#this is long overdue and rather obvious but.......u know

[witheredoffherwitch]

The Strongs are not the good guys in Alys' story! They made her their servant and wet nurse for their babies when she herself was unmarried. What does that mean anon? It means in the best interpretation they were cruel and in the worst they must have abused her themselves!

Read critically what u consume.

The only sin Aemond did against the Strongs as far as we know and can be sure was murdering the young boys. That was wrong.

But in Alys scenario, aemond has done less/no canonical abuse than her own family.

Hi nonnie, thanks for the ask.

Careful now, you are making too much sense! Your theory would be the most obvious take-away for anyone familiar with the world of asoiaf. Bastards are not treated well unless you were fortunate enough to be sired by Stark male member (because Starks usually do not subject kids through brutal ostracization because of some mediaeval honor-code: Jon and Theon are good examples of that!) -- BUT other than that, you were pretty much fucked! Rhaenyra's bastards fared well because 1) the mother held a more privileged position (due to which her kids were ensured certain protection), and 2) admitting their bastardry would have tried Rhaenyra, Harwin and Laenor for treason.

Secondly, I think it is fair to conclude that House Strong wasn't some tight-knit 'loving' family. Sure, we've seen brothers gossiping during Rhaenyra and Laenor's wedding but apart from that, the house functions like any other Westerosi house. Lyonel Strong doesn't confront the truth about his grandsons until Harwin makes a fool out of himself in the courtyard.. and by then, the severity of the said matter was long-overdue and extremely consequential to the point of non-avoidance. The younger brother didn't even flinch before killing off his dear father and brother for some political gain. If Larys 'the Clubfoot' Strong did not feel any kinship with his family, then one can assume that reception of a known bastard is going to be less than ideal.

Thirdly, we still don't know how are they going to portray Aemond during his Riverrun arc. I keep saying it because Aemond (along with Alicent and Rhaenyra) is altered from his canon version. In the show, Aemond never insults Rhaenyra and only ever maintains a cold indifference towards her. He isn't shown to be some raging misogynist. He only insults the Strong bastards after Luke displays an absurd lack of self-awareness during that dinner scene. And in the Storm's End segment, he doesn't chase after Luke due to some back-handed comment from Maris... but rather, that conflict is shown as an extension to the last dinner scene. BUT the most telling of all is how Luke was killed off in a supposed accident - meaning that Aemond never intended to kill him in the first place. Interestingly enough, there was a deleted scene where we see Aemond giving the camera an evil look, but that part got cut in post-production for some reason. Instead, they chose to end the scene with his distressed expression.

Now, do I believe Aemond will experience some radical arc change? NO! But the way the future events unfold will be certainly DIFFERENT! That's why I am both skeptical and mildly optimistic about how the show might portray their relationship. Aemond and Alys are both heavily misunderstood characters - and this alone opens a massive potential for this couple than some other speculated ships. That being said, this ongoing hate for Alysmond is very forced - and it says a lot when the majority fandom has just discarded her as someone put their beloved prince 'under a spell' or is a homewrecker for pulling Aemond from their own crackship.

[sequinsmile-x]

“This is not who you are. I know you better than that.” maybe surrounding the doyle ark. she’s acting off and he wants to know what’s going on or maybe after when they’re in the hospital? up to u

Oh hey anon!

Went in a different direction with this, because it ended up fitting with an idea I already had. But there are mentions of the Doyle arc <3

-x-

Honour

Aaron comes to Emily's defence, and they have a long overdue conversation.

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: Misogyny, misogynistic language, mentions of violence

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut!

“I cannot believe you made me come to this.” 

Aaron turns to look at Emily, smiling at her over the top of his glass of champagne. “I didn’t exactly have to try hard to convince you.”

Emily rolls her eyes at him and takes a sip of her own drink. “You tricked me.” 

“I tricked you?” He asks, an eyebrow raised at her.

“You made Jack ask me if I was coming to this with you,” she quips, her shoulder knocking against his, “you know I can’t say no to that son of yours.” She looks around the ballroom and grimaces, the room filled with other FBI agents and politicians. “You’re just lucky you look good in a tux,” she says, looking back at him, “and that my mother is overseas and therefore not here.” 

It was the first thing she had checked when he asked if she’d come to this event with him, uneasy with the idea of coming alone. It was one part of being in a relationship that he missed, a partner that would be by his side, in serious moments as well as at things like this. 

Emily had been the obvious choice. She was his friend, probably his best one if he thought about it, and she was good at this. Despite how much she hated politics she excelled at it. And it didn’t hurt that she was beautiful, something he had always noticed - even back when he was a married man. She looked particularly ethereal this evening, her dark green and flowing dress accentuating her every curve, making her skin look even more alluring than usual. 

“Well,” Aaron says, smiling at her as he ignores the pull in his belly when she smiles back, “I owe you one.”

“You’ll be less smug when I make you come to Mother’s Holiday party with me.” She replies, laughing when he recoils slightly. “Turnabout is fair play.” 

He tries not to think too much about the fact she’s just invited him to an event that wouldn’t take place for another six months, another thing he files away in the place in his head just for Emily. All of the moments between them that he found himself overthinking when he couldn’t sleep at night. 

Aaron wasn’t sure when, but at some point along the way he had fallen in love with her. He tried to pinpoint whenever he could, to think of the moment that made him realise his feelings for her were more than they should have been. He always came up empty, his love for her now such a part of him that he wonders if it had always been there. Hidden away in his heart until it was coaxed out by her smile, her kindness. 

Sometimes he considered just kissing her, fleeting moments when he was sure she felt the same, but he always held back. She was more delicate after Paris, holding herself back in a way he wasn’t used to, and he didn’t want to scare her off. To make her back away. 

She was an integral part of his life, and he’d rather have her as a friend than not at all.

“You ok, Aaron?” She asks, her hand on his arm as she looks at him, a small amount of concern in her eyes. 

He clears his throat and he nods, placing his nearly empty glass down on the table. “I’m ok. I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” 

He needed a tiny bit of space, a few seconds to clear his mind before he did something stupid like kiss her in front of several of their colleagues and some senators. 

“What?” She asks through her teeth. “You can’t leave me here.”

“Emily,” he says, an affectionate smile on his face as he places his hand over hers on his arm, “I’ll be 5 minutes. If I’m any longer you can come look for me.”

She huffs. “Fine, but get me another drink on your way back, ok?”

He smiles at her, nodding as he moves away, a familiar feeling of emptiness spreading through him when her hand falls from his arm. 

“Anything you want.” 

___

He’s leaving the bathroom, readjusting his jacket when he hears it. Familiar voices from work in the hallway. He looks over to see two agents he recognises, Parks and Davis, both men clearly less than sober, obvious even from where he was standing. 

Aaron knows he should probably make a point of speaking to them now he has seen them, that Strauss will have his neck if she finds out he only spoke to Emily all evening. His boss had already pulled him aside and asked him if something was going on between the two of them, seemingly not as opposed to the idea as he knew she once would have been. 

He’s about to gain the attention of the other two men when he hears what they are talking about, frozen to the spot as he feels fury start to burn him from the inside out. 

“Did you see that Hotchner brought her?” Agent Parks asks, taking a sip of his drink, a slight scowl on his face. 

“I heard that they’re together now.” Agent Davis replies, swigging his own drink, his balance slightly off. 

Agent Parks scoffs, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t surprise me, we all know it’s not the first time she’s fucked someone to get what she wants.” 

“What did you just say?” Aaron asks, announcing his presence, his anger forcing the words out before he could stop them. 

Agent Davis looks like a deer in headlights, taking a step back as Aaron approaches them, but Agent Parks stands firm, the alcohol in his system making him brave and stupid in equal measure. He scoffs at Aaron, shaking his head. 

“We all know what your girlfriend did with Doyle, Hotchner.” He says, taking another step closer. “It’s not my fault she’s a who-”

“Chris-” Agent Davis says, trying to warn his friend of the line he was crossing, but Aaron is faster. His fists no longer clenched tightly at his sides. He grabs at the lapel of Agent Parks shirt, grateful in a fleeting moment of coherent thought that the hallway is mercifully empty. 

“I’d think carefully before I said anything else if I were you.” He seethes, words forced through his teeth. It doesn’t occur to him to correct him on his and Emily’s relationship status, knowing it would achieve nothing anyway. His anger at someone speaking about her in such a way taking over everything else. 

Agent Parks laughs at him, and for a second he’s back in his old house, looming over Foyet as he did the same, and he pulls his fist back, ready to hit him, when he’s pulled out of it.

“Aaron?” Emily exclaims from behind them, and he turns, Agent Parks still in his grasp, and she’s running towards them. “What the hell is going on here?” 

He releases the other man immediately, the reality of where they were hitting him all at once. 

“He attacked me for no reason.” Agent Parks says, straightening out his jacket. Emily turns to look at him, her eyes narrowed.

“Why don’t I believe that for a second, Parks.” She says, her hand on Aaron’s arm. He knows she must be able to sense how tense he is, how he’s still vibrating with a rage that he was barely keeping under control. “Get out of here,” she raises a brow when they don’t move, “or I’ll just let him carry on as if I hadn’t walked over here.” 

The other two men walk away quickly, insults thrown at the both of them over their shoulders. Emily looks at Aaron once they are out of sight, and his eyes are fixed on the ground.

“Aaron-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He says, cutting her off before he can go any further. He knows she’ll get it out of him if she tries hard enough, and he doesn’t want her to. Doesn’t want to repeat the words he’d heard. The last thing he wanted to do was upset her. 

“You shouldn’t pay any attention to him.” Emily says, trying to placate him, her hand on his arm, trying to squeeze the tense muscle, as if she could wring out the anger. The tension. “He asked me out once.” 

He frowns at her. “What?” 

“Chris Parks.” She replies, a wry smile on her face. “He asked me out, a couple of years ago. I said no,” she rolls her eyes, “he’s been an asshole ever since.” 

He knows she’s attempting to distract him, to cheer him up somehow, but it makes it worse. The knowledge that some of the other man's bitterness comes from rejection, and it makes him want to find him and finish what he started.

Emily stops him again, her voice the balm it felt like his heart needed. 

“Aaron.” She reaches out for him and grabs his hand frowning when she does so, she turns his hand over and winces. “You’re bleeding.” 

He looks down at his palms, both now facing upwards, and he sees spots of bright red blood, crescent marks on his skin from his nails that he didn’t even feel. He still doesn’t speak, can’t trust himself to do it. 

“Shall we go?” She asks. “Back to mine?” 

He nods in response, and forces a tight smile at her when she loops her arm through his and leads him towards the exit. 

His only thought when they wait for the valet to bring the car around is that he somehow loves her even more than he thought he did. 

___

Emily watches him carefully as she opens the door to her apartment, letting him through first before she closes it softly, sliding the lock across as he stands a few paces ahead of her. He’s still tense, his body vibrating with it, his jaw clenched tight. She swallows thickly and puts her purse down on the side table. 

“You should go sit down, I’ll grab the first aid kit.” She says, her hand gentle at his back as she guides him unnecessarily into her home, as if he wasn’t here every week. 

“Em,” he sighs, letting her lead him towards the couch, as if he couldn’t stop her in an instant if he wanted to, “it’s fine. It’s not even bleeding anymore.” He says, indicating to his palms, the crescent shape marks left behind by his nails no longer actively bleeding, red lines left across his skin. 

“Still,” she says, flashing him a smile, “I should still clean them.”  

Aaron nods, knowing he would not win this argument with her and sits down. She makes quick work of going to her bathroom and grabbing the kit from the medicine cabinet, not wanting to leave him alone for too long. When she re-enters the living room he’s sitting on her couch, his head in his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. She sits next to him, angling her body as close as she can, and she reaches out for him, grabbing one of his wrists to pull his hand towards her.

