#but I don’t think I could learn any more than that

[thunderingreign]

The solution is to build up power inside our local communities outside of capitalism by getting involved with (or starting) an organization seeking to do that. We have to look to Leftist organizers for guidance. We have to look to historical Leftist strikes, resistances, and rebellions and learn from them, critically sifting through the actions of the past in order to not make the same mistakes.

“Be A Revolution: How Everyday People are Changing the World and You Can Too” by Ijeoma Oluo is an AWESOME book to read if you are feeling hopeless, drained, or are looking for how to start. One thing Oluo helped me with was realizing how capitalist-fucked my imagination was— every solution I could think of was a half-measure and I always felt overwhelmingly unsatisfied at the progress that my imagined solution could affect. Once you realize how powerful imagination is, you realize how we need to weaponize it as a means of deradicalizing people out of the death cults of fascism and capitalism, and you realize just how possible that really is. The first thing you’ll need to do when organizing is convincing other people to have hope— which is to imagine a better future.

Oluo also relays a LOT of accounts of how specific people went about starting organizations in response to the terrible conditions they were experiencing. There are men who are working against the patriarchy in prison— teaching their fellow men about how they’ve been trapped in a cage of toxic masculinity before ever being imprisoned. There are people dedicated to teaching about hierarchy and the functions of oppression. I haven’t finished it yet but the accounts I’ve read so far have changed everything for me.

So, what can you do?

First off:

Take care of yourself. You matter in so many ways to the cause— more than what you can do to make change, you are a beacon for people around you. You are a lover, a friend, a comrade. We must care for ourselves because we are loved and valued and losing us will only add to the despair people are already contending with. We must remind ourselves and each other that people are relying on us and not better off if we’re gone.

Focus on the humanity of the people around you. Are you surrounded by republicans? Focus on your mutual interests and don’t assert your differences— people will work with you while still calling themselves conservatives, so take advantage of that. You don’t have to be friends with everyone in the movement, even if having friends already engaging in direct action makes it way easier to do so yourself. Remember our goal is not ideological purity— it’s affecting change and change is all about numbers.

Keep moving further Left and continue questioning authority. These problems have been going on for hundreds of years, and they were never going to be solved by a system that exists to arbitrarily prevent people from access to human needs. We must look to the people who have already been in the fight rather than continue deferring to politicians.

If you’re able:

Volunteer at any local organization that is providing food or shelter— even if they are conservative, volunteer. Having that volunteer experience can help you see how those organizations are structured and who in your community is being failed by them.

Start an org for needs that aren’t being met in your local community. Start as small as you can, even as simple as starting a community garden in your backyard. It will snowball if it is helping people.

Find a spot to set up a free store. We all have stuff we don’t need anymore, instead of selling it or giving it to a thrift store, give it away to someone.

Print posters and zines and hand them out outside of high schools. We need to be engaging in tactics that work to bring young people further left and a part of that is simply informing them.

And since this is not a comprehensive list, continue seeking out radical solutions from authors and activists who have dedicated their whole life to studying and explaining. Look to the people who have been doing grass-roots organizing for years.

If you’re disabled:

spread information about how oppression functions and how to organize an assembly— you can explain to people who don’t have the time to study or who have a learning disability that make it difficult to parse the thousands of words that are used in explanation. Synthesizing info so that it is accessible to all is CRITICAL

start an artist coalition with friends and make provocative art that makes people think twice about all this shit. People are not aware of what their options are. They are also just trying to survive under capitalism.

share your knowledge on essential skills with your friends (gardening, opsec/infosec, conflict resolution, etc.) There are people who are working in these orgs that could use the expertise that you have.

Books on my TBR that could be helpful:

They Will Beat the Memory Out of Us: Forcing Nonviolence on Forgetful Movements by Peter Gelderloos

The Solutions are Already Here: Strategies for Ecological Revolution from Below by Peter Gelderloos

Beyond Cop Cities: Dismantling State and Corporate-Funded Armies and Prisons edited by Joy James

Renters Unite: How Tenant Unions Are Fighting the Housing Crisis by Jacob Stringer

Against Technoableism: Rethinking Who Needs Improvement by Ashley Shew

Let This Radicalize You: Organizing and the Revolution of Reciprocal Care by Mariame Kaba, Kelly Hayes, Maya Schenwar

Surviving the Future: Abolitionist Queer Strategies by Shuli Branson, Raven Hudson, Bry Reed

We Do This 'Til We Free Us: Abolitionist Organizing and Transforming Justice by Mariame Kaba, Tamara K Nopper, Naomi Murakawa

Becoming Abolitionists: Police, Protests, and the Pursuit of Freedom by Derecka Purnell

Unbuild Walls: Why Immigrant Justice Needs Abolition by Silky Shah, Amna A Akbar

A People's Guide to Abolition and Disability Justice by Katie Tastrom

is this fucking SATIRE??????????????????????

[beloveds-embrace]

I’m not sure if you’re taking anymore requests but can you do poly141 who finds a small fairy reader? Mystical reader so little she fits in their hands?

Tiny baby reader… yes. Fair warning i wrote this while sleepy and tired and i completely forgot to add in when reader learns their name 😭 sorry for any more mistakes!

The forest was unusually quiet, blanketed in mist that made every breath feel cool and crisp. It was the kind of morning that seemed unremarkable, easy to forget. They walked carefully along the narrow path, hunting gear packed away in favor of simple jackets and quiet conversation. Retirement had given them, once a formidable task force, the luxury of slow days, but old habits died hard; their senses remained keen, always searching for any change in the air.

And that’s when they saw it- a flicker of light, faint and trembling, deep within a thicket. It could have been a trick of the morning sun, but they hadn’t survived as long as they have by chalking up everything strange, unusual think to happenstance.

“Careful.” John murmured, voice low and commanding. They nodded, pushing through the brush with quiet purpose and carefulness, until the glimmer came into focus.

There, tangled in a web of thin brambles, was something neither war nor time had ever prepared them for- a tiny, shimmering, actually-real fairy, no larger than the palm of a hand. Your wings, gossamer-thin and glowing with iridescent light, fluttered weakly as you tried to free you. You turned your head, eyes wide and filled with a mix of fear and exhaustion, and they all felt their breath catch.

Soap was the first to recover. “Bloody hell,” he whispered, his voice tinged with awe. He took a cautious step forward, hands up as if approaching a skittish animal. He couldn’t believe his eyes, but you are real. You are actually real. “Hey now, it’s okay. We’re not gonna hurt ya.”

The fairy- you -watched him warily, but there was a flicker of hope in your gaze. Gaz crouched next to Johnny, brows furrowed. “We need to get her out of there,” he said, his voice gentle. “Quickly.”

Johnny nodded, already reaching into his pack for a small knife. “Don’t move, all right, wee one? We’ll get you free.” He kept his movements slow, mindful of how fragile you seemed. With careful precision, he began cutting away the brambles, each snip bringing a little more freedom and a little more light. Price and Ghost kept watch over them, cautious still but not really that worried considering your size.

When you were finally free, you collapsed, too weak to stay upright. Gaz caught you, cradling you in his hands as if you were made of glass. “You’re safe now.” he murmured, his eyes soft. He could feel the faint warmth of your glow against his skin, like holding a tiny ember. More proof that you are real, even if it seemed so impossible.

Your wings twitched, and with a shaky breath, you looked up at them. “Thank…you,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a sweet chime in the wind.

“You are talking,” Soap breathed, a childlike wonder lighting up his face. “You talk.” It makes you giggle just a little, if you are honest with yourself. Your wings attempt to flutter behind you, but they are not Quite Right. You shift on your feet, visibly unsure now.

John stepped closer, his gaze warm but measured, and bent down so his face was at the same level as your body. “Easy there. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?” His thumb, calloused from years of wielding weapons, gently brushed a stray leaf from your hair. He had to be extra careful, extra slow so as to not alarm you, and then holds his hand out for you to step into. “Your wings aren’t moving right, are they? We can help you.”

You shake your head slowly to his first question, looking away from his eyes. You’d never really approached humans before… always too big and scary, but there four were nice, at the very least. You and your unique magic couldn’t sense anything particularly bad from them, so that’s why you hadn’t immediately tried to fly far, far away from them.

You lean into John’s touch, sitting down and holding onto his thumbs for stability. You do know out of all of them, you still haven’t heard the masked one speak, just felt him bore his gaze at you, but you don’t care. “Where… are we going?” You ask instead.

“Near our cottage,” Price said, voice low and soothing. “Not far. We can bring you there, get you warm and fed, and you can let your wings rest there.”

You nodded slowly, exhaustion overcoming you. John held you close while they comtinued walking back. As you rested, your glow dimmed to a soft warmth that seeped into his palms and made them glow, a quiet reminder of your presence. The journey back was filled with silent glances- each man marveling at the fact that something so otherworldly, so impossibly delicate, had chosen to trust them.

When they arrived at the cottage, Soap carefully laid out a small, soft cloth on the table, creating a makeshift bed for you to rest one while Kyle thought you’d enjoy having a different option, so he placed a leafy pot nearby for yoh. Ghost silently set a thimble of water nearby while John stirred a pot on the stove, filling the room with a comforting aroma. You drank slowly, savoring every drop and feeling strength return to your body, to your wings.

“Better?” Ghost asked you at last, voice low, his eyes never leaving you. You nodded, a grateful smile breaking across your face despite the hints of fear caused by his mask. You didn’t see it, but there was a collective untensing of shoulders, worry lessening.

Over the next few hours, you spoke in halting words, telling them of the storm that had torn through the woods and separated you from your kin. They listened with full attention, not interrupting you. Kyle even offered you a finger to lean on when you shivered a little, reminded of the pain while you recounted your tale. But after that, you continue your rest, now the one asking them questions and learning who they are.

By evening, you were still nestled in the soft, makeshift bed near the fire, your wings catching the flickering light. As you drifted into a peaceful sleep, your light grew stronger- very content in your warm spot, and feeling safe and secure from wild animals and the weather outside. Occasionally, you feel different hands and fingers brush across your head, and each time it makes you let out a happy squeak, uncaring for the conversations happening in the background.

You wonder if they’d let you stay with them…

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven

NOTE: This chapter is about twice as long as normal. Thank you!

[CHAPTER SIX]

"Jordan, wake up!" I hear Hannah yelling through the bedroom door, pounding on it hard enough to break it. In a panic, I roll out of bed, hitting the ground with a thud.

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" I cry out, scrambling for the door. I pull it open quickly, fearing for a millisecond I'd ripped it off it's hinges. In front of me is Hannah with a shy grin on her face. Next to her is Beth, holding a large plate stacked with pancakes. My jaw drops. I'm speechless.

"Good morning sleepyhead," Hannah says meekly. She very much understands she nearly killed me with her wake up call.

"What the fuck?" I groan, rubbing my eyes. "Is this how you normally wake people up?"

"With pancakes?" Beth offers, holding out the plate to me. I scoff, shake my head, and sigh heavily.

"Everyone else is downstairs," Hannah says, taking a pancake directly off of Beth's plate and handing it to me. I take it and take a bite. It's a good pancake.

"Who made these?" I sigh, motioning for the girls to enter my room so I could get dressed. They close the door behind them.

"We did, and Josh supervised." I rubbed my temples from the hangover that began to creep it's way into my consciousness. I hadn't even noticed it with the adrenaline roaring through me. As I crouch down to my bag, Hannah and Beth both set themselves onto the bed.

"How was your night? You guys were laughing, like, the entire time. We heard you from upstairs!" Beth says. I shrug.

"It was good, from what I remember." I admit. Slowly, the memories had started trickling back into my head. The porch, the couch.

Joshua.

My face starts to redden immediately as I think about it. The smell of his clothes, laying in the snow, his head in my lap.

"Did you get wasted?" Hannah asks. I can hear her eating.

"Feels like I did," I admit with a small chuckle. "My head is starting to hurt."

"Smart of you to leave water and aspirin next to your bed," she replies. I furrow my eyebrows in confusion as I pull out a pair of jeans, a dark blue turtleneck sweater, and a pair of thick black socks.

"What?" I look up, and knowing, evil smiles start to creep onto their faces. They are more like their scheming brother than I thought. I stand up and change as Hannah reaches over to the pills and water.

"No note," Hannah sighs as she hands them to me.

"Why would there be a note?" I ask defensively. "I probably put them there and don't remember." I take the items from Hannah and down them.

"Or somebody else put them there."

"Ok guys," I start, putting my hands up. "I can tell you're scheming. I know your brother, you've got the same look he does when he's about to throw paper at my head." They snicker a little at this.

"Josh totally has a thing for you," Beth whispers. I raise my eyebrows. "And we think you guys would be super cute together."

"I don't think so, girls. To either of those things," I gulp, walking quickly for the door. Beth is quickly able to block me, standing in front of it. "He's made my life hell for most of my life. Isn't just getting along enough?"

"We saw you guys outside yesterday," Hannah beams. She appears as if she can barely contain her excitement and she pushes up her glasses. "Just rolling around in the snow... On top of each other."

"We were drunk!" I defend, nearly yelling. "Now can we please go downstairs?"

"Are you claustrophobic?"

"What??"

"Nevermind." Beth steps aside, and I hesitate. I take a deep sigh before slowly turning back around.

"What makes you think he feels that way about me?" I ask. Both girls look at each other with smug smiles on their faces, and I roll my eyes.

"Well, for one, the amount of attention he's given you over the years is incredible," Beth starts. "Maybe not the attention anybody would've liked-"

"Not that we're excusing it." Hannah chimes in.

"Right. Bullying is wrong and he's an asshole for what he's done to you over the years. But for the entirety of our lives that he's known you, he's perked up at the mention of you." I raise my eyebrows again and place my hands on my hips, waiting for them to continue.

"Every time Chris was over, somehow you were always brought up, even after you changed schools."

"I think you guys are bullshitting me," I laugh. There was no way.

"I can almost guarantee he knows things about you that you wouldn't think he does," Hannah says. They finally start making their way towards me and the door to exit to the kitchen. "You'll see." I roll my eyes and sigh.

"Whatever."

"Don't worry, Jordan, we'll take care of it." I don't like the sound of that at all. As soon as the door is open, Hannah and Beth rush past me. When I get to the kitchen, I see Josh, Chris, and Matt talking.

"Good morning," I greet. As soon as Josh sees me, a red dusts his cheeks. He averts his eyes, looking at the ground. A smile tugs at my lips for a moment. Does he remember?

"Good morning, cousin." Chris says in a sing-song voice. Matt smiles and nods in greeting. Everyone else was scattered around, Emily, Mike, and Jess on the couch, Josh, Chris, Matt, and I in the kitchen, and the twins go to the dining room table to sit with Sam and Ashley.

"Mornin'," Josh nods. Chris squints his eyes, looking between Josh and I.

"Forgive the attitude, Josh woke up mad hungover." Chris explains.

"You didn't?" Matt asks, grabbing a plate of half eaten pancakes that I can only assume is his and continuing to eat.

"Nah, never had a hangover in my life," he brags, pushing his un-styled hair back. It pokes upward as it would normally would, but the bedhead was severe, making him look more like Guy Fieri than my cousin. As I go to the massive plate of pancakes on the counter, Josh walks up next to me to get some, himself.

"How did you sleep?" He mumbled, his voice low. I hum as I consider my answer.

"I slept fine," I answer. I grabbed three pancakes, spreading butter across each one. I hesitate before what I say next. "Thank you for the pain killers and the water."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Josh says, a smile tugging at his lips. The same as the day before out on the balcony, he was standing shoulder to shoulder with me as we decorated our breakfast.

"Right, I forget you're pure evil." I chuckle.

"Just the worst." he responds. We look at each other, just standing and smiling like fools. Chris slaps his hand hard on Josh's shoulder, knocking the air out of his friend and snapping us out of it.

"You guys seemed to have sorted out your differences," Chris coo's, shoving himself between us and draping his arms over our shoulders. Josh looks frustrated, his common intense stare now aimed at his best friend. "I'm so proud of you guys." I laugh, and Josh's expression softens.

"Yes, Cochise, your roll as best friend is officially revoked and now given to Jordan," he teases. Chris gasps and releases us from his loose embrace, allowing us to actually eat our breakfast.

We eat in a comfortable silence. The ambience of the warm fire crackling in the living room and the gorgeous view of the snow falling slowly outside of the windows allows for a comfortable environment. This is the most comfort and acceptance in a group I've felt in a long time, if not for the first time.

"Alright party people," Beth starts, everyone else following behind her. "Group meeting in the kitchen."

"Oh, yay, my favorite." Emily says sarcastically. Everyone ignores her as Beth continues on.

"What do we want to do today?"

"We could go on a hike." Sam suggests. Jess looks at her in terror.

"In this weather?" she gasps.

"If you wear the right clothes it's really not that bad."

"For Ms. One-With-Nature, maybe."

"Do you still have those skis and snowboards up here, Josh?" Mike asks. Matt perks up.

"Yeah, sure, but I don't think anybody here is professional enough to navigate the trails here," Josh answers. "We could use the outdoor hot tub."

"And freeze to death as soon as I leave the water??" Ashley scoffs. "No thank you!"

The group continues to babble, throwing out ideas left and right of what we wanted to do today. As it was my first time at the lodge, I figure it would be better if I stayed out of this conversation - especially because I just don't know what there is, here. I listen in. Sam, Matt, and Mike are suggesting more strenuous and physical activities, Chris suggesting things like a snowball war, the others suggest more indoor activities. The twins and Josh say nothing other than confirming the possibility of the activity being a choice at all.

It appeared that "snowball war" was tied with "massive indoor blanket and pillow fort."

"C'mon, guys, it's winter! When was the last time we played in the snow?" Josh asks excitedly. He's waving his arms around as he speaks. I'm not sure I've ever seen him want something so bad.

"When was the last time you've made a pillow fort?" Ashley asks. As they continue their debate, I can't help but notice that Hannah and Mike were missing. I glance around, but they're nowhere to be seen. My eyes land on Emily. Her expression is that of fake interest in the conversation, trying to hide what I could tell she really felt. I never thought that I would see worry in her eyes. She makes eye contact with me, but instead of making a scene, she averts her eyes and turns around, heading towards the bathroom. For a split second I swear I saw tears in her eyes.

"Snowball fight wins the vote!" Chris cheers, he and Josh chest bump and I nearly jump out of my skin at the sudden interruption to my thoughts. "Everybody gets ready and we'll meet outside." As we disperse, I go in the direction that Emily had. I get to the bathroom, where I assumed she went, and gently knock.

"Go away!" Emily hisses. I can hear her sniffling.

"Snowball fight is the winner." I say softly. I'm pressed lightly against the door, wanting to hear anything she might say.

"Okay, great! Then go do that and leave me alone." There's a long beat of silence, the only sound being toilet paper ripping off the roll and what I assume is Emily blowing her nose. "I know you're still out there."

"Are you ok?" I ask. Silence again, and a sniffle.

"Yeah, I'm... Fine," she answers, her tone much softer now.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not with you." she scoffs. I sigh and let off the door. As I do, it opens. Emily, shorter than I am, looks up at me, her mascara streaming down her face and smudged badly.

"You look like shit." I state. She laughs and steps aside for me to step in, closing the door behind me.

"Are you gonna make fun of me?" Emily questions, leaving against the sink and crossing her arms.

"For what?" she looks at me like I'm stupid. "You haven't even told me what you're crying about yet. Not much to work with." She laughs again, softly. A smile tugs at my lips, a sort of pride swelling in my chest at making her smile, let alone laugh.

Twice.

"It's just..." Emily looks down, shaking her head like she can't believe herself. "Mike."

"What did he do?"

"He -" she cuts herself off and looks up at the ceiling, blinking tears away as if her makeup wasn't already ruined. "He keeps entertaining other girls, I don't know. I know you noticed he and Hannah are nowhere to be seen. They were out on the balcony earlier." I slowly set myself down next to her. She doesn't move, so I hesitantly reach up and place my hand on her back. I can feel her tense up before settling under my touch.

"I'm sorry, Emily." I offer, unsure of what to say.

"Hannah and I have been friends for so long, I thought she would have some kind of respect for me," Emily gulps. "After all I've done for her."

"I don't know what to say." she lets out an airy laugh at my statement. All I know how to do is to continue to rub circles onto her back through her thin sweater.

"Listening is enough, or... whatever," she sighs, leaning into me and laying her head on my shoulder. For a moment, I considered pinching myself. We sit there together in a comfortable silence aside from the last sniffles of heartbreak from Emily.

"We can fuck them up with snowballs," I offer quietly. I didn't want anyone to start looking for Emily - I was almost certain she was missed. "You can spit on them or put ice chunks inside." Emily rolls her eyes, but she's smiling as she pushes herself off of the bathroom counter.

"Encouraging me to split people's lips with ice is a cruelty I never expected to hear from you, Jordy." I narrow my eyes at the rather cringeworthy nickname. "It's a nice refresher."

"Do you want me to help you with cleaning up your makeup?" I ask, opening the cabinets in search of makeup wipes. "It's smudged to all hell."

"It's a smoky eye, genius," Emily retorts. I scoff at her as I find the wipes I knew Beth kept in here. "Ever see it before?"

"You're not rocking it, girlfriend." I state in a mildly mocking tone. She quirks her eyebrow at me and in her eyes is something different when she looks at me. It looks like approval - respect, even, but with Emily I knew it could never be that easy.

"Jordan." She commands as she sits on the lid of the toilet and waits for me to clean her up. I snap my head to her. She spoke with such authority, I wasn't sure what to do other than pay attention. As our eyes meet, Emily looks away with a sudden shyness and embarrassment.

"Emily?"

"Thank you."

----------

I stand at the door, looking outside at my acquaintances as they chatter. I was as dressed for the winter as I could be - which wasn't enough. I hesitated in leaving the warmth of the lodge despite knowing I would only have fun.

"Don't just stand there, let's go." Emily goads, pushing past me and pulling open the door, causing me to stumble. She's cleaned up and dressed fashionably, and I suppose she's back to her old self. I can't help but smile, though. I'm just glad she feels better. I sigh before following behind.

"There you are," Josh says as he spots me. His gaze completely passes over Emily, who is directly in his line of sight. Of course, she notices and turns around to smirk at me with an eyebrow raised. I can only shrug in response. "Now we can get started!" I bury my nose in my hoodie, Mr. Winter already biting at my face.

"What are the rules, good sir!?" Chris shouts in a terrible noble accent. He's already in the snow, using his feet to push up a pile for cover like he did when we were children. Say what you want about Chris, but when it came to snowball fights? He didn't play around.

"Why, thank you for asking, my good man!" Josh responds, his accent better but not by much. "No ice, in the snow! We don't want a single fatality on this battle field!" He paces forward as if he were a drill instructor, holding his hands behind his back and looking straight ahead. I can see Matt and Mike rush to follow Chris's lead in making their own shields. "Do try to avoid headshots!" Josh stops and turns around quickly before pacing ahead. "FINALLY!!"

"Get on with it, Josh," Sam scolds, folding her arms. I can tell she's eager to begin and her patience was running thin from being cooped up indoors.

"If you're hit above the belt, three times, you're OUT!!" He continues, ignoring Sam aside from a glance. He stops, finally standing still and facing towards those of as that hadn't already started our defenses. "Are we clear?!"

"Sir, yes sir!" I shout, saluting him. Nobody else does the same, and I feel embarrassed. Is nobody else funny or am I just that lame? Josh beams at me, and my concerns suddenly cease. My heart rate rises.

"5 MINUTES TO PREPARE!" He shouts. As the remaining group disperses, Josh hurries over to me, looking me up and down with a concerned look on his face. "Where's your coat?"

"It was stolen at the station," I mumble. "This hoodie is all I've got. It's plenty warm." He sighs and opens his mouth to say something.

