along the rugged coast line of Big Sur. It offered a dramatic landscape, nestled amidst towering redwood trees, and a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean; the perfect picturesque backdrop for photos and videography. The outdoor spaces, gourmet dining, and coastal elegance were truly significant factors of your reception.

Sunghoon kept his promise to Mrs. Kim when the time came to send out the wedding invitations. Her excitement was beyond words as both of you entered the restaurant, radiating a newfound delight. Her gaze immediately fixated on the sparkling diamond ring on your finger— the same one she had scolded him for, which was now complete.

Come time to exchange your vows, Sunghoon's heartfelt declaration to cherish and devote himself to your love made it extremely difficult to keep your makeup in tact. Yunjin, your appointed maid of honor, had to step in to hand you tissues one after the other. The audience laughing to themselves at your showcase of emotions.

True to his words, Sunghoon carried you bridal style as he stalked down the aisle. Your families and friends cheering from their seats, their joyous applause resonating through the air. The warmth of their smiles and the happy tears in their eyes mirrored the love that enveloped you both in that moment.

Since then, life with Sunghoon after marriage was anything but dull.

[mariacallous]

lol philadelphia inquirer bodying nyt

https://www.inquirer.com/opinion/editorials/first-presidential-debate-joe-biden-donald-trump-withdraw-20240629.html

President Joe Biden’s debate performance was a disaster. His disjointed responses and dazed look sparked calls for him to drop out of the presidential race.

But lost in the hand wringing was Donald Trump’s usual bombastic litany of lies, hyperbole, bigotry, ignorance, and fear mongering. His performance demonstrated once again that he is a danger to democracy and unfit for office.

In fact, the debate about the debate is misplaced. The only person who should withdraw from the race is Trump.

Trump, 78, has been on the political stage for eight years marked by chaos, corruption, and incivility. Why go back to that?

To build himself up, Trump constantly tears the country down. There is no shining city on the hill. It’s just mourning in America.

Throughout the debate, Trump repeatedly said we are a “failing” country. He called the United States a “third world nation.” He said, “we’re living in hell” and “very close to World War III.”

“People are dying all over the place,” Trump said, later adding “we’re literally an uncivilized country now.”

Trump told more than 30 lies during the debate to go with the more than 30,000 mistruths told during his four years as president. He dodged the CNN moderators’ questions, took no responsibility for his actions, and blamed others, mainly Biden, for everything that is wrong in the world.

Trump’s response to the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection he fueled was farcical. He said a “relatively small number of people” went to the Capitol and many were “ushered in by the police.”

After scheming to overturn the 2020 election, Trump refused to say if he would accept the results of the 2024 election. Unless, of course, he wins.

The debate served as a reminder of what another four years of Trump would look like. More lies, grievance, narcissism, and hate. Supporters say they like Trump because he says whatever he thinks. But he mainly spews raw sewage.

Trump attacks the military. He denigrates the Justice Department and judges. He belittles the FBI and the CIA. He picks fights with allies and cozies up to dictators.

Trump is an unserious carnival barker running for the most serious job in the world. During his last term, Trump served himself and not the American people.

Trump spent chunks of time watching TV, tweeting, and hanging out at his country clubs. Over his four-year term, Trump played roughly 261 rounds of golf.

As president, Trump didn’t read the daily intelligence briefs. He continued to use his personal cell phone, allowing Chinese spies to listen to his calls. During one Oval Office meeting, Trump shared highly classified intelligence with the Russian foreign minister and ambassador.

Trump’s term did plenty of damage and had few accomplishments. The much-hyped wall didn’t get built. Infrastructure week was a recurring joke. Giant tax cuts made the rich richer, while fueling massive deficits for others to pay for years. His support for coal, oil drilling and withdrawal from the Paris Agreement worsened the growing impact of climate change.

Trump stacked the judiciary with extreme judges consisting mainly of white males, including a number who the American Bar Association rated as not qualified. A record number of cabinet officials were fired or left the office. The West Wing was in constant chaos and infighting.

Many Trump appointees exited under a cloud of corruption, grifting and ethical scandals. Trump’s children made millions off the White House. His dilettante son-in-law got $2 billion from the Saudi government for his fledgling investment firm even though he never managed money before.

Trump’s mismanagement of the pandemic resulted in tens of thousands of needless deaths. He boasts about stacking the Supreme Court with extreme right-wingers who are stripping away individual rights, upending legal precedents, and making the country less safe. If elected, Trump may add to the court’s conservative majority.

Of course, there were the unprecedented two impeachments. Now, Trump is a convicted felon who is staring at three more criminal indictments. He is running for president to stay out of prison.

If anything, Trump doesn’t deserve to be on the presidential debate stage. Why even give him a platform?

Trump allegedly stole classified information and tried to overturn an election. His plans for a second term are worse than the last one. We cannot be serious about letting such a crooked clown back in the White House.

Yes, Biden had a horrible night. He’s 81 and not as sharp as he used to be. But Biden on his worst day remains lightyears better than Trump on his best.

Biden must show that he is up to the job. This much is clear: He has a substantive record of real accomplishments, fighting the pandemic, combating climate change, investing in infrastructure, and supporting working families and the most vulnerable.

Biden has surrounded himself with experienced people who take public service seriously. He has passed major bipartisan legislation despite a dysfunctional Republican House majority.

Biden believes in the best of America. He has rebuilt relationships with allies around the world and stood up to foes like Russia and China.

There was only one person at the debate who does not deserve to be running for president. The sooner Trump exits the stage, the better off the country will be.

[odinsblog]

Rule No. 1: Believe the autocrat. I argued against the expectation that Trump would change in the months following the election, becoming somehow “Presidential” and abandoning his more extreme positions. This belief, it seemed to me, stemmed from the inability to absorb the fact of a Trump Presidency, and not from any historical precedents of similar transformations. The best predictors of autocrats’ and aspiring autocrats’ behavior are their own public statements, because these statements brought them to power in the first place.

Rule No. 2: Do not be taken in by small signs of normality. Most catastrophes unfold over time. Following the shock of a disastrous election—or a Presidential tweet—the sun rises again in the morning, and life appears to proceed as before. One adjusts, until the next shocking event.

Rule No. 3: Institutions will not save you. During the election campaign, one often heard the argument that institutions of American democracy are strong enough to withstand attack by Trump. A year ago, I pointed out that many of these institutions are not enshrined in law—rather, they exist as norms—and even those that are enshrined in law depend for their continued survival on the good faith of all actors. There is no law, for example, guaranteeing daily press briefings at the White House and media access to these briefings. I predicted that the investigative press would be weakened and that reality would grow murkier.

Rule No. 4: Be outraged. If you follow the first three rules, you ought to be outraged. But I know from experience how hard it is to be the hysteric in the room.

A year on, progress is mixed. Activist groups like New York City’s Rise and Resist, founded by alumni of the aids-activist organization act up, stage regular, vivid, act up–style actions. On the occasion of the first anniversary of the election, they vowed to begin weekly demonstrations demanding impeachment. The A.C.L.U. continues to file lawsuits; late-night comedians continue to amplify the painful absurdity of Trumpism. On the other hand, Washington has absorbed Trump, and so has the Republican Party. (It’s the other party whose national organization is imploding these days.) No single event or revelation has produced enough outrage to cause Trump to be removed from office, nor has one seemed to hurt his chances for reëlection. Not Charlottesville. Not the revelation of a Trump Tower meeting with a Russian lawyer who promised to deliver dirt on Hillary Clinton. Not the regular revelations of past acts of corruption and of current lies. Not the continued spectacle of a government of haters and incompetents. The outrage dissipates, and Trumpism persists.

Rule No. 5: Don’t make compromises. I predicted that Republican Never Trumpers would fold and offer their loyalty to the new President. I also feared that a great many federal employees would face an impossible choice between staying in their jobs under a reprehensible Administration and leaving, forfeiting the chance to do good within a system that had started rotting from the top. Trump’s attacks on the institutions of government have been so fast and brutal, however, that many people made the choice without torment: they left. (Remember the President’s arts and humanities committee? Or the business advisory councils?) Still, a few people remain in what’s left of the State Department; some people have joined the Administration with the explicit goal of using their expertise to help minimize damage. But to watch General McMaster struggling to mislead journalists on Trump’s behalf is to see the built-in problem with the project of minimizing damage: one inevitably becomes an accomplice.

Rule No. 6: Remember the future. There will come a time after Trump. What will we bring to it? I wrote that the failure to imagine the future—to offer a vision in opposition to Trump’s appeal to an imaginary past—had cost the Democrats the election. A year later, the national Democratic Party does not seem closer to proposing a vision (or a candidate); instead, the last week has seen the Party plunged into a vicious re-litigation of the 2016 primaries.

(full article here)

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by David Isaac

After demanding for months that Jerusalem let more supplies enter the Gaza Strip, with Israel insisting that the bottlenecks are on the Gaza side, the U.S. appeared to come around to Israel’s position on Wednesday.

“Though Kerem Shalom is open and trucks are queued up outside, not a lot of them are getting in, and it’s not because of the Israelis,” White House National Security Communications Advisor John Kirby said at a press briefing.

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Kirby blamed the problem on looting by Gazan “criminal gangs and thugs.” He insisted the criminals were not connected to Hamas, although the U.S. has blamed Hamas in the past for stealing supplies, with the administration notably condemning the terrorist group for hijacking a large aid convoy from Jordan in May.

In pointing to gangs as the culprits, the White House also ignored Israeli reports of widespread theft by Hamas, which it says has been stealing up to 60% of the aid entering the Gaza Strip.

A Channel 12 report in May revealed that Hamas had made at least $500 million in profit off such aid since the start of the war, turning around and selling it to the civilian population.