“Come on,” she says softly, “let me see.” She looks at the palm of his hand, her touch delicate against the damaged skin as she runs over it with a wipe. She tries to ignore how holding his hand in hers, even in these circumstances, makes her stomach flip. Feelings she knows she can’t afford to feel bubbling up so quickly they threaten to boil over. Spill out onto her living room floor in front of him, something she would not be able to put back away. 

The line between friendship and something more was a fine one, and they walked it like a tightrope. She wondered when one of them would be brave enough to make the fall. 

The silence around them feels stifling, awkward in a way it hadn’t been in so long. Only last week they’d sat on his couch in silence, a movie on which they were both feigning interest in, just enjoying each other's company. 

“Sorry if it stings.” She says, feeling the need to speak, to break the tension she didn’t understand. 

“It doesn’t.” He replies, flashing a tight smile at her as she switches to the other hand, showing the same due diligence she had to the first. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” She asks, finishing up her task and throwing the used wipes onto her coffee table, making a mental note to clean them up later. All of her focus was on figuring out what the hell had happened in the five minutes she had been away from him earlier. 

“No.” He answers, his voice firm. An attempt to leave no room for argument, as if the conversation was over. 

As if he had forgotten who he was speaking to. 

“Aaron-”

“Emily-”

“No,” she exclaims, her hand reaching out for his as she stops him from cutting her off, “you were going to punch that guy, Aaron.” She says, shaking her head. “You don’t do that. This is not who you are.” She squeezes his hand and it makes him look at her. “I know you better than that.”

She’d only seen him lose control like that once before. Years ago when she had walked in behind Derek to find Aaron hitting what was left of Foyet’s face. His rage taking over his usual self control, the loss of the woman he loved overpowering everything. 

Emily feels her throat go dry, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. She remembers Clyde telling her off-handedly, like it was some kind of joke, that Aaron had threatened him when the team was looking for her. As if Aaron couldn’t tear the man apart without breaking a sweat if he wanted to. 

It starts to fit together in her head, pieces falling into place to create the whole picture she thinks she should have seen weeks ago. 

“Was it…” she starts, drifting off as her confidence briefly wanes, but she pushes through, determined to get an answer one way or the other, “was it about me?”  The look on his face tells him everything she needs it to, and she closes her eyes as she sighs. “Aaron-”

“I overheard him talking about you.” He says, his voice even, flat, as if the mere memory of what had been said was making the anger he had felt build back up. “He shouldn’t be saying that about anyone. We’re supposed to have integrity…”he drifts off, clenching his teeth briefly as he blows out a breath, steading himself before he carries on, “he shouldn’t have said it. He definitely shouldn’t have said it about you.” 

She stares at him, biting her lower lip as she waits him out, but his gaze remains fixed on their joint hands in her lap. She raises her other hand and cups his cheek, this kind of gentle affection becoming more commonplace for them, and she makes him look at her.

“What did he say Aaron?” 

She thinks she knows. Agent Parks and his buddies had a lot to say about her, they had done for long before Ian Doyle crashed back through her life. She would often overhear them, as she knew they intended her to, or see looks they would give each other as she walked into a room. They were easy to read, as if they forgot what team she was on, what she did for a living. 

He stays silent, his eyes fixed on hers as he shakes his head slightly. A silent refusal to repeat what he’d heard that makes frustration she knows she shouldn’t aim at him rise in her chest. She didn’t want him to protect her, didn’t need him to. 

All she wanted was for him to love her. It’s all she’d wanted for months now, years if she was honest with herself. She still remembered how it felt after leaving him in hospital after Foyet. She had been the last one to leave. Forced out by a nurse who didn’t care about her badge or gun hours after the rest of the team had left, hesitant to leave him alone even though he was sleeping. When she got home that evening she cried. The phantom feeling of his blood encrusted shirt in her hands as she came to terms with the fact she had fallen in love with her boss. 

She made sure to channel that love into something practical. Helping him through his recovery, driving him to and from work when he first got back. Looking after him and Jack after Haley died. They slowly got closer after that, and before Ian escaped from prison she half convinced herself that Aaron loved her too. When she came back from Paris, her hope tasting like poison in her mouth, she waited for something to happen. But it didn’t. 

They both talked around it so much, always standing at the precipice of something, but never taking the final step. They’d both been hurt, kicked around by the worst of what life could throw at them, and they were being cautious. But Aaron had almost punched a man for simply saying something negative about her.

The time for being cautious was long gone. 

“It was about Ian, wasn’t it?” She asks, and again the look on his face tells her she’s right. Her hand drops from his chin and she rubs it across her own face, paying no mind to the make up she’d meticulously applied only hours ago. “Aaron,” she sighs, her frustration seeping into her voice, “I don’t need you to protect me.” 

“What are you suggesting I do?” He replies, finally finding his voice. A sternness to it that lets her know he’s on edge, that he’s trying to maintain his composure. He looks back down at their joint hands, holding hers a little tighter in case she pulls away. “Walk away when I hear someone call you a whore?” He spits out the last word like it was bitter. 

“Yes.” She answers simply, clearing her throat. “I do.” 

He looks up at her so quickly she swears she can hear his neck crack, and is sure that it must have hurt. “Em…”

She smiles sadly, a humourless chuckle escaping as she tilts her head slightly at him. “You can’t possibly think that's the first time someone has said that.” She shakes her head slightly. “Ever since I came back from Paris I keep hearing it. At first I thought I was imagining people looking at me, a hangover from knowing Ian was back and then being in hiding, you know?” She looks down at her lap, squeezing his hand in hers. “Then I realised people were stopping conversations when I walked into the break room, then after a while they didn’t even bother stopping.” 

“Em.” He says, the repeated use of her name makes her look up, and she sees the shine to his eyes, the look on his face that she had only seen a handful of times. Devastation. She hates herself for putting it there. 

“I know you tried your best to keep everything that happened between Ian and I when I was with him underwraps, but it didn’t work.” She smiles wryly. “And people don’t speak ill of the dead, so they wouldn’t have said it when they thought I was. But they don’t have the same courtesy for the living.” 

“You should have told me.” Aaron says, his eyes staring straight into hers.

“And said what? ‘The other kids are calling me names, sir?’” She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “It’s fine.” She scoffs. “I was the permanent new kid growing up, I’m used to it.” 

“It isn’t fine, sweethe-” he pauses, clearing his throat, “Emily.” He reaches out for her, his hand cupping her neck, his thumb delicate against her jaw line. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt. Not with me.” 

Emily stares at him for a second before nodding, tears filling her eyes so quickly her vision goes blurry. She leans in to hug him, her head against his shoulder as she seeks out the comfort she wasn’t even aware she had wanted. She feels his hand move from her neck to the back of her head, holding her in place as if she would want to be anywhere else. 

Aaron kisses the top of her head and holds her closer, releasing her hand so he could all but pull her into his lap.

“You have to tell me about this kind of thing,” he says, his thumb tracing gently on the back of her head, “so I can fix it.” 

She chuckles against him, her words muffled by his jacket. “What, as my boss? Yell at them for me if they upset me?” 

“No.” Aaron replies. “As your friend.” 

She pulls back from him, just enough so she’s looking at him. Their noses are almost touching, and she can’t help it when her eyes flick down to his lips. 

She doesn’t miss how his eyes do the same to hers. He reaches up and wipes a tear away from her face, his calloused skin gentle against her cheek. 

She takes the leap, and just hopes he’ll catch her.

“Is that what we are, Aaron?” She asks breathlessly, her voice rougher than she thought it would be. “Friends?” 

His answer is to lean forward and kiss her. Everything else fades away and all she can feel is him. His lips against hers, her nose pressing into his cheek, his hand buried in her hair. She shifts so her hands are on either side of his face, holding him in place. When they pull apart, only when oxygen becomes an issue, she gasps, her forehead against his as she tries to remind herself to breathe. 

It’s silent for a moment, as both of them try to figure out what this means, what comes next.

“Did you almost call me sweetheart?” She asks, pulling back to look at him, still anchored to him in every other way, her eyebrow raised 

He grimaces slightly, taken aback that of all the things she could have chosen to say after their first kiss, that was what she had settled on. 

“You caught that?”

Emily smiles. “Nothing gets past me.” 

He laughs and shakes his head at her, and they sober immediately, his eyes meeting hers. 

“What does this mean, Em?”

“Well,” she says, moving a hand to run through his short hair, her nails blunt against his scalp, “I think it means we need to have a conversation in the morning about us, and what happens next.” She leans forward and kisses him again, a brief thing, emboldened by how it felt to just be in his arms. “I think we might both be on the same page about a few things. About a lot of things.” 

She can’t say she loves him, not tonight. Not when their emotions were still all over the place. She would never want him to assume it was out of some kind of twisted gratefulness for him defending her honour. 

It was real, and it could wait until the morning. 

“I think so too.” His hand on her hip tightens its hold slightly, a small smile spreading on his face. “In the morning?”

She nods. “In the morning.” She shifts so she’s sitting properly in his lap, the material of her dress shimmying further up her legs. “In the meantime though…”she says, biting her lower lip, “I think you should kiss me again.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her. “You do, do you?” 

She nods, her smile widening. “You’re very good at it.” She leans forward to kiss him again, but stops just before her lips reach his she stops, pulling back to look at him. “If we do this Aaron, I don’t need you to protect me, or defend my honour, ok?” She says, her eyes searching his. “I just need you.” She runs her hand through his hair. “So no more trying to punch people for me, ok? If It needs doing I’m more than capable of doing it myself.” 

He stares at her for a moment, as if he was trying to think of a way to argue with her, the alpha male in him he did a poor job of covering wanting to protect her, long before she was his to protect. Eventually he nods.

“Ok.”

She beams at him, and his smile widens. 

“Good.” She says, leaning in to him again, her lips brushing against his. “Now, where were we?” 

-x-

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[hinaaspanda]

...and they were (more than) roommates! | njm

Pairing: Campus Pretty Boy + Roommate! Jaemin x Dancer! Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 9576

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin. 

a/n; hi! for this fic i tried adding my own oc (Hina) just to spice things up!! lol totally not to insert myself as jenos love interest or anything ahaha anyways please enjoy!

Huang Renjun never thought that breaking off one college relationship would be so detrimental to your heart. 

It really was such a small relationship, just one month of innocent pecks on the cheeks in between classes, weekend dinner dates, and trips around the city on your breaks. It was such a minute thing, yet your heart couldn’t get enough. You grew invested, never wanting to let go. Becoming dependent on mere goodbye kisses. And after one month of being together, you were stuck watching him drift away, fingers intertwined with that of someone new. Now, of course, one question remained; if it was such a short relationship, why in the world did it hurt your heart so much? 

You sat under the brisk afternoon sunlight, gnawing at the cafeteria food as your campus friends began bickering over god knows what. You tune out the ruckus before you, your mind wandering like a lost child between the aisles of a supermarket. An image of him swims into your mind as you curse under your breath. It didn’t matter how healthy your break up was, or how put together your persona must’ve seemed. The only thing you wanted was to be in Renjun’s arms once again. 

Suddenly, you felt the stares of a concerned Hina and Shotaro burning through you. Your shoulders shivering at the sudden thrust into the spotlight. Was your thinking face that miserable-looking? You sent a half-assed chuckle in the hopes of diverting their attention.

“Is something wrong-”

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?” Your childhood friend, Hina, began rather harshly, throwing off your more laid-back classmate, Shotaro. “About Renjun?” 

The soda that slid down your throat almost shot out of your lips, straight into the air as Hina stared you down, interrogating you. How obvious were you? You pondered for a little bit, your eyes now meeting Hina’s and Shotaro’s concerned ones. You couldn’t defy the truth to your overly caring friends, even if you tried. “...Yeah. I was.” 