"Jordan, Josh! Come here, come here, team up with me!" Chris whisper shouts. As Josh and I rush over to the now massive wall Chris had pushed up, I glance over across the other side of the yard. Matt, Jess, and Sam hurriedly make their pile. Jess is grinning from ear to ear as she tosses fluffy snow onto the top of their wall, contributing near nothing while Sam and Matt pack the snow in as tight as possible.

In another corner, Ashley, Mike, Emily and Beth do the same - minus Emily. She's crouched down with the others, but by the look on her face I can tell she's not enthused about putting her gloveless hands into the freezing snow. Finally, Hannah and Ashley practically bury themselves in the thick blanket of weather as if hiding themselves. I can't help but snicker at their fear as Mike shouts.

"WAR!!" He immediately throws a fat snowball at Matt's pile. Matt turns to look, and unluckily enough, gets hit directly in the center of his face.

"Fuck!! I thought we said no headshots!!" He goes down. Jess squeals in fear and excitement. Snowballs start flying everywhere. Josh, to my right, made snowballs and packed them as tightly and as spherical as he could, making a pyramid of ammo for Chris. I move in between Chris and Josh, hoping for both protection and a little bit of warmth.

"Load!" Chris shouts. I take a snowball from the pile of 'ammo' and place it into Chris's hands.

"Dude, where are your gloves?" I ask. He throws, and just before he can hide again he's hit in the shoulder.

"THAT'S ONE!!" Jess shouts excitedly. I peer over the snowfort to see her jumping up and down before Matt and Sam pull her down, just barely avoiding the wrath of Michael Munroe and Emily Davis.

"Shit, I can't believe Jess got a hit on me," Chris grumbles. I giggle as I hand him another snowball. He throws it again, and I hear Mike shout.

"You're sure you're not too cold?" Josh suddenly asks, holding a loose pile of snow in both of his hands. I look at him over my shoulder and I'm shocked to be met with what seemed like genuine concern.

"Yes, I'm sure," I assure. I'm lying, though. I wanted to ask him to let me use his coat again so badly, to bury myself in it's warmth and his smell. I shudder at the thought of being so affectionate towards him. He may soon be a friend, if the kindness continues on, but I didn't want to admit yet that I'd grown so fond of him and the things about him so quickly after I'd hated him so passionately. I turn back around and hand Chris another load before feeling Josh's arm press against mine, sitting shoulder to shoulder with me. He's so, so warm - and I think he knows this.

"THAT'S TWO!" I hear Jess cheer as Chris's glasses are knocked off of his face.

"Fuck!" Chris hisses, wiping the snow from his face. "Shit, that's so -" another hit to the back of the head interrupts him.

"YOU'RE OUT!!" Sam boasts. I peer over the diminishing cover to see who had retreated back into the lodge in defeat. Josh, Sam, Mike and I were the only ones left, Jess actively walking up the stairs as she'd just gotten 'out'. Ashley and Hannah had gotten bombarded almost immediately after the match had started, so I was unsurprised to see them on the porch, huddled together for warmth. Aside from that, I notice that Emily and Jess are whispering to each other, glancing at Hannah and Mike. I furrow my eyebrows before getting blasted in the shoulder.

"Holy shit!" I hiss. Mike threw hard.

"Hey, man, cool it!" Josh shouts as I lay behind the nearly completely destroyed wall of snow.

"Sorry!" Mike returned. I feel another one hit me. Josh kneels next to my dying form.

"Josh, I..." I start dramatically, grabbing at his shirt. "I can't go on..."

"No, c'mon Jordan, don't do this to me! We're gonna make it, okay? We can still win! There's two of us and one each of them!" I hear Sam groan in displeasure as Mike defeats her swiftly. "One of them!" Josh corrects himself. I laugh, and he ducks to barely avoid getting hit.

"I'll distract him, you go in for the kill," I whisper. Josh nods, and I let go of his shirt.

"Godspeed, pilgrim," he says. I roll over to my hands and knees, crawling - rather clumsily - out of the little cover I had.

"Not smart, are you Jordan?" Mike calls out, launching snow at me. I drop to the ground, barely dodging it. "Pure luck!"

"How much life you got left in you, Mike?" I shout back, getting back up and running, crouched, to the depleted cover Matt had built up. Unlike the others, who were now huddled together and speaking in whispers, Matt, Hannah, and Beth sat on the stairs and watched us, cheering. Matt looked stressed out, as well, as if his favorite team was close to losing.

"Hit me twice and you've bested me!" Mike calls. I manage to dodge another of his throws. As I bend down, I scoop up my own snowball and throw, barely bothering to aim. The weak snowball splits into multiple pieces, but the majority still hits him.

"THERE'S ONE!" Matt shouts. I nearly jump out of my boots. I've never seen Matt so energetic and passionate about anything before. "ONE MORE, ONE MORE, LET'S GO!" As Mike aims to throw at me again, he's hit in the chest by Joshua. Mike falls dramatically, sticking out his tongue and crossing his arms as he fell backwards to his death.

Instead of walking to Mike, Josh walks to me and helps me up. As I grin at him, he presses a snowball to my chest.

"You are dead, and victory is mine." He states, patting my shoulder. My jaw drops, and I can hear Matt and Mike laughing.

"You betrayed me, just like that?" I frown. Josh says nothing, opting instead to lean down by my ear so no one else could hear him.

"Let's get in the lodge and get you warm." He pats me on the shoulder again before walking past me and into the lodge. I huff, crossing my arms in annoyance. Some things never change. Once we're back inside, I glance at the clock. We'd been out there for a little over an hour and a half.

"Who wants hot chocolate?" Beth asks in a sing song voice. She motions towards the counter, where there was a line of steaming hot chocolates and a large, clear bowl of tiny marshmallows. I stay behind as the rest of the group crowds the counter. Josh stands with me.

"Have you spoken to my sisters this morning?" He asks, bumping his hip into mine.

"Some. Why?" I return the hit.

"I think they're scheming something." He hums. We continue hip-bumping back and forth.

"They are Washingtons, after all," I grin, dodging his last hit and going to the hot drinks. They smelled so, so good. I grab my cup and step back, my back bumping into Josh's chest. He grabs my hips gently to hold me steady as he puts his mouth next to my ear, just as he did moments before outside.

"I think they're trying to get us together," he surmises. "They're even looking at us right now." I glance up at the twins as Josh backs up a little. He was right. "Just watch out. We might get tied together, or something when we least expect it."

----------

The night is an odd one.

As soon as the sun began to set, drinks were reintroduced to the group. Unlike the night before, however, everyone was sipping rather than chugging. There's an odd tension in the air. Nearly everyone had been shooting suspicious glances at one another for the entire evening, Emily and Jess being the worst. They just kept whispering. Sam was the biggest give-away that something was afoot, her expression one of guilt and confusion. Whenever I'd tried to pry, though, I was turned away until eventually the majority had sauntered off to somewhere else.

Josh, Chris, the twins and I sat in the living room together, red solo cups with our names written on them scattered across the large coffee table. On the television, commercials no one paid attention to were running. At this moment, the man on screen was attempting to sell a non stick copper pan.

Hannah and Beth sat on either side of me. Beth wore black leggings, a thin grey sweater, and her fuzzy beanie to match, while Hannah was dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt.

"I never noticed your tattoo," I point out, poking the design on Hannah's right shoulder. "You like butterflies?" Her face grows red as she nods and smiles, tucking her hair behind her ear. I narrow my eyes at her. What kind of a response was that? Chris and Josh bantered about some video game as Hannah and Beth began to attempt a confession from me.

"Do you like him too?"

"Do you think he's cute?"

"Would you kiss him if you got the chance?"

I grow more and more frustrated with each question, tired of repeating myself. With each 'no' and 'stop asking,' the anger continued to build inside my chest. Eventually, I stand up.

"Okay, guys, that's enough. I told you no and to leave it alone." Chris and Josh stop to look at me, the twins looking embarrassed themselves.

I don't think Josh was disgusting or anything. Unfortunately, in fact, I have continued to think the opposite as we to spend more time together. But the lack of boundaries that the twins seemed to respect had pushed me to my limits, despite their seemingly good intentions. A wave of embarrassment washes over me as they stare. Hannah and Beth are smiling, still, and the embarrassment is replaced again by anger.

"I'm going to go lay down, I think," I decide, taking a deep breath. I downed the rest of my drink quickly, setting it back down onto it's coaster rather harshly. Other than Josh, the others begin to protest. Instead of asking me to stay out, have more to drink, he stared up at me like a puppy. For some reason, that was what made me want to stay the most.

That look.

"Just a nap, just a nap," I promise as I walk towards the stairs, waving my hand over my shoulder dismissively. As fun as everything had been, my social battery and tolerance for other people had been shrinking exponentially. A part of me couldn't wait to go home.

I get to my room, flopping down onto the bed and groaning, kicking the bed. I love the twins, I really do, but the lack of boundaries and acceptance of the word 'no' was concerning and uncomfortable, to say the least. I start to drift off to sleep quickly.

Josh has been kind to me. Caring, even. I replay our interactions of the weekend over and over again in my head. He'd said it was because I was friends with his sisters and his best friend, but was that really the only reason? Kindness by association? My face grows hot when I remember the couch, his hand resting on my neck, the way he looked at me, leaning in to kiss me.

I thought he had a thing for Sam.

Just as I'm about to fade out into dreams, there's a gentle, barely audible knock on the door.

"Go away." I groan, burying my face into one of the soft feather pillows. I didn't want to see anybody right now.

"It's Josh."

"...come in."

I take my face out of the pillow to watch him. The door creaks open slowly, opening just enough for Josh to slip through. He closes it behind him as if sneaking in.

"Don't worry, I think we're in the clear. My parents are asleep," I joke. He rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. "What's with the smug face?"

"You told me to go away until you knew it was me," he says. I sit up and scoot to sit on the side of the bed, Josh coming to sit next to me. He sat close, our shoulders pressed together as usual. "I think you're starting to like me, J."

"Why did you come in here?" I ask, ignoring what he said. He chuckles.

"I wanted to check on you, is all," Josh answers. "I'm sorry about the girls, they're convinced we're meant for each other now that we're not... battling." I nod slowly as if in understanding, but all I can think about is how good he smells and how warm he is.

"It's just annoying, I guess," I shrug. "My boundaries mean a lot to me, I don't like when any of them are crossed." Josh says nothing. There's a sound at the door followed by girlish giggling, and Josh stands up quickly, his eyes wide.

"They didn't..." he says, marching to the door and grabbing the handle and shaking it wildly. "Goddamn it!"

"What? What is it?" I ask, growing worried.

"They locked us in."

"They what?" I nearly shriek, standing up with him. "What kind of door locks from the outside!?"

"It's a trick we used to do when we were kids," Josh explains as he continues to shake the handle. "There are these things that let you lock a door from the outside, it's kind of hard to explain." I scoff, pressing myself against the door.

"Hannah, Beth," I start. "Chris! Let us out! Please!?"

"In a bit!" one of the twins responds. I can't tell who is speaking through the door, their voices identical as their faces.

"I am not happy, you guys," I state. We hear them walk away hurriedly, and Josh sighs. I turn to him. "What do we do?"

"I guess we wait."

"...I don't like being trapped." I murmur, barely loud enough for him to hear me. I hold myself as if I'll fall apart. Josh looks at me with an expression I can't pinpoint. Fear? Regret? I don't have any issues with being in a small room or in any room at all - as long as I can leave at any time. I sit back onto the bed.

"Is that..." Josh starts. I look up at him. His expression is embarrassed and remorseful. "Is that because of me?"

"...yeah." I admit. Josh had locked me into lockers at least once a year when I was small enough to fit inside. I would scream and cry for at least 20 minutes each time until he let me out. The teachers at that school sucked. He says nothing, turning away.

He doesn't apologize.

"That... sucks." he mumbles. My chest hurts. Is he not sorry? His expression was remorseful but I wanted so badly for him to say it, to apologize for everything he'd put me through despite our eventual reconciliation. I say nothing, though. I hesitantly accept that an apology should never be expected from him.

Josh stays silent as he sits next to me again, though this time he's not touching me.

"They'll let us out, okay?" he says, attempting to comfort me. I don't respond, choosing instead to roll over and lay onto the bed, my back turned to him. It's petty, I know. But I was so, so uncomfortable. The inability to leave the room was crushing to me. "They'll let us out." I feel the bed shift as he moves, placing a hand on my shoulder. My instinct is to shake him off, but I would be lying if I said the physical contact didn't ground me somewhat.

We don't speak for a while, just sitting in the uncomfortable silence aside from my deep breaths in an effort to calm myself.

"Is there anything I can do?" Josh asks. His hand never leaves my shoulder. I slowly start to turn to him again.

"I don't think so," I answer. The silence continues as I very slowly make my way to sit next to him again. Eventually, I'm back in place. I barely lean against him, testing the waters. His touch was comforting and grounding, and it was what I really wanted - needed - right now. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't his arm over my shoulder pulling me into him.

Josh is warm, and much more solid than I expect. It wasn't as if he was a beef cake, but his shoulders were somewhat broad, he was lean, and it felt as if he were somewhat muscular.

I try not to think about him shirtless.

"I'm sorry for... kinda freaking out," I apologize. Josh hums in acknowledgement, rubbing my shoulder slowly and gently.

"I wouldn't consider such a calm reaction 'freaking out'," he responds. I wrap my arms around his waist in a lazy hug, and I hear his strong heartbeat quicken, my eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. Was he nervous?

"Your heart beat is fast."

"Is it?" I feel his breathing slow down as if to calm himself and his heart, but the breaths are much deeper. I let go of his waist and back up to look up at him through my eyelashes. His hand moves from my shoulder to my back, and he looks back at me with a look I can only describe as desperate.

"Yeah," I murmur. Josh's eyes move quickly around my face as if looking for something, lingering on my lips for too long. The tension is incredibly thick. "Do I make you nervous?"

"Yes."

He slowly places both of his warm calloused hands around my face, his thumb caressing my cheek bone. His mouth hangs open slightly and his breathing continues to deepen.

"I am..." he starts again. His eyes lock with mine now. "Terrified of you." My lips part as if on instinct as he slowly leans in and tilts his head slightly. Our noses touch and he pauses. He's shaking so badly. I can't help but let out an airy chuckle. My own heartbeat was so fast I was waiting to go into cardiac arrest.

"ALRIGHT, FELLAS, YOU'RE FREE TO GO!!" Beth shouts, nearly kicking down the door. Josh and I jump, and I fall off the bed and hit the ground hard.

"Shit!" I hiss, the pain rippling through my body.

"Are you okay?" Josh asks, standing to pick me up. I can hear Beth gasping loudly.

"Shit, we should've just left you guys in here," Hannah sighs. I glare at her for a split second before scrambling for the door, nearly shoving past them. "Jordan, wait!" she calls, but I ignore her. I grab Josh's winter coat, the one he lent me previously, and go outside. Instead of staying on the balcony, I trudge down the stairs and under, sitting in the corner.

For a split second I feel like I am overreacting. But I needed to be alone and out of that room. I hated being trapped, more than anything. Not being able to escape a room, not knowing when you can get out - it's torture.

I'm able to stay grounded with the warmth and smell of Josh's coat. I can't believe I almost kissed him just moments prior, and despite my raging anxiety, I smile. Then I frown. It only then occurs to me that I wanted him to kiss me. I want him to kiss me.

I want to kiss Josh.

I bury my head in my arms and laugh.

----------

Hey y'all, once again I'd like to thank you for your patience. This chapter is really long because it's supposed to be the last day and night before the plot of the game really kicks in, but it started getting too long. Thanks for reading, next chapter soon!

----------

Taglist: @sc4rrc@mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby@kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest @barnxsromanxff @kapczan

[prodagustd]

surprise | myg

this is an extra chapter of the so it goes series.

—pairing: rapper!yoongi x reader

—rating: +18

—genre: established relationship, ex fwb, angst, fluff

—warnings/tags: implied smut, lots of angst, fluff, subtle talk about aborti0n, DON’T trust my poor knowledge in contraceptive methods and use condoms!! english is not my first language btw

—words: 7.6k

a/note: this is proof that if you ask me enough, I'll finish writing my wips!! it's been a long time but I finally get to post the surprise drabble I've been planning and it makes me sososo happy to come back to this couple 😭 I missed them so much I just hope you missed them as much as I did!! BTW I was planning to post this after two other drabbles, so if you read any additional information it's because this was intended to be posted after that, but i wanted to post this so badly😭 so here it is!! hehe anyway enjoy!!

A few years ago, when you and Yoongi were beginning to be a thing and you still lived with your best friend, Nayeon, while he lived alone in his big apartment, he picked up this habit of begging you to stay the night with him every time you visited, even though he knew you couldn’t. You used to say no, trying hard to ignore the way he kissed your neck and sneaked his hands under your blouse while explaining that, if you said yes, he was willing to wake up early and drive you to your first class the next day. You'd think that after the first or maybe even the second time he tried this, the effect would wear off, but you ended up agreeing every single time.

Back then everything was so new to him, he couldn’t remember the last time he liked someone that much, he didn’t know what was happening to him and why he wanted to spend every night with you, why he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Sure you were pretty, sure you were beautiful and funny, and your lips tasted like strawberries and you looked at him like one else ever did, maybe it had something to do with that, who knew? The only thing he knew was that he felt like a teenager everytime you kissed him, or every time you ran your fingers through his hair or every time you were naked under him, or on top of him, or anywhere close to him for that matter. 

It took Yoongi a few hits, ten drunk nights and way too many days to realize that you were the only thing that he needed, that the world only made sense if you were by his side. 

With time, Yoongi learned to kiss slowly, to make love slowly, to take things with ease; he learned that you were going nowhere, but there were still those moments where he felt he couldn’t get enough of you; like tonight, to be exact. 

You were sure that in the last four years of dating Yoongi you had made it clear enough that you were a city girl, and you were certain your boyfriend knew that. You loved the noise and the chaos—the people bumping into each other on the streets, the busy days and nights. It wasn’t something you planned to give up anytime soon; this was the perfect time in your life to embrace the city's hustle. You’d have plenty of time for a quiet life when you got older.

Yoongi liked the city too—he enjoyed the view from his apartment window and the convenience of ordering food at any hour of the night. But he also loved road trips and sleeping in the middle of nowhere in a tent, bonfires, fishing and swimming in lakes. Yoongi had always been into camping, but instead of planning a trip with his good old friend Seokjin, who didn’t mind sleeping in a tent and loved fishing, he invited you—someone who hated bugs and couldn’t stand the idea of walking more than three minutes to find a bathroom.

You were still trying to decide whether not being able to say no to Yoongi was a problem, but it was his last free week before going back on tour. When he looked at you with starry eyes and asked you to go on a trip with him, which included spending the last two days sleeping in a tent, you couldn’t say no.

It was only two days, you were sure you could endure not sleeping in a proper bed for that long if that made him happy, you made the effort of not complaining just for tonight, after all you only had tickets to go visit him on tour in exactly five weeks, you were going to miss him. 

It was easy not to complain when Yoongi’s plans for your last night together were exclusively romantic; he cooked for you, built a campfire and spent the rest of the night stargazing until it was too cold to be outside, and when you were inside the tent he made sure to have hot water bags under the blankets, but they were no use when he was determined to get you naked. 

Did you mention that it was still winter?

Now you were trapped in a tent with him, straddling him as he kissed you deeply and gripped your thighs, begging you to ride him against your lips. That was when you started to complain. 

You felt your whole body shivering when Yoongi’s warm hands pulled your t-shirt over your head, leaving you almost naked. You hugged your torso, attempting to cover your breasts as you sat straight on top of your boyfriend, who was comfortably laying on the sleeping bag, fully clothed. 

“Yoongi, I’m cold.” You whined.

“C’mon, it’s going to wear off” He tried to convince you, rubbing his palms over your shoulders to keep you warm. You shook your head, laying your head on his still clothed chest as he covered your bare back with the blanket. It was easy for him to say that when he was wearing sweatpants and a long sleeve t-shirt. 

You knew that Yoongi was already missing you. He was fully aware that after tonight, he wouldn’t see you for a whole month and he wanted to make it last as long as he could, to hold you and kiss you as much as you let him. He had gotten too used to you—used to sleeping and waking up next to you, having you all to himself—but it became a problem every time he had to leave for work, it was impossible not to miss you. You still had texts, calls and FaceTime, but he was also taking into account time difference, work, and the fact that all of that wasn’t the real thing. And if you were honest, you were already missing him too. 

“What if I catch a cold?” You mumbled over his shirt. 

Yoongi kissed the top of your head, running his hands down your bare back and sending chills to your spine. How was he able to get you almost naked but you didn’t even get the chance to take off his t-shirt? “It’s not that cold.” He said, not willing to give up. 

You raised your head to look at him, frowning “Says the person who’s still fully clothed.”

He huffed, flipping you over to leave you under him. Suddenly, warmth rushed over you as you felt his body hovering over your frame. He was quick to take off his own t-shirt, trying to make you happy, but he quickly realized that maybe you were right, it was fucking cold, but he wasn’t going to back down.

“Happy now?”

“No, it’s freezing out there!” You kept complaining “Why do we have to do it without clothes? I don’t mind clothes, I actually think that doing it while being dressed is quite hot.” 

You threw your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you. Even though you were in fact turned on from the kissing and grinding session you had a few moments ago, you still were thinking about the logistics of fucking inside the tent. 

Yoongi scoffed, amused.  “And I actually think that you being naked is quite hot, too.” He said, sneaking his face in the crook of your neck to trail down little kisses, nibbling the skin softly. “C’mon, baby. I won’t see you for weeks, let me make love to you.”

You tried not to roll your eyes. “You had been using that excuse the whole trip.” And you’ve fallen for it every time. His plans for this trip were very simple: fishing, camping and fucking you on every opportunity he had. It was not like you were against it, it has been a long time since you and him had time only for the two of you. 

“But isn’t it true?” He gazed up, looking at you with his soft eyes, his hair falling like a curtain on his face. “I’m gonna miss you.” 

You took a second to observe the tenderness of his features, to take in the softness of his voice, and for a moment there you knew why it was so hard to say no to him, you just didn’t want to say no. 

You closed your eyes, scrunching your nose. “We are gonna make such a mess.” You whined, but he just chuckled, knowing he won.

“I’ll take care of it, I promise.” He said with a soft voice, reaching for your lips as he roamed his hands towards your chest. You didn’t exactly know how he was going to “take care of it”, but his hands were gentle, the kiss was slow and when he opened his mouth to let his tongue slip past your lips, you were too into it to keep protesting about it.

As you sat on the cold bathroom floor of the home you shared with Yoongi, you tried to remind yourself of two basic things that you hoped would stop the sinking feeling in your chest. First, three weeks without Yoongi never killed anyone, this was something you knew from experience, Yoongi’s job demanded him to travel all the time, you were used to it, or at least you were supposed to be. Second, you were an independent woman (right?). You have been an independent woman since you were eighteen when you moved to Seoul alone, since you started a new life in a new city on your own. You woke up at six am everyday, worked hard your whole shift, paid the bills every month and managed to keep your house in order every day of the week. Sure, you loved Yoongi, and he loved you, and you could never imagine a life without him, but you didn’t need him, you wanted him. He wasn’t an extension of you, you were your own person, but why did you feel like the world was about to end right now if he was not there?

Crying your heart out like a five year old kid, you remembered the only time you had to take a pregnancy test, and how it looked nothing like this. 