Admitted Kirby, “I’m not trying to pull—take Hamas off the hook here, because Hamas has, in fact, allowed some of this activity to go on and don’t have the best interests of the people of Gaza forefront in their minds.”

If the administration is no longer holding Israel responsible for the aid jam up, it would represent a shift in thinking. Less than two weeks ago, the State Department sanctioned an Israeli protest group for “harassing and damaging convoys” (something the group denies).

Israel has largely blamed the aid failure on the United Nations. On Wednesday, COGAT, the Israeli body responsible for coordinating aid into Gaza, tweeted a picture of tons of aid waiting for pickup at the U.S.-built JLOTS (Joint Logistics Over-the-Shore) pier.

[honeyedmiller]

Law of Attraction — Chapter Five: Saudade

series masterlist | previous chapter | epilogue

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!joel, professor x student relations, plus size!reader, unresolved feelings at first, angst, lots of emotions, joel is an idiot (in love), flashbacks of sex, shower head masturbation, light alcohol consumption, brief pov swapping, teensy bit of fluff, there won’t be a super happy ending quite yet. no use of y/n.

word count: 4.2k

chapter synopsis: moving on has proven to be a lot harder than you’d both anticipated. when more feelings bubble to the surface, it may be too late to act upon them.

divider by @saradika-graphics

sau·da·de – /souˈdädə/ (noun): an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

Adrienne had come home that night to find you agonizingly sobbing on your bedroom floor. The fight that ended things with Joel felt like it’d ripped your heart out as a whole, sewing your ribcage airtight so you could barely fucking breathe. 

She sat on the floor and consoled you, shushing you as you cried into her neck. You felt like a fucking wreck, stuck in the abyss of darkness that had consumed you wholly after he walked out of the front door. 

After your cries dwindled down into sporadic hiccups, you finally came clean to her about everything: how you’d been feeling the past month and a half, what Tess had told you, and how your breakdown was a result of holding back your true feelings for far too long. 

Adrienne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t mad at you in any sense of the matter, and she didn’t parade around with a sickeningly mockful ‘I told you so.’ She was infuriated with Joel. 

Because, for fuck’s sake, how could he have suggested this whole ordeal with you knowing he didn’t have his shit resolved yet? If he still had uncharted feelings about the situation with his goddamn ex, he should’ve never touched you in the first place. 

A woman, so eager and bright and full of free spirit, had been dwindled down to be filled with hopeless despair—light dulled and spirit trapped in the confines of what could’ve been. 

It’d been a month since that very day, and you were slowly starting to feel like yourself again. 

Tess kept her end of her promise, putting in a good word with the Los Angeles police department as they were in need of a forensic technician. The head of the forensics team had interviewed you over the phone for half an hour before deciding she wanted to meet you in person and talk about what the job would entail in greater detail. She said, in her own words, she needed some ‘fresh minds on her team.’

You were excited to go back home to visit your folks in the midst of this trip. You needed to create new memories, good memories this trip, because last time you were on the west coast you were getting relentlessly fucked by your former professor, accepting his offer to be friends with benefits. 

You swore to yourself you’d never put yourself in such a situation ever again. 

It humiliated you, made you feel foolish, hurt you—the list goes on—but it also taught you. It taught you patience, it taught you resilience, and it taught you the hardships of two emotionally damaged people trying to mold into one. 

You’ll admit, you did miss Joel. Not in the same way you did when it hurt at first, but more so in a way that made you miss the familiarity that floated in the air every time you two were around each other. When you weren’t wracking your brain about your feelings for him, being around him was just��� easy. 

He was obviously super intelligible, always had something insightful to say, he was funny, and he actually listened to you in the aspect of daily life. He made you feel seen, which is something you don’t get often with people. 

When your feelings for him weren’t harboring into the depths of your heart, a swirl of anticipation always clutched at you to be around him. You really did miss him. 

You also missed the sex. 

The price that it came with was hefty, but god—you missed the scrape of his facial hair against your trembling thighs, the thickness of his fingers scissoring in and out of you while praising how ‘fuckin’ perfect your pussy is’, his hot tongue swirling against your aching core with a shit-eating grin plastered to his lips as you came undone, his sweet-talking mouth that praised every single inch of your body, and his cock that seemed to connect you two and made it so goddamn difficult to tell where he ended and you began. 

A knock on your bedroom door jostles you from your thoughts, and you turn to see Adrienne standing there with a smile on her face. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asks, stepping into your room. She sits down next to your open luggage, reaching down to toy with the frayed knee on one of your packed jeans.

“I am. I’m excited. I always love going back home.” 

And it was true. Texas had grown on you, but California would forever be your home. You missed the sunny weather and the near-constant blue skies. 

“So,” She starts, laying both of her hands in her lap. “If you do get the offer, which I’m sure you will, I could find a job out there too. We could move together, you know, so you wouldn’t have to move back in with your parents.” She shrugs, as if what she proposed was the most nonchalant thing ever. 

“Adri, are you serious?” 

She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. You know how bad I’ve wanted to get out for some time now, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.” 

You shoved your suitcase further up the bed so you could sit next to her, wrapping your arms around her. 

“I’d love it if we moved together, Adri. Truth be told I really wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate life without you being in a different state. Probably would’ve gone fucking insane.” 

You both laugh as she reciprocates the affection. 

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, babe.” And for that, you were so grateful to have someone like her in your corner. Sometimes it felt like it was you and her against the world. 

-

“Did you finish grading yet?” Tess asks Joel, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her chair. The restaurant they were in was relatively quiet, considering it was only the afternoon. 

“I did. Wasn’t too bad.” Joel shrugged, cutting into his steak. 

“Mm. That’s good. So what do you plan on doing now that you’re a free man for two and a half months?”

Joel’s heart sinks. He should be enjoying his vacation wrapped up in you, but because his pride got in the way, he lost you to something that meant a lot to him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he was hoping he’d be able to gain it someday. 

“Nothin’.” He’s curt with his answer, and Tess knows him all too well. 

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

”Why does it matter, Tess?” Joel’s exasperated at this point, really not in the mood to hear I told you so from his best friend. He knows he fucked up. He reminds himself that every single day when he goes to text you, fingers hovering over the keyboard because he doesn’t know the right thing to say. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I want you. 

But it’s too late. 

“Joel,” Tess sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna say what you think I’m gonna say, but I do have one question.” 

Joel looks up at her, her green eyes sincere. 

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you fight harder for her?” 

Joel wasn’t expecting that. That question was like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Because, honestly, why didn’t he? 

He shrugged at her. 

He thinks it’d be easier to lie and say it was the age difference and you used to be his student and it’d be this whole weird thing, but Tess would see right through him. He knows exactly why, though. 

He was terrified. 

Terrified of getting too attached, terrified of getting hurt, terrified of admitting he was falling in love with you. 

You just graduated. You’re just starting your life as a free woman. He didn’t want to be the one to hold you back. 

He knows you can find someone so much better than him. Someone closer in age, someone that won’t dick you over or spring an awful proposal onto you like he did. Someone who could actually give you what you deserved, which was the whole goddamn world. 

But what he didn’t know was that he had ruined every single man for you, ever. Nobody could compare to him. 

There’s no way he’d ever get to know that though, because he fucking had you. And then he lost you. 

-

The June sun was hot on your back as you unloaded your luggage from the back of your Uber. You had taken an early flight, so it was only around noon when you got to your parents’ house. You unlocked the front door and slipped off your sandals, wheeling your luggage into the living room, only to be met with silence. 

“Mom? Dad?” You called out. More silence. You furrowed your brows and walked further into the house and into the kitchen, stopping when you saw a neon post-it slapped onto the middle of your fridge. 

‘Hey sweetie, you’ll probably arrive home around noon, which means dad is still at work and I’ll be running some errands. Picking up some stuff from the grocery store, too. Making chicken parm tonight. Can’t wait to see you!

Love mom.’

You smile at her note before rolling your suitcase to your old room, deciding to shower first and then settle in.

Exhaustion consumes your body as the inviting droplets of water roll down your skin, warm water relaxing your aching muscles. You were nervous about meeting the head of forensics in two days. This could be a life-altering career for you, and you wanted nothing more. 

Except for Joel, maybe, the depths of your mind sneer at you. You roll your eyes at yourself, ignoring that part of you that fucking aches for him on a near-constant basis. You failed, though. The ache was so bad that it had manifested itself into a pulsating, needy pang between your legs. You sighed as you snatched the shower head from its holder and lowered it between your flesh, warm water gliding over your throbbing cunt with the right amount of pressure. 

God, missing him was already becoming too much. 

-

You didn’t intend to fall asleep after your shower, but your bed was so comfy and you wanted to escape your overactive mind for a bit—so you slipped into a comfortable slumber. Your mom knocked on your door to wake you up, letting you know that dinner was almost done. 

Dinner was full of catching up with your parents. It was nice to spend some time with them again. You hadn’t seen them since you graduated, and before that, Christmas break. It was harder to catch flights back to California just for the hell of it when you were in school, and now, you’re looking at the prospect of being a full-fledged Californian once more. 

You were helping your mom clean up the kitchen, working off your post-meal coma that was surging over your body. 

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Your mom asks as you dry the last of the dishes. You look at her perplexedly, not expecting that question at all. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, putting away the dried dish. 

“It’s just,” She starts, pursing her lips and sighing. “I don’t know, you seem different? I guess? It’s like you’re you but the real you isn’t really… there. Saw it at graduation too. The sadness in your eyes…” She trails off, looking at you with a bit of unease. 

You didn’t think it’d be that noticeable, but things scarcely get past your mother. 

You were almost thirty years old. Surely she wouldn’t be pissed at you for sleeping with your former professor, now, would she? 

“I’ll tell you about it,” You say, eyes landing on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “We might need this, though.” You snatch the bottle off the counter and grab two wine glasses, leading her out to the padded lounge chairs on the back patio. 