The somber air around you thickened with each passing minute as you finished off your lunch for the day. You wince, fearing your friends would, out of disappointment in your inability to shut up about your failed love life, cut ties with you right then and there. You wouldn’t blame them, though. Even you were starting to get tired of your weak, measly heart. Shotaro breaks the silence, a sweet grin plastered on his face. 

“Don’t worry about it, y/n! You just need to find something to get your mind off of him!” Shotaro chirps, his upbeat demeanor infecting Hina beside him. Hina continues, a grin now lining her lips.

“How about another date? With someone new!” 

You almost scoff out loud. “Another date?”

The bold figure of Hina crossed her arms in disbelief. “There are other guys out there, y/n. What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?.”

“My roommate? No! We’re just friends, nothing else!” You quickly retort, waving your hands in a very strong denial. Hina’s head tilted in persuasion.

“You’ll never know until you try, y/n.” Your head hung low as you let out the fifth sigh that day. You loved Hina, you truly did, but with these outlandish ideas protruding from her head, you were convinced she was going crazy. 

...

“What? You gonna chicken out or something?” Donghyuck scoffed through a disgusting amount of food stuffed in his mouth. “You’re telling me the campus hottie’s too scared to go on a date?” Jaemin’s eyes sent nothing but death threats to the aggravating college student, sipping on the vending machine drink destructive to his health. He was offended, to say the least. Offended at how inaccurate his so called ‘friend’ was being, anyways. 

Na Jaemin had it all.  A decent fashion sense, heavenly proportions, good grades and work ethic. A face most people would classify as attractive, and a bright, luring smile to tie it all together. Some say he was the whole package, driving the women of the campus insane as they line up to get a simple glimpse of the school’s resident hottie. He was the campus pretty boy, but one question remained; why was he still single?

It’s been theorized by many, some believing in his virtuous desire to focus on his studies, while others believe he might just swing another way or simply not interested in the idea of romance. But one thing stayed true, Na Jaemin was not some coward who couldn’t get a date. 

The pretty boy sat before his set of now intrigued college friends, Donghyuck, Jeno, and Yangyang, all riddled with such an irritating curiosity it made Jaemin cringe. It was only Tuesday, Jaemin had a tower of school work waiting for him back at home, and the last thing he needed was three idiots challenging his love life. He reached for another sip of his drink, cursing at lack of said drink in the can. 

 “Don’t be stupid, Hyuck. I could get a girl if I wanted to. I’m just...busy right now, with schoolwork and stuff” 

“Oh really?” Donghyuck’s sly voice ticked a flame in Jaemin’s soul. He huffed out a disbelieving scoff as he leaned back on the cheap, plastic chair.   Was he really doubting him? He quite literally had the entire female population of the school at his grasp, and Donghyuck was doubting him? Lee Donghyuck was bound to eat his words, as gross as a child to their ice cream. 

“Yeah, I can get any girl around here, just watch. And if I don’t?” Jaemin’s eyes scour around, searching for a way out another stupid idea before finally landing on the trash pile that was Yangyang’s homework. “...I’ll do your guy’s homework for a week.” 

Everyone’s eyes widened at Jaemin’s proposal, a proposal that stunted even the slyest of prankers, Lee Donghyuck himself. Was he really going all out? Sacrificing a week of freetime for some measly bet? Even stupefying the once unbothered Jeno, trapped in his own, unexpectedly unfortunate love life. 

“Dude are you serious? Deal!” Donghyuck and Yangyang practically hollered, both sending Jaemin a crisp slap on the back. Na Jaemin, how much of an idiot are you?

“So, who do you think you're gonna go for?” Jeno gripped the strap of his school bag as him and Jaemin trotted away from their final class of the day. Jaemin huffed out what felt like the 100th sigh that afternoon. His eyes grazing the trees peeking through the campus windows. Surely he needed a plan, right? No matter how many girls relished in his good looks, he wouldn’t possibly survive without one. Jaemin’s palms grew cold, pupils shaking in a sudden fear. God, maybe he would be stuck writing Yangyang’s overdue essays for the next week. 

“What about that y/n girl?” Jeno suddenly chirped. “The quiet one from the dance department?” 

Jaemin froze in his tracks, looking synonymous to a deer caught in headlights. He tilted his head, puzzled, to say the least. “...y/n?” 

“Yeah, I heard she got out of a relationship recently.” 

Jaemin’s once boastful voice soon grew into a stuttering mess as Jeno walked past him, sending a heartwarming chuckle. Jeno turned around, giving one final look to Jaemin, currently bathing underneath the small snippets of evening sunlight. 

“It’s just something to think about, Jaem. Don’t worry about it too much.” 

...

Your legs were anything but stable as you stepped off the city bus that night. You loved to dance, but you wouldn’t be lying if you said it drained you faster than a mosquito sucking out your blood. The mustard streetlight effortlessly cascaded off of your frame as your wobbly figure began its long trek to your apartment. Sudden buzzes from your phone shook you awake一a sensation your exhausted self clearly needed一before you clicked on the notification. 

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: I bought us some dinner before I got home

Roomie :) [7:34pm]: sorry it’s frozen pizza lol I’m too poor :((

Roomie :) [7:36pm]: oh also I got a favour to ask when u get here

Your mind trails back to lunch, with a familiar phrase replaying in your head for the umpteenth time that day. 

 How about another date? With someone new?

You huffed out another somber sigh, something you found yourself doing a lot, lately. Could you really do it? Could you finally let go of the dead weight? Finally free yourself of the heartbreak tainting you? You feel your heart clenching inside you as you fumble with your house keys. Could your heart handle another simple date?

What about your roommate? Isn’t he single?

No, your roommate didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve being bombarded with the atrocity that was your failed love life. He was too sweet, too caring to deal with anything of the sort. Besides, with how gentle and pleasant he is, it was certain you didn’t deserve him. 

This wouldn’t have been the first time you held your roommate in such high regard. He really had it all, a kind personality, decent looks, and an exquisite taste in cheap, diabetes inducing food. He knew all the best coffee places and knew the perfect times to surprise you with your favorite drinks. He wasn’t just some rando who split the rent with you. He was your friend. A sudden rush of unwanted blood heats up your cheeks as you stop in your tracks. 

He was your friend. Nothing more. 

The golden light of your apartment blinded you as you strolled in. The figure of your roommate was cast before you, dawning his classic ivory shirt and grey sweatpants, paired perfectly with his undone hair, and a plate of steaming hot pizza, straight from the microwave. It looked nothing like the pretty boy image he left your apartment with before class this morning. It was surreal, really. Only you got the luxury to see him like this. It was one of the strange perks of being roommates with the one and only, Na Jaemin. 

“Welcome home!” Jaemin chirped to your sleepy figure. He thrusted the plate of pizza to you, a smile wiped across his cheeks. “Pizza?” 

...

Your heart almost leaped out of your chest.

Your trembling, sweaty palms couldn’t stop shaking since dinner, almost breaking one of your scarce dinner plates in the process of washing them. You couldn’t blame yourself, though. Na Jaemin’s proposal was nothing but calming.

“So, what were you gonna ask me, anyways?” You spat through your mouth full of rubbery pizza. God, you need to eat properly before practice. You glanced at our roommate, currently fiddling with the tips of some miscellaneous fork as he suddenly dodged your eyes. 

“Uh, yea, that.” He stuttered. So timid, it was unreal to you. Usually this man had no fear of asking for favours. Whether it was doing his laundry or fixing up dinner on his assigned day of the week, he would never show any hesitation on asking you to do anything. 

“Okay this is gonna sound weird, but…” Jaemin started, breaking into a cold sweat. “I need you to go on a fake date with me.” Jaemin finally exhaled before connecting his eyes with yours. The whites of your eyes spilled out, along with the juice that almost had the chance of successfully slipping down your throat. He wanted... what?

“Don’t worry! It’s just gonna be one date! I made this stupid bet with Hyuck, and if I don’t get a date soon, I need to do their homework for a whole week!” He gripped the locks of his hair as he slumped onto his side of the dining table.

You shuffled back to the dining room, clenching your paper towel tightly in your palm. Anything to help calm your rapid heart down, just for a moment. “And, you can use this as a chance to distract yourself from that Renjun asshole.”

A sudden pain struck your chest like a lightning bolt to a lanky tree, barren in a grassland. You wince at the sudden calling of that name, your taste buds growing sour. You let out another soft sigh. You really need to get over him, fast. You stretch up from your seat, hoisting up the now empty dinner plate as you trudge towards the sink. But not before stopping in your tracks, tilting your head in Jaemin’s direction. 

“I-uh-I’ll think about it.” 

Oh, you thought about it, alright. Screamed into your poor, innocent pillow about it, at least. 

It all zoomed too fast for you, too swift for your brain to handle. Your breathing grew short and shallow. You felt as if you could die, right then and there, gripping onto your bed sheets while freaking out about Na Jaemin, your bold roommate. No, you couldn’t take up his risque offer. You were in no shape to go on another date, even if it did have no actual meaning behind it. You were too tangled in your mess of a life, and this stupid move would only fan the fire. 

You can use this as a chance to distract yourself from Renjun. 

The phrase rang through your head more time than you would’ve liked. No matter how much you shielded yourself from his claim, Jaemin would still be right in that manner. You needed to distract yourself, sure. But was this the way to go? 

Another sigh escapes your lips as you rush down the hall of your apartment. Your steps, hesitant as ever, dripping in a mix of confusion, exhaustion and nervousness. It’s official. You are the worst at well thought-out decisions. 

“Hey” you huffed at your roommate, eyeing him timidly as he washes the dishes. Something your shaken figure couldn’t properly complete without breaking a glass that night. He shifts to face you, a slightly nervous expression painting him. You clear your throat before continuing, hoping that small cough would stop time in its tracks. 

“I-I’ll go on that date with you.”

His classic boisterous smile spreads across his face once again. If your mind wasn’t rushing around in four different places at once, you could probably admit that you found it the slightest bit cute. 

“Really? Thanks so much! How does this Saturday at 7 sound?”

You only had the mental energy to swiftly nod your head as you zoomed back into the confines of your room, your safe space. You couldn’t help but notice the heat rising back to your cheeks as you plopped back onto the bed, vigorously scrolling through your phone to find your saviours.

the gorls and shotaro [9:48pm]: guys I need help with something

the gorls and shotaro [9:49pm]: let’s meet at hina’s after class

...

“I don’t care if you’re just going on some fake date to lie to his friends, I still wanna make you look hot!” Hina never failed to leave you, Shotaro, and probably some people passing by her house, shaken by her booming voice. With her small, fragile looking frame, she was the last one you’d expect to have such a bold personality. 

“Please, that’s the fifth dress in your closet she’s tried already. It’s just a fake date, we don’t even need to try hard!” Shotaro challenges, his attention leaving a now grumbling Hina as it turns towards you. “Why did you even say yes, anyways?” 

“I dunno, I’m stupid?” You murmur, the hint of bitterness caught in your breath. You give a subpar twirl to your audience, a deadpan expression shielding your face. “I guess I wanna help him? It would suck to do all that homework for a week.” 

“Yeah, but he could easily ask any other girl on the campus. This is freaking Na Jaemin we’re talking about!” Hina once again hollered. An action that would guarantee her a slap on the head if you didn’t love her so much.

“Are you sure it's just for that stupid bet?”

You slip into the makeshift change room, which was really just blankets hung on coat hangers, propped across two sides of a corner in Hina’s room. After making your final decision for your outfit of the night, you change back into your own clothes, stalling your response to Hina’s question. You never knew why you felt the need to stall, though. You should know your answer by now, right?

“Yeah, it’s just for the bet, nothing else.” You find your voice trailing off at those last words of yours as you emerge from the corner, holding the destined outfit that made the cut. Hina sighed, plopping onto the bed like the main character of those dramas after they finally find out they’re in love. 