Four years ago when you and Yoongi still didn’t kiss in front of your friends, when he still thought twice before holding your hand in public but still had the nerve of sneaking in your bed. That seemed like a hundred years ago, a universe away, but no, it was not too long ago when you were stubborn and kind of irresponsible for agreeing with him as he kissed your neck and ran his hands down your thighs while asking you if it was okay for him to “pull out” that night, since both of you completely forgot about condoms. You winced at the memory, but in your defense, you were too far gone to say no, take a cold shower and kiss him goodnight. You agreed only for that night, but three weeks later you were three days late and losing your mind, the only logical thing to do was to take a pregnancy test that, of course, came negative, but to this day you couldn’t shake the anxious feeling that you felt in your stomach those minutes before the negative sign appeared, and you couldn’t forget how pale Yoongi’s face turned when you told him about it. 

And now you were there, one hand covering your face while the other held a pregnancy test—only this time, it was positive. 

The one on your hand wasn’t the only one, no. There were two other positive tests laying on the floor in front of you, and even if you wanted to not trust the results, they couldn’t be all wrong, right? The plus sign was very clear in each one of them and you were five days late. The problem was that you were on the pill, you had been on the pill for the last couple years and this never happened to you, this wasn’t something normal or a simple mistake. 

You breathed out, trying not to panic. You got up on your bare feet to look at yourself in the mirror. You were a mess, that was not a surprise at all, your face was all swollen for the amount of time you have been crying and your hair was a big nest above your head. You washed your face, attempting to remain calm and evaluating your options. You glanced at your phone resting on the sink, and an overwhelming urge to call your mother surged within you, but as you imagined how the conversation would go, you quickly realized it wouldn’t be a good idea.

Your mother was not nosy, but she could be a little dense, a bit complicated, and it was not what you needed right now. You were sure that calling her while having a mental breakdown was going to drive her crazy, and consequently, drive you crazy too.  She would want to know every single detail, date, place and hour to understand the situation better, and you would have to explain something you didn’t even understand yet. You could imagine the conversation, she would try to explain every contraceptive method like you were a teenager and ask why you didn’t use a condom, because you knew she would ask, and you didn’t want to explain to her how you went on vacation with your boyfriend to have a bunch of condomless sex, the thought alone made you want to vomit. 

Calling your mother was not an option, not only because talking to her on the phone was complicated enough, but because she was in a different city, which brought you to discard calling Nayeon too, who was on vacation with her boyfriend (yes, boyfriend, that sounded ridiculous to you, too.) 

The last option was something you couldn't even fathom doing unless you were desperate, but you know what they say, desperate times call desperate measures, so you blew your nose, brushed your hair and called the only person in this city who would come running without asking any questions, Jungkook.

Breaking the news to the person in front of you wasn’t easy, especially when the words you needed to say were as unreal as they sounded. You didn’t look much better, you spent the next thirty minutes that Jungkook took to arrive crying, as Holly, the brown fluffy dog, looked at you like you just went mad, the worst thing was that you weren’t far from it. It was difficult to keep it together when your mind refused to look at the bright side of things, when you couldn’t call your mom and Yoongi was in another country, but when Jungkook rang your bell and entered through the door, you tried your best to smile at him and act like you weren’t in the middle of a mental breakdown. 

Your act wasn’t convincing, your friend looked at you like you were about to tell him that you killed someone and you needed help to hide the body.

You would have never recur to a man other than Yoongi for this kind of situation, but you decided to trust your ten years of friendship with the man in front of you and hope that he could be of any help. 

“You are what?” Said Jungkook, standing in the middle of the living room with his eyes wide open, trying to understand the meaning of your words.

There, in your pajamas and your hands on your hips, you closed your eyes shut, sighing. “Jungkook…” You said through gritted teeth. 

“I’m serious.” He said, letting his backpack drop to the floor. “I crossed half the city to get here, are you not kidding me right now?”

“I’m serious, too!” You whined “I’m not kidding, I don’t know what to do.”

He slowly approached you, walking towards the couch to take a seat. He suddenly felt his blood pressure dropping, his stomach sinking and his mouth dry as if he was the one developing a human organism inside his body.  “Are you sure?” He murmured. “Are you not having one of those crises you had when you were a teenager? I remember that time in college when you freaked out when you thought you were pregnant because some guy-”

“Jungkook, I’m sure.” You interrupted him, already knowing the whole story, but this time it was not just you overreacting. “My period is late and I took three tests, all positive.” 

He gulped, letting the room fall silent for a few seconds as both of you contemplated what that meant. You knew he was trying his best not to freak out, so you were grateful for his reaction, at least he didn’t faint like you expected him to do, but he was still white as a sheet, trying to find a solution in his head as though you had told him he was the one who was going to be a father.

“What are we gonna do?” He said under his breath.

“What am I gonna do?” You corrected him, sitting next to him “You are supposed to help me.” 

Jungkook took one hard look at you, looking terrified. “How?”

“God, I shouldn’t have called you.” You rolled your eyes. 

“No, I mean, what do you want to do?” He said. “Did you tell Yoongi?”

“Of course not.” You replied, feeling your eyes getting teary, but still trying to hold back. 

“Do you want to… tell him?” He continued to ask. 

You sniffed “I mean, I don’t know how.” You pouted “I’m seeing him in two weeks, I don’t know if I can wait that long.” 

He threw himself back against the couch, sinking in the cushions. It was like Jungkook’s life flashed before his eyes, how come he was discussing this with you right now? He still felt like you were kids, there was no way you were pregnant right now. “How did this happen?” He murmured to himself, looking at the blank wall in front of him. 

“Is it necessary for me to explain it?” You cried, snuggling closer to him as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

“Did you not use condoms?” He scolded you like he was your mother. 

You shifted your weight uneasily, eyes darting down to your socks. “We don’t… use condoms.” You cleared your throat, the words coming out hushed and hesitant. “I’m on the pill, I don’t know what happened.”

On second thought, that wasn’t something Jungkook wanted to know. It was like finding out how his parents had sex, he squirmed at the thought, shifting in his place. “Can you not call your doctor?” He suggested, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You paused, considering it. It was probably the most logical thing Jungkook could say, but you weren’t sure if your doctor could do anything about it.

“Even if I call her and tell her what's going on, it’s not like I can get a refund.” You huffed, a dry smile tugging at your lips.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well…” he began, dragging the word out. “In some way, you could get a refund.” You blinked at him, opening your eyes wide in surprise. “I mean only if you want to!”

You were so nervous you wanted to laugh. It wasn’t like the thought  didn’t cross your mind for a moment, but only when you tried to evaluate your options; if you were being honest, you couldn’t see yourself getting rid of the baby—or whatever organism had been living rent-free in your body for the past three weeks. Jungkook looked terrified that you might explode at him, especially when it seemed like you were on the verge of tears, but his question made you think, if you didn’t want to get rid of it, what was that you wanted to do?

You sank your shoulders, feeling completely lost. “That’s the problem.” You murmured “I don’t know if I want a refund.” 

Jungkook stood still for a moment, his eyes softening as he watched you. His thoughts swirled, trying to grasp the weight of your words. 

"Would Yoongi want a refund?" He asked, his tone lighter than before, but the sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. Despite the attempt at humor, his eyes betrayed the concern he was masking with the joke. 

A shaky exhale left your lips, the weight of uncertainty pulling you down. “I don’t know…” Was the only thing you could say. 

“But do you know if Yoongi wanted… kids?” He said as if that was a forbidden word. “I mean, do you want them?”

It wasn’t like you didn’t know what Yoongi wanted. You sighed, suddenly remembering all those times when the idea of a family came up in conversations, between drunken thoughts, before falling asleep, at dinner with his parents and on the ride home when he apologized on his mother’s behalf when she asked when you were going to give her grandchildren. His soft eyes, his hand on your tight and the view of the future laying in front of you like a promise. The thought warmed your heart for a moment, but the truth was that there was a difference between talking about it and actually having kids.

“We’ve talked about it…” You admitted. “But we’ve never planned it, let alone now that he’s on tour.” 

Jungkook hummed, still thinking. 

“But you both agreed to have kids at some point.” He affirmed, and you just nodded. 

It was in that moment where you realized you were crying again, tears slowly falling down your cheeks as you stood in silence, contemplating the overwhelming weight of the situation. 

“Fuck, don’t cry.” Jungkook said, rushing to wrap his arms around you, he enveloped you in a tight hug. As soon as you buried your face into his chest, something inside you gave away. You began sobbing against his hoodie, the tears flowed freely and uncontrollable, unable to hold yourself back. “C’mon, it’s okay, you’re okay. Nothing bad’s gonna happen.” His voice was soft but firm, holding you tightly. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his thumb gently wiping away a tear from your cheek, his gaze filled with nothing but concern. “You don’t need to have it all figured out right now. Let’s go step by step, okay?”

You nodded, feeling like a kid lost in the mall. “Okay, if you want to see him as soon as possible, you have to change your flight first.” He said, but you shook your head, trying not to panic. 

“He’s going to ask why.” You said, your voice hoarse “What am I going to tell him?”

He kept silent, his eyes fixed on a distant point as he was trying to come up with a solution. 

“Let’s not tell him.” He proposed.

“What do you mean let’s not tell him?”

“I’m leaving for tour next weekend, you should come with me and not tell him.” He kept going “Say that you missed him and you wanted to surprise him or some shit like that, and when you get him alone you talk to him about this.” 

Now you were reminded that Jungkook had to leave to join Yoongi on tour in just a few days, you completely forgot about that. It was not like you couldn’t get on an airplane alone, but if your friend was going to be there you were sure it would make things easier. 

You couldn’t believe it. After so many years you were there, sad and upset and still with the same idiot as a friend, willing to follow whatever plan he was going to make for you. You didn’t know if the plan actually sounded good or you were losing your mind for listening to Jungkook.

“Jungkook, Yoongi texts me all the time, he facetimes me everyday. It’s impossible to travel to another country without him noticing.”

“It’s not impossible, I’m gonna help you.” He insisted “If he texts you, you say you’re at home, if he wants to facetime you, you say you’re busy, turn off your location, it shouldn't be difficult.”

“It is difficult, what if he realizes I turned off my location?” You groaned, running your finger through your hair exasperatedly. 

“You say it stopped working or something! C’mon, I thought you were smarter than me.”

You threw yourself back against the couch, crossing your arms on your chest, it was almost comical that you were considering the idea. Your friend could sense the hesitation in every move you made, he could only hope that you agreed because his mind couldn’t come up with another idea if his life depended on it. 

“Jungkook, if he suspects anything…” You raised a finger, digging it on his chest. 

“He won’t suspect a thing,” He affirmed confidently. “When have any of my plans ever gone wrong? Never. Trust me, by the time you get back home, you’ll have already decided to name your baby after me.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your laugh and punching him in the arm playfully. The tension was still there, and you still felt an inexplicable ache in your chest that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but being there with Jungkook made you feel that this wasn’t the end of the world, nor of your life, but the beginning of it.  

Jungkook's plan wasn’t the master plan he had been bragging about the whole airplane ride, but it worked. A few days later, after a few calls and arrangements to change your flight, after another three mental breakdowns and several crying sessions in the shower, you had somehow arrived in Berlin without Yoongi suspecting a thing. You had managed to dodge facetime calls and weird questions, maybe Yoongi missed you so much that he didn’t have time to question why you couldn’t wait two more weeks to see him when you arrived at the hotel and hugged in the hall, because, if he were honest, he couldn’t wait two more weeks to see you either. 

Yoongi was happy with the surprise, you went to see his show that night and after arriving to his hotel room he made love to you like he hadn’t seen you in a year, kissing your neck, grabbing your waist, murmuring things in your ear, saying how much he loved you, how much he missed you. For a moment it was like nothing changed, the two of you sharing what happened these last three weeks tangled between sheets, laughing between kisses as you ignored why you were there in the first place. 

“You can’t keep spending time away from me.” He said, hovering over you as he left a small kiss on your lips. “I’ll keep you in my pocket if it’s necessary.” 

You sighed, knowing that you couldn’t keep this a secret for much longer, but for tonight, you’ll let it slide. 

You didn’t know when you were returning home, but you promised yourself that before leaving for the next city, you would have to break the news to Yoongi, which was becoming more difficult by the second, because if you were good at something, that was procrastinating. It was absurd, a few days ago you were crying because all you wanted to do was to have your boyfriend by your side and now you couldn’t even look him in the eye without feeling like you were about to throw up, and your mind wasn’t helping at all. All those doubts invaded your head, attempting to drive you crazy, making you believe you were not ready to tell him yet.

Three days later, when you finished the last show in Berlin, Jungkook gave you a knowing look as you were leaving the arena holding Yoongi’s hand. He knew that you haven’t said a thing to Yoongi yet, he was all over you like he was your mother, asking you if you were okay, if you needed anything, when you were going to tell Yoongi, it almost made you regret telling him, but you knew he was right. 

A night was all you needed, just one night to gather your thoughts and practice what you were going to say. You couldn’t keep declining glasses of wine forever,  you could only hope no one noticed how weird you were acting, how sensitive you were since you stepped foot out the plane. Time was running out; you knew that when Yoongi invited you to an after-party before the whole crew left Berlin. Instead of telling him the truth, you simply said you weren’t in the mood to go, hoping that your time alone would help to gather enough courage to confess.

You weren’t trying to keep Yoongi with you, you told him a million times that he should go without you and that there was no problem with it. You hid under the blanket and hugged your body, watching him change his shirt into a black tee. He ran his finger through his hair in an attempt to tame it, looking at himself into the mirror and stealing a glance towards your reflection. He knew you too well not to notice the sad expression on your face as you scrolled through your phone, searching for a Disney movie to watch while he was out. He turned around, approaching the bed and kneeling beside you to catch your eyes. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” He asked once again.

“Yeah, I just need one night.” You said, which was true. You needed a few more moments to finish fighting with your own thoughts. 

“But are you okay?” He continued to ask, cupping your jaw in his palm.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?” The words came out of your mouth with more emotion than you intended to, he couldn’t ignore it. 

“I don’t know… You look like you want me to stay.”

There was a beat of silence in the room. The sweetness of his voice broke your heart into a million pieces. You couldn’t say yes and make him stay just because you were feeling down and you really had no problem with him leaving, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him no either. You were full of contradictions, wanting to be alone but wanting to be with him at the same time, something in your chest pulled, wanting him close. 

“What makes you think that?” You murmured, fighting the urge to cry. God, you were too sensitive.

“Mmm… The Disney movie kinda gives you away.”

You huffled, playing with the fingers of his hands without looking at him. “I don’t want to ruin your fun… You should go, I mean it.”

He scoffed “You won’t, there’s going to be a bunch of parties until the tour ends, this one is nothing.”

“They’ll miss you…”

“You’ll miss me, too.”

“But do you want to stay, though?” You asked him a whisper. 

“Of course I want to… But you have to let me choose the movie.” He warned, automatically making you giggle.

Letting Yoongi choose the movie was the worst decision you have made in the last week so far, but you felt grateful he couldn’t see you as he hugged your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, because as the ending of Inside Out approached, you were sure you were about to cry. 

When you arrived at the airport you promised yourself not to cry anymore, not in front of Yoongi at least, but your body was full of emotions you didn’t even know you could feel. It was certain that you’ve always been a sensitive person, you cried at the drop of a hat, Yoongi was familiar with that, but now it was impossible to stop it. 

You’d stopped paying attention to the screen entirely; one by one, your darkest thoughts crept in, pressing heavily on your chest. The feelings you’d tried so hard to bury rose up, churning uneasily in your stomach, and when you least expected it, tears began to fall down your cheeks.

A sob escaped from your lips at the same time the main character began to cry, making your boyfriend shift in his place. 

“Are you crying?” Yoongi suddenly asked, softly grabbing your shoulder to turn you around. He looked at your face, at first amused, thinking you were crying because of the movie. But his expression softened when he saw the sadness in your eyes and the damp lashes heavy with tears. You covered your face, unable to hold back, and the sobs came harder, each one swallowing the words you couldn’t say. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He reached for your arms, attempting to pull them away from your face, but you turned away, burying your face in the pillow.

“Nothing,” You lied, desperate to avoid this conversation again. “I’m just… emotional, I don’t know.” Your voice cracked, hoarse, as the emotions you were trying to hide slipped through.

Yoongi was confused, but mostly worried. You had been weird since the day you arrived, he would be a fool not to notice. 

He turned the light of the lamp on the nightstand, illuminating the room with a soft orange light and turned the tv off. 

“Hey, look at me.” He softly said, brushing your hair with his fingers, it only made you want to cry harder. “I know something’s up, I’m not a dummy.” 

You turned to him, hitting him with the most heartbreaking sight he could witness, your face soaked in tears, nose and eyes red as you pouted at him. What was so wrong to make you cry like that?

“What do you know?” Was the only thing you could say, daring to be upset at him when he hadn't done anything wrong. 

He frowned at your tone. “Well, I know that you suddenly came here two weeks earlier just because. You are weird, you almost don’t eat, your suitcase is almost untouched like you’re going to leave anytime soon, you look… sad? I don’t know, baby, you tell me.”

You kept silent for a second, wiping the tears with the sleeve of your t-shirt. Uncomfortable, you sat in the bed, taking a deep breath as your mind completely blanked. You didn’t realize yet, but there was no way to get out of this one.

Contrary to popular belief, your boyfriend was kind of a dummy. You confirmed it when he decided to say the following words. 

“Is it because of Lily?” He said, making you dart your eyes at him. “You don’t like her being here? 

You couldn’t blame Yoongi for not understanding why you were crying, but the suggestion that you were jealous of one of his coworkers made you want to punch him. Lily was one of the new producers at Yoongi’s label, and a few months ago, Yoongi had noticed that you were starting to feel uneasy about the amount of time she was spending with him, which led him to realize that you were beginning to feel unexpectedly jealous of her. Yes, that was a whole deal back then, but it was water under the bridge now; the fact that she was touring with him and the boys didn’t faze you. The idea that he thought you were crying because of her was ridiculous. 

“Yoongi, are you kidding me?”

“No, I’m not.” He defended himself. “The last time I saw you we were fine, but now you’re here crying and I don’t have a clue what I did wrong.”

Suddenly, you felt your heart sink. He hadn’t done anything wrong; it was you who was an emotional wreck, struggling to keep your feelings in check. A wave of guilt washed over you for the mess you’d just created, convinced there must have been ways to prevent all this conflict. But now, all you could do was sit there, tangled in the aftermath of your own emotions.

You sighed, defeated. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You said “And it’s not about Lily, I couldn’t care less about that… It’s just that- … Yoongi…”

“Baby…” He said in the same tone as you, “What is it?”

As Yoongi’s gentle question hung in the air, you felt a knot tighten in your chest. The truth sat heavy on your tongue, you glanced away, fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve, buying time as your thoughts spiraled. “Yoongi, my period is late.” You confessed, observing Yoongi’s eyes go wide, his brows lifting in surprise as he tried to understand what he just heard. “It’s been a week now, I don’t know what happened. I tried to wait, but I had to take a test”

 “A test?” he asked, voice low, surprise flickering in his eyes.

“A pregnancy test, Yoongi.” You said, trying not to roll your eyes. “I took three damn tests.”

“And what-... what happened?” He asked, his voice unsteady, eyes fixed on yours.

The room felt suddenly smaller, the air thick with unspoken fears and questions. A quiet stillness settled between you both, there was a weight to the silence, stretching out the seconds as you waited for whatever words would come next.

“I mean, guess what happened,” you whispered. Before you could finish the sentence, you got up and reached for the zipper on your suitcase pocket. Your hand closed around the large object, and you felt his eyes on the back of your neck, following you as you moved around the hotel room. Returning to the bed, you sat down and handed him the pregnancy test.

Yoongi didn’t know anything about pregnancy tests—he’d never needed to. He’d always been careful, using protection with every girl he’d been with, including you, until things had started to get serious. So no, he wasn’t familiar with the variety of pregnancy tests out there. But now, here he was, staring at a white stick with a tiny screen, showing a clear positive sign, which could only mean one thing.

Yoongi’s hands trembled slightly as he held the pregnancy test, his gaze locked onto the tiny screen, staring at it for a moment, speechless. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud enough that he thought you might hear it. Now everything made sense, how you said you were nauseous in the morning, each time you refused to drink wine, how you looked like you were about to cry when you saw a stroller with twins this afternoon at the park. How could he not notice?

You pressed your lips together, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up once more. A small, shaky hiccup escaped your lips, breaking the silence and snapping him out of his daze. “No, no, no,” He murmured urgently, setting the test aside and pulling you close, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist as you buried your face in your hands, trying to hold back the tears. “Hey, there’s no reason to cry,” He whispered, gently guiding your face up, his fingers lifting your chin as he coaxed your hands away. “C’mon, look at me.” His voice was soft, reassuring, his gaze full of warmth and understanding.

“I don’t know how it happened.” You blurted out, your voice shaking with uncertainty.

“That doesn’t matter now, why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, you could tell he was trying to remain calm by the soft tone of his voice, but his face had gone as white as paper, like he’d just seen a ghost.

“I arranged the flight to see you as soon as possible, but... I was scared. I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t,” you admitted, your words barely a whisper.

“Baby, you don’t have to be scared, okay? You can tell me anything.” He assured you, his hand gently squeezing yours. But the uneasy feeling in your stomach refused to go away.

“I know, but… we haven’t planned for this,” you murmured, glancing down. “It just… came out of nowhere.”

“Well, it didn’t exactly come out of nowhere. These things can happen,” he said gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips. You groaned, burying your face in his chest.

“But it wasn’t supposed to happen,” you whined, your voice muffled against him. “I didn’t expect this at all. I was drowning in work when I found out. I’m stressed, I’m lost, I don’t know what to do… and I miss my mom.” The words tumbled out in a frantic ramble, and you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the soft laugh he let slip.

“You miss your mom?” he asked softly, careful not to upset you further.

“Yes!” you cried, voice cracking. “I feel like a kid lost in the supermarket.”

He shook his head gently and brushed away your tears with his thumbs, pulling you closer. “Baby…” he began, his tone soothing.

“Yoongi…” you whispered, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His expression was still worried, but the warmth in his eyes was reassuring.

“You’re right, we didn’t plan this. But we’ve talked about it before, and you have options. Whatever you choose, I’ll be right here beside you, no matter what. You know that, don’t you?” He searched your eyes for confirmation, and you nodded, feeling the ache in your chest begin to ease.

As his words sank in, a new wave of emotions stirred inside you. The weight of worry and loneliness began to ease, replaced by a warmth that softened the ache in your chest.

“But… what do you think?” you asked softly. You knew that whatever you decided would ultimately be your choice only, but you needed to know what was going on in his mind.

He sighed, a hint of hesitation in his expression. “I mean… we’re not sixteen, baby. We’re adults, we’re about to buy a house together, and we love each other.”

“Well, those are just facts,” you replied, searching his face. “What I mean is… do you want this, now?”

It was hard for Yoongi to believe you were really asking this. There you were, sitting on his lap with swollen eyes and a red nose from crying, asking him if he wanted to start a family with you—as if that hadn’t been his dream all along. Of course he felt like the life he had been living was going to completely change from now on. It was terrifying, but he couldn’t help but feel excited at the same time. 

“I've always wanted it, are you serious?” He laughed, the sound light but filled with disbelief. “And I only want it with you, haven’t I made it clear enough?”

Those were the main differences between the two of you: while he was calm, always taking a moment to think before acting, you were emotional and, more often than not, let your feelings take control of your actions. It was only in that moment that you realized how irrational you’d been. There wasn’t a world where Yoongi didn’t want this, and there certainly wasn’t a world where you didn’t want it either.

“I want it, too,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you fought back tears.

“Then why are you crying, huh?” he asked gently, squeezing your face in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Because...” you said, struggling to catch your breath. “Maybe you didn’t think it was the right time... You’re on tour right now.”

He frowned, his expression softening with concern. “I won’t be on tour forever...”

“I know, but... we’re not married. What would your parents think?”