She pours two hefty glasses, because the look on your face tells her everything she needs to know: it’s going to be a hell of a story. 

And so you proceeded to tell her everything, aside from where you two had sex. She definitely didn’t need to know about you getting fucked by him in his office, bent over his desk as he—

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” She says, drinking in all of the information you threw her way. 

“You’re not upset with me?” You ask, hiding a wobbling bottom lip behind your glass of wine. The lump in your throat made it harder for you to swallow the smooth drink. 

“Honey, you’re a grown woman. You know what’s right from wrong, albeit I think you should’ve at least waited until after you graduated, as far as I’m concerned, it was two adults consenting to participate in adult activities.” She shrugs, and you sigh in relief. 

“I promise I wasn’t sleeping with him for my grades or anything. I was already one of his top students before it all began.” You huff a laugh, and your mom shakes her head. 

“That thought didn’t cross my mind once, sweetheart. It’s not you. It’s not your character,” She sips her wine with a meek hum, brows pinching together. “I don’t like what he did to you, though.” She shakes her head, looking at you. 

“I agreed to it, though. Part of it is my fault for not telling him how I felt. I knew what I felt for him and I hadn’t voiced it once to him, so he was unaware.” 

And you wondered now if things would’ve been different had you told him how you really felt. 

His words, seared into your brain at this point, always repeated themselves: ‘It’s not my fault I didn’t live up to the expectations of myself that you created in your head.’

Maybe you wouldn’t have made those expectations up if you just fucking told him. 

“He still shouldn’t have used you as a pawn to distract himself from his unresolved feelings about the thing with his ex.” She says, and you know she’s right. Adrienne said something similar to you not even three weeks ago. 

“Yeah.” Was all you could muster up, swirling your wine around your glass. 

“Do you think you have it in your heart to ever forgive him?” She asks, and your stomach twists into a knot. You’d never even thought about forgiving him. It was still too fresh of an open wound, one you were desperately trying to heal and close. 

“Maybe someday.” It was an honest answer. 

And that’s all you could really give her. 

-

The next day, your mom had graciously decided to take you out for a little distraction from life as you knew it. 

She took you for a drive down PCH in your dad’s beloved cherry red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible, which is exactly what you needed. The sun was beaming brightly down on you both, the top down allowing the hot wind to wildly whip at your face. You leaned your crossed arms on top of the passenger door, laying your head down as you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment of serenity. 

You missed home so much. You didn’t even want to go back to Texas, but you’d know by the end of the week if you were coming back here permanently or not. You figured you’d need to construct a plan B just in case this job didn’t end up working out, but you’d figure that out soon. 

Right now, you just wanted to enjoy the summer sun and the time with your mom and the freeness you felt now that your mom knew everything. 

The day went by quickly much to your disadvantage. You were nervous for what tomorrow would bring, hoping to god that you were impressive enough for them to at least consider you to be a part of the forensics team. 

And you went into the huge facility the next day with a smile plastered on your face, showing you were genuinely happy to be there and how much you’d love the job. You hoped you weren’t being overeager. 

The head of the forensics team, Margot, seemed to take a liking to you. She asked how you knew Tess, and you told her you met at the criminal justice expo a couple of months back. 

It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t want Joel to be a part of the conversation whatsoever, so you naturally skipped over the part that you met her through him. 

Margot gave you a run-down of how things worked in that particular department, showing you the ins and outs of the place. She showed you all of the equipment and how it worked; what different positions in the job entailed; and what she was expecting of you, were you to be hired. 

The prospect of you working on the forensics team for the LAPD had your stomach doing somersaults, and you had to constantly remind yourself that it wasn’t reality for you yet. You couldn’t get too ahead of yourself. 

You thanked Margot for her time as she promised she’d keep in touch and let you know about the position by the end of the week at latest. 

You got home that evening and Adrienne FaceTimed you right away. You felt like it went well, though you couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Margot was a sweet woman, but her mannerisms gave very little away. All you could do at this point was just hope for the best. 

That’s all you seemed you could really do right now in life, anyway. 

Just hope for the best. 

-

You got the job.

The call came in around ten in the morning on your way to the airport to fly back to Austin. You couldn’t believe it. 

It’s like everything in your life was slowly clicking back into place, one by one. 

You’d worked so hard in school, but you genuinely couldn’t have done this without Tess. You had to call and let her know. 

You scrolled through your contacts and clicked her name, and within three rings she answered. 

“Hello?”

”Hey, Tess. I have some great news.” Your voice is giddy and you couldn’t contain your excitement. 

“I think I might know what it is.” She teased, prompting you to tell her. 

“I got the job!” 

“I knew you would, sweetheart, congratulations. We should get a drink to celebrate. Make it a whole thing.” Her voice rings with sincerity, and you can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face. 

“Love to. I don’t start until late August, so I have a month and a half to pack and move.” 

“That’s great! If you need help, Misty and I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.” 

“Thanks Tess. And thank you so much for putting in a word for me. I wouldn’t have gotten this job without you.” 

“You did all of the hard work. I was just a referencer.” She laughs, and you can’t help but beam. 

“Hey I gotta go, my flight is being called to board. But I’ll see you real soon.” You say, and hear her chuckle on the other end of the line. 

“See you soon, sweetheart.” 

-

A month and a half passed by in the blink of an eye. You and Adrienne were leaving tomorrow to head for California with all your stuff in tow. 

It felt so surreal, leaving Texas behind to start something new for yourself—something you worked so hard for. Adrienne couldn’t have been more supportive of you starting anew, which is why she insisted you both invite your friends to a local bar as a last hoorah before you took off in the morning. 

You were all smiles tonight, taking a couple of shots with friends before settling on a Cosmo to babysit for awhile. 

You even invited Tess and Misty, wanting to say ‘see you later’ instead of ‘goodbye’, because you ultimately knew you’d be seeing them again. 

And, deep down, a part of you wishes you could physically say goodbye to Joel. Thank him for everything he’s taught you—inside and outside of the classroom—and put your past with him completely behind you. 

You didn’t want to go to California with any loose ends, because again, the whole purpose was to start fresh. 

You didn’t dwell on it too much. You were there to celebrate with your friends and have a good time… which you were, until the man that had been lingering in the back of your mind for two and a half months unexpectedly made an appearance. 

You were talking with Adrienne, Tess and Misty before all three of them went silent, eyes averting behind you. You looked at them with confusion before turning around, heart dropping to your stomach. 

Joel. 

“What’s he doing here?” Panic seized your body, not expecting to see him at all. The part of you that wanted to say goodbye was relieved to see him, and the other part of you—the part that craved him for so long, wishing everything was different—was mortified. 

“I actually invited him.” Adrienne said, sympathy in her eyes as you furrowed your brows. 

“What—?” 

“Just- just hear him out, okay?” She asks, and you place your watered-down Cosmo on the sticky bar top, giving her an unsure look before turning around to face him. He didn’t look much different, but his eyes were tired. 

A pang of hurt seized your chest, and you swallowed harshly before making your way to him. 

“Joel.” You sound breathless. Your eyes must’ve been wide and strewn with confusion. 

He offers a small, lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Hey. Can we talk?” He asks, voice sounding a bit unsure, a trait that’s very unlike Joel. 

You nod, and he jerks his head toward the bar door to walk outside. Your shoes scuff over the pavement, humid summer night air sticking tackily to your body. The sounds of Life in the Fast Lane by the Eagles fades into the background with all of the chatty patrons of the bar, leaving the distant call of the cicadas to become the forefront of noise in the night. 

“So,” You begin, not exactly sure what he wants to talk about. 

“Couple of things. First and foremost, I wanna apologize to you, darlin.’ For every single thing that’s happened. You were a student of mine and I shouldn’t have—” He swallows, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done anything with you then. ‘N I most certainly shouldn’t’ve offered that stupid fuckin’ friends with benefits bullshit to you.” His eyes are trained on his worn out boots, hands knotting behind his back. 

“Joel—”

“Darlin’, you deserved so much better. I want you to know that I was never ashamed to be with you. You’re gorgeous, your body is beautiful, you’re so brilliant. Everythin’ about you is a dream. I was selfish and I was terrified of gettin’ hurt again. I spent so long building up walls to protect myself ‘n my peace, and then you came into my life chippin’ away at it so easily. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked. Kept pullin’ you in and pushin’ you away so I wouldn’t be the one that ended up hurt. But I hurt you in the end and I can’t tell you how fuckin’ sorry I am.” 

His dark gaze is locked on you then, and you feel the backs of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill to the forefront. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? It’s not every day you get a heartfelt apology from a man who really did a fucking number on you. 

“What’s the second thing?” Your voice is meek, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s hesitant at first, but he sighs as he takes a small step toward you. 

“I really fuckin’ miss you.” His eyes were full of sadness, regret, anguish. All telltale to you that he was being completely sincere. 

You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t want it to be that easy, answering his beck and call. But it was Joel— the man who made you feel things nobody else has, the man who frustrated you and liberated you simultaneously, the man who fucking ruined every single man for you ever again. 

You were a strong woman. You knew that. He knew that. But Joel had chipped away at your walls, too. 

Eye for an eye. 

“I miss you too,” You whisper, tears on your waterline now. “But I don’t want to get hurt again.” 

“Sweetheart,” Joel coos, reaching out for you. It took you a second, but you willingly let yourself succumb to the warm, familiar embrace of the man that you so desperately, secretly longed for all this time. “I promise you I won’t hurt you again. Cross my heart ‘n hope to die.” Joel’s voice holds so much promise. 

Everything felt okay again. It felt right as you buried your face into his neck, clutching fistfuls of the soft material of his shirt. 

And then it hit you—

“Joel,” You gasp, sad tears streaming down your face endlessly, body wracked with broken sobs. “I’m moving to LA. I leave for California tomorrow.”