“Just make sure you aren’t lying to yourself, y/n. It could hurt you.”

“Oh really? Isn’t it time you listen to your own advice??” Shotaro provoked, Hina now shooting up from the bed in irritation. “How are things going with that Jeno guy, huh?” 

“I am going to murder you.” Hina’s voice stayed low, barely trembling before zooming through the door, chasing a now escaping Shotaro and his incredibly fast feet. You, however, couldn’t pray for Shotaro’s survival. Not with your mind stuck in it’s own rut, and your cheeks now glowing a violent pink. 

This was just for a bet, nothing else. You reminded yourself once again.

...

“This wasn’t too bad, right?” His soothing voice swam through your ears softly, but it did absolutely nothing to calm down your heart, which was currently pacing anywhere but your chest. You mustered up all the courage in the world to glance back at his eyes across the restaurant table, your breaths stopping in an effort to hide the sudden rush of blood flowing to your cheeks. With his unbothered eyes locking onto yours in an instant, Na Jaemin sent you another one of his heartache-inducing smiles. “Thanks for helping me with this.” 

This shouldn’t be affecting you this much. After all, the only thing you and Jaemin really did was sit under the restaurant roof, order dishes deemed perfect under the social media lens, and take pictures with said dishes, becoming the perfect pieces of evidence to show that Na Jaemin was no coward. However, with the romantic, first date type outfit draped onto your figure, and the general ambience of the room, you couldn’t help but feel just the slightest bit flustered. You shot him another smile, one hiding the forest fire that was your mental state. “Uh, yeah! No problem!”

Silence fell over the two of you as you listened to the clinks of glass sounding off from the dishwashing station behind you. A silence that you wanted to hold onto more than anything. But alas, Your roommate breaks it, glancing up from the ground. 

“You look great, by the way.”

Your cheeks flush a deep vermillion. They’ve been doing that a lot lately.

“Thanks, Jaem.” You barely muster out, dodging his eyes. “But you don’t have to say stuff like that, this is all fake, remember?” You took the time to remind him, not fully sure who truly needed it. You fiddled with your fingers as your ears picked up the sudden ruckus of obnoxious college students coming from down the dining hall.

“You should ask her out, Jeno!” a voice chirped

“No! Are you crazy? She probably thinks I’m weird or something”

“I doubt it, you’re hot! Plus, she’s in my department! I can alway ask-”

“Guys, quick, look! Over there!”

The voices grew closer and closer, the whites of your eyes spilling more and more in utter shock. You can’t help but check on Jaemin, the same expression now burning through you. You mirrored each other so much, you could tell the exact words running through his mind right now. Mostly because they ran through yours, too. Oh Shit.

“JAEMIN!!” The voice of an irritating Lee Donghyuck rang through your ears at an alarming, and unwanted rate. The hollers of an equally aggravating Liu Yangyang from Jaemin’s class, swiftly followed, leaving behind the only tolerable one, Lee Jeno behind. “I didn’t know you’d be here!” 

“Ahaha, hey!” Jaemin stuttered, panic overflowing in his eyes as the three intruders squished into the already occupied, two person booth. His eyes scanned the restaurant, grasping for any way to escape. Afterall, this was certainly not part of the plan. Donghyuck’s curious eyes scanned, too, his pupils finally focusing on you. “And who might this be?”

“I-I’m y/n” You stuttered out, your wrist feeling heavy as you began gesturing to the date in front of you. “I’m his da-”

A lightbulb jumped from Jaemin’s head, his shoulder jolting in response. Na Jaemin wasn’t one for outlandish pranks, especially if you were at the receiving end, which only made your thumping heart wonder; what the hell was he trying to pull now?

“She’s my date.”

Suddenly, your once isolated and vacant hand was tugged to the center of the dinner table before softly getting encased in his. His fingers, notably bigger than your nimble ones, interlocked with yours. Heat began to creep up at your ears. Who knew your hand fit so perfectly in his? You looked down, foolishly hoping that your cheeks would stop flushing into that embarrassing red if you hid it well enough. “See?”

“Oh!” Donghyuck lined his lips with a stupid grin, his eyebrows wiggling as he scoffs in disbelief. Yangyang riled up with excitement beside him, and even the calm Jeno couldn’t stop his jaw from falling to the floor. Na Jaemin did it. He really pulled it off. “I guess we’re disturbing something, then?” 

“No worries! We were just about to leave, anyways” Jaemin still held onto that panicked tremble in his voice as the two of you shuffled through the restaurant booth. He stalked behind you before handing you your coat. “See you guys tomorrow!” 

Your mind couldn’t help but focus on the light touch Jaemin’s palm left on the lower, small of your back as he gently escorted you from the restaurant. You felt like a princess, protected by your knight’s brute strength, as you tiptoed on your path of feathers.  That darned flushed heat wouldn’t leave your cheeks. Na Jaemin, your one and only roommate, was driving you crazy.  

The wind roughly brushes against your cheek as the two of you finally exit the restaurant. The breeze was the last thing you would’ve classified as comfortable, which was why you felt just the slightest twinge of disappointment once the warmth of his hand snaked away from you. His palm hugged the nape of his neck as his eyes softened from their former panic. 

“Sorry about that, I didn’t know they’d show up so randomly.”

No, he had nothing to apologize for. It was your fault for being so greedy. You instinctively widen the distance between you, saving yourself from a wave of embarrassment.  

“It’s fine.”

It’s official, you hated your weak heart more than anyone. 

...

Three. There were three instances in which your heart was set on fire the next day, by none other than the infamous Na Jaemin, of course. 

[10:49 am]

A violent GAME OVER! blasted through your ear drums as you slumped on the couch, watching your roommate die for the 70th time that evening. He let out an equally jolting groan, throwing the controller to the depths of your living room carpet before rushing to check if it was okay. You sat promptly on the couch he leaned against, mindlessly scrolling through your phone as if last night you didn’t experience the most heart-collapsing date in the 19 years of your life. 

Your heart still hasn’t properly healed from it, either. Every time you pass by him in the halls, whether it be a quick snack or a glass of water, your heart never fails to tense up, your throat tightening up in a cruel response. You swear, Na Jaemin was out for your blood the moment he asked you to stay in the living room with him, even if it was to simply watch him fail play. 

“Aw fuck me!” Jaemin suddenly blurted out as he examined the now loosened control button. As if on cue, an army of redness storms through your cheeks as you listen in, his simple word choice setting you off. Your head shakes vigorously enough to give you a pounding headache, before you get the chance to fill your head with certain spoiled thoughts. Wow, you really are evil. 

You didn’t spare him the explanation for your sudden departure from the living room couch. All you knew was that your mind and heart were running haywire, and the only thing that could stop you from thinking about your roommate as anything but your roommate was a deep rethinking of your own morals beside your castle of stuffed animals. 

[2:45 pm]

“Here, I’ll get that for you.” Jaemin’s towering figure shielded your back from the apartment kitchen as he stretched over, retrieving the ranging dish your pitiful frame couldn’t reach. He closed the air between you, his extended chest grazing your shoulder as you stood frozen, your mouth gaping open. He sends you a playful grin as he hands you the plate. “You should try growing a little more, y/n!”

You were too stuck in your questionable haze to tighten your grip on the glass plate, so it was only natural to feel the glass slip through your fingers, shards of the crisp material scattering around your bare feet. Frightened, Jaemin scurried below you, the gentleness of his fingers as he picks up each shard of glass sending butterflies to your stomach. 

“Oh my god! Y/n, are you alright!?” You wanted to scoff at his face. Of course you weren’t.

“Uh, yeah. I’m okay.” 

He glances up from below you, his fingers circling the new scratch on your foot that only surfaced from your astound clumsiness. 

“Be careful next time, alright?” 

You nod hesitantly, staying frozen as Jaemin swiftly works around you; throwing out the dangerous glass shards, running away to retrieve your first aid kit, and patching up your pathetic wound in what felt like one swift heartbeat. God, how pathetic were you?

[8:22 pm]

“Have you seen my hoodie? The blue one?” Jaemin showed no mercy to your innocent door as it swung straight into the wall beside it. You let out an award-winning shriek, your once calm figure jumping from its curled up position. “I think it’s in your laundry bin.”

What he actually had on was...minimal. Nothing but tousled, damp hair and a white towel hooked around his waist. You would let out another shriek if you wanted to, but the lack of air reaching your lungs, all from the utter shock of a half-naked Na Jaemin in your wake, stopped you from spitting out any kind of noise imaginable. You dig your fingernails into the flesh of your poor teddy bear as you shield your eyes from your door frame. 

“Gahh! What are you doing?”

“Huh? Oh.” It finally clicked in his mind that his current appearance was not for the faint of heart. Not for yours, at least. You let out another ear- piercing wail. “Put on a shirt already!!” 

Jaemin let out a boastful, childish laugh. He leaned over, digging for your eyes, which were currently finding anything else to lay their attention on. “What, are you getting flustered?”

Your eyes finally meet up with his as he keeps you hostage with his stare. A familiar heat storms up your cheeks for the millionth time that evening as you grip the limb of another one of your stuffies on standby. With one final whine, you chuck the plush at his direction. Your lack of looking back all in an effort to hide your glowing red face, out for revenge. “Get out!”

“You’re so cute, y/n.” Jaemin teasingly hums as he slips out of your door frame. You let out an exhausted huff, your chest loosening so much, you’re convinced you haven’t been properly breathing before then. 

Na Jaemin will seriously be the death of you. 

...

You knew it was cowardly, but you just had to run away. Your weak heart wouldn’t be able to survive otherwise. 

You wisp into the barren walls of the dance studio, the flickering lights blinding your vision as you switch them on. You shuffle to the corner of the room, dropping your bag before fumbling with the music station. A soothing song swims through your ears as you settle down in the center of the room, an eye keeping watch of your posture. You close your eyes. Maybe this will finally calm your heart down. 

You start slowly, an arm traveling artistically through the air as your legs twirl around the floor. The melody of the music carries your limbs away, leaving your mind alone to think. 

They were just simple interactions, a simple slip up ending with a broken dish, a simple choice of words, a simple clasp of the hands to keep up with some measly lie. They were such small things, so why did your heart light up in flames everytime? Why did each instance leave a staining image of Jaemin in your mind, everytime? 

You think back to the man that held your heart, before brutally smashing it with his own fist. Huang Renjun. He hasn’t grazed your mind for quite some time now, but this familiar feeling wasn’t exactly pleasurable. Your heart soaked itself in that same lonely feeling, the desire to cling back. You froze from your dance, expecting full well your mind would submerge in a pool of sorrow. Yet, this week was just full of surprises, wasn’t it?

Another image of your horrid roommate flies into your mind, your head mentally swatting it away like a pestering insect. Nonetheless, it’s trailed back, persistent as ever, as you grumble your way to turn off the music. Na Jaemin, wins again. 

You could admit, Jaemin kept his promise at shielding your mind away from your failing love life, but he never warned you about the repercussions that were of him seeping into a corner of your heart. His risque, almost flirty behaviour, his teasing remarks, a smile that would brighten up a barren world. He just wouldn’t leave your mind. Yet, you knew you couldn’t have him. If your forest fire of a romance with Renjun had taught you anything, it was that you couldn’t love. You were too clueless, too childish to properly hold someone’s heart. You didn’t deserve anyone’s love. 

After gathering your belongings, you trek out the door. You were so lost in your thoughts, not even the thing you held to your heart so dearly, dancing, could pull you out of your rut. You were in no state to go back home just yet, so your fingers trace your phone screen to look for Hina, your resident childhood friend and therapist, apparently. And you wished you had the luxury of plopping onto Hina’s bed, screaming out all your anger into her pillow as she sneaks snacks up to her room, but your horrid life had other plans. 