He let out a laugh, clearly unable to believe that was a real concern of yours. “You’re not seriously thinking about my parents right now, are you?”

“How could I not?” you said, raising your eyebrows. “What if they force us to marry? God, I don’t want to be one of those couples who only marry because the girl is suddenly pregnant!”

He laughed even harder, shaking his head. “Oh my god, baby, no one’s forcing us to do anything!” He grinned, clearly finding your worry amusing. “If we ever get married, it won’t be because anyone pressured me. Trust me.” He paused, happy to see that the worried expression abandoned your face. “Besides, my parents love you, you have no idea how happy they’ll be once they know. Married or not.”

“Yoongi, it can’t be that simple.” 

“But it is.”

You sighed, feeling like all the mess you’d made was for nothing—and thank God it was. You’d been so caught up in your own despair that you hadn’t realized everything in your life was falling into place for this to happen. Yoongi was right. You were about to move into a bigger home, you had your job, Yoongi had his, and you loved each other. You've always wanted it, this was the perfect moment for this to happen. Why had you been so worried? 

“You’re right, it is.” You finally admitted, letting your body rest against him. 

Yoongi laughed, gently grabbing you by your hips and laying you on the bed, kissing you softly. “You don’t have to worry, baby, not with me.”

“I know.” You breathed out, feeling like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. “But I am-… I’m so scared. How am I gonna have a baby? It sounds crazy.”

“Of course it does, it is.” He said “I’m terrified, too, but we’re together, right? Nothing bad can happen if we have each other.”

You nodded, feeling your chest unclench. “I guess you're right,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I just... needed to hear you say it.”

Yoongi smiled, leaning down to steal another kiss from you, this time deeper, longer. “I love you, baby, don’t you know that?”

You brushed your nose against his, nodding. “I love you, too, bubba.”

“C’mon, baby, stop crying.” He said, making you laugh. 

[girl4music]

That’s it. Anyone with the “me and my own” ideology will get clapped back.

People that actually care to help people without asking for anything in return will also get their due.

That’s just the way of the Universe.

When you’re already well off, why do you need to be accounted for? Harris specifically was talking about who wasn’t. She was addressing the poor because she knew that’s where things needed to change the most.

The people she didn’t address are not going to be impacted in any negative way. Their lives will stay relatively the same. She didn’t speak to you because she didn’t need to because you’re fine as you are.

On the other hand, Trump is also addressing the poor and minorities. Speaking directly to them. But not with love and care. With hatred and revenge. The opposite.’

He wants to make things worse for them and now he can. So if you voted for him or you didn’t even vote at all - it’s on you why things are going to be much worse from now on. And if you think you won’t be negatively impacted by it because Trump is on your side…

Think again. Because incompetency impacts everyone.

No Harris wasn’t promising the rich and the majorities something. But that didn’t mean she was out to get you. That didn’t mean that she wanted to hurt you.

She simply saw it as you already had what you needed.

There were many others that did not.

She chose to address them.

Look for EVERYONE to live comfortable lives, then everyone has also got to learn to share and to be a community. Giving and getting is a transaction between each other. This is normal. This is natural. This is the way it should be. Greed and hoarding wealth doesn’t really help anyone in the long run and that’s not well understood in America because they’ve lived an entire history through a culture of taking from others. From theft. They never question it not because they’re dumb but because they don’t realize it this is how it’s always been and how it’s always been has always being wrong.

Being afraid of community and socialism. Taught that it’s inherently bad for them and to always look out for themselves and their own first. It’s just not The Way.

Having a black woman as President for the first time would have been revolutionary for them. it would have been a start to setting things right because they’ve never been right. Keeping to tradition doesn’t always mean better because that tradition could be awful. All of this I’m writing right now only sounds so bad because it’s coming from someone that doesn’t live in America but still has lived through a Western culture that’s majorly the same and has never understood it.

See I’m a Westerner but I don’t understand Western culture and I never really have. It’s like I was born with the soul or someone Eastern. Someone whose worldview of philosophy is inherently non-dual because when I look at a person - regardless of what kind of person they are or might be - I don’t see a difference.

We all want to live and thrive and prosper but so many of us have an understanding that goes against that goal just by virtue of “well, what do I get out of it?”

You get what you’ve always had. The means to survive. If you believe that’s not enough then I don’t know what to tell you. It’s more than enough for those that don’t currently have it and are fucking desperate for it.

Bottom line is you’ve got to give a little - to sacrifice or compromise on something - to set the balance right.

Harris was the right person to lead to be able to do this. Or at least make the attempt to. What you have now - with Trump - is a lesson. And I hope you learn it well.

Hatred will never make anything better for anyone. All it does it makes it much much much worse for everyone.

You can call this “virtue-signalling” or being “morally superior” if you want. I don’t care. No, America is not my home. No, I couldn’t vote. It doesn’t matter to me.

But I still very much care about the situation because I am a human being. And I honestly think that’s all that’s needed to do the right thing at the end of the day. If you care about something or somebody other than yourself.

You know politics is whatever but people have forgotten how to be a fucking person and that’s very concerning.

You can play heroes vs villains to your dying day and see how much you’ve “gained” out of doing it then.

Rant over.

White conservative America will vote for whiteness and patriarchy.

White conservative America would rather have Putin in the White House before Kamala Harris.

[howlett-n-morgan]

More Than Words

2. Questions

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of human touch is the biggest burden imaginable... until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: still a lot for now but: mild language, canon typical violence, mention of murder, death, mutant experimentation, and a depressive episode briefly described. Logan is a warning, especially here

Chapter Summary: The bad dreams have ceased, but many questions lurk in their place, and the meaning behind those dreams is still one of them. In the middle of all the chaos, a few things will come to light.

Word Count: 8.4k

“Of everyone here, I didn’t expect you to be keeping a stash,” he sat down on the edge of your bed, facing your back as you were hunched over the desk, writing sloppily a few notes for tomorrow morning. “I asked Scott and Storm, they had nothin…”

You put your headset on this morning. You usually only used it to drown out everything else when you really needed to. Everyone has noticed except those who don’t know what it means. Those who do, remember the times in which you were at your lowest. Back then you were practically unable to function without the damn headphones over your ears. The last time you even remember wearing them was when you first started teaching here, all the noise and rapid energy being quieted by the music in your head.

 After last night, and the confessions made to Logan, he seemed to be open to hearing more from you then… but he kept you at arm’s reach now, and you couldn’t say you didn’t understand why. He’s not just been thrust into the middle of an age-old fight between friends, but he also is struggling with his identity. 

You did however learn something interesting after hearing chatter when you woke up. Logan and Scott aren't getting along. Why? Because Logan has been relentlessly flirting with Jean. You’d scoffed when you found out. Not because you don’t think Jean is worthy of such advances, but because he was basically shooting himself in the foot by even trying to take her from Scott. 

Jean is a rare bird, and a special person. Charles argues the same thing about everyone who sets foot on the property, but with her, it’s especially true. She’s smarter than most people you know, having gone to a college outside of the education given by Charles and the others. She even attended school alongside you for a while, although it only took you a few semesters to realize you weren’t cut out for the medical field like she was. You have to be able to touch your patients, after all.

She had a lot to offer, and anyone could see that. Even excluding her powers, which were enough to level a city on their own. She was kind, nurturing, and very strategic. All of those things combined with the looks of a super model made her one of the most desirable people in the entire mansion, so even though you and Logan made a connection, you don’t find it hard to see why he’s taken with her. 

It may bother you just a little, but you would never admit it to anyone who asked, not even Charles. 

All of this is not why you put on your headset, but it could be a contributing factor. 

You’ve just met Logan, or at least officially. It stands to reason that you shouldn’t have an inkling of feelings yet. You can’t imagine that would be how it goes. In any rational situation, you have to get to know him. That’s how relationships work.

You remember how it was with Charlie, how it took more than one night of talking late when everyone else was asleep. You got to know him, and got to see his kindness and compassionate heart. You’d seen who he truly was, and it warmed your heart and soul, despite not being able to touch him. You don’t know Logan yet, but you imagine he’s not as soft and kind, nor gentle or compassionate. He seems like sort of a lone wolf, and the type to push away everything except for what he’s got his eyes set on. You don’t even know if the connection you made was real, or if he was just looking for company…

He has nightmares, but you don’t know why. It’s only one relation, that’s all. Maybe he’d only asked you to stay because he was frightened of them, just like you are of yours.

You’d gone back to your room near the hours of sunrise, and fell back asleep before your alarm woke you, but you were still exhausted, and wondered if he was facing the same conundrum. It was only when you went to ask him about it that he became colder to you than the night before. He’d given a stiff answer and gone about his morning, which you were confused by, since he wasn’t a student, nor a teacher.

You passed him in the halls throughout the day, and nodded to him with a sweet smile. He doesn’t really return it, just kept walking. You think that maybe he just didn’t see you, or was on his way to do something else and couldn’t pay attention, but then at dinner he refuses to look at you, and you can’t for the life of you understand why. 

You decide to block him out, to deal with the more pressing matters. The school, the mutant rebellion, and Rogue, the newest recruit. 

She’s like you in a few ways, and you feel sorry for her. You hope that by passing on some stories that maybe she can find hope in her powers. They are a gift and a curse, but she holds them wonderfully well already.

You found her on the back balcony, overlooking the gardens. She’d been sitting alone for about an hour, but didn’t seem to be bothered, just enjoying the peace. You debated whether or not you should disrupt it, but the second she heard you behind her, she turned. 

You had been organizing things back where they go, following the mess of mutant children to try and keep the house in good shape, and now that you’d found yourself with her, you wanted to say a few things. You peeled your headset off and sat beside her, offering a smile first. Her energy felt stiff, like she’d been unwelcome where she was. 

“You settled in yet?” 

She shrugged, unsure of what to say. Even in a place full of people like her, she was an outsider. “I guess I’m getting there.”

It was silent for a moment, and you sensed her energy was low and draining. She must have been sad, or angry, or even flat our forlorn about her powers and the danger they hold. 

“Y’know, when I first found out about my powers, it was the worst day of my life,” you started, but quickly followed up, knowing the words were not inspiring. “They are a blessing and a curse, but for most of my life they were a curse… until the Professor found me. Now, I’ve learned to use them to help people. You can, too.”

It should have helped, but her feelings on the power she held didn’t waver, she just wanted to know what she was in for, and you knew better than anyone what she would face.

“Did you ever… hurt anyone?” she asked sincerely, turning to face you but managing the distance. Both your touches were lethal and dangerous.

“Yeah,” you sighed, looking out to the gardens and hoping that the serene ambience would keep you in a good state of mind. “Most of them were the people closest to me. Always an accident, but still a deadly one.”

“I’m sorry,” she dropped her head, unsure of herself now, too. She didn’t know how to control it, or even subdue it. It may not even be possible. 

“Don’t be sorry, it was a long time ago… I’m a lot more careful now.”

“They told me how old you were, how long you’ve been around…” she trailed, looking for a good way to ask such a terrible question. “How have you lived that long without being able to touch the people you love?” 

You understood why she was asking. Of course, she was concerned about her future, but also her present. She’s a runaway, who’s left her entire family because of her ability. She must be feeling the lonesomeness that all mutants inevitably face at one point in their lives.

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying not to become emotional. You’ve loved many people in your lifetime, many people you’ve lost early, or at the right time, but you could never go with them. You can’t seem to die, but everyone else does when you need them the most. “I think that being here is really what saved me. Not only knowing there are others like me, but knowing I can have a family who doesn’t fear me, doesn’t judge me. Even knowing all the things I’ve done.”

“You didn’t do them on purpose, did you?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But I’m still responsible for them, for the people I’ve killed.”

You’ve killed people. How many, she doesn’t know, but she feels as though you’re the only person that can understand her. That can understand being afraid of herself and what she can do to others. She knows that you’ve probably gone decades and decades just trying to learn how to be more careful, and that she’ll have to learn, too. 

“You said you’d hurt people you love… what happened?” 

This was a very soft spot for you. Even after a century, it was still an open wound. Something that would never fully heal, because there was no way to achieve closure over it. What’s lost is gone, and your powers were the cause.

“I was engaged once,” you dropped your gaze to your lap, looking at your hands and the way they were so well fitted with the green gloves. You practically never took them off. 

“Engaged?” 

“Yeah, engaged. I’d somehow managed to find the single man in the entire universe that didn’t require me to touch him to achieve his affection…” You trailed, trying not to go into detail. Searching for a small distraction, you fiddled with the hem of your sweater, pulling loose threads to ignore the sad memories. “I touched him by accident.”

“And he died?” She widened her eyes, both upset for you and becoming more afraid of herself. She doesn’t want to fall in love, not if she’s going to hurt that person eventually. 

“He did,” you wiped your hand over your eyes before any tears could even fall, and then let it rest back in your lap. “But you’re not gonna make the same mistake that I did, I promise. I’ll help you.”

“You will?” Her eagerness to accept the assistance was clear. “Thank you.”

“Of course… and don’t give up hope. There could be someone out there that can withstand your powers just as they are.” 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to offer such things to her, but it seemed like the right thing to do.

Her brow furrowed, unsure if what you were saying was true. From your earlier words, you’ve been around a long time and it’s never happened for you. “Sounds impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” you told her, standing up from beside her on the bench. “Nothing is impossible.”

You left her on that note, and went back inside. 

-

On your way up to bed, you caught Logan in the hallway. You gave a tight lipped smile on the way to your door, expecting him to be cold like he was throughout the day… but he fell into stride next to you, walking to his own door. 

“You guys got anything good to drink around here?” he asked, partially as a joke, but usually never going without a drink for more than a day was catching up to him. 

“This is a school, Logan,” you turned to him with a laugh and a light smile. Maybe he’d struck out with Jean and was off her coattails now. 

“Well I can see that, but I figured with a limited number of adults chasing after a million kids, someone’s gotta be drinking at the end of the day,” he leaned against his door frame, and you had completely turned to face him, neglecting your door knob which you had reached for originally. 

You huffed a sigh, shaking your head at him. You may or may not have a bottle of Jack hidden where no one can find it. If anyone in this hell hole had a reason to drink it was you, but you never did it in front of the kids, or nearly anyone else. You reckon Charles or Ororo would march up to you if they found out, voicing their concern. 

“Stay quiet, and don’t say a word about this to anyone…” You opened the door, letting him follow you in before closing it and locking the knob. “Under the bed, back right corner.”

You allowed him to go fishing for it himself, going to your desk in the corner to make sure you were caught up on everything and prepared for tomorrow’s history quiz before you settled in for the night. He’d already been ready for bed, seemingly just roaming the halls and looking for alcohol at this late hour. 

“Of everyone here, I didn’t expect you to be keeping a stash,” he sat down on the edge of your bed, facing your back as you were hunched over the desk, writing sloppily a few notes for tomorrow morning. “I asked Scott and Storm, they had nothin…”

“I surprised you, huh?” you ask, not even throwing a look over your shoulder. You may have an interest in this man, but since you started teaching here you were always efficient, and that wasn’t going to stop now. 

“Yeah, a little,” he chuckled, taking swigs straight from the bottle. It had been more than half full the last time you drank from it, so there was a decent amount. “You just seem like the innocent one.”

This made you drop what you were doing and spin your chair around. “Innocent?” 

He smirked at your furrowed brows, but having known of your mutation, he was willing to guess everything and even bet on it. “I believe that’s what I said.”

You tilted your head at him, the look on your face making him grin even more. 

“I don’t think I like that word,” you leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms over your chest and thinking of all the reasons why. “I’ve done and seen things that would be considered unfathomable to other people.”

“I don’t mean how dangerous you are, I mean how corrupted you are,” he kept on, another swig taken from the bottle. “And I think you’re innocent.”

“I still don’t like it,” you shook your head, laughing a little and reaching for the bottle, which he was all too happy to hand over, fingers brushing your gloved hands. “I prefer inexperienced.”

“Does it matter? It means the same thing,” he argued, watching you take a nice lengthy drink of the whiskey in your hand. 

“It does matter, actually,” you were all too happy to correct him. “Innocence implies that my mind is pure of corruption, but really, I’ve just never been able to do the things I’ve thought about.”

He rolled his eyes, taking back the bottle and trying to keep up with you. He pointed to your head with a swirling finger. “Yeah right, I’m sure you’re just all kinds of perverted up there.”

You just giggled and looked at him for a moment. He was funny, he was handsome, and he was clearly interested in your favorite choice of alcohol. Just more things to connect on, you supposed. Maybe feelings weren’t so far down the road, after all. 

You blinked out of it when you realized you’d been looking at his bare arms for too long, the beater he wore left little to the imagination as to how fit he was, and it was a nice view to take in, but not this late, and certainly not with a bottle of Jack. 

“I should be getting to bed soon, big test tomorrow…” you trailed, standing up and going to the door. It was late, no one else should be awake, but you still wanted to make sure. “You can take the whiskey for the road, if you want.”

“I’ll get you another one,” he returned, knowing that by the end of the night, the bottle was likely to be empty. He’d not had Jack Daniel’s in a while, so he was grateful for the favor. 

“No need,” you shook your head as he met you in the doorway, peering down and clearly shadowing you under his tall form. You had to take a breath and smile to break the tension you felt, as it was thick and heated. “I really should stop drinking here, anyway.”

“I’m happy to pick it up in your place,” he smirked, still standing right in front of you. If anyone had stepped out of their room, they’d see how close he was looming. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked hopefully, knowing full well that he could respond with an empty promise, and still be cold to you as he was today. 

“Yeah, I’ll see you.” 

And he left without another word.

-

You awoke in the middle of the night to chaos in the hallway. You were surprised not to be plagued with nightmares for once, but the screams of your next door neighbor didn’t exactly settle you back into your pillows. You heard footsteps outside your door, and when you sat up, Ororo opened the door without knocking, the urgency of whatever situation that had happened started to set in. 

“There’s been an accident,” she looked to you with an expression of fear and shock, leaving the doorway as soon as she could see you were scrambling to your feet.

You could feel the energy, it was all over the place. Kids were scared, and so were some of the adults, Ororo being one of them. You ran into the room, avoiding the touch of everyone you passed by, and stared at the scene playing out. 

“What happened?” you rushed over to where Jean and Scott were hovering over Logan, his unconscious body thrown over the bed and seemingly in a state of paralysis. 

“Rogue, she touched him,” Jean was working the best she could to try and keep him from death’s door, but even with her skilled hands, she looked afraid. “He’s fading quickly, she may have drained too much of his regeneration.”

You tried to think quickly on your feet. She drained his regenerative energy, but you could restore it. The manipulation of energy was clearly something you were all too familiar with, but you were afraid if his regeneration was too low that he might die from your mutation. 

If he’s already going to die, you’re going to do the only thing you know how to try and save him. 

“Jean, move,” you reach for him, and she practically dives out of the way of your bare hands. 

“You’ll kill him!”

“Just trust me,” you said, your hands finding his shoulders. You heard gasps behind you when your skin met his, and they all started whispering, assuming that if he wasn’t dead before, he definitely was now. 

You focused your energy on him, using what was inside of you and around you to build back up what had been inside of him. His mutation, his strength and endurance, and most of all, his healing capability. 

“Alice, he’s dead,” Scott nearly scolded you, shaking his head. He wasn’t fond of the man, but that didn’t mean he wished him to die… and now he had, by your hand or Rogue he wasn’t sure. “What did you do?” 

You ignored him, and all the ones whispering behind you. You could feel his life force, like a branch in the air around you, reaching out just the smallest bit, but not strong enough to hold growth yet. You were slowly building it, letting it stretch out until his own body could take it from there. 

When he took a sharp inhale of breath and his chest started to rise and fall again, everyone nearly fell over out of shock. No one said a word yet, because they were too stunned to speak. 

Logan was still in bad condition, but you trusted that his healing could help him out from here. You pulled him onto your lap, head resting against your body as you felt for a steady pulse, and saw the color returning to his hands and arms. 

“I got you,” you whispered, holding him close. This was the first person that you’d ever been able to save with your touch, as before, it killed everyone who came across it.

“Alice?” Jean called from behind your shoulder, her mouth still agape and her eyes wide. “Alice!”

You looked to her, only slightly fearful that she may tell Charles about this, and then you’ll be in for an earful. He was the hand that guided you along the terrible pathways of your life, but he was also the one who reprimanded you when need be. 

“He’s alright,” you promised her, but she still didn’t come closer. Scott however, was completely baffled and had a million questions. 

“How did you do that? You can’t touch anyone-”

“I can touch him,” you answered shortly, your arms still wrapped tight around his limp form. “Just him.”

Jean shook her head and snapped out of her train of thought. There was too much to be asked, but this was not the time for it. Logan still needed more treatment, despite the help you gave. You stood up to accommodate her, keeping your eyes on Logan and making sure he was still okay. You could feel his energy restacking, like building blocks in the air around you. 

“Start talking,” Scott pressed, the urgent situation now overshadowed by a need for answers. Ororo joined Scott in front of you, her expression holding more than just shock at this point. She looked nearly excited, but you couldn’t say why. 

“I know him,” you said, trying to start slowly, but knowing the two of them, it wouldn;t be good enough. “When Striker had us, he got Logan, too. He doesn’t remember it, but he saved my life… yours too, Scott.”

“That…” he trailed, shaking his head. He’d done the same thing that you’d done. He blocked it out of his memory. That didn’t mean that it didn’t happen. You just had a better reason to remember it. “That can’t be possible… he’s touched you before?” 

“He practically dragged me out of that cell,” you told him, and he recalled the day of the mutant prison break. He remembers a man helping them, but never imagined it could have been Logan. 

“How is it possible? I’ve seen you drop some of the most powerful mutants where they stand, no one survives being touched by you,” Ororo was the one to pitch in this time, her question not so much one of what, but how?

“His regenerative ability. The way Charles used to explain my powers to me, he said to think of my skin like a radioactive energy poison. When such a poison is absorbed into one’s body it can cause it to shut down. My powers work the same way, just a thousand times stronger and faster. The thing is,” you pointed behind you, where Logan was slowly gaining small bits of health. “His regen mutation never allows my energy to be absorbed… I can’t kill him.”

“Scott?” Jean called from the ground, trying and failing to lift Logan on her own. “Gonna need a little help here. I need him in the med bay.”

Scott shook off the conversation, focusing on the matter at hand. 

When Jean and Scott got Logan through the crowd of kids, they all dispersed back to their rooms. The only two remaining were you and Ororo. 

She stared at you for a moment, wondering if you were going to leave, but then watched as you shuffled around in Logan’s things, looking for what you leant to him. You were hoping by some miracle that there would be some left. 

“Aha,” you let out, grabbing the bottle from inside the dresser drawer, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. There wasn’t much, but there was enough to ease your mind at this late hour. “Want some?” 

“You really think this is a good time to be drinking?” she scoffed, crossing her arms and watching you fall back onto the foot of his bed. 

“I think it’s the perfect time to be drinking,” you held it out to her, wondering if she’d actually take it. 

She tried to keep her adult habits outside of the school, but these were tumultuous times, and she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to allow it under the circumstances. 

Out of the silence, she turned to you, right as you took your next slow gulp of the smooth liquor. 

“So,” her pause and sigh were unneeded. You knew what she was about to be getting on about. “You can touch him…”

“Yep,” you looked at her, a thin lipped smile on your face. You really didn’t have much else to say, but she did. 

“I know you never got over Charlie,” she spoke gently, not wanting to pinch a nerve, or bring up bitterness in a moment like this. The calm after the storm, no pun intended. “But maybe this is your chance…”

“A chance to what?” 

“You know what I’m talking about,” she leaned into your eyeline, still careful to stray from any of your exposed skin. 

“Yeah,” you muttered, “I know.” And then with the last swig in the bottle, you felt the warmth of the drink, and the tiniest bit of a buzz. “I don’t think Logan’s that kinda guy.”