Joel’s face falters, tears in his eyes as he pulls you into him tighter, kissing your temple as you both stand in the parking lot, sobs joining the song of cicadas. 

What you’d lost once was in your grip again, only for it to slip through your fingers like sand—twelve hundred miles soon to be separating what could’ve been. 

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @harriedandharassed ; @pamasaur ; @bastardmandennis ; @cool-iguana ; @untamedheart81

[beardedmrbean]

A House committee revealed Friday that the Pentagon, other US agencies and the European Union — in addition to the State Department — have funded a for-profit “fact-checking” firm that blacklisted The Post.

House Oversight Committee Chairman James Comer (R-Ky.) wrote a letter to the firm, NewsGuard, demanding more details about the public-private collaboration that led last year to the State Department being sued by conservative outlets that were labeled more “risky” than their liberal counterparts.

NewsGuard has briefed committee staff on contracts it had with the Defense Department in 2021, including the Cyber National Mission Force within US Cyber Command; the State Department and its Global Engagement Center; and the EU’s Joint Research Centre.

“The Committee writes today to seek additional documents and communications from NewsGuard related to all past and present contracts with or grants administered by federal government agencies or any other government entity, including foreign governments,” Comer informed NewsGuard CEOs Steven Brill and Gordon Crovitz.

“The protection of First Amendment rights of American citizens is paramount and attempts by government actors to infringe on those rights is dangerous and misguided,” the chairman warned.

The Oversight panel in June opened its investigation into NewsGuard’s apparent participation in a government-funded “censorship campaign” to allegedly discredit and even demonetize news outlets by sharing its ratings of their reliability with advertisers.

Comer also expressed concern about NewsGuard employees sharing social media posts exhibiting left-wing bias, in violation of the company’s policies, and the firm throttling disfavored outlets’ “misinformation” — which in at least one case included a published academic study on the failure of lockdowns during the COVID-19 pandemic.

“These wide-ranging connections with various government agencies are taking place as the government is rapidly expanding into the censorship sphere,” the chairman wrote. “For example, one search of government grants and contracts from 2016 through 2023 revealed that there were 538 separate grants and 36 different government contracts specifically to address ‘misinformation’ and ‘disinformation.’”

The right-leaning websites the Daily Wire and the Federalist filed a civil complaint against the State Department in December 2023 for allegedly using taxpayer dollars to fund firms like NewsGuard and the Global Disinformation Index (GDI), which smeared the outlets as “purveyors of ‘disinformation.’”

Both firms have relationships with social media platforms such as Facebook, YouTube and TikTok, as well as advertisers like Dell Technologies, ExxonMobil and Nike, prompting concerns about how their “disinformation” ratings would affect business.

In 2022, GDI distributed a “Disinformation Risk Assessment” that rated the “riskiest” sites for factual news as the Federalist, the Daily Wire, Newsmax, the American Conservative, Reason Magazine and the New York Post, among others.

The New York Times and the Washington Post were ranked as among the “least risky.”

In a statement Friday, Crovitz said: “When the Trump administration first asked us for our data and insights about disinformation campaigns from hostile foreign governments in 2020, we contracted with them on the condition that such work be strictly limited to disinformation from hostile governments, not US publishers. We’re proud that NewsGuard’s data and analysis has helped defend Western democracies against Russian, Chinese and Iranian disinformation. NewsGuard was created as a transparent alternative to censorship by governments or big tech companies, and we do not censor any content.”

The 2020 and 2024 elections have brought so-called “anti-misinformation” and “anti-disinformation” efforts to the fore — with The Post’s bombshell scoop on Hunter Biden’s laptop being falsely labeled a Russian plant by then-candidate Joe Biden.

Some Democrats have since been suggesting that the only way to defeat pushback to their policies is by crushing the First Amendment.

President Biden’s ex-climate envoy John Kerry even called the constitutional freedom “a major block” to keeping people from believing the “wrong” kinds of things.

“You know, there’s a lot of discussion now about how you curb those entities in order to guarantee that you’re going to have some accountability on facts,” Kerry told an audience at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland.

“But look, if people only go to one source, and the source they go to is sick, and, you know, has an agenda, and they’re putting out disinformation, our First Amendment stands as a major block to be able to just, you know, hammer it out of existence,” he said.

Vice President Kamala Harris’ running mate, Tim Walz, also downplayed free speech protections during a 2022 appearance on MSNBC’s “The Reid Out.”

“I think we need to push back on this. There’s no guarantee to free speech on misinformation or hate speech, and especially around our democracy,” the Minnesota governor inaccurately stated.

Comer has asked for NewsGuard to provide by Nov. 8 all records of its contracts, grants or other work with the Pentagon, the State Department and any other federal agencies or departments.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Finally a sensible, logical, reasonable, unhysterical commentary from a prominent newspaper, the Philadelphia Inquirer:

The only person who should withdraw from the race is Trump.

[Take THAT New York Times.....]

+

President Joe Biden’s debate performance was a disaster. His disjointed responses and dazed look sparked calls for him to drop out of the presidential race.

But lost in the hand wringing was Donald Trump’s usual bombastic litany of lies, hyperbole, bigotry, ignorance, and fear mongering. His performance demonstrated once again that he is a danger to democracy and unfit for office.

In fact, the debate about the debate is misplaced. The only person who should withdraw from the race is Trump.

Trump, 78, has been on the political stage for eight years marked by chaos, corruption, and incivility. Why go back to that?

To build himself up, Trump constantly tears the country down. There is no shining city on the hill. It’s just mourning in America.

Throughout the debate, Trump repeatedly said we are a “failing” country. He called the United States a “third world nation.” He said, “we’re living in hell” and “very close to World War III.”

“People are dying all over the place,” Trump said, later adding “we’re literally an uncivilized country now.”

Trump told more than 30 lies during the debate to go with the more than 30,000 mistruths told during his four years as president. He dodged the CNN moderators’ questions, took no responsibility for his actions, and blamed others, mainly Biden, for everything that is wrong in the world.

Trump’s response to the Jan. 6, 2021, insurrection he fueled was farcical. He said a “relatively small number of people” went to the Capitol and many were “ushered in by the police.”

After scheming to overturn the 2020 election, Trump refused to say if he would accept the results of the 2024 election. Unless, of course, he wins.

The debate served as a reminder of what another four years of Trump would look like. More lies, grievance, narcissism, and hate. Supporters say they like Trump because he says whatever he thinks. But he mainly spews raw sewage.

Trump attacks the military. He denigrates the Justice Department and judges. He belittles the FBI and the CIA. He picks fights with allies and cozies up to dictators.

Trump is an unserious carnival barker running for the most serious job in the world. During his last term, Trump served himself and not the American people.

Trump spent chunks of time watching TV, tweeting, and hanging out at his country clubs. Over his four-year term, Trump played roughly 261 rounds of golf.

As president, Trump didn’t read the daily intelligence briefs. He continued to use his personal cell phone, allowing Chinese spies to listen to his calls. During one Oval Office meeting, Trump shared highly classified intelligence with the Russian foreign minister and ambassador.

Trump’s term did plenty of damage and had few accomplishments. The much-hyped wall didn’t get built. Infrastructure week was a recurring joke. Giant tax cuts made the rich richer, while fueling massive deficits for others to pay for years. His support for coal, oil drilling and withdrawal from the Paris Agreement worsened the growing impact of climate change.

Trump stacked the judiciary with extreme judges consisting mainly of white males, including a number who the American Bar Association rated as not qualified. A record number of cabinet officials were fired or left the office. The West Wing was in constant chaos and infighting.

Many Trump appointees exited under a cloud of corruption, grifting and ethical scandals. Trump’s children made millions off the White House. His dilettante son-in-law got $2 billion from the Saudi government for his fledgling investment firm even though he never managed money before.

Trump’s mismanagement of the pandemic resulted in tens of thousands of needless deaths. He boasts about stacking the Supreme Court with extreme right-wingers who are stripping away individual rights, upending legal precedents, and making the country less safe. If elected, Trump may add to the court’s conservative majority.

Of course, there were the unprecedented two impeachments. Now, Trump is a convicted felon who is staring at three more criminal indictments. He is running for president to stay out of prison.

If anything, Trump doesn’t deserve to be on the presidential debate stage. Why even give him a platform?

Trump allegedly stole classified information and tried to overturn an election. His plans for a second term are worse than the last one. We cannot be serious about letting such a crooked clown back in the White House.

If anything, Trump doesn’t deserve to be on the presidential debate stage. Why even give him a platform?

Yes, Biden had a horrible night. He’s 81 and not as sharp as he used to be. But Biden on his worst day remains lightyears better than Trump on his best.

Biden must show that he is up to the job. This much is clear: He has a substantive record of real accomplishments, fighting the pandemic, combating climate change, investing in infrastructure, and supporting working families and the most vulnerable.

Biden has surrounded himself with experienced people who take public service seriously. He has passed major bipartisan legislation despite a dysfunctional Republican House majority.

Biden believes in the best of America. He has rebuilt relationships with allies around the world and stood up to foes like Russia and China.

There was only one person at the debate who does not deserve to be running for president. The sooner Trump exits the stage, the better off the country will be.

[findingnemosworld]

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬

( 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐮𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 "𝐒𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰?" 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐛𝐲.

It had been four years since his life changed for the better, he spent so long completely focused and drowned in the hectic world of foot-ball that he barely ever considered the prospect of finding the one to settle down with, all of his teammates were either happily dating or happily married and while he was happy for them, it didn't register to him that he ignored his own happiness until he found her, she was a flower shop owner, her place of work close to the training ground, he remembers seeing Luka coming in with a bouquet of flowers that he states is a gift for the kind photographer who helped him capture portraits of his family, when Sergio asked, the Croatian lead him to the flower shop and that's when he met her.