A familiar figure stop’s in their tracks, their bag swaying in their grasp一a grasp that was almost loosened in pure shock一 as they connect their eyes to yours. You stay frozen, your breath hitching as you search for anything to say. And by the looks of it, they were doing the same. 

“Y-y/n?” The voice of a flabbergasted Huang Renjun rings through your ear. “W-what are you doing here?”

...

It didn’t take Jaemin long to realize you had left early that morning. Your dance bag left an awkward space beside your night stand in its absence, the dish drying rack was already occupied, with one simple plate and a glass turned over. But more importantly, Jaemin woke up with an empty, lost feeling rumbling inside him一something he only felt when you weren’t around. 

It first occurred during the third week of splitting rent, when you joined the school’s dance team. You had left the room without a trace, leaving Jaemin to search for you like a lost puppy to its reluctant owner, instead of getting ready for his afternoon class. He tried his best to brush it off as simple boredom, but with the way his vision simply lights up in your presence, even he started to get suspicious of himself. 

He couldn’t quite pinpoint it at first, the very reason you always trailed in his mind. It could have been anything. Your immense amount of talent, the wisp of anonymity that surrounded you, one he strived to break to get to know you better. The angelic personality he was first greeted with once he did break down that barrier. Anything about you could’ve easily pulled his heart closer to you. He was in love. 

Nevertheless, he clearly wasn’t obvious enough, as within weeks of beginning your college career, your figure was cradled in the arms of another man. Huang Renjun, resident A+ student and Jaemin’s childhood classmate.  

As the days pass by, and he becomes bombarded with endless homework, the two of you slowly drift apart, returning to the simple ‘roommate’ label on your contact lists. He resorts to the abundance of girls around the campus. Hoping each one he’d fool around with could finally get his head away from you. Yet, as he always comes home just to see your face, so did his heart, apparently. 

Don’t get him wrong, he felt terrible the night you trudged home in tears, the fresh sadness of a break up welling through you. And he tried everything in his power to make you feel better, though it never worked. But一 and he would rather kill a man than ever let this slip from his tongue一he couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit relieved that you were finally in his grasp once again.

“So, how serious are you? About her?” Jeno quizzed through the phone, a now distressed Na Jaemin on the other side of the line. Jaemin fell onto the bed, dust particles jumping into the air. 

“I really like her” Jaemin huffed.

“So? Then go tell her! You should be with her, not here blabbering about her to me. Look, you don’t have anything to worry about, Jaem. It’s not like she’s in a relationship anymore.”

Jaemin's eyes widen and Jeno’s nonchalant words. That's right. You weren’t taken anymore. Not trapped in the confines of another man’s arms. It was what he was fighting for, all those months ago. Na Jaemin finally had a shot with you. 

“Are you sure you like her?” Jeno pulled Jaemin back to reality as Jaemin scrambled to the bathroom. He placed the device down on the bathroom sink, his eyes locking in with his reflection from the bathroom mirror. “Yeah.”

He chuckled to himself before ending the call, an image of you rolling into his mind. ‘Like’ would be a deep understatement. He was in love, has been for months now, and he was finally ready to tell the truth. He probably looked like a little kid hungry for ice cream, but he didn’t care. He paced out the door. He was going to finally have you, once and for all. 

...

“She and I are good, yeah.” Renjun stuttered out, not looking past the drink he hastily purchased before the two of you sat down in the campus cafe. “What about you? How have you been?” 

With all your might, you stopped your throat from belting out a petty laugh. How have you been? Was he being serious? You’ve been pleasant, aside from all the inner turmoil ringing through your heart at the moment. You sent a bogus smile at the man in front of you. “I’ve been...alright.”

The awkward silence suffocated you, squeezing your throat so tight, not a single sliver of air could slip through. Why did he come across you now of all times? And why did he have to be so much more emotionally sound than you were? Renjun shifted around, clearing his chest with a small ahem! You knew he was always a man who would never beat around the bush, and today was no exception. 

“I’m sorry…” His sudden confession shook you to your core, the liquid inside your glass mimicking your shivering movements. Your eyes, out of pure shock, finally take the courage to graze across Renjun as he continues. “I’m sorry for leaving you like that, I know I didn’t give you that much of an explanation back then.” 

Your eyes retire back to the wooden table in front of you. He didn’t need to apologize. He didn’t need to explain himself at all, not when your greedy heart was at fault. “I knew I couldn’t give you what you wanted. I wasn’t enough for you.” 

“You don’t have to apologize, Renjun.” You were having enough trouble forgetting him as it is, you didn’t need this. 

“I didn’t wanna lie to myself, so that’s why I left you so abruptly like that.” He explains, his fingers turning white from his grip on the coffee cup. Your breaths grow short, your mind scurrying to find the hidden meaning behind his words. All this time, your mind retired to the idea of him running away from your clinging figure, claiming that now rash narrative as valid; correct. Tearing your heart up into little pieces in the process. 

“So we didn’t break up because I was being...selfish?”

“Selfish? Of course not.” He comforted. “You deserve someone else, someone way better than me.” 

Your mind trails back to your roommate once again, his smile growing more contagious. You find your lips sneaking in a small smile at the thought of him. Except, this time, no twinge of sorrow had followed. Like a bag of bricks lifted off your shoulders, you were finally free. You shined a genuine grin, your first in a long while. “So, we’re good?”

“Of course, y/n.”

You were so trapped in your own childish thoughts, you didn’t notice the hasty booming steps crash through the cafe door frame. 

“Y/N!” The voice of your roommate flew through your ears, striking you like a deer caught in blinding headlights. His volume was so loud, you wouldn’t be surprised if someone heard him from the outside of the cafe.  “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

...

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back. Generally unbothered with a smirk lining his lips every now and then. It was one of the ways he stayed on top of the collective campus hierarchy for so long, he was always calm, cool, and collected. He always was, except for today. Instead, he was scrambling at his feet, thumbing through every inch of the school, looking for the infamous y/n. 

He finally skips to the cafe, the faint scent of coffee and flavouring overtaking him. He was a panting mess, his hands gripping at the bolts of his knees as he leaned over in pure exhaustion. It was weird, Jaemin always considered himself to be decently fit. It must’ve been you, suddenly turning his world upside down. 

She’s gotta be here. 

As if on cue, your head pops up on the corner of his eye, basking under the afternoon sunlight which generously seeped through the cafe window. Your eyes weren’t on him, but that wasn’t the worst of his problems. His eyes travel further down your direction, his limp legs mindlessly following like a puppet on two strings. Your eyes weren’t on Jaemin. They were on someone else. 

Renjun.

A familiar clenching feeling pulls on his heart harshly, so much so, that his hands reach up to palm the pain through his chest. He’s only felt this rude awakening one other time in the 19 years of his life; the moment you left the house on your first ever date with Huang Renjun. A flame ignites within him as he stalks up to the table. With his heaving breaths and awkward, stiff posture, it was inevitable he'd summon a couple of stares from various customers, but he couldn’t care less. 

Usually, Na Jaemin was laid back, but because of you, he became this gross, jealous, poor excuse of a man. 

“You didn’t have to be so loud, you know!” You found your voice peaking at the end of your sentence, probably gathering more attention than what you were currently lecturing Jaemin for. A blush stained the circles of your cheeks, though you were never quite sure whether it was the embarrassment of being the center of attention, or the fact that Na Jaemin came rushed and disheveled, looking for you. You cleared your throat to hide your obscene thoughts一a practice you’ve been getting the hang of, lately. “What did you need from me anyway-”

“Why were you with him.” Jaemin cut in. Although, with his stone cold frame now towering over you, his eyes; unassuming and distant, and shallow, hitched breaths, you weren’t even certain this was the same roommate you couldn’t get out of your head for the past week. You simply wave your hand away. 

“We just happened to meet up by accident, and we got to talk some stuff out, that's all.” You prayed that your calm voice could soothe the currently tempered man before you. Of course, however, it didn’t. 

“Was it really?”

“Yes! Okay, Jaem? What’s with you today?”

“Don’t visit him anymore.” His voice boomed towards the end of his sentences, startling even the finest of nature as two innocent birds fly away in fear. 

Something didn’t click, didn’t sit right in your head. Since when was he so demanding? So rude? You found yourself slowly backing away from his figure, an action you thought you’d have to do in your life. Before, he was always a safe space for you, even without your confusing feelings for him. He was always there for you. But now, the air around turned gray, and you were scared more than anything. You scoff, throwing Jaemin off. 

“Are you telling me what to do?” 

“I’m only worried for you, y/n.”

“Worried about what, exactly? That I’d get back with Renjun?” You stand firm before him. Y/n, what the hell are you doing now. To your own dismay, you continue. “Why would you care about that anyways?”

“Am I not allowed to care about you!?” He practically hollered at the top of his lungs. A fire welled up inside you, with no way of fanning it down. Who does this guy think he is?  

“Last time I checked, we didn’t have anything real! Everything between us was all a damn lie! So no, maybe you don’t!” 

You lay one final blow straight to Jaemin’s chest, knocking him down like a line of concurred dominoes. Your heart clenches in a cruel response. You were right, factually correct, but the truth always came with a price. Spectators began to crowd around the scene, as a fuming Jaemin stalks towards you, closing the distance between your shoulder blades and brick wall behind you. 

“WELL MAYBE I WANTED SOMETHING REAL!” Jaemin retorted, eyes holding a flame you never thought your calm roommate could ignite within him. The air around you grew cautious, the only things sounding off were the weary engines driving past the scene of the crime. His breath grew shallow as it brushed against your skin, your trembling figure watching as he let out an aggravated sigh. His fingers, laced in irritation, comb through his hair as he softens his voice into one final whisper. 

“But you don’t want anything like that, right? ‘Cause you’re still caught up with that Renjun asshole?” 

“Jae-”

“Forget it” Jaemin spits, his eyes finally dodging yours. He backs away from your trembling figure, his hands buried in his pockets as he quickened his pace away from you. Jaemin hissed under his breath, everything finally clearing up in his head. You didn’t want him, You were never ready to move on. It’s official, Na Jaemin couldn’t have you, and he never will.  

...

Your brain always had a knack for remembering things, keeping random nuggets of knowledge stored deep within random crevices of your head. Your brain always had a good memory, and today was no exception. 

Forget it.

You could probably liven up a lifeless desert with your endless tears that stained Hina’s pillows that night. It would be life or death to retire properly to your own home, not with the atrocity that was this afternoon still thriving in your wake. One more bottled emotion, and your body would simply burst out of existence. You could only properly pinpoint three of them; exhaustion welling up in your feet, confusion tearing through your brain, and guilt overflowing in your heart. 

“What am I gonna do?” you weep through the flesh of Hina’s teddy bear. After tossing the empty pop can into her makeshift trash can, Hina plopped onto her bed beside you, drilling a finger straight into her temple. “You need to tell him how you feel, y/n, you can’t just leave him in the dark like that. That’s probably why he got so riled up.”

Your eyes shake as they stay on the ground. Hina shuffles around arms crossing in a full interrogation. “You do know what you want, right?”

Slowly, and without much thought pulling at your strings, you slowly nod. “Well then, what is it?” 

An image of your roommate shines into your head once again. The kind roommate you had the great luxury of coming home to, the one always saving you a slice of frozen pizza for when you arrive, the one who reaches the irritating dishes at the top of the cupboard, the one you couldn't get out of your mind. His heartwarming demeanour, his charming smile, his everything. You can’t lie to yourself anymore. With a twinge of determination, you lock eyes with Hina.

“I want it all to be real. I wanna be with Jaemin.”

Hina rested her back onto the plump mattress, a smug grin lining her lips as she crossed her arms in pride. “So you’re finally gonna start listening to me, hm?”

...