“You don’t think he’d commit to a relationship?” 

“I don’t think he’d commit to me,” you corrected, shrugging your shoulders. You wished you had more to drink after that revelation, but unfortunately, this empty bottle contained the only bit of alcohol on the entire property. 

“He seems loyal, maybe you just need to know him better,” she encouraged, bumping her clothed shoulder with yours. Always a kind gesture, one of friendship and to show she held no fear of you like others did. 

“He doesn’t even know himself,” you chuckled a little. It may have been a bit of a mean joke to make, because you can’t even imagine how hard it is for him, but still you laugh, because you know him better than he does. “I know who he was that day.”

“When he saved you?” 

“Yeah, saved everyone,” you dropped your head, focusing on your hands and trying to keep your mind from falling down any bunny trails. “He was a hero. I think he still might be.”

“You should tell him that.”

“I did,” you chuckled, tossing the whiskey bottle back into the soft pillows of the bed to rid your hands of it. “He didn’t believe a word I was telling him…”

She sighed, knowing that with your stubbornness, and your fear of hurting people, you may opt to keep him at arms length, regardless of his ability to touch you. She knew about Charlie, and what you did to him. She knew you’d sworn off love since that day, over a hundred years ago… but she still had hope that this could turn into a part of your happiness. 

“Don’t give up on him so fast, alright?” She asked, her eyes turning to that of a puppy dog, pulling at your heart and nearly making you comply. 

“I won’t.”

-

Rogue went missing the next day, and while you’d been chomping at the bit to find her, you were unfortunately called to the office of the professor. You wondered if you were in for a stern talking to after the previous night’s events. 

“Take a seat,” he began, staring out the open window at the setting sun, and the children on property who were playing in the grass before dark. 

You did as you were told, not because you wanted to, but because you respected Charles enough to listen to whatever diatribe he was about to drone on. 

“I’ve had quite a few people visit my office today on your account,” he turned his chair around, his face not one of disappointment like you thought it would be. He didn’t look upset at all, nor did he look like he was going to reprimand you for being careless with your abilities. “I must say, I was surprised to hear of what happened.”

“I know it was careless of me,” you defended, unknowing if it was even necessary, but wanting to cover your bases, anyways. “But I can explain.”

“There’s no need to put up an argument, my dear.”

“There’s not?” 

He chuckled and shook his head, a small smile spreading over his cheeks. “Not at all. In fact, I’m actually quite happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you asked another question, the reasoning for your visit becoming more unclear. 

“I know how long you’ve suffered,” he sighed, his tone returning to something more serious. “I have felt your anger and bitterness towards your abilities. I’ve sensed your hatred of them for years.”

“That was before,” you tried to interject, to tell him how thankful you were for his training. “But you taught me they were not just a curse, but also a blessing.”

“And do you really think I believe you when you say it? Miss Beckett, I’ve known you more than half my life… I can read your mind without entering it by now.”

You knew that if anyone could understand you it was him. You could feel other’s energy, but when he entered someone’s mind he could feel that and so much more. He could feel emotions, think that person’s thoughts, and even see what they see. 

“You knew all this time, then?” 

“I did,” he nodded, but didn’t stop there. “I knew that no matter what I did, it wouldn’t change your burdens.”

You ducked your head, thinking back to the times you’d lied, telling everyone that things were better. Truthfully, as a person you felt less alone, less hated and less dangerous… but you never felt loved. You couldn’t. No one could, or wanted to touch you, knowing your mutation.

“Scott told me about Logan, how you’d all met once before,” he said, turning the conversation back around to that of a better note. “When you’d repressed the memories of what Agent Striker had done, you’d forgotten him… but you didn’t forget what he did for you, and you didn’t forget a special detail.”

“He touched me,” you filled in the blank, waiting for him to continue. 

“Precisely.”

“I think…” you trailed, unsure of where this chat was going to lead. If Ororo had come to him, you were sure the thoughts exchanged the night before had come up, even if it was just meant to help you. “I think he may have feelings for… someone else.”

Charles nodded, he’d not purposely looked into Logan’s mind, but when Jean was stirring restlessly in the late evening, he took a peek inside hers, seeing the struggle to combat Logan and his advances.

“I understand,” he responded, but thought it was worth mentioning what he knew. “But his advances are pointless.”

“I still don’t want to get my hopes up,” you reasoned, a good point to be made considering his behavior towards you. “I’m getting too old for shit like this, you know?”

His understanding went without saying, he remembers your past, and knows of the only person you ever truly loved. It was a story for the ages with a tragic ending that would even make the bravest of men shed a tear. 

“Of course.”

You waited for him to dismiss you, and when he nodded to you in finality, you stood up from your seat. 

“Stay open minded, my dear, you don’t know where your path may lead.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, giving him a smile as you left the room. 

“Thank you, Charles.”

First Ororo, and now Charles. Your biggest cheerleaders since they met you… you love them both, and want to listen to them, but you are older therefore wiser, and must protect yourself from things that aren’t good for you. Everyday you grow older but your face and body stay the same. Your mentality weakens when you realize you’ve still got so much life to live, and it burdens you more when you struggle to live it alone. Having someone by your side would be the answer to your every prayer, the reason you could keep going. But you know you can’t endure another heartbreak, you won’t survive it. 

-

It’s been days, nearly a week. Your mind is frazzled, and you think that maybe it’s time for a break. A quiet time to let your mind rest and restore itself. 

So much has happened, and you can’t put your finger on what was the most stressful part of it all. The quickness, the escalation, the chaos… or what it almost cost you. 

Erik is temporarily defeated, but you know he’ll keep at it in the future. There were several mutants in his gathering that were unapprehended after the final battle. It will make for an interesting hunt that the X-men get to pursue.

One of which you wouldn't mind letting go about her business for a while. You knew Mystique when she went by Raven. 

So much has changed since then, and you've changed with the time gone by.

There's still something on your mind after everything that's happened this week, and of course that something is Logan. His past, his present, and what he wants to do with his future. 

He’s an X-man now, a part of the team and a member of the mutant family… but he searches for who he is, and you can sympathize with that, especially because of what he did for you. He didn’t just do it for you, but with the state you were in, he could have passed your cell, given up on you. Instead, he practically carried you out of that prison, never knowing how lethal your touch was. He saved you and gave you the greatest gift you’d received. Hope. A fresh start. The thought that life didn’t have to be such a burden. 

The kids were settled in early this evening, after the late night that was pulled the day prior, they needed to catch up on their rest… but Logan was having a hard time sleeping. You were, too. 

It was about eleven when he came knocking on the door, softly so nobody else would hear him. Ororo was behind the door next over from yours, her light on beneath the slit in that door, and he mentally kicked himself for even doing this at all, so late at night. 

When you cracked open your own door, peeking through to see who it was, you were surprised at the man standing in the doorway. 

“Logan? What are you doing up? It’s late…”

“Yeah, I know,” he whispered, just above the level you were speaking at, voice barely audible. “I wanted to talk to you.”

You were unsure of what there was to talk about, really. It had been radio silence since the mission, and you figured he wanted some space after something like that… it wasn’t unusual for an X-man, but you didn’t know him as well, so you didn’t know what you were supposed to expect. 

“Can I come in?” he asked, and it was only now that you realized you’d been frozen in your spot, a furrowed brow worn on your face. 

“Yeah, sorry.”

You closed the door behind him when he passed through, going back to your bed to sit down. He followed suit, and it was nearly a reverse image of the first night he arrived. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he cleared his throat, trying to sound grateful. “For saving my life. Jean told me what you did.”

You smiled a little and scoffed, shaking your head and waving him off. “Don’t thank me… I actually endangered your life.”

“I’m still here, aren’t I? Whatever you did, it saved me.”

“I had no idea that it would, it could have gone either way,” you argued, not for the sake of being right, but because you didn’t want him to think you’d done something extraordinary or heroic. You were actually being quite selfish in your actions. 

“You like to argue a lot, huh?” he teased, remembering the last one on one conversation you both had. You would admit, you didn’t like being wrong. You’d gotten it in your head that after being alive for so long, you ought to know more than everyone. 

“Well, I am a lawyer,” you shrugged, a slight smirk on your face. You’d never practiced in a firm, or even got a law related job, but you liked to remind people of it here and there, it was always entertaining. 

“I noticed that certificate on your wall the other night, noticed em’ all, actually…” he trailed, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check and make sure they were all still there. He’d come to the conclusion that you were intelligent the first time you met, your dialect being very formal for the age he thought you were… but above that, you carried yourself in a way that spoke to being knowledgeable. 

“Oh, those?” you laughed, tilting your head and making a silly face in their direction. “Those are nothing, just reminders of all the times I’ve been bored.”

“Bored? You’re kidding me,” he mused, crossing his arms and chuckling. 

“Maybe I also wanted to better myself a little,” you answered truthfully, rolling your eyes after getting it out. He didn’t seem like the scholarly type. Not a bad thing by any means, but you were sure his abilities far accelerated him in other occupations before he ended up here.

“Well whatever the reason, you’ve clearly done good,” he complimented, and you were certainly not complaining. Getting compliments from your friends, from your mutant family, it uplifted you… but getting a compliment from him? It felt different, more weighted. “And whatever you did to save me, that was good too.”

“I didn’t even know it would work,” you huffed, looking down at your hands. You hadn’t touched him since he came in, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were doing so purposely, or if you just hadn’t gotten the opportunity. “I honestly thought I might kill you faster…”

“Then why would you have tried it?” He couldn’t believe you. A smart girl like you, with the power you held? It seemed out of character to make a decision like that.

“Honestly?” you raised your brows, thinking of a sentence that didn’t sound weird, or selfish. “I was scared you were gonna die before I could know you.”

He tilted his head slightly in confusion. “You want to know me?” 

“I do,” you nodded with a sheepish smile. Thank God for the darkness in the room, because you’re sure your face is turning red. “I mean, it’s not everyday that I meet someone I can shake hands with, so…”

He laughed a little, reaching out playfully for a handshake. You smiled wide, taking his hand and giving it a nice firm shake. You’ve shaken hands when wearing gloves, but it’s just not the same. You’ve touched others while wearing them, too. But the skin contact you’ve always been deprived of, it’s something that sends chills down your spine, no matter how simple the gesture is. Even just a handshake. 

“I’d like you to know me too, but there’s just one problem with that,” he sighs, shaking his head in a bit of something akin to sadness. “I don’t know me.”

You can’t stand to see that look on his face. His hand was still wrapped around yours, now resting on his knee and near your lap. An idea springs to your mind, and though it’s a terrible one, you think about all the good it could produce in the long run. 

“What if I could help you remember?” You suggested, grabbing his attention almost immediately. “You’ve said you don’t remember anything past fifteen years ago… that’s when you saved me from Striker.”

“You think you could help me?” 

“I can try, I owe it to you.” Your reasoning made him turn the idea over in his head, but he wasn’t sure of how you planned to help him, exactly. “Something must have happened that day to make you forget… we can go back to the base, look for answers, see if anything triggers your memories?” 

It was a bold move, but you had to take it. No matter what happened the other night, you still owe him your life, and this could be a way to even the playing field. 

“You’d take me there?” he asked sincerely, a bit surprised that you would even offer, considering what he knew of your time in that prison. You shouldn’t want to return at all, but what’s worse is you want to do it for him. 

“I would… If you want me to.” 

He grinned, his look of bewilderment still laced in. “I would be grateful, if you could.”

“It’s settled then.”

He nodded to you, and you both gave a glance to the door. It was time to say goodnight, though you wanted him to stay and talk till sunrise. You had so many questions, about him, about his life since Striker, and even about his abilities… but it would have to wait till another time. 

He got up, and you followed, getting to the door before you heard voices outside of it. 

“It’s Ororo,” you sighed, turning to him and huffing. “I don’t know who she’s talking to…”

“I better not let her see me sneaking around this late,” he said, looking back at you with a comical expression. “I have a feeling that she’ll tattle on me.”

“You’re right, she would.” You stood with your ear to the door, hearing that the other voice in the hall was Jean. They were talking about you, and you figured it was not a good time to let the Wolverine go traipsing out of your room. “You know, you don’t have to go… if you don’t want to. You could just stay here tonight.”

His smirk held a bout of confidence before he spoke, “You sure I’m not crowding your space?” 

“I’ve got plenty of room,” You nodded to the queen bed you’d stood up from. In all truthfulness, it was a big bed to sleep in alone, and you’d been forced to for over a decade. “You also just happen to be the only person who wouldn’t die if I accidentally kicked you in the middle of the night.”

He laughed, nodding his head. He didn’t want to leave in the first place, he just felt like maybe he’d been imposing. Tough luck on that, because if you had your way, he’d stay longer than just the night. 

“With an argument like that, how can I say no?” 

“I might not sleep for a while, though… so if you wanna turn in, be my guest,” you sat back on the bed, shoving your walkman with the headphones to your side so he could settle in next to you. 

“Couldn’t really sleep already, that's why I came here in the first place.” He started eyeballing the walkman, scooting in closer to where you sat, legs crossed and back against your pillows and headboard. “You got music?” 

“Oh, uh… yeah, just a little mixtape I’ve been listening to.” 

You’d just rewound the tape earlier, and almost put it over your ears when you found you couldn’t sleep. Maybe it would have settled the noise in your brain… but Logan seemed to do a pretty good job of that, too.

“May I?” He gently reached for the set, and your heart stuttered in beat when you saw the sweet look in his eyes.

“Yeah, of course,” You handed it over with a smile, no hesitation, even though this new mixtape was built primarily on the feelings for him you’d been fighting. “It’s mostly just girl stuff…”

He put the headphones on and started listening, and you felt a bit awkward just watching him listen to the music, unsure if he would piece anything together or not. 

The first song played was Fields of Gold by Sting… just a soft ballad that made you think of what life might be like if things were different. 

By the second song, you pulled the plug of the headphones, letting the music play softly through the speaker instead so you could both hear it. It felt much better when you could listen to the music yourself. Music always calmed you down, made you feel more at ease.

You helped him fast forward through some of the songs he seemed bored during, but he stopped you on a few, nodding his head and smiling as the music filled his ears. 

“You like this one?” You asked, watching him start tapping his fingers to the song I Was Made For Lovin’ You by Kiss.

“This is my kinda music, right here,” he laughed, letting loose a little, breaking down his tough exterior just slightly so you could see the softness lurking behind. 

The noise from outside your door had long gone, but Logan didn’t seem eager to leave whatsoever… you did after all invite him to stay. 

When the song Wicked Game came on, you opted to skip it, and he grabbed the tips of your fingers to pull your hand away and ask why. The intro kept playing, the somber guitar filling the air between you. 

“It’s a sad song, kinda haunting,” you explained, but the real reason you were trying to skip it was because you’d rewound this one a bit too much when thinking about him, the lyrics seeming to match up to every time you looked at him the way you were now. “It’s not as fun as the others.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he said, taking the walkman and holding it so that you couldn’t skip the song yet. 

World was on fire, and no one could save me but you

Strange what desire will make foolish people do

You looked up at him and he seemed to really be into the music, but his brow was furrowed, like he was thinking about it in real time. 

I never dreamed that I’d meet somebody like you

You had to look away from him for a moment, your face turning red and your eyes falling to your lap.

And I never dreamed that I’d lose somebody like you

No, I don’t wanna fall in love

No, I don’t wanna fall in love… with you

You took a glance back up, seeing his face and the way it seemed to turn almost upset by the lyrics. You almost thought about reaching for the walkman, but his death grip on it looked too strong to break. 

“The next one is pretty good,” you smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He broke out of his trance and nodded, handing the device back to you. 

The smooth and laid back energy returned to the room, and you could feel the peace of it engulfing you as you absorbed the energy from the air. It fed you, made you stronger, happier. 

You couldn’t even help yourself by the time it got to the end of the playlist, the last song making you quietly sing aloud in front of someone you barely know… which was strange considering you wouldn’t even sing in front of your dearest and closest friends. 

The song just did that to you… it used to remind you of a love you once lost, but because of the lyrics, you were starting to associate the beautiful melody with another face. The one looking back at you with a small lip tug of a smile. 

The song in question? More Than Words by Extreme. 

You didn’t look at him when you sang it, because you were already falling too hard, too fast. You needed to slow down… but just thinking about the lyrics… 

More than words, is all you have to do to make it real

Touching someone for the first time is more than words can express… sitting side by side with someone without fear of hurting them means more than words could possibly say.

When the song ended you stopped the tape, setting it to rewind and putting it over on your bedside table. 

“Not bad… that last one, I’ve heard it a few times somewhere else. It’s pretty good.”

“Yeah, I like it better than the others,” you said jokingly, as if he couldn’t already tell by how easily the words came out of your mouth. “Saved the best for last, right?” 

“I’d say so,” he wouldn’t look anywhere else but you, and you felt so powerless under his stare. You were folding in record time, and honestly at this point, you’d count it as a miracle if you made it out of this night without ruining it all.

“You tired yet?” you asked, changing the subject and pulling back your sheets. 

“I’m getting there…” 

His soft and pretty hazel eyes were starting to make you wish you’d not invited him. He was making this difficult. You wanted to know him, and not just physically. There would be time for that, but you had to wait and make sure he was the one.  You weren’t willing to let yourself love him to the ends of the earth if you weren’t going to be able to keep him. It would just haunt you for the rest of your long and burdened life.

“Me too, but uh… I’m gonna try and finish my book,” you smiled, reaching for the novel on your bedside table. Fahrenheit 451. “So, just turn in whenever you’re tired.”

He debated asking you about the book, but ultimately decided that he’d bothered you enough for one night. It seemed like something he might research himself, if it was something you like. You obviously have good taste in music, maybe he ought to give reading the same books as you a try. 

He’d never admit it, because it wasn’t like him to do such a thing, but he liked being around you. Liked touching you. The energy you gave off was pleasant, and every time your skin connected, he absorbed a little bit of it from you. Something that would kill anyone else, he got to experience first hand. 

He smiled and lied down, giving a glance over his shoulder before he settled in. Your bed was warmer than his, more comfortable, too. “G’night, Alice.”

Your grin compared to his was like a young schoolgirl, completely and utterly lovestruck for the boy you met last week. 

“Night, Logan.”

Tags: @ayamenimthiriel @levislegislation @reidsworld @melsunshine @clairealeehelsing

[hhghgt]

How ep 6 should have ended:

Buck barely remembers how he ended up here. All he knows is that, after Tommy left him, he’d stumbled out of his apartment with a six-pack, and somehow, his legs had brought him to Eddie’s place. Maybe he wasn’t thinking straight—hell, he knew he wasn’t. Eddie’s house had become his refuge so many times over the years, and tonight, it was the only place he could imagine feeling any semblance of comfort.

When Eddie opened the door, Buck shoved a cold beer into his hand and stormed into the living room, collapsing onto the couch in a daze. Eddie quietly followed, sitting down beside him, and for a while, the only sounds between them were the clicks of bottles opening, the quiet sighs of breath as they drank, and the creak of the couch under their weight.

By the time Buck’s fourth—or maybe fifth—beer was empty, eddie asks: “Are you okay?” Eddie’s voice, soft but steady, broke the silence that had lingered since Buck had walked in.

“Tommy’s gone,” Buck mumbled after a long pause, his voice rougher than he’d expected. “Left me. Just… left.”

Eddie nodded, taking it in quietly, just understanding. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Buck let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, leaning back and letting his head fall against the couch. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed that—someone just sitting with him, letting him be a mess without asking for answers.

“I don’t know why I keep ending up here, Eddie. You’d think… I don’t know… you’d think I’d learn by now that I’m not good at this. Not good at… keeping people around.”

Eddie shifted a bit closer, his voice lowering, warm and steady.“Maybe you don’t have to try so hard. Maybe… someone’s been here all along, just waiting for you to notice.” The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

The words settled between them, weighted and deliberate. Buck turned his head, meeting Eddie’s gaze for the first time that night, his friend’s steady look holding something more. There was a softness there he hadn’t noticed, the absence of Eddie’s usual guarded expression making him look almost vulnerable, raw in a way that struck something deep in Buck, made his heart stammer in his chest, leaving him feeling vulnerable, caught off guard.

And then he noticed the details he’d missed. Eddie’s face was clean-shaven, bare without the mustache. His gaze tracing over the lines of his face and the sight was… distracting, almost intimate in a way he hadn’t expected. And then he noticed the rest: Eddie was missing more than just the mustache. His legs were bare, stretched out, his white shirt hanging low, skimming just above his thighs. He was sweaty and flushed maybe he was warking out or something.

“Uh…” Buck blinked, the haze of alcohol and exhaustion blurring into something else as he kept staring, taking in the sight of Eddie, his best friend, looking so casually undone, his face bare and softened in the low light, relaxed yet alert, like he was waiting for something from Buck that Buck hadn’t even realized he wanted to give.

“You’re staring,” Eddie whispered, his tone somewhere between teasing and serious, his voice pulling Buck back from his daze.

Buck swallowed, his own voice barely a whisper. “Where are your pants? And… the mustache?” A nervous chuckle escaped him, half a laugh, half something else he couldn’t name.

Eddie grinned, low and easy, like he knew something Buck didn’t. “You don’t like it?”

The question lingered, and Buck couldn’t look away. “No, I mean… yeah, I like it,” he murmured, feeling his cheeks flush as he realized just how much he was still staring, caught between the unexpected closeness of Eddie beside him and the hum of energy that buzzed between them. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say, but the silence wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward. It felt like it was building toward something, something he didn’t want to break, It felt like Eddie was letting him figure it out, letting him find the words. Buck finally looked up again, meeting Eddie’s steady gaze. "Maybe… maybe you’re right," he admitted softly, the thought both terrifying and grounding. "Maybe I don’t have to keep looking."

They were close enough that Buck could feel Eddie’s breath against his skin, could see the way Eddie’s eyes darkened, gaze locked on him, waiting.

“Buck…” Eddie’s voice was barely a whisper, filled with something raw, something that sent a shiver down Buck’s spine.

Without thinking, Buck closed the remaining distance, his lips brushing against Eddie’s in a tentative kiss, soft and questioning, yet charged with all the weight of the words they hadn’t said. Eddie responded instantly, his hand coming up to the back of Buck’s neck, fingers threading through his hair as he deepened the kiss, the warmth of his touch grounding Buck in a way he’d never felt before.

Buck had always thought being with Abby and then Tommy had changed him—made him see parts of himself he hadn’t understood before.

But being here with Eddie was something else entirely. It didn’t feel like he was changing for Eddie or even because of him. Instead, being with Eddie felt like coming back to himself, like shedding the layers he’d worn to fit into other people’s lives. With Eddie, he didn’t have to try so hard to be what he thought someone else needed. Eddie didn’t ask him to change; he just saw him, accepted him in a way that made Buck feel seen in a way he never had before.

With Eddie, it wasn’t about transformation—it was about finally feeling whole, like he was exactly where he was meant to be, as he was. Eddie gave him space to just be Buck, flaws and all, and Buck realized that maybe this was the kind of love he’d been searching for all along, one that didn’t require him to be anything other than himself.

Eddie wasn’t just someone who had walked into his life and left a mark—he was the one who stayed, the one who showed up time and time again, even when Buck was at his worst.

[kimmie2me]

# 03. Unexpected Partners

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⋆⁺⋆˙⠀⠀⠀⠀taglist ... chapters ... masterlist

.....

If you’d had a time machine, you wouldn’t use it for anything noble or selfless—no epic rescue of historical figures, no preventing major disasters. Nope. You’d drag yourself back a month just to shake your wide-eyed, naïve self by the shoulders and scream, "Don’t do it. Find another department. Any other department. Join traffic control. Herd cats. Just don’t end up here."