He never believed angels existed on earth until he saw her, she greeted him with the sweetest of smiles - guiding him through the variety of flowers she had in the shop, gently explaining what every flower stood for and before Sergio could truly realize it, he begins to visit her shop daily, with the excuse of purchasing flowers for his sister and mother who granted, were aware of why he was paying his old home a visit far too often, he continued to visit the shop and soon enough the pair built a friendship, he came to know her likes and dislikes which were similar to his, four years had passed and a beautiful relationship continued to grow stronger.

Hence why, he felt more than prepared to take the next step, proposing to her, the only problem was - he wasn't sure when he would propose.

Every time he thought he had mustered up enough courage to propose, his hands would tremble and his heart would race. This caused him to constantly drop the engagement ring, scattering it in the most unexpected places. Whether it was in the park, at the supermarket, or even during football practice, for some reason he couldn't really hold on to it which prompted him to place it in a chain and wrap it around his neck, just to be safe.

Luka had noticed his hesitation and opted to advice him not to over stress the situation, instead rely solely on the perfect time which had lead him to this very moment, he had set a beautiful scenery on the beach with the help of Luka and Nacho who ensured that the place would be decorated with twinkling lights hanging on the large umbrella, a table and two chairs were placed there, on top of the table were delicious meals to add a cozier atmosphere to the night.

The pair departed and wished him luck, and he stands there awaiting for her until she appeared, she stepped out of her car, dressed in the most beautiful light blue dress he had ever seen, it hugged her like a second skin, her hair flew with the wind and a soft smile adorned her glossed lips. " Hi " she smiles.

" Hi " He walked up to her, greeting her with a soft kiss before leading her to the table, he helped her sit down then he sat down. " Let's dig in? "

The pair started eating while talking about what went on in their days, and while he was sharing an anecdote about training, she decides to blurt out - "So, you're finally going to propose now?"

The words hung in the air for a brief moment, confusion washed over his face as he processed what he had just heard. The realization hit him like a wave crashing against the shore, his carefully planned surprise proposal vanishing into thin air. He felt a mix of laughter and disappointment bubble up inside him. " Huh? "

A soft smile formed on her face as they realized the innocent mistake. "Oh baby, I didn't mean it like that! I was just teasing," she tries to explain, eyes twinkling with affection. " You were struggling for a while and to be honest, I didn't want to ruin the surprise "

Relief flooded Sergio's body, followed by a lighthearted chuckle. In that moment, he knew he was fortunate to have found someone who understood and embraced his quirks so effortlessly, suddenly he stands up and walks to her side before kneeling down and removing the chain from his neck, he pulls the ring out, exhaling a deep breath before he says. " Amor, four years ago I never thought I would ever find my own happiness, if anything I thought my happiness solely lied with football, then you came along and changed my outlook on love with the way you see life through flowers " he chuckles, " It made me so obsessed that I now look at life through your eyes, and I want to do that for the rest of my life so ... " he exhales another breath before the words escape his lips, "Will you marry me?"

Her face lit up with pure joy, tears streaming down her cheeks as she nodded her head vigorously, " Yes, I will marry you " she cradled his face in her hands to press her lips onto his, giving him the sweetest kiss before he slipped the ring in her finger. " I love you " she whispers.

" I love you too, I can't see me without you amor, and I want this, all of this forever " He smiles.

[strvwdere]

He's been on my mind and my dash today. Uploaded from the dox archive, briefly edited, and still doesn't have a title! Taking suggestions in the tags <3

Edit: title added!

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"Unannounced"

Aki Hayakawa x gnc!Reader drabble (~1k words)

CW!s: Fluff, brief mention of blood, suggestions of violence and hookup culture, one (1) use of profanity, no pronouns or anatomy descriptions for reader, JP urban life context, Aki is a sweetie pie, **note at the end if u care to read!

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Thinking about the first time you ever put your lips on Aki Hayakawa.

It was far more innocent than others might suspect. With your jobs and daily lives entrenched in spectacular horrors, it was practically expected for those in your position to blow off steam with one another. You'll admit you'd had a brief tryst or two, but now you had a new partner. And Aki didn’t seem like the type.

It's 02:37am and the train car is blissfully empty, not a sloshed up salaryman in sight. Aki had offered you a seat but chose to stand himself, claiming that he'd likely fall asleep if he took a moment to rest his long legs. You could see the truth of it on his face, but also knew he looked most comfortable staying on guard. Frankly, you wouldn't be surprised if the man slept with one eye open, literally.

He's got one hand on the baggage rail above you, the other fiddling with his lighter in the pocket of his suit pants. He catches you staring down at his sneakers, scanning them with casual curiosity, when he prompts,

"What?"

You blink, "They're clean."

“Huh?”

Aki thinks you must be blind, but he’s not rude enough to call you on it. Today’s shift had been your first time patrolling Shibuya together, so it was brutal, naturally. There’s not one article of clothing between the two of you without blood smeared on it somewhere. Standard rite of passage.

“The department chair said you like to stay busy. You a sneakerhead? There’s not a single scuff on those.”

“Not sure what the state of my footwear has to do with anything.”

“Sorry.”

You glance off to the side, not wanting him to presume scrutiny any further.

One thing about Aki- 90% of the time he’s vaguely dismissive and the other 10% he’s shy. 100% of the time you’re dogshit at reading him in the moment.

The ambiance of the train rattling down its track settles over you both. Stops coming and going, announcements crackling through the speakers and flashing on the overhead digital monitors as you pass through. Your lids are about to slip shut when he speaks, almost mumbling to himself.

“I like to take care of things.”

You roll your head along the back of the seat to look placidly in his direction again.

“Come again?”

He clears his throat. 

“I like to take care of my stuff. Is that a bad thing?”

“Not really, just surprising to me.”

“What’s so different about it?”

Your eyes follow the long column of his tie from the barely loosened knot at his throat, down his slim torso, to the pointed end that meets perfectly at the top of his belt buckle. Meticulous, you think. Meeting his eyes again as a wry smile tugs faintly at your lips, you state, 

“You’re a serious guy, Aki Hayakawa.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

He turns away, shielding his face with his arm still resting on the baggage rail, and casting his gaze over his toned shoulder. You’d assume he was dismissing you again, were it not for the visible tip of his ear tinted the lightest shade of pink. Look at that, you muse internally. The other 10%.

-The next stop is Ueno, G16. Please change here for the Hibiya line, the JR lines, and the Keisei line. This train is bound for Asakusa.-

You uncross your legs preparing to stand, semi-accidentally brushing your boot across the width of his shin as you do. He doesn’t flinch, but continues to avoid eye contact.

“Your stop, right?”

“Yep,” you quip, pulling the strings in your limbs against their will. Exhaustion is hitting you more fully now as you gather yourself. You’ll test Aki’s buttons another time, you decide. A time when a hot shower and your mattress aren’t demanding your presence so immediately.

-Arriving at Ueno, G16. The doors will open on the left side.-

“Don’t forget we’re touching base at HQ first tomorrow, and bring your report. They’ll want one from both of us since you’re an internal transfer.”

“Sir, yes sir.” 

You rise carefully to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder and steeling yourself for the next leg of your commute.

You’re mid-reach for the strap above when the train activates its breaks, rocking you forward and directly into Aki’s firm chest. An arm comes up to steady you against him while your outstretched hand aims for the baggage rail, landing on top of his own instead.

His voice is as rigid as the rest of him when he asks,

“You good?”

You tilt your head up sheepishly to reply and are struck by the fine architecture of his flexing jawline. Here you are hip to hip, eye to eye, and he’s still avoiding your gaze, burning holes into the wall of the train car behind you.

Whether it’s impetuousness or sleeplessness, something overcomes you. Rising onto the balls of your feet, arm pulling yourself up and in, you plant a soft, fleeting kiss to the underside of Aki’s chin.

-Ueno. This is Ueno station. Please watch your step.-

“Take good care of me, partner.”

-The next stop is Ueno-hirokoji, G15. Please transfer here for the Toei Oedo line.-

His arm leaves your waist and your hand uncovers his as you step away, dashing onto the platform just before the doors begin to close.

As the train pulls away, you’re left with a lingering sense of frustration and the impression of his body heat still ghosting your skin.

What you didn’t catch behind those doors was Aki, collapsed on the seat with his head in his hands, blushing bright red all the way down to his collar. 

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©strvwdere.tumblr.com; est. 02/2023; no quotes, reposts, or translations 🍓

**Note: I really wanted to make a cute reference to the way the phrase “yoroshiku onegaishimasu” is used in Japanese. One of its many meanings is “please treat me favorably” or “please take good care of me” and is often used in introductions and establishing coworker connections. That said, there is no direct translation to English so I’m afraid it came out a little clunky here (in my head, the reader essentially says “Please take care of me, Hayakawa Senpai). Lmk if you guys have any ideas! This was a quick bit I thought up while in the middle of my JP studies in preparation for going abroad. Had a lot of fun toying with our favorite Devil Hunter and looking through Tokyo-metro's website- that level of organization is A1!

[misfitwashere]

Friends,

Elon Musk says that if Trump loses, “I’m fucked.”

Why would the world’s richest man be “f*cked” if Trump loses? 

Because under a Harris administration, Musk may be held accountable for his many abuses of power — for busting unions and mistreating workers, for using SpaceX and Starlink to monopolize America’s satellite and space infrastructure, and for using his social media platform to knowingly spread dangerous lies.

When I say “may be held accountable,” I don’t mean Musk would be punished for supporting Trump, as Trump has promised to punish his opponents. Instead, Musk’s many possible violations of the law, including some that are quite recent, may finally catch up with him under a Harris administration. 

Musk’s daily million-dollar sweepstakes giveaways to people who have registered to vote in battleground states appear to be clear violations of campaign finance law, which makes it illegal to pay money to people to register to vote. 