“Are you sure about this, Jaem?” Yangyang has never一in Jaemin’s two years of knowing him一sounded so concerned for his friend’s wellbeing. It sent shivers down his spine, how pitiful Jaemin must’ve looked right now. His fingers grasped the horrendous stack of papers; one wrong move could easily decorate the floor with the homework, and Jaemin was...concerned, to say the least.

“Why are we even doing this? You won the bet!” Donghyuck hugged his own stack close to his chest as the three boys watched Jaemin’s head sink low to the floor, and watched his heart sink even lower. “Yeah, about that...”

Even if the truth hurts, it needs to be said, right?

“...Y/n wasn’t my date at the restaurant. I never asked anyone out, actually. The truth is… she’s my roommate. I only asked her out on a fake date so I could keep the bet going.”

Jaemin felt the confused, yet somber stares of Jeno burn through his skin. It only made sense that Jeno had a few questions; Na Jaemin’s beaten up, hunched over figure was nothing like the lovestruck, head-over-heels Jaemin he’d witnessed just a couple of days prior. “But it didn’t work out that well with her, so here I am, ready for the punishment.” 

It struck Jaemin’s chest more times that could count, slashing at his heart, his pride, everything he loved. How could he be so foolish? Convincing himself his simple crush could ever reciprocate his feelings. Could ever love him back. Nevertheless, it was more clear now than ever before. To you, he would always just have one label; a simple roommate. 

“Jaemin-” Donghyuck reluctantly brushed his palm on Jaemin’s shoulder, his best excuse for a peace offering. Jaemin, however, finally snapped, shooting a glare through the eyes of his rather persistent friends. 

“What? You were right, okay? I can’t get any girl I want. I really am just a coward, so I deserve this!” Jaemin slumped his figure一drenched in a sorrow he’s gotten quite familiar with, as of late一into a cheap, cafeteria chair, his heart leaping through his throat. 

“She was the only one I wanted, anyway, so what’s the point?” 

“I think you got a few things wrong there, buddy.” A familiar voice rang through Jaemin’s ears. The whites of his eyes spilled out of their sockets as Jaemin shot up. You couldn’t blame him, though. The last thing he expected to see was his childhood classmate, Huang Renjun, before him. “You still have a chance with y/n, Jaemin.”

Jaemin sent a rough hiss at Renjun before slowly backing down at Renjun’s unnaturally calm demeanour. “What?”

“I’m not after her anymore, nor is she after me.”

Jaemin’s eyebrows wrinkled. “Then why-”

“It was an accident, we didn’t mean to meet up like that. And that talk at the cafe? It was all for closure. It was something she and I both needed, a lot, if I might add.” 

“So… you weren’t trying to get her back?”

Renjun squinted at the utter dumbassary currently blinding him at the moment. “No, are you stupid? I have a girlfriend. And besides, when she first saw you barge into the cafe, her flustered reaction tells me she feels the same way, so I wouldn’t worry too much.” 

Heat rushed over to Jaemin’s cheeks, the cause being a 50-50 blend of pure embarrassment一from letting his jealous heart take over his mind一and the simple, but beautiful thought of you. Everything started to fall back in their rightful places. His head was finally cleared, his anger had finally wisped away. And more importantly, you were moment’s away from being his. Moments away from retiring the ‘roommate’ label. 

Donghyuck leaped from his seat. A directing hand pointed towards the dance department wing as Donghyuck shifted into his ‘fight or flight’ stance, riling up with energy. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WAITING FOR? CONFESS!!”  

Without any further hesitation, Jaemin shot from his seat, his eyes etched with determination, and his heart moments away from bursting through his chest. Donghyuck let out a defeated sigh, arms crossing in disappointment. “God, I can’t believe the campus playboy is such a wuss!” 

...

Your easily distracted mind had made it maddeningly clear; no song, no matter what the tempo or melody, could take your mind off of your one and only roommate, Na Jaemin. It also didn’t matter that you spent a whopping one night without his bedroom just across the hall from yours; as your heart was still drenched in the guilt you couldn’t seem to get rid of. However, one thing was made clear that night. Your heart purely and utterly belonged to Na Jaemin alone. Only one thing stayed in your way; he may more may not hate your guts now. 

Your palms dripped in a cold sweat as your limbs begrudgingly swam in the air. It was bad enough your dance instructor gave not one, but two lectures about getting distracted to blow your ears dry, but even after that public display of embarrassment, your head couldn’t stop recounting the different ways you could finally tell Na Jaemin the truth; the whole truth. 

I want the real thing with you

I don’t just want something fake, Jaemin

I wanna be with you

That last statement threw your cheeks into a heated, rosy frenzy. You cup your hands attempting to hide your horrid thoughts as your dance instructor, with a few deadpan words, sets your class free for the evening. You scurry to the corner, peacefully shoving your things into your bag when Shotaro’s voice suddenly rings behind your ear. 

“Y/n? Oh yeah, she’s right over there.” 

“Great, thanks.” 

  You freeze on the spot. You could recognize that voice from a mile away. It was almost concerning on your part. 

“Y/n!” The voice yelps, in a tone you hadn’t heard in a while. You smile under your breath. You missed his cheerful voice. You slowly prop up, dropping your bag to the depths of the dance room floor. You pivot on your heel, your chest coming face to face with none other than Na Jaemin, in the flesh. “I need to tell you something.” 

After scrambling out of the dance room, certainly not attracting the attention of any unwanted instructors, the two of you hide behind the studio entrance. Jaemin stood just centimeters before you, his breath shivering despite the warmer weather. Although, and you wouldn’t be surprised, but this warm sensation could simply be deriving from your cheeks, which was nothing new. 

“I’m sorry I lashed out at you yesterday, I never wanted to be mean to you or anything, I was just… heated, yeah.” Jaemin finally began, scratching the nape of his neck. You didn’t like the fact that he was the one apologizing to you, when you knew it should’ve been the other way around. “You don’t need to say sorry, Jaem. I lashed out too and-”

“I was being all selfish, when I really should’ve been thinking clearly. I-I was jealous when I saw you two together, and I couldn’t take it.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. Jealous? He was jealous?

“Truth is… I’ve liked you for some time now, probably ever since we first met. And while the fake date was really fake…” His eyes finally lock yours up, keeping them hostage in his determined glare. “...I really wanted something real between us.” 

Jaemin’s hand reached down, cupping your nimble fingers in it as he kept his eye contact tight. His breath hitched as he eyed you, all flustered and adorable with your eyebrows furrowed in a hopeful confusion. Everything about you made him want to cradle you in his arms, never letting go, forever. 

“Can I be more than just your roommate, y/n?” 

You stayed frozen, mouth gaping wide open at every confession he threw at you. You stayed so still, the only thing visibly moving on your body was the rapid blush zooming through your ears and cheeks, except this time, you didn’t feel the sudden urge to hide such a sensation. Your mind didn’t carry the necessary brian capacity properly function, so naturally, your arms did the job for you. 

Your palms cupped the edges of Jaemin’s jaw, a sudden confidence surging through you as you pulled him closer. The tips of your noses collide moments before the surfaces of your lips. You melt into a passion filled kiss, a kiss that’s been pending since the day you first moved in together. Jaemin hugs the small of your waist as you hug his neck. Instinctively, your stomach tucks itself, hiding the embarrassing butterflies fluttering within it. You felt like a celebrity, kissing the campus’ pretty boy; Na Jaemin. Your eyes flicker open. 

“Of course you can.”

Your’s and Jaemin’s world crashes back into reality at the sound of a pestering holler, one which Jaemin could only sigh in grief to in response. You turn around only to find a snooping crowd right behind you. Shotaro, joined with two of Jaemin’s friends you first met at the restaurant; Yangyang and Donghyuck, jump for joy at the sight of you two, while a distressed Hina rips her hair out at the fact that she missed the most world shattering confession scene known to man. Jeno, to the right of her, calms her down in a heartbeat. Those two were really perfect for each other. You turn back to Jaemin, a wide grin now taking over his face. He tightens the grip around your hand, a hand that you noticed he’s never let go since he first arrived at your department. 

“Do you have another class after this?” “No, why?”

A sly smirk lines his lips as he raises an eyebrow. “Then, shall we go home, darling?” 

Gosh, he was such a dork. “Of course.” 

…

The long awaited kiss between Hina and Jeno was much more dramatic than any first kiss you could’ve imagined. In fact, it was practically ripped right out the current episode of the drama you and Jaemin had settled down to watch. The air was filled with cheerful hollers roaring from Yangyang and Shotaro and the pathetic wails of Donghyuck realizing that一with Shotaro’s crush on the new girl on campus and the random girl Yangyang met online一he would be the last one standing in the terribly single committeeTM. Jaemin grumbled beside you, his head tucked under your chin as you sat cradled in his arms

“Jeez, Jeno’s stealing my thunder!”

“Let them live, Jaem. They’re in love.” 

Jaemin huffed with over exaggeration. “I can’t believe Jeno would betray me like that!”

You pulled Jaemin’s chin up, his face now inches from yours. “Why don’t you forget about them, alright? Just focus on me instead.”

The two of you lean into a kiss, basking in the afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the campus roof. It didn’t matter who was around you anymore, whether they were random strangers or your annoying yet close knit friends. You had already won at life, being the girlfriend of the infamous Na Jaemin; your very special roommate.

[vibraniumwing]

it’s about time, Longbottom.

a neville longbottom x reader wherein he finally figures out the signals you’ve been showing him. 

WARNING: none !! pure fluff uwu maybe a few curse words here and there

A/N: i joined in @weasleysflowr​ ‘s writing challenge and i’ve never been so hyper to write !!! akdjfnskjf i hope you guys like this !! 

5. “You’re an idiot.” … “I’m your idiot.”

9. “Did you just flirt with me?” … “have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.”

---

You internally groaned as Neville briskly walked away again after another attempt to speak to him for the nth time. You’ve been trying to strike up conversations with the shy Gryffindor since your second year, after seeing him pass out during your Herbology class. You’ve tried everything, giving him plant seeds and talking to him about his favourite class but it always ended with him walking away after putting in a few good words.

You walked back to the common room, plopping down on the couch as you let out a frustrated sigh. “You should really reconsider this crush of yours, (Y/N).” Fred’s voice causes you to look at the red head with a death glare. “Take that back right now, Weasley.” As he sat down on the floor in front of you.

“It is true though, (Y/N). He’s too dense to actually notice your flirting.” George added, sitting down on the arm rest of the couch, causing you to reach up and hit the male’s thigh. “Now you’re just being mean.” You interjected, groaning once more in frustration. The two laughed at your current state.

“Oh quit it, you two!” Hermione’s voice came up as well as she settled on the small space next to you. “At least she’s brave enough to let him know about how he feels.” She hinted, giving you a small smile. You sat upright and nodded eagerly. “See?! At least someone here knows how to be a good friend.” 

George made a face at you as Fred put his hand on his chest, pretending to be hurt. “Blimey, (Y/N)! Is that how you think of us?” Fred spoke up, pretending to sob. “Oh sod off, you two.” You told them, rolling your eyes at them. 

“(Y/N)! I think I have the perfect idea how to make him notice you.” George suddenly spoke up, giving his twin a knowing look causing you and Hermione to look at each other with a worried look.

The twins scoffed, looking around before leaning in to whisper, “Trust us, this’ll work.”

“I highly doubt that Weasley.”

---

It was the next day and you were down at Hogsmeade, quietly cursing the twins into making you do this. You pulled your beanie down and snuggled up your scarf as you silently walked beside Ron and Hermione as your eyes searched for your crush. 

Your eyes caught sight of him near Honeydukes with Dean and Seamus, his smile wide and bright as he laughed at something the duo said. 

“Before you say anything, go and talk to him. No chickening out.” Hermione whispered to you and nudged your side lightly. “But-” “No buts, go.” 