Because here was Bakugou personal circle of hell. The past few weeks felt like a marathon in which you’d been tripped at the starting line, dragged halfway, and then left to sprint uphill. In the rain. With weighted vests. There was no mercy in Bakugou’s world, only adrenaline and barked orders that carried enough force to knock the confidence right out of your chest.

You learned, fast and furiously, that he wasn’t just tough. He was ruthless, exacting, and demanded perfection with all the warmth of a drill sergeant who hadn’t had coffee. And coffee—you’d learned the hard way—was something that could make or break a morning. There was The Incident when you dared bring him a cup with too much sugar, only to receive a sharp glare and a grumbled, “What, you think I’m ten?” The next thirty minutes were dedicated to sprint drills so intense your calves whimpered for days. All you wanted to do is figure out what the hell his favorite coffee is! Yes, you're still trying..

And yes, you're still failing.

Bakugou’s teaching methods were a combination of trial by fire and sheer terror. He wasn’t interested in your excuses or half-assed answers. If you messed up, you’d know—usually by the clipped way he’d shout, “Run it again,” or the eye twitch that signaled he was two seconds from ripping the folder out of your hands and doing it himself.

It wasn’t just the shouting, though that was certainly a staple. It was the moments he’d watch you with that hawk-eyed stare, arms crossed and expression set like granite. There were no second chances when Bakugou was breathing down your neck; you either got it right or got ready to count pavement cracks while doing your punishment laps. You hadn’t done so many wall sits since training, thighs quivering like jelly by the time he allowed you to stand.

And it wasn’t just you. Anyone who dared step into his path found themselves swept up in the tornado of his expectations. It made surviving the day feel like a badge of honor, if surviving meant stumbling into your apartment with barely enough strength to fling your shoes off.

One time, you’d accidentally jumbled up a lead in a report, swapping suspect descriptions that Bakugou caught in record time. He’d smacked the paper onto your desk with an incredulous look. “D’you even read this before handin’ it in?” And just like that, your next hour was filled with circuits and resistance bands that made your arms feel like spaghetti. “C’mon, rookie, or should I start callin’ you noodle arms?” The jab stuck, and you groaned whenever he brought it up.

Bakugou’s wrath was tempered only by moments of begrudging silence, the rare instances where you met his eyes and thought you saw a flicker of something softer, only to blink and find it gone. Those moments would have been comforting if they weren’t fleeting, crushed by his next tirade over a misplaced document or a missed clue.

But just as you’d started thinking maybe you’d bitten off more than you could chew, a case dropped that pulled everyone into high gear: a string of burglaries, each more calculated than the last. No dumb luck, no rookie mistakes would fly with this one. Bakugou’s tension was palpable, a crackle in the air whenever he entered the room. He’d pace with his hands shoved into his pockets, muttering curses and theories under his breath like the case had insulted him personally.

Your nerves spiked with each passing day. Bakugou was more relentless than ever, orders flung out faster than you could grab your notebook. And if you so much as hesitated? He’d turn, eyes gleaming like a predator scenting blood. “Keep up, or get out.”

By the time you wrapped up that week’s legwork, you weren’t sure whether to feel accomplished or absolutely wrecked. Bakugou had pushed every ounce of strength and patience from your body, leaving you hollowed out and aching. Yet, for some reason you’d yet to understand, you kept coming back, stepping into the precinct with a quiet determination that only grew as his glare followed you like a challenge.

Time machine, you reminded yourself, scribbling down notes that were half-legible from your shaking hand. You’d go back, find yourself, and whisper conspiratorially, Choose desk duty. It’ll save your soul.

But you didn’t have a time machine. You had Bakugou. And you were starting to suspect he might just make a detective out of you, whether you survived him or not.

.....

The burglaries had started small—a string of break-ins that barely made the back page of the city’s morning paper. But each successive hit grew bolder, more precise, like the thief was taunting the force. By the time it hit their radar, Chief Yagi’s usually calm expression had hardened to steel, and even the more seasoned detectives were exchanging wary glances.

For you, it meant one thing: Bakugou was operating at maximum intensity, his usual scowl deepened to something almost carved from stone. It was an energy you could feel in the air, like the static before a lightning strike. And with that, the pace of your life turned from grueling to almost impossible. Long days blurred into longer nights, the fluorescent lights above burning into your skull as you combed through reports with squinting eyes and a splitting headache. The precinct buzzed with anticipation and tension, everyone bracing for the storm.

You sat at your desk, meticulously cross-referencing suspect details when Bakugou stormed in, clipboard in one hand and the other pressed into his hip like it was the only thing keeping him from losing it entirely. He glanced around the room, eyes sharp as the edge of a blade, before they settled on you. The air shifted.

“Rookie,” he barked, and you jumped, nearly dropping your pen. He didn’t wait for you to recover before launching into his rapid-fire speech. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only sayin’ this once. The pattern’s changed. Our thief’s not just hittin’ high-value targets anymore—they’re goin’ after places with tech infrastructure. Means they’re not just lookin’ for loot—they’re diggin’ for data, and if we don’t get ahead, we’re gonna be two steps behind with our heads up our—”

He paused, jaw tightening like he was biting back an insult, and then leaned down, bringing himself to eye level. His eyes were an inferno, daring you to miss a word. “You listening?”

You nodded so fast it was a wonder your neck didn’t cramp, scribbling down notes as if your life depended on it. Maybe it did—at least, your peace of mind surely did. Bakugou’s tone wasn’t just demanding; it was drilled into your skull, searing in its urgency.

“Good. Now, look—”

“Oh! Hey, Kacchan!!”

The voice sliced through the room like a record scratch, shattering Bakugou’s hyper-focused tension into a thousand jagged pieces. He physically recoiled, straightening up so fast you’d think he’d been stung. Your pen stilled mid-word, eyes flicking between him and the newcomer with an internal "?!?!?!?!" blaring in neon letters.

Kacchan?

There, standing at the threshold of the precinct like he’d wandered in by accident, was Detective Midoriya Izuku, all soft smiles and bright green eyes. He gave a little wave as if Bakugou wasn’t seconds away from launching into orbit.

“Kacchan, hi! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Midoriya’s tone was impossibly cheerful, and the nickname fell from his lips like it was a greeting between best friends. But from the way Bakugou’s hands twitched, it may as well have been a bomb dropped into a room full of dynamite.

Bakugou’s response was instantaneous, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “What the hell’re you doin’ here, Deku?”

The silence that followed was suffocating, punctuated only by the distant hum of computers and a detective a few desks over clearing their throat awkwardly. Your heart thumped in your chest as if it was trying to escape the awkwardness, and you glanced at Midoriya, expecting him to shrink back. But he didn’t—his smile wavered, sure, but he held his ground, eyes earnest.

“I’m here to help with the case,” Midoriya explained, and it took everything in you not to whip your head around. Help? With your case?

Bakugou’s reaction was as explosive as you expected. “Help? You—”

But before he could finish, a voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, boys.” Chief Yagi’s voice was firm as he walked in, flanked by another man who exuded calm authority—the infamous Chief Aizawa Shouta. His tired eyes swept over the room, taking in the scene with a raised brow.

“Chief Aizawa and his team are joining us for this operation. And that includes Detective Midoriya.” Chief Yagi’s tone left no room for argument.

Bakugou’s jaw set so tight you could hear the grind of teeth. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the past few weeks had been like? They were about to get a whole lot more complicated.

…

You barely had time to absorb Midoriya’s, let alone Cheif Aizawa's, sudden appearance before Chief Yagi called everyone into the briefing room. This would’ve been a regular meeting for the higher-ups—the kind you’d usually only hear about when Bakugou came out, slamming the door behind him, face redder than the emergency exit signs. But today, for reasons you couldn’t fathom, you were summoned along. Because apparently, if Bakugou was involved, you were involved.

The briefing room was already filling up, the thick scent of coffee and paper lingering in the air as officers shuffled in, muttering greetings and speculations under their breath. Chief Yagi took his place at the head of the room, looking as solid and unyielding as ever, while Chief Aizawa leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, observing the room with the detached but alert gaze of a cat watching a busy street. Midoriya slid into a chair near the front, shooting you a small, encouraging smile. Bakugou, in contrast, looked like he’d swallowed a wasp.

Then, in strode Officer Ashido Mina, bright as a firecracker, with Officer Sero Hanta close behind her, both exuding a casual confidence that somehow didn’t feel out of place even in a room of high-stakes professionals. Mina shot a finger-gun wave at the room, winking in your direction before taking a seat across from Midoriya. Sero plopped down beside her, his grin almost lazy but eyes sharp, taking in everything at once.

Chief Yagi’s voice brought the room to order. “Alright, everyone, this joint task force is in place because the burglaries have escalated. We’re dealing with a team of thieves targeting secure information in addition to high-value assets. The leads point to a complex operation, and that’s where our collaboration comes in.”

He nodded to Chief Aizawa, who spoke in that low, measured tone that commanded instant respect. “We need all hands on deck. Each of you will have a role—whether it’s field, intel, or processing. Officer Uraraka will be on the evidence team, coordinating with the data we’ve collected so far.”

The mention of Uraraka’s name caught your attention, and sure enough, she was at the back, beaming when she spotted you. Her presence was a rare comfort in this sea of intense, stern faces. It had been years since you’d seen her, but it was like old times when she waved, mouthing an excited “Hey!”

“Detective Bakugou, Officer L/N, you’ll be working alongside Detective Midoriya’s team,” Chief Yagi continued, and the very air in the room seemed to vibrate as Bakugou’s scowl deepened. He was in full protest mode, shooting daggers at Midoriya, who looked back with a determined—if slightly nervous—smile.

Once the briefing concluded, Chief Yagi dismissed everyone, and the room exploded in chatter as officers filed out. You managed to navigate through the crowd until you reached Uraraka, who practically bounced on her toes, pulling you into a quick hug.

“Can you believe it? We’re working together!” she said, her voice bright with excitement. “I’ve been doing the fingerprinting, data scans—all the good stuff. Remember when I used to geek out about this stuff in school?”

“Oh, totally! You always aced those forensics projects,” you replied, grinning as the memories rushed back.

She nodded, laughing. “Exactly! And now, look at us! I get to actually do it. And you—you’re working with Bakugou Katsuki, of all people!” Her eyes widened with awe and maybe a little mischief, the kind that reminded you of her knack for getting you into trouble back in the day.

“Working is a strong word,” you muttered, glancing over at Bakugou, who was still glaring holes into Midoriya, ignoring everyone else. “Surviving might be more accurate.”

Uraraka giggled but quickly straightened when she caught Bakugou’s expression aimed squarely at her—a glare so intense that it was a wonder she didn’t spontaneously combust. She cleared her throat, gave you a small, sympathetic smile, and said, “Well, I’d better get back to it. I’ll send over the scans when they’re ready! And hey, catch up soon?”

You nodded, squeezing her hand in agreement. “Definitely. Thanks, Ochaco.”

With a final grin, Uraraka turned back to her workstation, her demeanor shifting from friendly to focused in an instant. You watched her go, feeling a brief pang of jealousy at how seamlessly she slid into her work. But that was quickly overridden by the realization that Bakugou was striding your way, arms crossed and a storm brewing in his expression.

“Done with your little reunion?” he sneered, barely waiting for you to nod. “Good. 'Cause now it’s time for you to actually do somethin’ useful, rookie.” He nodded towards the open case file in his hand. “Let’s go.”

.....

The silence between you and Bakugou was taut, strung up like an overused wire threatening to snap. He stalked ahead, practically dragging the storm cloud that was his mood behind him. You weren’t entirely sure why he’d decided that now was the time to go full boot camp on you, but here you were, heels clicking on the polished floor, trying not to look like you’d rather melt into it.

“Listen up, rookie,” Bakugou started without turning around, his voice a low rumble laced with that familiar bite. He navigated the labyrinth of hallways like a predator circling its territory. You’re gonna make yourself useful if it kills ya, got it?”

You swallowed thickly, feeling a combination of irritation and nerves twist in your chest. You’d learned over the past few weeks that Bakugou had a penchant for the extreme. Everything was all or nothing with him, whether it was paperwork, interrogations, or the way he yelled about the printer jamming (which was only your fault that one time).

“Got it,” you managed, though it came out weaker than you intended. He spared you a glance, eyes narrowing as if daring you to prove him right about all the times he’d muttered under his breath about “extras” wasting his time.

As if on cue, the door to one of the briefing rooms swung open, and Detective Kirishima stepped out, his broad grin a sharp contrast to Bakugou’s perpetual scowl. “Yo! Heard we’re working together on this one,” he said, his voice friendly and warm, instantly cutting through the tension.

Great. If there was ever a time to look capable, it was now. Not that Kirishima would ever point out your mistakes, but being around Bakugou had a way of amplifying your self-awareness until it was deafening.

“Try not to get in the way,” Bakugou snapped, jerking his thumb towards the entrance. You wondered if his eyes had always held that unrelenting glint or if he’d sharpened it specifically for you. Kirishima, bless him, only chuckled, patting you on the back as he passed by.

“Don’t mind him. He’s just on edge about the syndicate case,” Kirishima whispered, though you knew Bakugou’s sharp hearing likely picked it up. His glare confirmed it, but he didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the map on the table instead. Red pins clustered like a rash, each marking a hit by the crime syndicate that had every department in the city scrambling.

The realization hit you hard. The stakes were higher than ever, and the idea of fumbling now made your stomach churn. The last thing you needed was to mess up in front of Bakugou and Kirishima, especially when the latter’s optimism made you want to do better and the former’s disdain made you feel like you never could.

Bakugou laid out the plan, his voice cutting through the thick tension in the room. "..'nd if we’re lucky, tonight’s stakeout’ll give us what we need.” He turned to you, eyes narrowing to twin blades. “That clear, rookie?”

“Crystal,” you muttered, earning a sharp nod.

As Kirishima checked the comms equipment, you shifted on your feet, the weight of what was coming pressing against your chest like a vice. The quiet hum of urgency filled the room as you prepared for the night ahead, a stakeout that promised no sleep, a test of patience, and a confined space with Bakugou’s intensity smoldering beside you.

Yeah. You're soo fucked.

[microwavedice]

Hello! Thanks for responding! Before my little comparison attempt here’s a quick disclaimer that I am not saying Curly is innocent, nor excusing him of his inaction. The entire Mouthwashing fandom has been frequently debating Curly and how he is not free of blame (heck it’s almost every text post here) but I was confused to see Swansea put in the same boat as Daisuke and Anya, when I saw him in game to be in a similarly morally grey area as Curly. Though just so everyone knows I love all four of the Mouthwashing characters! (Jimmy can burn in hell-) I mostly want to see more Swansea debate because I love the nuance in his character - how he stays at arms length and seems untrustworthy throughout the game but is actually ready to sacrifice himself for Daisuke, a mirror image of how Anya mentions he secretly loves cake at the surprise party when his distant and gruff attitude make it seem like he doesn’t! I want to explore all of the characters deeper complexities with the same thoroughness the community has shown to be capable of and I’d love to spark more debate about the less considered aspects so imma see if I can mirror what you’ve pointed out about Swansea with what I can gather of Curly’s side of things to compare!

When Curly learns of Anya’s situation they are still over one hundred days of space travel into the middle of nowhere, so from the moment Jimmy did it there were no space police around for Anya to call on and nowhere for them to land (probably terrifying). All of the rooms lock from the inside, so there’s nowhere Curly could have imprisoned Jimmy, though he could have probably used that nylon rope to restrain him somehow (only seems extreme if you don’t know what Jim did) though, in the same way, after learning about it Swansea could have done any of these things. He can clearly physically overpower Jimmy and take the code scanner which is as simple to use as a torch, rendering him and his self-proclaimed captain role obsolete and decidedly doing more harm than good. As for the next point, of course I’d argue that Anya is not safe at any point but to specifically address the sleeping, Jimmy never sees Anya asleep in her bed (as far as I can find) and her bed is always perfectly made, either showing her to be a meticulous person or (what I find more likely since every detail exists for a reason in this game) she sleeps elsewhere (likely in the medical bay since she asked about it specifically having locks in the Dead Pixel scene) away from Jimmy, since I doubt Anya would feel comfortable enough to sleep a foot away from him willingly (she could have moved her bed anywhere in the lobby, hell Swansea’s on the other side of the room! So why are all the rest bunched up like that??). Onto the next point, Jimmy unofficially appoints himself captain - the code scanner is not thumb print operated and the gun would be hard to conceal, also Swansea could snap him like a twig (top ten AUs) Jimmy wouldn’t stand a chance without the gun, so I don’t think Swansea was in any was threatened by Jimmy nor respected Jimmy enough to think his input was worth the harm. Diasuke’s death is bloody tragic, he lost his life for bright eyed naivety and even pushed through the broken vent to open the door, though neither him nor Anya survived (god this game is so sad but also so meaningful), in the moment Swansea seems to have been shocked to his core, complete shutdown. He says “it’s over. End of the fuckin’ line” and tells Jimmy to knock himself out with the cryopod, as if Daisuke’s death chipped away the last of his will to live on. Then, as Jimmy leaves to “fix everything” and “save everyone” with the ultimate friendship saving power of A Gun, a switch flips to the manic setting in the narrative and suddenly Swansea is furiously charging at Jimbo with the axe, a switch I attribute to him having taken that minute to process what Daisuke said about the cocktail, figuring out that Jimmy had yet again managed to manipulate someone into sacrificing themself for him to fulfil his hero complex, effectively having murdered our precious intern.

The start of this next paragraph implies that you thought Swansea factored Anya into his reason to get violent? Throughout the game, Swansea never takes much notice of Anya, calling her a “so-called nurse” and only bringing up the fact that she told him about it because Jimmy accused him of scheming, talking to her being involved in his paranoid list of potentially suspicious things Swansea’s done. Additionally, there’s a large difference in how Swansea and Curly held their inaction on Anya’s sexual assault: Swansea, in the same conversation that she told him, declined helping her, being a self aware and brutally honest foil to Jimmy’s emotional manipulation and inability to take responsibility for his choices and actions. The conversation ends with Anya saying “if that’s how it has to be” while crying, (probably due to offloading such a horrific topic, not necessarily because of Swansea’s response but it would certainly perpetuate her despair) indicating that Swansea has decided not to take action - at least not under their current circumstances. While he may have thought about it, Swansea was clearly not motivated to action by Jimmy’s sexual assault on Anya, as she told him 2 whole months before he decides to axe the bastard. Curly’s approach was almost the opposite situation, Swansea’s being that he already had reasons to dislike Jim, had plenty of time but wasn’t motivated to take action against him just by hearing about the SA, instead Curly had a trust of some kind with Jimmy (though Jimmy has shown to be very capable and prone to emotional manipulation as he did with Daisuke and Anya) but only had two days to come up with a plan, one being spent panicking about Anya potentially hurting herself with a gun and the second spent being blown to smithereens. There is no evidence, as well, within these two days that Anya was still sleeping in her quarters. There’s every chance that after telling Curly this and asking about the medical bay locks she decided to sleep in their until the crash (perhaps even after), since every lock is manual and locks from the inside she wouldn’t need to tell anyone in order to sleep in there. I don’t know what you mean Curly “helped Jimmy” after Anya told him? The only events after the Dead Pixel scene and before the crash are Curly searching for the gun, having Jimmy trying to push the sexual assault blame onto Curly in true Jimbo fashion, Jimmy then telling him “I’ll take care of it” and then Curly finding out that “it” was not in fact the child support. Anyhoo this is getting to be a really long post so I’ll wait to add anymore just in case anyone has any questions, cheers for reading! Sorry if I misspelt anything!

Hot take: Curly is more innocent than Swansea.

Mouthwashing fandom, who have shown to consistently disagree with this, what have I missed that makes you all unanimously excuse Swansea but debate Curly?

In short: Prove me wrong

[laniemae]

“I think I have to climb to the top of the hill if I wanna see what's going on on the other side...”

Drew this through tears as an acceptance that Ojima will be the killer of this chapter and that he’ll die and I’ll never see him again.

Vent/rant under cut

——— I’m actually crying right now while writing this. I can’t see any other possibility where Ojima isn’t the killer. Just everything story wise and plot and symbolic wise makes sense. He’s already the prime suspect with his shaky alibi, him going to the medbay at midnight, the blood on Hiroaki’s bed where he slept for the night, his strange disassociating more than usual. 

At this point there’s so much evidence pointing towards Ojima being the one who killed Chiba I’m already grieving his inevitable death this trial. Just, even with the parallels between him and Chiba with the story time episode where he wrote a children’s book with her, hence the text in the art referencing that. And how that one time he talked during his dissociative haze he said the exact words that Chiba said to him while writing the book. I can only think of this as Ojima in shock with how he killed her. There’s also their parallels as well with both having sorts of age regression and coping by living through a childish fantasy lens. It’d be so sad thinking how that could be symbolic of Ojima killing a perception of himself. And with Ojima being a children’s book illustrator who had his childhood taken away from him and Chiba looking like a child and having a similar form of regression I can’t imagine how tragic this story would play out through with the trial. 

I really thought Ojima would have more time as I felt it’d be inevitable we’d get a breakdown scene with his PTSD and learning more about that story, but with how things are going I could imagine that happening during the trial. God I don’t even wanna imagine how his execution would be if it goes the route on playing up his trauma, these killing game staff are sadists and I could completely imagine them doing that, especially with the mention of working on the execution in the staffside.

I’m also in absolute tears over his relationship with Hiroaki. Just… purple is so devastating with the likely idea that Ojima is the killer, and even imagining if he already killed at that time. Them sharing an intimate moment and Hiroaki confessing how he’s so reliant and attached to him and how they’re basically codependent, and as well with how he’s almost finished the drawing for Ojima. When he’s the killer he’ll never be able to show it to him and he’ll have absolutely no one by his side anymore who cares about him or even loves him. It would be the most heartbreaking thing ever.

Ojima is such an incredibly amazing character like I’ve never seen before I can’t prepare for him to be the chapter 2 killer… he would’ve gone too early and I’m such despair. I’ll never be able to see him again in the series, he’ll never speak again I’ll never be able to get exited whenever an episode pops up in a thumbnail he’ll never dissociate again he’ll never be funny and sassy again he’ll never help Hiroaki to open up again he’ll never have a hilariously gay moment with Hiroaki again. He’s lived 16 years of his life going through the worst abuse a human could face, only for when he escapes to be dragged into a killing game and forced to commit a murder of someone who shares so much similarities with him. I’m already feeling the effects of his death a week before it happens and I’d rather fall into despair than yearn for hope only to have it taken away from me. I can’t imagine how I’ll be able to watch tetro with Ojima gone forever. I have been crying the entire day over this and my tears are making this hard to write.

[writingamarie]

Maybe it’s just me but I think something Buck needs to learn is a relationship can be real and serious and meaningful without diving in. This man is always asking people to move in (okay twice but he also just moves in with Abby) Like it’s hard to get out of lease contracts -moving in after six months is decently fast (not wrong or too fast but still)

I’m excited to see what “hobbies” he takes up and how he deals with another breakup. But I also wouldn’t mind to see Buck attempt some type of casual dating. It could actually be interesting to see him balance casual dating/hookups vs 1.0

I hope Buck never stops learning things about himself. I hope he stays open to whatever comes his way. That might be a new guy, a new girl, or (in my wildest dreams) Eddie. I want to see him feel comfortable being bisexual and his happiness with himself not tied to a relationship. I don’t want him to be comfortable because the person he’s dating is comfortable with themselves. I just want him to be happy.

Oliver Stark loves Buck more than any of us. So I trust that he won’t do anything without it being a genuine part of Buck’s journey.

[b1xi]

───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Haikyuu(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count: 5860

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

With your recent addition to Karasuno's volleyball team, you had been trying to catch up on the sport’s basics. You’d watched a few games on TV, but it was hard to stay awake until the end; genuine interest in volleyball still hadn’t really taken root for you.