Campaign finance law also makes it illegal for superPACs to coordinate with candidates. As the person in charge of one of the largest superPACs supporting Trump, Musk’s frequent conversations with Trump would appear to run afoul of these provisions, as well. 

In addition, Pennsylvania — the state where Musk began his million-dollar sweepstakes — prohibits illegal lotteries and deceiving consumers by not providing a complete set of contest rules including odds of winning and details on how winners are selected. The district attorney of Philadelphia filed a lawsuit Monday to halt Musk’s giveaway. 

Musk may also be held accountable for conflicts of interest between his being in “regular contact” with Russian president Vladimir Putin, as reported by The Wall Street Journal last Friday, and his status as one of the most important national security contractors to the U.S. government through his SpaceX and Starlink enterprises. 

The Journal reports that Musk’s regular discussions with Putin — confirmed by several current and former U.S., European, and Russian officials — have involved business and geopolitical tensions. 

Musk’s SpaceX, which operates the Starlink satellite system, has a $1.8 billion contract with U.S. military and intelligence agencies. It’s the primary rocket launcher for NASA and the Pentagon. It launches vital national security satellites into orbit and is the company NASA relies on to transport astronauts to and from the International Space Station. 

To effectuate these contracts, Musk says he has top-secret security clearance. 

How can someone who runs two of America’s most important military and intelligence agencies, and who has top-secret security clearance, be secretly meeting with Putin? 

At one point, Putin reportedly asked Musk to avoid activating his Starlink satellite internet service over Taiwan as a favor to Chinese leader Xi Jinping, according to two people briefed on the request.

NASA Administrator Bill Nelson said The Wall Street Journal’s report should prompt an investigation.

Musk's conversations with Putin would clearly violate Musk’s security clearance if he failed to properly report them to the U.S. government. If classified information was leaked, Musk could be required to give up control of SpaceX, which holds the majority of his companies’ government contracts.

Musk has also been in contact with other high-ranking Russian officials, according to The Wall Street Journal, including Sergei Kiriyenko, Putin’s first deputy chief of staff. Last month, the U.S. Justice Department accused Kiriyenko of creating some 30 internet domains to spread Russian disinformation, including on Musk’s X, where it was meant to erode support for Ukraine and manipulate American voters ahead of the presidential election. 

If Musk has been a witting conduit for Russian election disinformation, he could lose control of X. He could even go to jail. 

Musk’s and Russia’s interests have increasingly overlapped. Russian forces occupying the country’s eastern and southern swaths have started using Starlink to enable secure communications and extend the range of their drones. Russian troops also began using Starlink terminals, brought in through third countries, undermining one of Ukraine’s few battlefield advantages. 

Earlier this year, Musk gave airtime to Putin and his views on the U.S. and Ukraine when X carried Tucker Carlson’s two-hour interview with Putin inside the Kremlin. In that interview, Putin said Musk was “a smart person” and “you need to find some common ground with him, you need to search for some ways to persuade him.”

But what may get Musk really “f*cked” is his leading role in the emerging anti-democracy movement. 

Since Musk was born in South Africa, he’s ineligible to become president of the United States. But that doesn’t seem to be stopping him. He’s planning to become CEO of the United States of America, Inc. 

The anti-democracy movement includes Musk, along with Peter Thiel (the self-styled libertarian who once wrote: “I no longer believe that freedom and democracy are compatible” and who invested $15 million in JD Vance’s bid for the Senate), JD Vance, Blake Masters (in whose Senate bid Thiel invested $10 million), tech entrepreneur David Sacks, and blogger Curtis Yarvin. 

Yarvin, who comes as close as anyone to being the intellectual godfather of the anti-democracy movement, has written that real political power in the United States is held by a liberal amalgam of universities and the mainstream press, whose commitment to equality and justice is eroding the social order. 

Yarvin believes democratic governments should be replaced with sovereign joint-stock corporations whose major “shareholders” select an executive with total power, who serves at their pleasure. Yarvin refers to the city-state of Singapore as an example of a successful authoritarian regime.

How to achieve Yarvin’s vision? The first step, as Vance offered in a 2021 podcast, is to replace “every single midlevel bureaucrat, every civil servant in the administrative state … with our people.”

The second step? We can only guess, but Trump has offered Musk a position in his administration to head up “government efficiency.” 

In early October, Musk registered with the Texas secretary of state’s office a new corporation called United States of America, Inc. 

If Trump becomes president, will Musk’s United States of America, Inc. replace the administrative state?

[mariacallous]

In his face-off against Elon Musk, Philadelphia District Attorney Larry Krasner has already earned at least one important win.

A judge on Friday granted Krasner’s request to keep a civil lawsuit he filed against Musk and Musk’s pro-Trump America PAC in state court, rather than having it moved to federal court as the tech billionaire wished.

Musk, for his part, filed a motion seeking to quash any personal appearance he is ordered to make in court, saying that his attendance is unnecessary because the case is largely focused on actions of America PAC.

Earlier Friday morning, Musk had accused Krasner of engaging in a “rushed stage play” and a “spectacle” as he urged a federal judge to deny Krasner’s emergency request to keep the suit in state court.

Krasner sued the billionaire and his pro-Donald Trump America PAC over their pledge to give away $1 million daily to registered voters. Musk claims the giveaway is random, but Krasner alleges that Musk is intentionally targeting people in battleground states with an “illegal lottery scheme” meant to influence voters.

Musk has argued that Krasner must square off with America PAC attorneys in federal court because the lawsuit raises questions about a federal election and the federal laws that govern political action committees, not state matters.

Krasner is adamant that his lawsuit isn’t about whether Musk and America PAC are violating federal laws that ban vote-buying. Rather, the district attorney wants a state court, not a federal one, to determine whether the program violates Pennsylvania’s prohibitions against illegal lotteries.

Attorneys for Musk’s PAC filed a notice in the Eastern District of Pennsylvania federal court this week requesting to have the case remanded there. Explaining this maneuver in a brief filed Friday, a lawyer for the PAC wrote that the group’s expenditures are “political speech” and thus “entitled to First Amendment protections,” which is a federal jurisdictional issue.

But U.S. District Judge Gerald Pappert disagreed.

Musk and America PAC “have not identified any question of federal law that must be resolved in Plaintiff’s favor in order to prove either state-law claim,” Pappert’s memorandum states.

“Defendants argue the Complaint’s references to ‘the forthcoming Federal Presidential Election’ show the lawsuit necessarily raises questions of federal law,” Pappert wrote. “But federal question jurisdiction does not turn on a plaintiff’s motivations in filing suit; it turns on whether the legal issues arising from the claims originate in federal or state law.”

The ploy to have the lawsuit remanded to federal court may have been a boon for Musk anyway. The giveaway ends on Nov. 5, meaning that by the time the courts decide the next steps, the initiative will already be over.

The Justice Department warned Musk in a letter last month that he may run afoul of federal election laws against compensating voters, but Musk was undeterred.

Four giveaway winners are from Pennsylvania, a crucial swing state, according to a website for the program. So far, the PAC has given away a total of $14 million to voters who signed the petition that states they agree to support the First and Second Amendments. The website indicates that winners will be declared through Nov. 5. As of Friday, the site specified that those winners would be selected in Arizona and Wisconsin, which are also battleground states in the 2024 election.

Musk and Krasner were initially meant to face off in court on Friday, but the hearing was brought forward to Thursday. Krasner had asked to move the hearing to a more secure venue following a deluge of threats he said he received.

The DA accused Musk of amplifying inflammatory posts about him and the lawsuit on X, the social media platform Musk owns. In court records, Krasner showed Musk’s reposts from a user on X who claimed the DA knew his lawsuit wasn’t legal but “wants a leftist judge to stop it before Election Day.” Other users on the platform have threatened to come to Krasner’s house in masks and harass him.

Musk himself was a no-show at the hearing, sending his lawyers in his stead.

Attorneys for Krasner, Musk and America PAC did not immediately respond to HuffPost’s request for comment.

[alexacyoung]

Defamation of Harvard students and death threats...a new American McCarthyism against Gaza supporters

A few days ago, in an opinion article in the Wall Street Journal, Stephen Davidoff Solomon, a professor of commercial law at the prestigious University of Berkeley Law School in California, warned companies and employers against hiring his students, accusing some of them of being anti-Semitic. Solomon claimed that some of his students promoted hatred toward Jews and therefore should not be given jobs. “My students are very good academically and are willing to learn quickly, and I regularly recommend hiring them to different companies,” Solomon wrote. “But if you don’t want to hire people who advocate hate and discriminate, don’t hire some of my students.” The professor, who advises the Jewish Law Students Association, made the serious accusation against his students after the outbreak of the conflict in the Gaza Strip and the spread of pro-Palestinian student demonstrations calling for an end to Israeli attacks on civilians.

Before that, the law firm Winston and Strawn canceled a job offer to three students at Harvard University - the best American university - after they signed a statement condemning Israeli policies. Before that, MSNBC quietly suspended three of its Muslim broadcasters - (each of whom had an hour-long program presented by himself daily) - since the start of the Gaza crisis on the 7th of this month. The three: Mahdi Hassan, Ayman Mohieddin, and Ali Velshi, appear as commentators on the events only. Lenox Hill Hospital, in Manhattan, New York City, also fired the emergency department doctor, Dana Diab, for allegedly praising what Hamas did and rejoicing in the tragedies, after a complaint from the “Stop Anti-Semitism” organization.

""Congresswoman Ilhan Omar said she received death threats following the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7. She and other progressive lawmakers critical of Israel also received a briefing by US Capitol Police, warning them of potential threats.""