Huffing lightly, you bid goodbye to your two friends and slowly made your way to him, “Why’d I have to agree to the most stupid idea ever. This is fucking embarassing. I’ll hex George and Fred into next week if this goes all wrong…” You muttered, now noticing that the three were about to enter the candy shop.

“N-Neville! Wait up!” You called out, causing the three to look at you as you jogged up to him. His bright smile faltered into a rather shy one as he raised his eyebrows, “Y-yes (Y/N)?” Your heartbeat raced almost instantly as he looked at you with a curious gaze. “U-Uh,, , shit.” You cursed under your breath as you internally cringed. 

“A-are you sure you don’t play Quidditch? Cause I’m pretty sure you’re a keeper.” You mumbled, cheeks flushed at the corniest pick up line Fred came up with. You glanced at the male who looked at you surprised before shaking your head. “Y-you know what, never mind.” You told him, turning your back to him and ran from him, now sure that he was weirded out more than ever.

You didn’t reach very far though, as a hand held your wrist to stop you from running. “W-wait (Y/N)! B-blimey, you run really fast.” An out of breath Neville said as he hunched down to catch his breath. He stood up straight and huffed out slowly, gaze now focused on you as still held to your wrist. 

“D-did you just flirt with me?” Neville questioned you, his voice now back to his rather quiet tone as he looked at you expectantly. You looked at him deadpanned, in disbelief at how he never caught on to the very obvious signs you’ve been showing him. You scoffed and rolled your eyes, “Have been for the past year, but thanks for noticing.” You answered. 

He was confused beyond words, were you really flirting with him? His crush since first year? “H-how come I’ve never noticed you doing so?” He asked once more, his eyes now locked with yours. “Never noticed? Bloody hell, Neville! Everyone was saying I was so obvious when it comes to you.” You cried out, a laugh of defeat escaping your lips.

“L-look (Y/N), I l-like you too, a-alright? I-I just thought you were being friendly. I always thought it was impossible for you to return the feelings.” He explained, giving you a rather sheepish grin as he rubbed the nape of his neck with his free hand.

Your jaw was slacked at the confession, caught off-guard that he actually liked you back. “Now is that true?” You asked the male, to which he responded with a simple nod. “Oh Godric help me, you’re an idiot, Neville!.” You groaned as you wiggled your wrist free from his grasp before wrapping your arms around him happily. “I’m your idiot.” He whispered, arms involuntarily wrapping around your waist to pull you even closer.

You looked at him surprised, “Did you just flirt with me, Nev?” as your cheeks flushed even more. The lad nodded meekly as he slowly leaned in, meeting him halfway. Your lips molded into his perfectly, moving in sync as you two shared a kiss to portray the emotions the two of you have been pining on. 

However, wolf whistles cut the both of you off as your head turned to the sound, seeing the Golden Trio, Seamus, Dean and the Twins with smirks resting on their lips.

“Finally! I told you this would work!” Fred exclaimed, laughing out loud nudging his twin as he gave you a ‘i told you’ look. “This has been long overdue, mate.” Ron said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s about time, Longbottom!” Seamus said, giving his friend a knowing look as he laughed along with the rest of your friends.

“It definitely is about time.” You whispered, placing your lips on his once more, smiling into the kiss, letting your self sink into his arms, drowning out the cheers from your friends.

[frogtanii]

It’s wind anon!!

I very much did join your discord server. (Was very obvious with the fact I was wind anon bwahahaha) People are so active there :0!!!

And so many people know multiple different languages! It’s so cool to see everyone there~

Anyway! Might as well give reactions? I think I missed...2 update reactions? Something like that, so might as well push through with both of them!

Be better hurt me so much.

Catch me being sad in a corner. Because I’m just... I need them to make up.

I would beat up Meiko with those 4-inch heels of hers for being such utter trash. Though actually, right now my mind is interested in if, in another world, rather than Bokuto stumbling upon Suna and Meiko the first time, it was Osamu.

The drama. The horror. The ability to make him finally see reason. Maybe I will write that sometime.

But I already did a speech about Osamu last time I sent an ask. I will wait for him to get to the point where he can stand side by side with Atsumu.

In any case, Yachi is wonderful. I aspire to be like her.

Yachi is like an entire foot shorter than Meiko with her high heels. But she can still beat Meiko up!!

Okay, I’m like,,,eating lunch rn, so this one will end a bit early, but Yachi mentioned needing to make some calls and such. So Meiko will probably have her contract terminated by the company. I’m curious as to what will come out of that, but you mentioned before that it would be really difficult for someone like YN to terminate the contract due to the extremely high fee, so chances are the contracts are very much tilted in the company’s favor. So chances are Meiko won’t be able to fight against it, nor receive any reparations.

Anyway, I’ll be very happy to see Meiko kicked out! Because it is long overdue.

Me thinking of a “hype(r) house does makeup” thing where somehow all of them are better at creating looks than Meiko herself.

Okay, gonna stop this one. Sorry for the real short reaction but I was literally like “my heart hurts” the entire time and my brain went completely empty.

Do take care of yourself fr0ggy! Drink plenty of fluids, keep warm, and remember to eat well!~ love you very very much <3

ksjdkd hello love!!!! it’s perfectly ok that this isn’t a long reaction!!! also m glad u joined the discord <333 && heheh i’d b v much happy if you wrote that lil scene !!!! the dramaaaaa :000 i hope u have a lovely day <3333 kith kith

[kaepop-trash]

AS: Pilgrimage

Rated: M for Smut, Angst.

Pairing: Jaehyun x Reader xYuta

Summary: The story of secrets, deceit and greed. Three characters with unlikely alliances and one common goal; power. Jaehyun is stuck between his own thirst for power and his need for the one thing that could take away everything. Yuta has ambition growing from an unlikely alliance and convinces himself to do anything to protect it. Between both of them is her, ambitious but with one weakness, she does all it takes for Jaehyun, even if it’s putting herself aside. But how long can she hold up her own fragile games?

(A/N): This is a long overdue chapter. I hope it can make up for the time.

January, 2021

She sat in the airport on an unlikely second day of January, looking around at the mostly empty place. Everyone was home, and she was on her way to the capital to see a dirty fight play out. The few people she saw around inside the airport she was in, were obvious employees of the government and staffers; all getting back from the holidays at the eve of a new session. Her thoughts were stuck on two things that were yet to happen: the inauguration of the new session and her own testimony in front of an oversight committee. 

She took in a nervous and shaky breath, it was an unnerving thought to her— the interrogation, the cameras, the very spectacle of it. She couldn’t quite put a finger on what was causing her nerves, but she was aware that this ordeal was much more than a routine investigation on behalf of the Senate. She knew that her intention was to rattle a few lawmakers when she filed a writ last fall, but she didn’t expect the jolt she provided to result in an invitation to testify for senate, (Y/N) frowned at the thought. She would have lived her entire life just fine without being on C-span. It didn’t help that she was admittedly more on the non-confrontational end of the spectrum, a hearing was about as confrontational one could get and she was displeased at the idea of being publicly humiliated one way or another by at least one Republican Senator, especially because the invitation came from the Republican Senators of a Senate that was majority wise tilted to their cause. 

She rummaged through her bag, picking out a bottle of water to ease her abruptly constricting throat. The very idea of the Senate suddenly jumping on this didn’t seem right to her. For the last cycle, the Republicans were mostly restrictive forces, they were not one for action; slowly recuperating from the loss of faith in their party. But this was swift and aggressive action and her instincts told her to treat it like an attack. She felt like a small, venomous animal in the wild— a creature running only on intuition and reserving its strength.

Abortion was steadily growing as an irrational debate that snatched away an individuals rights and she felt responsible enough to see the voice against it through. She sat back in the creaky pine chair of the airport lounge, drinking her cup of tepid coffee— a shallow attempt to rid herself of dread. Through the long sip she took, she decided to put off thinking about anything other than winning this. What was right, what was moral or the contrary, was irrelevant to Congress. The government functioned on checks and balances, and while it was beyond her to balance power, she was on a mission to ensure she could orchestrate public awareness that would keep them in check. The house could provide the balance, and it was her only option. But the house cared about votes and she knew she needed enough to start a conversation. She just didn't have any control over the floor. That was him. 

Him who she refused to give more than a bitter momentary thought. Jaehyun was a means at the moment, and she swallowed the bitter pill of that reminder and finished her acrid coffee and checked her watch. She left for the gate earlier— just in case; picking out her phone from her bag to make a call.

The last ten minutes since the Representative of North Carolina entered the restaurant Jaehyun had invited her to, were spent in silence and as far as Jaehyun was concerned, those were ten minutes wasted. He had spent the last three months advocating for an abortion bill and it had ended up coming to the point where he wondered why he had to fight so hard and convince so desperately for something that should be fundamental. When Jaehyun was elected as a public servant, he wasn’t unaware of the uphill battle that he faced: these days it was a challenge to get congress to do something. He wasn’t unprepared or unmotivated, this was the reality of his job. He was, at the moment though, irritated by how adverse his colleagues were to change. Change that was by all accounts inevitable as far as he was concerned, after all he had a promise to keep.

When Jaehyun first turned his attention away from the Representative of North Carolina, it was because he noticed the Representative of Utah and a handbag he found familiar. He turned back to the person in front of him and sat up in renewed attention when he realised that a number of his colleagues could be here, a number of whose handbags he has encountered on a daily basis. The place was a common brunch spot, especially for backhand agreements like the one he was trying to execute.

He shook off his distractions and spoke up, “Carol its to our mutual benefit if you support this bill. You're a woman, you'll be seen as sympathetic, the political climate is shifting now: bipartisanship doesn’t have the same nobility anymore, the people see it for what it is, after what happened the last cycle, leaning across the aisle is what we need now.” He looked at her eyes, squinting at her avoidant gaze. Something was wrong, “North Carolina already allows abortion till 20 weeks, we're simply bringing up to 23 for special cases and mandatory planned parenthoods in every state. Special cases is defined clearly in my bill as rape, physical captivity or external entities misleading the conceiver in some kind.” He stopped at the words when she looked up at him with sudden unwelcoming eyes; he mentally sighed at what was to come.

“That last bit could be misleading. What if some knocked up drop out decides they want an abortion last minute because the father packed up?” She spoke with uncaring eyes and Jaehyun tightened his jaw. He wanted to speak, but thought against it, he allowed himself a moment to look past her prejudice, looking away from her. He tried to gauge her, understand where she was coming from in an attempt to turn this around.

The second time he had to turn his attention away from Carol was when he saw her. 

(Y/N), sitting at a restaurant table with the Representative of a state as irrelevant as Utah in this debate.

“I rather plan on pushing for stricter abortion laws. It's what my party wants, you know? I hope you understand.” Carol sounded polite in a way that was demanding.

“I hope you'll give me a moment. I just noticed a friend across the room.” Jaehyun stood up as he watched his perplexed lunch companion sit up, eyes impatient.

“I should be on my way–” She wiped her lip. Jaehyun smiled at her gently.

“It’s an old friend,” His voice held an edge. “Just a minute and I'll be back.” He smiled wider and she nodded unwillingly, sitting back as he walked towards a table.

“(Y/N) how lovely to see you here.” He gave her a tight glance that made her noticeably stiffen and Jaehyun turned towards her lunch companion with his greeting smile, “With Bill as well, how have you been?” The balding Representative rose from his chair eagerly and shook his hand.

“I was just inquiring about you from Miss—” He turned to her with an apologetic glance, admitting in the moment to forgetting her name. She scoffed from disbelief.

“I'm just going to steal your lunch date for a moment, if you don't mind.” He asked with a gentle coax.

“Mr McGail was just leaving.” She said pointedly and the man turned once before nodding. Jaehyun gladly took the newly vacant seat.