Most of your time in the gym consisted of supporting Hinata, shielding him from Kageyama’s frustrated outbursts whenever he made a mistake. Usually, you’d spend those hours sitting on the floor, reviewing sheet music or doodling in your notebook. On rare occasions, Hinata would insist on teaching you the basics of serving and receiving, which always ended in laughter and failed attempts to learn.

"So, what exactly do you do in the club?" asked Nayuta, plopping down beside you. Both of you watched Hinata and Kageyama train on the outdoor court under the shade of a large tree. Comfortable in your company, your friend pulled out a couple of candies from her bag, offering one to you without waiting for a reply.

"For now, absolutely nothing," you admitted with a sigh that clearly showed your growing boredom. The past few days had felt like an endless loop of watching the two rookies practice over and over to prepare for Saturday's match against Daichi.

"Is there at least anyone handsome enough to make spending your afternoons there worthwhile?" Nayuta joked, casting a critical look at the scene before biting into a piece of chocolate and offering you another. "Because if that’s the case, maybe I should join too," she added with a wink.

"Is there really any appeal in watching sweaty teenagers run after a ball?" you replied, letting yourself be drawn into the humor of the conversation while savoring the chocolate.

"Try to think of them like puppies," she suggested, straightening up to adjust her jacket. Her laughter grew louder as she watched Hinata doing everything he could to retrieve the ball, which had gotten stuck in one of the tree branches. Both of you burst into laughter when, after much effort, the boy finally managed to get it down, only for Kageyama to throw the ball at him as he turned around, accidentally hitting him in the face.

"See?" Nayuta remarked, stifling her laughter. "Just like clumsy puppies.”

You both spent a while lost in your own little bubble, chatting about boys, sharing gossip, and trading funny stories from your former schools. When the alarm on Nayuta's watch went off, you both snapped back to reality. "Wow, I have to get back home," Nayuta sighed as she stood up, brushing dirt off her skirt and tucking a few dark strands of hair behind her ear before picking up her bag.

"Alright, I’m off. Are you staying a bit longer, or do you want me to walk you out?" she offered with a smile. You thanked her but shook your head; Hinata had asked you to wait for him that day so you could walk home together.

You said goodbye to Nayuta, and once she left, you walked over to where Hinata and Kageyama were still practicing with boundless energy. "Hinata, it’s getting dark. Don’t you think it’s time to go?" you commented, using your fingers to tidy up a bit of your messy hair and adjusting the Pochacco hair clip you wore.

"Just one more time!" Hinata replied, his focus entirely on the ball Kageyama had just tossed to him. Just as the redhead was about to receive it, a hand extended over his head and caught the ball in mid-air.

Both of them turned around, surprised, to see two students who looked like they were first or second years. One of them was impressively tall, even taller than Kageyama.

"So here you were, training outside... you must be the first-years who caused trouble on the first day," the blonde boy commented confidently as he held the ball.

"Give it back!" demanded Hinata, stretching to reach it, but the blonde easily raised his arm, making it nearly impossible for the short redhead to get to it.

"Little kids should go home," the blonde said with a mocking smile, as if the three of them were little more than a joke. Visibly angered, Hinata clenched his fists and raised his voice.

"And who do you think you are?" Hinata retorted, annoyed by the newcomers' attitude.

"They’re the other first-years who joined the team," Kageyama commented, not hiding his irritation as he stared at them.

"First-years?" you couldn't help but exclaim, observing in astonishment the height of both boys. Your gaze lingered on the blonde, who was especially tall. "But... they’re so tall…" you murmured, more to yourself than to anyone else.

Kageyama, challenging the two newcomers with his gaze, asked directly, "How tall are you?"

"Tsukki is 1.88 meters," the freckled boy accompanying the blonde chimed in, speaking with evident enthusiasm. "And soon, he'll be 1.90 meters."

"Tsukki?" You wondered if that was a nickname since the blonde didn’t seem like someone with such a sweet-sounding name.

"Why are you bragging, Yamaguchi?" grumbled the blonde boy—apparently Tsukki—with a tone that revealed a mix of annoyance and resignation, as if this situation repeated itself often.

"Sorry, Tsukki," murmured the freckled boy, lowering his gaze. There was something endearing about his attitude that made you smile; he seemed genuinely friendly.

"You're Kageyama from Kitagawa Daiichi, right?" continued the blonde boy, momentarily ignoring his friend. "What’s someone like you doing at Karasuno?" His tone had a hint of mockery, but it also made it clear that Kageyama was known. You wondered how famous or talented he must be for everyone to know his name.

Hinata, unable to stand being ignored, raised his voice again, interrupting the conversation. "Hey, we’re not going to lose on Saturday! Got that?" His determination was admirable, though it seemed the blonde didn’t share his enthusiasm.

Tsukki, as his friend called him, cast a scrutinizing glance at Hinata before speaking, his tone filled with indifference. "I see. Maybe it’s important to you guys, but I couldn’t care less. Winning or losing doesn’t matter to me, so if you need it, I could… hold back," he commented nonchalantly, spinning the ball in his hands.

Hold back? Who did this guy think he was? You were surprised by his attitude, and apparently, you weren’t the only one.

"Whether you hold back or not, I’ll beat you anyway," replied Kageyama, looking at him with a coldness that conveyed his challenge.

"Say it in plural!" corrected Hinata, furious at the way Kageyama took all the responsibility solely for himself. Hinata’s response provoked a slight, sardonic laugh from Tsukki.

"Such confidence… no wonder they call you the King," the blonde scoffed, his words laced with an evident venom that didn’t go unnoticed.

The mention of the nickname made Kageyama’s expression harden. "Don’t call me that," he muttered, his eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and contained shame.

You were briefly distracted from the confrontation when you felt a gaze fixed on you. Turning, you noticed it was Yamaguchi, who was watching his friend and then you, as if evaluating the situation. Realizing you’d noticed him, he quickly looked away, turning his attention back to Tsukki and Kageyama.

The tension reached a critical point when Kageyama, with a scowl, grabbed Tsukki by the collar of his shirt, his eyes filled with hatred and defiance. Watching the scene, you felt it was time to step in before things got out of hand.

"Alright, that’s enough," you interrupted firmly, approaching Kageyama. You looked at him seriously, and your eyes met his, which slowly softened before he looked away from Tsukki. Finally, he let go and stepped back, still clearly upset.

“Let’s go,” said Kageyama, addressing you and Hinata, who nodded without saying a word. As you gathered your things and turned to leave, you looked back at Tsukki one last time. He was taller than you had initially noticed, and you had to look up to meet his eyes. You gave him a disapproving look before following your teammates.

“Are you going to run away? Seems like the King isn’t so important after all,” Tsukki commented provocatively, showing no limits to his boldness. His comment drew a threatening look from both you and Hinata, but he simply ignored the reaction. “Maybe I’ll beat you this Saturday,” he added casually, tossing the ball into the air once more. It was the chance Hinata had been waiting for; he sprang forward and caught the ball mid-air.

“Enough with the ‘King’ thing,” Hinata replied in an unusually serious tone. “I’m here too, and on Saturday, I’m going to spike right over you,” he promised, Defending Kageyama for the first time. It seemed the redhead was determined to face him, though a bit of nervousness made him step back slightly under the blonde’s challenging gaze. “W-what, you want to fight?”

Tsukki let out a snort, this time with a more neutral than sarcastic tone. “It’s not that serious,” he replied. “It’s just a club. Let’s have some fun.”

"It's not just a club!" Hinata replied.

“It is what it is,” the blonde said, shrugging and starting to walk away with his friend. However, he stopped when Hinata asked their names.

“Kei Tsukishima, class 1-4,” he finally responded.

“And I’m Tadashi Yamaguchi,” added his companion, introducing himself with a shy smile and a kind voice.

Tsukishima looked at Kageyama and then at Hinata. “From today, we’re teammates, but until Saturday… we’re rivals. I’m looking forward to seeing those famous ‘King’ sets.” With that, he turned around and started walking away, while Yamaguchi kindly said goodbye with a “See you.”

Before Hinata could respond, you grabbed him by the collar, dragging him in the opposite direction. “Enough, it’s time to go,” you insisted, tired of the confrontation and anticipating the scolding you might get if you were late. Ignoring Hinata’s complaints, you started walking at a brisk pace, noticing that Kageyama was silently following you as well.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and, in a firm tone, told him, “And you… I want you to crush them on Saturday.” The intensity of your words seemed to surprise him; his gaze met yours, and after a moment of reflection, he nodded with renewed determination. Without another word, he looked ahead, a new spark in his eyes, ready to face the challenge.

“Ahhh,” you yawned as you snuggled deeper into the softness of your sheets. You sank into the comfort of your bed, enjoying the luxury of sleeping in. But suddenly, something clicked in your mind. Wait a minute… it’s Saturday! The match!

You jumped up, tossing the sheets aside, and rushed to get dressed. You picked out a pink athletic outfit, the one your mom had bought you when you told her you’d joined the volleyball club.

You raced down the stairs, ready to dash out the door toward the school. However, just as you were crossing the doorway, you felt a tug on your bag that made you stop in your tracks. Turning around, you saw your dad, who was looking at you with a mischievous smile while he let go of your bag and ruffled your hair affectionately.

“And where do you think you’re going so early on a Saturday?” he asked, the smile never leaving his face.

“Dad, I have practice,” you lied, since you barely even touched the ball when you were at the gym. You glanced at the clock out of the corner of your eye, feeling the time slip away.

“Since when are you interested in sports?” he asked, watching you curiously. “You never play with me.”

“Because you don’t play either,” you replied impatiently, still keeping an eye on the clock. “Can I go now? I’m going to be late!”

He nodded with a resigned smile and, with a finger on your chest, added in a protective tone, “Be careful. And don’t let those kids bother you. If anyone crosses the line, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Yes, yes, bye!” you shouted, running down the street to get to school as quickly as possible.

When you reached the doors of the gym, you paused for a moment to catch your breath. You had run almost the entire way, and the wind had left your hair a mess. After quickly fixing it, you walked into the gym and noticed the game had already started. You went over to Sugawara, who greeted you with a warm smile. You looked at the scoreboard: Tsukishima and Yamaguchi’s team was leading by 16 points over Hinata and Kageyama’s team. It made you frown a little, though you were glad you’d made it in time for the first set.

“Y/N! Hi, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” Sugawara greeted you enthusiastically when he noticed you’d arrived. He looked at your athletic outfit and smiled, “Nice outfit.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, and you were sure you’d turned as red as a tomato. “T-Thanks,” you stammered, trying to calm yourself. It’s just a compliment, you reminded yourself. People give compliments all the time.

You both turned your attention back to the game as the whistle sounded for the next serve. It was Daichi’s turn, and he made a flawless serve. Kageyama prepared to set the ball perfectly to Hinata, and the redhead, with determination, hit the ball hard, managing to dodge Tsukishima’s block.

“Well done!” you shouted excitedly, unable to contain yourself. Hinata’s eyes lit up when he saw you, and for a brief moment, you noticed something different in Kageyama’s usually cold expression. Happiness? Satisfaction? You weren’t sure, but it seemed like he was sharing the same excitement.

“Y/N!” Hinata exclaimed, raising his hand proudly. “It touched my hand! I can’t believe it!” He stared at his hand in amazement, as if the contact with the ball had been something almost miraculous. Then, he motioned for you to take a closer look at his hand.

You laughed, caught up in his enthusiasm, and nodded. “You’re doing it, Hinata! Keep it up.”

Soon, everyone in the gym realized something incredible: Hinata hadn’t actually seen the ball when he made that impressive spike; he had placed complete trust in Kageyama, who had set the ball with amazing precision, right into his hand. Though they tried to replicate that move several times, they couldn’t quite achieve the same perfection, leaving everyone wondering if it had been a coincidence or just a lucky strike. The score was now 15 to 22; they were still behind, but the team spirit remained high.

You approached Hinata, who was rubbing the side of his face after getting hit by the ball again. You laughed a little at his embarrassed expression, especially when Kiyoko came over to check if he was okay, making him noticeably nervous.

“What’s so funny?” protested Hinata, flustered with a blush on his cheeks. “That’s the second time it’s hit me in the face!” He turned to Kageyama, frowning. “Did you do it on purpose? We’re on the same team, you know!” But Kageyama just ignored him, returning to his position without a word.

The whistle blew again, and both teams readied themselves. Yamaguchi took his position to serve, and Tanaka received the ball smoothly, passing it quickly to Kageyama. With quick and calculated movements, Kageyama prepared to set it up for Hinata. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi anticipated the move and readied themselves to block, but Hinata, agile and strategic, moved to the open side of the court just before the ball reached him. Bam! Another clean, successful spike.

Now they were in the second set, and the score was tied. You glanced over at Tsukishima, who seemed to be losing patience with his opponents' performance. When he noticed your gaze, you lifted your chin proudly and gave him your best “how do you like that?” expression. Tsukishima merely rolled his eyes in response, while Yamaguchi, noticing the exchange, let out a quiet laugh.

“Well done!” you praised Kageyama and Hinata after they managed to pull off their impressive spike once again, which they were starting to master. Sugawara, Ennoshita, and Kinoshita exchanged smiles, clearly inspired by your enthusiasm and competitive spirit.

Sugawara ruffled your hair affectionately. “You’re quite competitive,” he commented with a kind smile.

The score had moved forward, now 21 for Kageyama’s team and 25 for Tsukishima’s. Both teams looked visibly exhausted.

You went over to Hinata and Kageyama, giving Hinata a friendly pat on the back. He smiled when he saw you. “Y/N, did you see that? I’m amazing!” he exclaimed, overflowing with energy, hands on his hips and chest puffed out proudly.

“You’re getting better,” you congratulated him, handing him a water bottle. Hinata accepted it happily and took a drink, satisfied. Then, you turned to Kageyama. “Kageyama, well done.”

The dark-haired boy looked slightly surprised by your compliment, his gaze drifting away for a moment, avoiding direct eye contact. His response came in an almost inaudible murmur. “Thanks.”

He turned his back to you and Hinata, seeming nervous—a subtle shift in his posture that didn’t escape your notice.

“What’s up with you, Kageyama? What’s wrong?” Hinata asked with a mischievous smile, noticing his sudden reaction. Hinata’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he observed his teammate’s reddening ears. “Did you get nervous? Aw, can’t handle a compliment from a girl?” he teased, throwing an arm around your shoulders and giving you a playful look.

“Shut up!” growled Kageyama, but his tone lacked its usual authority. He still wouldn’t turn around, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.

Suddenly, Hinata’s attention shifted to Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, who were on their side of the court. With a quick gesture, he linked his arm with yours and pulled you toward them. “Kageyama, come on,” Hinata called, signaling for them to follow. “Tsukishima,” he continued determinedly, calling out to the tall, blond boy with glasses. He extended his hand toward him.

“What?” Tsukishima asked, looking at Hinata’s outstretched hand with evident confusion.

“We should shake hands before and after the match, even though we didn’t do it before,” Hinata explained, his tone a bit more serious but still carrying his characteristic positive energy. “Besides, we’re teammates now, even if I’m not too happy about it.”

Tsukishima didn’t seem too convinced by the idea. He stood rigid, his gaze drifting away, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion.

“Come on, didn’t you know?” Hinata insisted, glancing behind him at Daichi, who was talking with Sugawara and Tanaka. “They’ll kick you off if you don’t have team spirit,” he added, waving his hand in front of Tsukishima like it was the answer to all his problems.

Tsukishima didn’t make a single move. “The reason they were kicked out was because they disobeyed the captain,” he explained in an annoyed tone, his gaze fixed on the three of you. “You guys started arguing and pulled the vice principal’s toupee off.” He cast a judgmental look at the three of you, as if your behavior had been completely out of place—and it was.

“F-forget those details,” Hinata retorted, biting his lip to keep calm while trying to maintain his composure. “Just shake my hand!” This was his final attempt before lunging at Tsukishima, though it was clear it wouldn’t be that easy.

Hinata tried to grab the blond’s hand, but Tsukishima, quicker and more agile, kept dodging from side to side to avoid the contact. The scene turned into a comedic spectacle, with Hinata chasing Tsukishima around while you and Kageyama watched without much interest.

“Y/N, help me!” Hinata shouted, visibly frustrated at not being able to accomplish his goal.

“Tsk, no way,” you replied, crossing your arms with an amused smile. You couldn’t help but enjoy the absurdity of the situation. Kageyama, for his part, simply observed the ridiculous spectacle without moving.

Finally, Hinata achieved the impossible: he managed to shake Tsukishima’s hand. The victory was fleeting, however, as Tsukishima looked at him with an expression of pure disgust, as if he’d just touched something completely unhygienic.

“Are you okay, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi asked, a mix of concern and horror on his face as he observed his friend’s reaction. Tsukishima didn’t reply, but his expression said it all, showing a blend of disdain and revulsion from having touched Hinata’s hand.

“Tsukishima!” Daichi’s firm voice interrupted the scene. The captain approached to speak privately with the blond, and you decided to take a few steps back, giving them space.

Meanwhile, Hinata and Kageyama pulled out a couple of crumpled papers from their pockets. “Captain!” Hinata exclaimed, holding both forms out to Daichi, who examined them closely. A slight jolt of panic hit you—was there something you were supposed to submit as well? You didn’t remember turning in anything like that.

“Shimizu!” Daichi called to the team manager, holding the forms in his hand. “The stuff arrived, right?” he asked, and Kiyoko nodded with a small smile.

“What stuff?” Hinata asked, visibly intrigued. Kiyoko approached, carrying a large box, which she carefully placed on the ground and opened. Inside, perfectly folded and ready to wear, were the Karasuno volleyball team jackets. Hinata let out a gasp of amazement and picked up a jacket, looking at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

“They should fit well,” Kiyoko commented as the new team members looked at their jackets with admiration. “But let me know if you need any adjustments,” she added before picking up the box and stepping away.

Tanaka, Sugawara, and you looked at the four new members in awe. “Oh, it looks great on you,” Sugawara complimented Hinata as he donned the jacket and showed it off proudly, as if wearing it was an honor in itself.

Daichi took a step forward, his voice filled with emotion. “From now on, we’re the Karasuno volleyball team,” he announced, his words brimming with pride. Then, with a quick countdown, all the team members shouted in unison, “Welcome!”

“Thank you!” the new members replied.

Hinata and Kageyama returned to the court, as energetic as ever. It seemed impossible that those two would ever tire. You looked around and noticed everyone was deep in conversation, forming lively little groups. You sighed and, feeling a small pang of loneliness, sat in a corner not too far from the others and turned on your PSP, seeking distraction.

It didn’t take long before a shadow fell over you, interrupting your game. You frowned, thinking it was Hinata again. “Now what…?” you muttered, looking up in mild annoyance, ready to face the redhead’s hyperactivity. But instead of Hinata, you found yourself looking at the imposing figure of Tsukishima, who eyed you with his typical critical expression and those honey-colored eyes that seemed to scrutinize every detail.

“Do you need something?” you asked, surprised by his presence but keeping your composure.

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow, maintaining that air of superiority as he rested his hands on his hips. “What exactly are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to soften his tone.

You blinked, slightly taken aback. Right, you hadn’t had the chance to formally introduce yourself. “I’m the assistant coach,” you answered with a slight shrug, trying to sound casual.

“We don’t have a coach,” Tsukishima replied, raising an eyebrow again and leaning down a bit to get a better look at you. “Do you even know how to play, or are you just here to babysit the carrot-top?”

You scowled, resisting the urge to let his tone get to you. “Of course, I know how to play, b-but I’m not very good,” you admitted, standing your ground. “And, by the way, don’t call Hinata that.”

Tsukishima barely smirked, a sarcastic smile reflecting his usual provocative attitude. “Then prove it,” he challenged suddenly, not breaking eye contact.

“Prove what?” You looked at him, puzzled.

“That you know how to play,” he replied, crossing his arms with a defiant air. “Unless you want to take back your claim.”

The challenge in his eyes was evident, and you had no intention of backing down. You felt Yamaguchi watching with a mix of curiosity and nervousness, probably hoping the situation wouldn't escalate. Still, you didn't retreat. "Alright," you said with determination, "if that's what it takes to convince you."

Tsukishima stepped back a couple of paces, his lips curving into a nearly satisfied smile. Yamaguchi, who was still close by, gave you a friendlier smile and offered some encouraging words. "You don't have to do it. Tsukki sometimes just enjoys teasing," he said apologetically, trying to soften the challenge his friend had issued.

With a slight smile, you nodded to Yamaguchi before walking to the center of the court and picking up one of the balls lying on the ground. "It's fine," you replied, feeling a mix of nerves and determination as you prepared yourself.

"Make a serve. I'll receive it," called Tsukishima from a safe distance, his voice tinged with a mocking tone. "If you can, of course," he added, with a challenging smile.

You took a deep breath, trying not to let the pressure get to you. Come on, Y/N, you can do this, you reminded yourself. After all, Hinata had taught you some basic moves, and you'd practiced enough to trust in a solid serve.

You weighed the ball in your hands, tossing it into the air a few times as you gathered momentum. With a sigh, you went for a low serve, focusing on directing the ball with strength and precision towards Tsukishima. But just as the ball sailed across the court, the gym door burst open, drawing everyone's attention, including Tsukishima’s.

The impact was inevitable: the ball hit Tsukishima square in the face, who, surprised and with no time to react, fell to the ground from the force of the hit. A dull sound echoed in the gym, followed by a collective gasp of surprise.

"Tsukki!" exclaimed Yamaguchi, visibly worried, running over to his friend to make sure he was okay.

“Oh no…” you whispered, bringing your hands to your mouth as you took in the scene. "Shit!" you added, unable to hold back your reaction.

"Are you... are you alright?" You quickly approached Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, your voice rushed and filled with concern as you looked at the reddish mark on his cheek where the ball had hit. Tsukishima scowled, rubbing the side of his face, which still seemed sore from the blow. You tried not to laugh, although the scene was somewhat amusing in retrospect.

Noticing his glasses lying nearby, you hurried to pick them up. "Here you go," you murmured, quickly wiping the lenses with the edge of your sweatshirt. Then you knelt beside him and gently placed them back on the bridge of his nose. However, the glasses weren’t quite aligned, slipping slightly and giving him an unexpectedly adorable look.

"Sorry... really. I didn't mean to, you know..." you murmured, trying to sound sincere. Still, you couldn’t deny that a small part of you found some satisfaction in the incident, though, of course, you weren’t about to admit it aloud.

Tsukishima snorted, crossing his arms and regaining his usual air of superiority. "You could start by improving your aim if you actually know how to play," he commented, his tone dry, though not without a hint of irony.

You tried to lighten the moment with a smile. "Well, at least it was a strong serve," you joked, though Tsukishima didn’t seem to find it funny; instead, he frowned, crossing his arms.

"It was a pathetic serve," he replied coldly, looking at you as if you were entirely responsible for the situation.

"Not my fault you couldn’t receive a beginner’s serve," you defended yourself firmly. "Why were you distracted?"

"And you were distracted too," Tsukishima retorted, his tone no less challenging.

"Guys, guys, come on, it was just an accident," Yamaguchi interjected with a nervous smile, trying to mediate in the argument.

Tsukishima, however, cut him off immediately. "Shut up, Yamaguchi."

"Hey, don’t tell him to shut up!" you protested, shooting Tsukishima a reproachful look. There was something in his arrogant attitude that pushed you to challenge him, and you weren’t about to let him belittle his own friend.

Before Tsukishima could respond, Tanaka called out to the three of you from the other side of the court. "Hey, you three, come here!" His voice had its usual energy, and when you turned, you realized that the rest of the team had already gathered around Takeda-sensei, who was waiting to give instructions.