Israel and its various lobbies and organizations spread throughout the United States, silence any voice that exposes the broader and historical framework of Hamas’ attacks, or condemns the Israeli attacks on the residents of the Gaza Strip, or even those calling for a ceasefire. After a number of student associations at Harvard University published a statement in which they condemned the Israeli aggression, demanded an end to the attacks on civilians in the Gaza Strip, and attributed what was happening to the continued Israeli occupation of the Palestinian territories. Billionaire fund CEO Bill Ackman and several other business leaders responded with a tweet on the “X” platform in which they demanded that Harvard University publish the names of the students who signed so that they would know so that they would not hire them in the future. One of the pro-Israel non-profit organizations even arranged to display virtual billboards bearing the names and faces of students who support Palestinian rights, under a banner that read: “Anti-Semites at Harvard,” and they were placed on a truck that moved around the campus area. With the aim of defaming these students, intimidating them and their supporters.

Some warning voices came out about what is happening, and Lawrence Tribe, a legal researcher at Harvard University, criticized the attempts to defame the students, and he told CNN: Naming and defaming the students, in addition to “describing them as anti-Semitic, is much more dangerous than useful... "We must not repeat the excesses of the McCarthyite era." All of the above is reminiscent of the climate of the McCarthyism period in the 1940s and 1950s. This period was characterized by political repression and persecution of left-wing individuals amid a campaign spreading fear of the alleged communist and Soviet influence on American institutions. The term is named after Senator Joseph McCarthy, who became the most famous and visible public figure through his widely publicized allegations of communist infiltration in branches of the US government. McCarthy's accusations were based on unsubstantiated accusations and insinuations, and were described as demagogic and reckless. However, his tactics were effective in creating a climate of fear and suspicion, and many people were blacklisted or lost their jobs as a result of his accusations. Yes, the McCarthy era ended in the mid-1950s, yet the legacy of McCarthyism is still keenly felt in American politics these days. Unlike some European countries, opposition to Israel in the United States is a right protected by the Constitution, and all individuals or groups are free to express their opinions on this issue, or any other issue, without fear of any legal consequences, as the First Amendment to the US Constitution guarantees freedom of expression and the right to Peaceful protest or demonstration. However, it is important to understand that taking a stance against Israel or its policies can in practice lead to various forms of social, political, or economic consequences, depending on the circumstances and level of opposition.

The lion's share of the attack by Israel's supporters was directed at human rights organizations, such as Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, anti-war activists, progressive political groups, pro-Palestinian activists, academics and many intellectuals, religious groups that reject wars, some members of Congress and many others. University students. For decades, the American people have maintained their support for Israel, and generally remain supportive of it. However, this support began to decline in recent years, and in response, the percentage of support for the Palestinian cause among young Americans, especially university students, increased. The slogans: “Israel’s right to exist,” “strike the terrorists,” and “anti-Semitism” no longer alone dominate the American scene, and are now competing with slogans including: “Apartheid,” “genocide,” and “ethnic cleansing,” especially among Among American youth. Supporters of Israel fear the consequences of holding many demonstrations opposing the attacks launched on the Gaza Strip in various American cities, compared to those supporting the Israeli side, especially as the numbers of American Jews continue to decline, compared to the increase in the numbers of Arab Americans and Muslims. Attempts to silence voices also extended to members of Congress, and progressive Democratic female representatives in the House of Representatives, known for their criticism of Israel, faced a violent reaction from their Republican and Democratic colleagues as well, in addition to Jewish organizations, because of their statements after the start of Operation “Al-Aqsa Flood.” The most important of these representatives is Ilhan Omar from Minnesota, Rashida Tlaib of Michigan, Cori Bush of Missouri, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez of New York. Condemnation of violence and demands for the necessity of working to achieve peace and a ceasefire dominated the MPs’ reaction to the events, but that position angered supporters of the Israeli side who only wanted to attack and condemn the Hamas movement without addressing the suffering of the Palestinians, or the violence practiced against them. Congresswoman Ilhan Omar also said that she received death threats following the Hamas attack on Israel on October 7, and she and other progressive lawmakers who criticize Israel also received a briefing by the US Capitol Police, warning them of potential threats. In conclusion, the United States emerged free from the restrictions and burdens of the European continent, especially with regard to its identity, nationalism, religion, and the conflicts associated with these dilemmas. Despite this liberation, many today call for nationalist, racist, and fascist slogans. The American media's continued heavy-handed demonization of the Palestinian people, in addition to President Joe Biden's ill-advised speech in standing by Israel without calling on it to stop its attacks or stop bombing civilians, has fueled feelings of anger and extremism among many members of the American people who do not know the details of the Middle East conflict.

After returning from his quick visit to Israel, Biden condemned the dangers of Islamophobia and anti-Arab racism, but the American president’s words are not supported by any convincing practical political positions so far.

by Alexa C.Young

Master Yale Un International & Global Studies.|Foreign Policy Analyst & Researcher|Consultant|Writer|Real Estate Investor.

[fanfic-wonderland]

NOTHING CHANGES ANYTHING {TEEN WOLF}

Synopsis: Penny Brooke is an ordinary sixteen-year-old girl; with an ordinary family, ordinary friends, and a plain old ordinary life. Nothing unusual seems to happen until her all-time crush and best friend, Scott McCall, gets bitten by a werewolf. From that moment on, Penny and her friends find themselves living through dangerous events happening at Beacon Hills, and all of their lives turn upside down...

**This is a rewriting of my old Teen Wolf fanfic of the same name.**

Word count: 1.9k

Ch.1 | Ch.2

————————————————————

CHAPTER ONE: SEARCHING

“… In other news, two men have found half of the body of a girl, who is yet to be identified, while jogging through the Beacon Hills’ preserve. The Beacon County Department and the State Police are currently on the scene searching for the other half and perhaps for something that could lead them to solve this horrifying mystery…”

“Bryson, can you please just change the channel already?” Karen groaned from the other side of the couch. Her head was propped up on her hand and she looked like she was about to die of boredom soon.

Bryson ignored her.

“Since when are you even interested in watching the news?”

“Since there’s been a killer on the loose around Beacon Hills,” He answered without taking his eyes off the screen. "Honestly, Karen, aren't you the least bothered by this?”

“I'm more bothered by the fact that Jersey Shore is on right now and I'm missing it thanks to you. You have your own TV upstairs, you know.”

“You do, too!"

"Well, I want to use this one.”

"So do I—"

“Mom,” I called to her, loud enough so she could hear me from the kitchen. "they’re fighting, again!”

Seconds later, she appeared and stood behind the couch, drying her hands with a piece of white cloth and looking annoyed. "Are you guys seriously doing this right now? On pasta night? While I'm making Carbonara for all of you to enjoy?”

Karen and Bryson looked at each other for a brief moment. "We were just about to solve the issue, mom.” Bryson told her.

"Yeah," Karen added before glaring at me. "Penny just had to go and open her big dumb mouth.”

I raised my hands up in defense. "Look, I'm just trying to watch TV without you guys arguing over the stupidest thing for once.”

"Fine," she folded her arms across her chest. Through the corner of my eye, I saw mom rolling her eyes and walking back to the kitchen. I could’ve sworn I heard her mumbling something under her breath. "Then, maybe you should go to your room.”

"Yeah, and leave us alone, won’t you?” Bryson backed her up.

I stared at them in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I was here first!”

Both of them shrugged at the same time.

“And I'm the oldest.”

"Well, there’s two of us so if you sum up our ages we’re actually way older than you.” Bryson said. Karen was nodding in agreement, both of them looking like they’d just won a long-running debate.

Was this a twin thing, when one moment they were arguing over something so insignificant and the next they were just working together to go against their oldest sibling? If it was, then I guess I would never understand, but I was sure of something: it was fucking annoying.

“You know what? Fine,” I threw the cushion I was holding onto aside and stood up. "I'll leave before there’s a second killer on the loose.”

As lame as it sounded, that was what my life consisted of on a daily basis. It was never something interesting or new, but I had learned to live with it. I had to, or I probably would’ve gone insane by now.

When I found a random low budget horror movie while browsing through the internet, I threw myself on the bed and got comfortable. Twenty minutes into the movie, and my eyelids began to droop. Either the movie was too shitty for me to stay awake or it was getting late. Regardless, I tried my best to get through it… with no success.

Just as I was finally giving in to sleep, though, I heard a tapping on my window. Jumping on my spot by the sudden sound, I craned my head to take a better look. My first thought was that maybe I had imagined it; it seemed like the most logical thing.

The room was dark and the sky was too, but somehow I managed to make out the figure of someone staring back at me through the glass and my heart almost leaped out of my chest. I rubbed my eyes just in case I was just dreaming, and then I pinched myself for reassurance but even now when I was wide awake the figure was still there.

My body froze and my mind went completely blank; I did not know what to do. What would a person have to do in a situation like this? Could I try and crawl my way out of the room? Should I have made a run for it instead? Could I scream until someone came to the rescue? (Would they even rescue me?) Or could I just simply stay there and fight back?

All of those thoughts were running wild through my head and yet my body was still not responding.

The person tapped on the glass a few more times and I jumped once again. This time, I managed to stand up from my bed, slowly but surely. My eyes never left the figure in case they tried anything to break in, and even though I tried to stay strong my legs were shaking harder with every clumsy step that I took.

When I stood in the middle of the room, the face of the person became much clearer. It was a guy —someone I knew. Someone I knew very well, in fact.

He saw me  staring and waved, his white teeth sticking out in the darkness. I let out a breath that I didn't even realize I was holding and went to pause the movie. When I opened the window, I glared at him. "Scott, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

He was still grinning. "Visiting.”

"You know, a normal person would just knock on someone’s door instead of climbing up on their window and almost giving them a heart attack."

“This was easier, though.” He said, as I stepped aside to let him in.

I quirked a brow. "It’s easier to climb a window than to knock on a door?”