"We’ll have a match after classes," Takeda-sensei explained calmly, waiting for everyone to pay attention. "It'll be after school, so there’s only one game. We'll rent a bus for transportation, so don’t be late. Understood?" The players nodded in unison, and the excitement among the new members was palpable.

After practice ended, you packed up your things and made sure to leave the gym in order along with the others. With your bag slung over your shoulder, you walked home leisurely, enjoying the cool evening air.

As you reached your front door, you began searching your pocket for the keys, when you heard a familiar voice.

"Hi!" It was Hinata, who was passing by quickly on his bike, greeting you with a big smile. "Bye!" he shouted as he disappeared down the street, his energy as contagious as ever. You couldn’t help but smile and shake your head.

“Where the hell is he!?” Nayuta growled, pacing back and forth in front of your desk in the classroom. You had never seen her this angry before, and her footsteps echoed with a frantic rhythm. The three of you were supposed to split the science project to make it easier: each person would do a part, and then you would all put it together at school. But now, the only part missing was Hinata’s, and the redhead still hadn’t shown up.

“I swear to God, if he doesn’t show up, I…” Nayuta left the threat unfinished, but her hands, clenched as if trying to crush something, made the message clear. The frustration on her face made you bite back a smile; it wasn’t wise to joke around in this moment.

“Come on, Yuyu, maybe he just didn’t have time to do it,” you tried to smooth things over, hoping to calm her down. However, Nayuta shot you a look as sharp as her feline eyes, clearly unconvinced.

“Don’t justify him, Y/N,” she snapped, pointing her finger accusingly at you before returning to check her phone for the fifth time. “This is exactly why we shouldn’t trust short people,” she sighed in exasperation, as if she had just uncovered the root of all the problems.

You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from laughing. Her logic was absurd, considering that Nayuta was the same height as Hinata. However, you decided to let the comment slide and shift tactics.

“What if we go look for him?” you suggested. “Maybe something came up, and he needs help.”

“Where do you think that restless butt is?” Nayuta asked, crossing her arms and looking at you skeptically.

“Well, maybe in the gym…” you started to say, but then remembered something. You had overheard some of the guys talking about using the club room to change and leave their things. “I think I know where they might be.”

You stood up and grabbed Nayuta’s hand, guiding her purposefully through the hallways. As you walked through the school, the familiarity of the surroundings made Nayuta relax her grip slightly, though she remained on edge.

Eventually, you spotted a small building with several rooms inside. “Are first-year students allowed to be here?” Nayuta asked, giving you a concerned look while holding your hand a bit tighter.

“I think so. Plus, we’re just going to talk to Hinata; it’ll only be a minute,” you reassured her with a smile. You started climbing the stairs to the second floor, and Nayuta followed closely behind.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Nayuta murmured, her eyes scanning the identical doors along the hallway.

Without hesitation, you knocked on the door and called softly, “Hinata? Are you in there?”

Immediately, there was a commotion behind the door, and above everything, you heard the voice of the redhead exclaiming, “Ah, it’s her!” His words were accompanied by the sounds of things falling and hurried footsteps. It seemed like he was clinging to the shelf, as if preparing for a battle. Tanaka, with disbelief in his tone, chimed in. “What’s wrong with you, man? It’s just Y/N.”

“It’s not Y/N… it’s Nayuta…” Hinata murmured, unaware that his words were heard on the other side.

Nayuta’s expression hardened, and before you could stop her, she called out firmly, “Come out already, Shoyo! We can hear you perfectly. Stop being a coward.” Her threatening tone hinted that her patience was quickly running out. She was on the verge of completely losing her cool when, instinctively, you covered her mouth with your hand, trying to keep the situation from escalating.

"Eh… what Nayuta meant," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to ease the tension, "is that we just want to discuss the science project. It's nothing serious, I promise." You tried to sound as calm and friendly as possible, hoping that would help calm the redhead down.

On the other side of the door, you heard Hinata's desperate mumbling. “Kageyama, go out and tell them I’m not here!”

“Not a chance. If you want to dodge them, do it yourself,” came Kageyama’s reply, as he put on his sports jacket with a resigned expression.

After a few tense seconds of waiting, the door finally opened, and Hinata shot out like a bolt of lightning, one hand clutching his stomach and his face filled with panic. Before you could react, Nayuta tried to rush after him, clearly intent on making him pay for being late.

“Let me go so I can give him a lesson!” she growled, trying to free herself from your grip. You held her firmly around the waist, doing your best to contain her outburst.

“Come on, Yuyu,” you whispered in a conciliatory tone, though you struggled to hold back a laugh at her determination. “We’re friends; we have to get along... and love each other, right?” Even though you said it as calmly as you could, the strength Nayuta was putting up made it a challenge to keep her still.

“It’ll just be a little smack!” she insisted, her voice full of indignation. Nayuta’s dark hair swung, brushing against your face and partially blocking your vision. Amidst nervous laughter and struggling, you both turned around, and your eyes fell on the partially open door in front of you.

Then, both of you froze.

The sound of laughter and murmurs disappeared as you saw, to your surprise and horror, that the club room was occupied by several of the guys from the team… at various stages of changing clothes. Daichi, with his back to you, shirtless and looking incredulous, turned around upon seeing you. Tanaka, equally surprised, was in the middle of pulling up his pants, freezing when he noticed your presence.

Almost instinctively, you covered Nayuta’s eyes while quickly closing your own, taking a few awkward steps back. “Sorry!” you managed to exclaim, your voice breaking with nerves and embarrassment. Nayuta, still frozen in place, stopped resisting, and between murmurs and apologies, both of you stepped away from the door with your faces completely flushed.

As you backed away with hurried apologies, you heard the guys’ restrained laughter, along with a “Next time, knock!” said amid chuckles. Finally, you managed to exit the building, exchanging surprised and embarrassed glances that quickly turned into laughter.

[richarlotte]

What did you do/use for your facial beauty glow up?

Lip Filler.

I have 1.5 mL of lip filler at the moment and probably won’t get more any time soon. In my mind, it’s the perfect amount; it gives my lips a delicious, just bitten look, and it doesn’t look or feel unnatural. I’m someone who loves subtle changes; I’m not the sort of girl who’d go crazy with surgery, and I prefer to make my changes slowly. I started with .5 mL, slowly went up to 1.5 mL over the course of two more appointments, and I think plumping my lips up completely changed my lower face and made me look younger and more feminine.

Polynucleotide Injections.

This treatment is major in South Korea; it’s very popular, and one of my best friends went and came back singing its praises. After weight loss, this is the most important thing I have ever done for myself. These injections boosted my collagen production and made the terrible dark circles and puffiness under my eyes disappear. It took a few weeks for me to see the results, but I look like I’ve had an upper and lower blepharoplasty now; my eye area is completely rejuvenated and the skin is bright, and while my initial reaction to the set of treatments I had was intense, the end result was better than I could’ve ever hoped for.

A Comprehensive Skincare Routine.

The skin is the body’s largest organ, and the first step to learning how to care for it is understanding that you and it must be hydrated. Learning that what I put into my body was just as important as what I put onto my skin helped me change my approach to skincare. I mostly use French, Korean, and medical-grade skincare products, and I switch them out each season so that I can approach my needs correctly. Washing and changing my sheets twice weekly, going on a low estrogen birth control, and adding N-acetylcysteine to my supplements helped me more than I could ever say.

Minoxidil. 

Using Minoxidil to grow my eyebrows out was one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself. I love the look of thick, lush eyebrows, but I don’t actually like thick brows. I used minoxidil to grow my eyebrows until they were thick and I could have them threaded and thinned out just a bit, straightened, and tinted until they were the shape and shade I wanted. Minoxidil is a great tool; it's decently affordable, and while the results take a while to appear, once they've been appearing, they’re very noticeable. I also use a regular lash serum on my lashes to grow them; it’s from The Ordinary, and I think it works slowly but nicely. You do have to be very precise with your application of Minoxidil, but other than that, it’s very good for filling in sparse eyebrows.

Weight Loss.

Losing over 80 pounds, doing a complete overhaul of my diet and limiting the amount of processed foods I consume, making an effort to care for my body and mind, and changing my mental and physical health for the better completely changed my world. My insulin resistance is totally gone, I’m healed from the PCOS that once plagued me, I no longer eat the foods I have sensitivies to, and the inflammation and water retention I’d have the morning after are gone, and I feel like my best self. My double chin has been vanquished, my bone structure is visible again, and I love the way my nose looks, and I am so much more confident about the shape of my face. Losing weight is the best thing I have ever done for myself, and I’d recommend it to anyone who feels like they need to overhaul their life.

Proper Styling

Learning how to do my makeup, contouring my face with self-tanner, and styling my hair were all major parts of becoming more confident with my face. Now that I know what I’m doing with myself and I’ve been able to identify what suits me best, things come easier. Proper styling is what’ll make or break you. You could be the most beautiful woman in the world, but if you don’t care for your appearance, you’ll struggle. I put a lot of time and effort into learning what looked best on me, learning how to style myself, learning what worked with my facial shape and bone structure, and figuring out which lash maps, brow shape, makeup style, and colors suited the overall aesthetic I was going for. Learning about makeup products, trying a variety of different makeup styles, and new makeup techniques made a world of difference for my styling journey too.

Braces.

I had braces on for just over a year—traditional metal, power chains most of the time—and they were worth every cent. I was always insecure over my teeth, and fixing them has really made it easier for me to smile and express myself. Although they’re not perfectly straight or blindingly white (Kirsten Dunst is known for her smile for a reason), I’m confident, and I love them. Taking care of my teeth is something that I really struggled with at one point, and I have had to make a real effort to get better at that. I still have my dental routines, wear my retainer at night and through the day, and do brightening treatments, but I’m focused on the health of my mouth instead of aesthetics now.

These are the major things.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Imagine if killer ever took the other's "blame" and put it on himself to protect them from nightmare, cuz he knew how he was, how to deal with him, being like a martyr to not let the others get such a "punishment" like he probably will, but never received the same opportunity from the others

Idk just a little dream I had and got interrupted

Yeah, I can already see Killer doing that. And not in the, “secretly cares” “wants to shield them from pain” way exactly—although I can see that in an au where the gang managed to gain access to and gain the care and trust of Stage 1 Killer—which in unlikely to happen in a more canon adjacent bad sanses au.

Still, even if he doesn’t actually care about any of the gang and wouldn’t at all be affected by their deaths or loses, he’d still be rather self sacrificing—from a more logical stand point, if it serves a use. Because that’s what he and the body is: something to be made use of.

He won’t shield them from their own mistakes or their consequences, at most he may offer to dish the punishment out himself instead of letting Nightmare do it. (Mostly if he’s grown attached, but if he hasn’t, either because Nightmare has him do it or he offers because he’s either 1. bored, or 2. thinks he made a particularly bad mistake in teaching the others.)

I can definitely see Killer taking the blame for any of the first mistakes any of the gang makes—because as Nightmare’s right hand, they’re his responsibilities. If they fuck up, it’s because he fucked up on teaching them—and so, if Nightmare allows it, he’ll take the responsibility.

He will never do it a second time for the same mistake, i don’t believe. Because if they don’t learn after the first time, then they deserve what they get—and clearly they need to be taught some other way. Nightmare decides the consequences, and Killer doesn’t care enough to try to prevent it is what he tells himself. (Rather than the reality that he can’t prevent it.)

As a mentioned, vastly different story if he managed to form some type of attachment to one or all the gang—the self sacrifice would go hard. But it’d still be from a logical, matter of fact, but rather dehumanizing perspective of himself.

He can handle the pain, he likes the pain, he knows Nightmare and they don’t, he’s a tool, he was made for this, etc, etc. any justification besides the possibility of having emotions, and having had enough to grown attached. anything besides the possibility of having grown weak.

still i don’t think growing attached would be enough to motivate him to do more than nightmare allows. if nightmare is insistent that they take the punishment and not killer, and that nightmare gives the punishment instead of killer, killer would probably shift gears on ensuring they know what to expect and how to handle the boss. as opposed to say, shrugging his shoulders and walking away without caring about whatever could possibly be happening to them, beside perhaps pulling out some medkit to handle and take care of the aftermath.

now though, regardless of if killer has formed attachments or not, if nightmare allows killer to give the punishment, I don’t think he’d hold back on them at all.

Just enough not to kill and render useless at least. it’s his responsibility that they learn their lesson. he’s making them stronger and smarter, and ensuring they have less of a chance of ending up back here again or disposed of.

[notsorryiml8]

Concerning Kakashi's skill as a teacher, I think a lot of the differing opinions how good he is is caused by differing ideas of what he's supposed to do. I've seen a lot of fanfic that "fixes" him and makes him more of a drill sergeant, having him decide how team 7 trains and what roles they take. A more true to canon take, I think, is that his job is to be more of team leader than having a master-apprentice kinda role. He teaches mission procedures, handing clients, and basically how to live as a ninja. He could probably give them some advice, about actual jutsu and stuff, maybe recommend certain teachers, make sure they aren't being irresponsible, etc. I think that he shouldn't have had to teach them tree walking, that being something they discover on their own, maybe with hints, but had to ignore subtlety due to the Wave mission. Like, the only other sensei that actually seems to be teaching their assigned student actual jutsu is Gai and Lee, everyone else, even close pairs like Asuma and Shikamaru, seems to be more like role models, or mentors. Idk if I'm explaining it right. TLDR Kakashi's a good sensei, his role in team 7 was never to be a drill sergeant/combat instructor, that role is fulfilled by master/apprentice relationships like Gai and Lee, and Sannin and team 7.

I may be wrong, but I don’t ever recall questioning Kakashi’s teaching skills. Heeeck, I’m one of his most ardent defenders 😊 lol. But I do also recognize his humanity.

I think Kakashi became a better sensei over time, but didn’t necessarily start out as a “good” sensei. But, before anyone jumps on me, that’s the nature of any job; especially one you never wanted. You learn by experience. A fresh, out of school, green neophyte on their first day ever on the job anywhere is not going to be as skilled as someone who’s been there 20 years, five years, or even just one year.

Kakashi, as a sensei, was just as confused as Naruto, Sakura, and Sasuke were as students. Dude was winging it, because there wasn’t any other way. He wasn’t expecting them to pass, nobody else ever passed his test before and he didn’t have enough faith in the Konoha ninja education system to believe they’d create a team of kids who could work as a team. He was only in school for a year, if that, so he didn’t know what those kids were learning. So, he wasn’t prepared. Or even lowkey, he may not have wanted them to pass because it meant, omg, I have to be responsible for other people, tiny other people, tiny other people with no skills.

In Anbu, yes, he was a captain, but that was different. Anbu was loneliness. Anbu was darkness. Anbu members were expected to be cold-blooded killers. And Anbu members typically weren’t 12 (he, Itachi, and Yamato/Tenzo were exceptions). He also didn’t have to teach; just train. Different ballgame.

Anyway, I digress, back to Team 7, one was the son of his sensei who he trying desperately to not remember because it hurt, not to mention the kid was feral (yeah, I said it, 12-year-old OG Naruto was feral - severe neglect will do that); another was the last member of his clan that was brutally murdered under the authority of the village, so that kid was a just a wee bit unhinged; and the third was the this little kunoichi that from his perspective probably shouldn’t have been in the ninja world in the first place because it was a cruel, cold, brutal life and she was “normal.” He didn’t know what to do with a normal kid - he was never one. In the end, he accepted the situation for what it was and learnt as much as he taught. And that’s the beauty of it - the teacher became the student and the students became the teacher.

It seems like the academy teaches bare basics - heck, he graduated in a year at age 5. I’m not downplaying his skills by any means, just stating the freak of nature that he is, completed years long training in just a fraction of that time and not sure if that says something about him or the education system - they weren’t prepared to work with prodigious kids and that says a lot. Yeah yeah yeah somebody will say they were at war, so they let the brat graduate. But that’s another post.

Anyway, that being said, I agree the academy should teach more. I strongly believe they should, at a bare minimum, learn their chakra nature while there. That seems like common sense. Just give out the litmus paper and test them and group them accordingly (I find it hard to believe that there are a bunch of shinobi going around not knowing what nature they have. Guess it would be based in your clan??). The basics of chakra control, water walking, tree climbing, etc… Makes you wonder what the heck they did teach them while there. I’m beginning to think it was just regular school and they learned some “cool ninja stuff” here and there - clones, substitution jutsu, taijutsu…

That being said, from what I garner, your clan is supposed to teach you their secrets and jutsu. Your sensei can’t do that. The school is supposed to teach you the basics 🤷🏽‍♀️. And your sensei is supposed to hone those skills. Take you on missions so you can learn in the field. Train your skills. Find your talents and strengths and enhance them.

As for Gai, Asuma, and Kurenai. I believe they all trained their students in different ways. My girl Kurenai doesn’t get much screen or page time, so you don’t know what she did or didn’t do or the hours she put in with them. Same for Asuma. You only get to see Gai’s team so much because Rock Lee is so awesome Gai is Kakashi’s rival, so more screen time by proxy. That’s not to say Asuma and Kurenai didn’t spend hours upon hours training their squads. Which I believe they did because at the end of the day, the K12 kicked butt and that required intensive training. Remember, all because you don’t see it happening, doesn’t mean it didn’t. They’re all amazing sensei in their own right. If you think about it, all those kids made it to the Chunin Exams, meaning a minimum of 8-9 missions. Remember Iruka tested Team 7 before the exam to see if they were ready. Thinking or hoping someone tested the other teams too. Which means those sensei had to put in time with them.

As for drill sergeant Kakashi, not sure if you’ve ever taken martial arts, but I have/do. Sensei are not the nicest people by any means- out of the dojo, they can be, but on the mat, when training, you might as well have a drill sergeant. They yell in your face, they throw you around (painfully). They want you to be serious and understand the seriousness of it. They are training you to fight and yes, you do learn techniques that can be lethal and how to use weapons irl. So, they have to be serious and they do work with you based on your own skillset. So, there’s some merit to that, historically. So, in a world that’s built around the shinobi system, Kakashi as a drill sergeant-sensei is possible and that doesn’t make him any more/less good or bad than the other sensei. Same for Kakashi as mentor-sensei. I think he became Team Leader Kakashi with the introduction of Team Kakashi, when he acknowledged them as his equal. But at the end of the day, why can’t he be all three? There’s a time and place for each role and no one size fits all approach to teaching. At the end of the day he was trying his best. They all were. And he was a good, but flawed, sensei. They all were.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Braid- Fili x Reader

Summary: Reader asks Fili to braid her hair, not realising what it means in dwarven culture

Word count: 1, 128

*want to be tagged in my next Fili fic? Click here*

The cool stone of the cell floor sent a chill up your spine, as you try to do anything to distract yourself from feeling hopeless and miserable.

As you try to rub your arms to gain some warmth, suddenly you feel and see Filis warm hand on your forearm.

“You really are freezing. Here, sit closer to me, it might help you warm up,” the sweet dwarven prince offers with arms wide open.

You try not to blush at such a sweet offer as place your tired head on his shoulder. As his warm arms wrapped around you, your body began to feel at peace. You felt safe in Filis embrace, and his shoulder was a lot softer than any surface you’ve camped on during this journey.

As you play with the plaits in his hair, you begin to think how well you might have slept if you’d been cuddled up to Fili all those nights. Such thoughts begin to make you blush, and you try to hide your girlish smile.

“Is my hair really so grand that it makes you smirk and blush like a little girl?” Fili teases, which earns him a slap on his chest by you.

“Shut up!” You laugh at his as you rise from his arm, now looking into his beautiful blue eyes.

You didn’t realise you’d kept your hand on his chest until you felt his own warm hand around yours. Feeling nervous you begin to ramble.

“I-I mean you do have lovely hair. I wish I could braid my hair like yours.”

“You don’t know how to braid hair?” Fili asked in disbelief.

“No, I-I never learnt. I always had short hair as a little girl and as I got older and grew it out, I guess I forgot to learn,” you explained.

Something about what you’d said seemed to sadden Fili, as his hand reached up to card from your loose hair. He looked always as if you’d told him you’d never been hugged before.

“But hey, maybe you could braid my hair for me. Not sure how long we’ll be here, so it could be a useful way to pass the time,” you suggested, trying to brighten up your friend again.

Unfortunately this suggestion seemed to have the opposite effect, as Filis eyes widened and his mouth hang open. You may have even caught a blush on the handsome princes face, but you could have been mistaken.

His eyes looked into yours, filled with hope of something, and like he was trying to find that something in your eyes.

“What’s the matter?” You ask him worriedly.

“Yo-you want me to braid your hair?” He asked breathlessly, his tone filled with softness and hope.

“Well sure, I mean yours look so lovely and we’re stuck here,” you confirm.

Once again your words seem to have the opposite effect to what you’d hoped, as Filis face become deflated.

“Oh yeh, yeh we’re stuck here it’s not li-“

Before Fili could continue what you assumed would be an explanation, Bilbo arrived, keys in hand and a cheeky smile on his face.

*****

Bards house didn’t really seem like much of a house at all, it seemed to more resemble a hut with slightly more space. But as you see him with his children, and their belongings scattered across the place, it did feel like a home.

Being in a place so soft and warm, especially compared to the cells, you couldn’t help but smile at Bard and his family. It felt silly to think about, but seeing Bard with his children, made you think of Fili.

A part of you felt stupid for thinking about a life with him, but when you look at Bard, you can’t help but to see Fili.

Smiling sweetly at Bard, you can’t help but imagine how Fili would be with your children.

Although your eyes saw Fili, Filis eyes certainly saw Bard. He saw you staring and smiling at Bard, and his ideas of being yours began to crumble. He’d told himself that he would explain to you what a braid means to a dwarf, but now, he wouldn’t dream to try.

Storming out of the small home, Fili roughly exits through the front door and wallows on the steps. Filis abrupt exit causes everyone to stare.

“I’ll go check on him,” you speak softly, as you go in the direction of the blonde dwarf.

“Leave me alone,” Fili speaks coldly as you sit beside him on the step.

“But it’s such a cold night. Who else’s shoulder would keep me warm?” You try to banter as you snuggle closer.

Your attempt is unfortunately met with Fili trying to scoot further from you. His rejection of your affections saddens you deeply.

“I don’t know. Maybe Bard could keep you warm,” Fili spits at you.

“Bard? We’ve only just met an-“

“And you already look at him with such love,” Fili finishes for you, still not meeting your eye, as he stares at his feet.

Oh, suddenly it dawns on you. The realisation of Fili being jealous seems to cloud the realisation that Fili likes you, as you attempt to mend the situation.

“I look at him with love because I picture you,” you confess softly to your friend.

Filis head whips towards you, and his eyes go wide like they had done in the cell.

“Why?” He asks skeptically.

“Because I love you, you stupid dwarf. Because as silly as it sounds I picture you in a home, with little ones too,” you confess, trying your hardest not to hide away shyly.

At your confession, Fili couldn’t seem to control himself. With one hand behind your head and the other on your hip, Fili quickly pulls you in for a passionate and loving kiss.

The feel of his lips against yours felt like a relief, like you’d been waiting and needing for this moment.

As Fili pulled away from the kiss, he lightly chuckles at your attempt to bring his lips back to yours.

“I love you too, amrâlimê, and it would be an honour to braid your hair,”

Your love-struck smile soon turned to a look of confusion, causing Fili to laugh warmly.

“You couldn’t have known this, but in dwarf culture, when one asks another to braid their hair, it is a sign they wish to court that person,” Fili explains.

Suddenly Filis reaction in the cells seems to make sense, as the realisation dawns on your face. Fili nods with a chuckle as he realises you now understand.

Taking your hand in his, he kisses your knuckles as his other hand reaches the tie in your hair.

“May I?”

“Braid away, my love,” you accept with a sweet kiss to his lips.