"Well, it got me to your room faster and it avoided me having to explain to your mom why I’m here at this hour and on such a short notice.” Scott sat down on the edge of my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to borrow your baseball bat.”

I stared at him blankly. "You came all the way to borrow my bat?”

"Mine’s not as sturdy." He explained before glancing at my computer screen, where the movie was still paused. " And I see you’re…. watching a crappy looking movie, where apparently the killer is a—" He did a double, furrowing his eyebrows. "—man in a bunny suit?"

"Yeah," I smiled and batted my eyelashes exaggeratedly. "Want to join me?"

He sighed dramatically as I opened the closet door, grabbing the baseball bat he was looking for. It was my special metal bat, used only for emergencies and drastic situations. It also worked for threats. ''It sounds very, very tempting, but we were just passing by. We can’t stay out for too long, anyways.''

I gave him a confused look while handing him the bat. "We?”

"Stiles is outside."

“Of course, I should’ve known,” I rolled my eyes. ''And why did you guys make plans without me?"

He shrugged. "We're just going to take a late night walk through the preserve. No big deal,  nothing interesting."

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Please don’t tell me that you guys are stupid enough to go and look for the missing body…”

Scott didn't say anything, but one look at him told me everything that I needed to know.

“Did Stiles come up with this idea?” I asked him.

He scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Maybe.”

I groaned. "How many times have I told you not to go through with what Stiles tells you?”

"We’ll only be looking for a few minutes, I promise.” He said quickly.

“There is something out there, Scott,” I argued. "A girl is missing half of her body—”

"But we’ll be fine,” Scott cut me off. "And besides, It’s not like we’re going to be alone, Stiles’ dad is also helping with the search.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and scoffed. "Yeah, and I'm sure that Sheriff Stilinski will really appreciate you and Stiles being there.”

“He will once we successfully locate the body.” He smiled proudly. I must’ve not looked too convinced still because he then grabbed me by the shoulders in a reassuring way. It sent an involuntary bolt of electricity all over my body.

I guess I forgot to mention that this is the cliché story of a girl who had a huge crush on her best friend. A crush that she has had on him since elementary school, but he had ever noticed because he was too much of an idiot.

“Trust me, please?” Scott said, looking at me with those sweet brown eyes that make me melt every single freaking time.

I sighed in defeat. "I... trust you. I don’t trust Stiles, though.”

He chuckled. "You love him.”

"Yeah, but trusting him is hard a lot of times.”

"Okay, but I’m not, right?” He smiled innocently.

I hesitated before saying, "Of course not.”

At the end of the day, however, both of them were equally as dumb in my eyes; I trusted neither of them when it came to making important decisions. Besides, they were boys.

“Good,” Scott said. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, then."

I gave a small shrug. ''Sure, It’s not like I’ll be doing anything else. Poor Penny will be here all alone, watching a movie about a killer bunny man, and then she’ll go to school tomorrow because she actually follows the rules and has a sense of logic.''

"Okay, now you’re just being dramatic.” He rolled his eyes and I laughed.

At that same time, a very familiar voice was heard from outside. ''Scott, hurry up, we're leaving!''

Scott looked out the window. "I'm coming!"

"That's the devil's voice, Scott, I’m telling you, you should not listen to it.”

“Again, dramatic,” He said after he turned back to me. ''I better go.''

I nodded. Whatever happened to them from that point forward would be their own fault. ''See you tomorrow... if you're not dead by then.''

"Yeah, okay," He chuckled, kissing my cheek. ''Bye, Penny.''

''Bye.''

And with one last smile, he stepped out of the room and climbed down, bat still in hand. When I looked out the window, Scott and Stiles were already out of sight. I sighed, reaching for the spot where his lips were still tingling in my skin. Scott would often do those little things —kiss my cheek, hold my hand, wrap an arm around my shoulders— where he had me questioning if maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. It would never get anywhere, though, but I still remained hopeful that in a future he would realize that he had feelings for me, too. It wouldn’t kill me being this hopeful, even after all these years, right?

Before heading back to bed, I made sure to close the curtains this time. I was not up for another jump scare, unless it was from the crappy movie that I was watching.

When I finally decided to resume watching it, I found it hard to concentrate due to the constant worrying going around in my head. I just hope they’re okay…

[gravityofforteana]

At a historic NASA briefing on UFOs — “unidentified anomalous phenomena” (UAP) in government parlance — a key Defense Department official made a striking disclosure. Dr. Sean Kirkpatrick, director of a new UAP analysis office, stated that U.S. military personnel are observing “metallic orbs” “all over the world.”

An image, along with two brief videos of such objects are now publicly available. 

According to Kirkpatrick, spherical objects account for the largest proportion — nearly half — of all UAP reports received by his office. Critically, some of these objects are capable of “very interesting apparent maneuvers.” 

To be sure, rigorous scientific analysis may ultimately identify a prosaic explanation for such observations. In the meantime, however, such “metallic orbs” are prima facie evidence of extraordinary technology. After all, how would spheres, lacking wings or apparent forms of propulsion, execute “maneuvers” of any kind? 

In his presentation, Kirkpatrick also described the UAP characteristics most frequently received by his office. This range of attributes, in short, amounts to a UAP profile that Kirkpatrick’s staff is “out hunting for.”

Intriguingly, this profile includes small (3 to 13 feet in diameter) “spherical” objects capable of flight at a range of velocities, from “stationary” to twice the speed of sound, despite a perplexing absence of “thermal exhaust” such as heat from an engine. Of particular note, as Kirkpatrick made clear, some of these highly anomalous characteristics are observed via multiple sensors. 

Former U.S. Navy fighter pilot Lt. Ryan Graves has described daily encounters with unidentified objects exhibiting characteristics strikingly similar to those described by Kirkpatrick. While training off the U.S. east coast in 2014-15, Graves and at least 50-60 fellow naval aviators observed unknown objects, frequently via multiple sensors, that remained stationary over the ground even in hurricane-force winds, or traveled at speeds faster than sound.

Although the aircrew rarely observed the objects visually, a harrowing near-midair collision marked the first time a naval aviator in Graves’s squadron had observed one of the objects at close range. According to the pilot, the object appeared as a dark-colored cube inside of a clear sphere. As if to confirm, Kirkpatrick noted at the NASA event that “translucent” spheres are among the most commonly reported UAP characteristics. 

Contemporaneous U.S. Navy “hazard reports” memorialize the exasperation of naval aviators and their commanders following the April 2014 near-collision. According to one such document, Graves’s squadron considered the spheres, which flew with impunity in tightly-controlled training airspace, a “critical risk” and “a severe threat to Naval Aviation.” A few days earlier, a separate hazard report described an unknown object, observed via both radar and infrared sensors, hovering motionless at “0.0 Mach,” much like the “stationary” spherical objects frequently reported to Kirkpatrick’s office. 

Similarly, a hazard report from the previous day describes two objects — both confirmed via radar and infrared sensors — hovering in place. However, in this incident, two other UAP fly past the stationary objects “at a high speed.” Graves’s exasperated squadron commander punctuates the report by stating that “it is only a matter of time before this results in a midair” collision.

Less than a month earlier, a hazard report filed in the same area by a different squadron describes an aircrew encountering “a small metallic object” “approximately the size of a suitcase,” matching, once again, the commonly-reported characteristics described by Kirkpatrick.

The squadron commander, similarly incensed by the dire flight safety risk posed by the frequent UAP encounters, wrote that “it may only be a matter of time before one of our F/A-18 aircraft has a mid-air collision.” 

While he had less flexibility to investigate after he deployed, Graves recalls observing similar anomalous radar contacts as his squadron moved to the Mediterranean Sea and the Persian Gulf. This is consistent with Kirkpatrick’s statement that such UAP are observed “all over the world.” 

A few years later, a test pilot flying in a nearby evaluation range told Graves of an encounter with one of the commonly reported objects. According to Graves, a spherical UAP was “just riding along with him,” about 30 feet from the aircraft, before it “zipped off.” A declassified report matching the general details of the incident describes a test pilot’s encounter with a “sphere.”

More recently, one of Graves’s former student pilots, along with a senior officer, observed one of the spheres. As Graves’s former student told him, “[The object] looked exactly like what you said, [a] cube in a sphere. They’re still here.” 

Importantly, the spheres are associated with one of the best-known UAP encounters.

The 2015 “Gimbal” video is arguably the most recognizable publicly available UAP footage. Recorded at the end of a complex pre-deployment training mission, Graves recalls that the “Gimbal” UAP flew in a loose formation with a “fleet” of four to six objects which, based on their perplexing radar signatures, resembled the objects observed daily by aviators off the East Coast. 

During the post-mission debrief, a thorough review of the sensor data from the “Gimbal” incident “left a crowd of fascinated intelligence officers and aircrew” perplexed enough to summon the highest ranking officer aboard the aircraft carrier. The admiral, exasperated by the frequent UAP incursions into the carrier’s airspace, and the “Gimbal” incident in particular, reported the incident to the Office of Naval Intelligence. 

Moreover, during the recent briefing by NASA’s Independent Study Team, a panel member mathematically analyzed the “GoFast” UAP video. Such open, transparent academic engagement with noteworthy UAP incidents is a much-welcome development.

Importantly, by virtue of its connection to the “Gimbal” incident, the “GoFast” video has a plausible link to the anomalous spherical UAP observed frequently by naval aviators. 

“GoFast” was recorded hundreds of miles offshore, just 10 minutes prior to the “Gimbal” incident, and by the same aircrew. While the NASA study team member who analyzed the video employed basic trigonometry to conclude that the cold, sphere-like “GoFast” object was traveling relatively slowly (about 40 miles per hour), citizen scientists — UFO skeptics and “agnostics” alike — have created three-dimensional models that recreate the effect of the strong winds that evening.