“Did any part of your unscheduled trip include informing me of your liaisons with my colleagues?” He asked pointedly. She turned to him for a response, with contempt in her eyes— contempt that didn't flow into her words.

“I'm here for a hearing. I don’t see why I’d have to inform you of my schedule Mr. Jung. I’m here to aid the government in public service in my limited capacity.” She spoke with no sense of agitation and he sat back.

“You can't do anything in this city without influence. You don't have any. Go back to your hotel and let me handle this without interfering.” He ordered and her nostrils flared— it was the most visible her anger could be in public and she was outraged.

“I didn't realise I was interfering. I imagined we're on the same side on this matter at the very least if not on the opposite. Or are you maybe switching sides with the conservative Catholic over there?” Her voice was all accusation. He was enraged by the sheer audacity of it, he bit down and decided he didn't want to be hurt by her anymore.

“Go home. You're a child screaming at the capitol for change. Politics isn't about belief, it's about action. All someone like you can do is decide what you want to fight for. It's harder to make someone else believe the same thing. Because everyone wants to decide, otherwise coercion makes one of us the enemy.” He turned away, his eyes not wavering the entire time and he got out of the seat.

“Till the end. I never understood you.” She sighed. He swallowed the sting of the finality and pushed his chair in.

“Utah already has laws more lenient than even Pennsylvania. He just thought he could find a way to get a favour from me if he met you for lunch. You can't act like a child like this because people here know you as a means to me.” His voice was cold, factual. She got up, unable to bear the insult, leaving without another word.

Jaehyun returned to his table with a more resolute mind. When the Representative of North Carolina noticed him she began shuffling to get up.

“I really do have to go.” She said with rushed words.

“Sit Carol. I'll make it short.” His voice was curt, no longer polite. He slid into his seat and she looked up at him unsure of his intentions.

“I have always believed that we as lawmakers should do what we believe in. And that means we pick the side we believe.” He said, smiling at the relief that seemed to spark at the seam of her delipidating eyes.

“Yes that's exactly what I mean—” She began, exasperated.

“But you see Carol. When we take less honourable means, like take money from a large corporation to fund local riots on election day? I imagine even the monsters in your party will find this a tough skeleton to handle.” He stared through her as she sat up, more and more agitated.

“Your grandfather never told me he funded those rallies. You can't just extort me!” She whispered desperately. This time Jaehyun allowed his smile to spread wide.

“The money came from your campaign if the paper trail is correct, you were also in full knowledge of the nature of the riots and you even suggested the polling stations that would vote against you. My grandfather has no say in the money he donates. This isn't extortion Carol, it's an opportunity. I'm giving you the opportunity to do the right thing.” He pointed a finger at her as she huffed in indignation, making him smile wider, “Or go to jail for election fraud. It's quite simple. I don't care how you were elected as long as you make good use of the seat. Lawmakers who play dirty have to pick the side the one who caught them believes in—that's our 9-5. Have a good session.” He greeted before making his way, swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth.

After an entire day going through her written testimony for senate staffers, (Y/N) felt more exhausted than she ever had in her career. She understood now why the best lawyers never went to court, maybe she was a terrible one herself. 

She crawled her way to a nearby bar, deciding the noise of living beings was better than the silence of her hotel room. The bar that was empty when she arrived slowly filled in with Capitol Hill employees as the day drew to an end. (Y/N) had to move to the bar at a server’s request— the unfortunate consequence of being alone. Slowly the murmurs turned to a chaotic amalgamation of voices: so loud that one didn’t even hear it— like incessant rain. She sighed and sank into the bar stool, regretting not picking the solitude of her hotel room over this. A drink slid across the marble bar counter gently and stopped when it touched her arm. She looked up at the disruption of her thoughts, vaguely familiar eyes were looking at her.

“I told you, you would be back.” He gave her the smallest smile. Her eyes lit up with recognition and he smiled wider, turning to face her this time, “I was afraid you wouldn’t recognise me. I’m Kim Doyoung, I didn’t have the opportunity to introduce myself last time.” He extended his arm to her.

When (Y/N) sat for a meeting with one of the representatives of Utah, she did so knowing his party allegiances. It was a hunch she had, the Conservative party was reeling from an embarrassment that was almost impossible to recover from. Yet, recovery was what they had to pursue. The future of democracy and the taste it left in people's mouth rested on the ability of the party to reform and show that the myth of government was stronger than a mistake president. It was obvious that more than anything, they needed a change of opinion. There was the re-emerge of bipartisanism in matters of the economy— truly, that was where the difference originally lay. The area of human interest though, was at the moment a grey area and her sitting down with a Republican representative was an attempt at gauging their willingness; the man himself was spinal fluid encased in skin— not an ounce of intelligence to his name and all the baseless ambition of an idiot, but the hive mentality of the party was more than skin-deep. She was waiting for the word to spread and had no doubt that her current audience was on a mission to gauge things himself, her only question was: why Kim Doyoung?

“We’ve met here before.” She said thoughtfully. Kim Doyoung, she knew that name, at this point who didn’t. Kim Doyoung, the infamous Republican Senator of New Hampshire. She realised now why this man looked vaguely familiar last time, given his relevance had risen since then. Kim Doyoung’s elder brother served as one of the most potent influences in government one hardly met— a lobbyist for the Episcopal church, the highest church in the country. It was no secret that the Republican party was reeling from a loss of faith and it was people like Kim Doyoung who were putting all their muscles into mechanising a comeback for the history books: the presidency was a natural assumption to make— at this point she could see it in their eyes. 

Why would the irreproachable boy of unwavering faith even be risking this exchange?

She could tell that he was waiting for her to introduce herself, she also knew she wouldn’t need to. Instead, she waited for him to continue. He seemed to catch on after a moment and smiled to himself, his expression more clipped after the passing realisation. She smiled herself, now the playing field was level.

“It’s an admirable effort you are making.” His voice was less friendly this time. 

“Excuse me?” She asked. Even for a politician, this man was condescending.

“All causes have a shelf life, more so now than ever before. It’s easy to grab people’s attention these days, not as easy to hold it. There are two things this country cares about right now, and you are on a mission for one of them.” She heard the soft clink of a heavy glass settling on the marble top and the agitation of the ice inside it, whiskey she noted. She thought over what to say, she could see the familiar glint in his eyes: when men in this city wanted something they always tried to make it seem like a favour.

“I don’t see why everyone I meet in this city thinks I’m here to start a revolution. I am a lawyer, I’m here to fight my client’s case, that’s my job.” She stared at the glass in front of her; as the condensation went from being a few beads on the transparent surface of the tumbler to a growing pool on the inky stone below it. A low chuckle radiating from Kim Doyoung’s throat.

“You are here to testify in the Senate, are you not?” He questioned dimly, she nodded at him with affirmation. He smiled to himself and nodded, “After Jung Jaehyun speaks, your testimony will have a significant raise in weight.” His voice sounded impressed, but his eyes held a subversive bitterness she couldn’t place.

“I fail to understand your implications.” She responded curtly, earning a chuckle.

“Forgive me, but we have all heard the same rumour. A bill is going to be introduced on the House floor tomorrow.” He kept his same relaxed smile, “First day, first bill.” He shrugged.

“Forgive me, but I think you are in a position to know better than me that I am no Representative. What is being introduced in the House is beyond my level of clearance.” She scoffed, sitting back on her chair. He smiled again, nodding like he pretended to understand before he picked up his own drink. He took a few sips, stretching the moment taut till it was a contention to see who let’s go first.

“Do you know why I know you would come back?” He asked. She bit her lip, he let go of the tension only slightly, urging her to the edge of caution. Then he spoke again, “You have that idealism in your eyes we all come here with." He gave her a smile like he was in on a secret before relaxing a little more into his seat and turning his amiable smile into a more premeditated wrinkle of his forehead, "A bill needs to pass in both the House and Senate, you’re already on an uphill battle with the House, you won’t make Senate.” His face relaxed but this time she could hear the edge in his voice.

“What do you want? Your threat isn’t going to do much with me. You can't scare me with the wrath of God either, so I suggest you get to the point.” She turned to gesture for the bartender, asking for a glass of water.

“We can sit with this bill, introduce it after some mediation. It will be passed without agitation and you will have your victory. Tell Jung Jaehyun to not force this bill onto the house, we will fight it with all we have if he does.” He finished his drink at that, pushing the glass away as her water arrived. She smiled to herself, now that he had voiced his intention she could finally relax— the next part was easy. She slid back the drink he had passed her way earlier, untouched. She realised distantly that the smirk on her face right now would be much like the one she'd seen on Jaehyun a few times, she wondered if this was in fact the rush he felt every time he had someone trapped between a wall of his words and it's intended meaning, like she was doing right now.

“I have no say over what happens in the house Mr. Kim, as you are making me reiterate. But as a spectator of your parties recent history, I can tell why you would want to pass a bill that can at least be pumped by biased media outlets as a bill in support of a new America. I can also make the assumption that once this cools down, you will be able to tailor the bill to your convenience and no one will care— who reads an entire bill anyway. You also will have the advantage of the issue becoming irrelevant, all issues have a shelf life right?” She paused, like she expected an answer to her hypothetical, “I am not a politician but I would assume that in that situation you would have my cake and eat it too and that is just impolite. Maybe you should negotiate the bill when it’s in the Senate and public outrage is still alive, then you will have a fight to give your all to.” She got up from her seat, picking up her purse, "*God as your witness." She mocked with a small scoff. He followed her movements with his eyes, getting up with her.

“When I entered the bar I didn’t expect a run-through of hypotheticals.” He straightened up, towering over her as he straightened his jacket and looked down at her, the ghost of a smile on his lips that flared annoyance in her for the first time since the exchange began. Something about politicians, with their need to clutch onto their arrogance like it was an extension of their dignity, never sat right with her.

“And when I entered this bar I didn’t expect to be insulted and underestimated. Nor did I expect to be threatened by filibuster tactics. Especially when I've never served a day in public office. I was expecting something more exciting. Is this how you Washington people approach everyone you recognise at a bar?” She all but rolled her eyes at him.

“Only the pretty ones with potential to make my job harder.” There was a sudden playfulness in his voice. Her day had been too long and she wasn’t attuned to flattery from any man anytime soon, nonetheless a politician. Yet her stomach dropped at the words, mostly at the lack of context it had to the conversation thus far. Her calculations so far put his intentions in one box, now she felt the onset of a headache. She gave him a blank, amused look and he let out a small laugh, still unfazed by her lack of enthusiasm for the conversation he so indelicately derailed.

“ Have a good day Mr. Kim, I hope we don’t cross paths again in the future, but I guess that is seemingly unlikely.” She asked for the cheque with a gesture, the way his lips lifted to a pleased smile made her roll her eyes.

“It’s a small town.” He chuckled and she didn’t turned away from him, facing the bartender to give him her credit card.

“We’re on opposite turfs Mr. Kim, and I don’t parley with Conservatives.” She tapped on the counter as she waited for the bartender to return, the Senator seemed to be in no rush to leave himself.

“I thought you weren’t a politician.” To this reply, she turned to him, assessing the glint in his eyes. She gave him one last radiant smile as the bartender approached, a smile she knew he’d remember.

“It’s the 21st Century Senator, everybody has a strong political identity. What a time to change the world is it not? Maybe I'll actually win. But you already know that right? Why else would you be here. Good bye.” She spoke as she cleared her tab and walked away without a glance. When she made her way out and finally looked back, he was seated again, watching her with thin feline eyes. When he noticed her gaze, he gave her one last smile before she walked away, her returned drink in his hand.

She stood at the corner of the street for a while now. The cold was slowly seeping into her bones and her teeth clattered against each other rampantly. She stood and thought carefully, letting the cold clear her head. His threat could be idle but she also didn’t know if it was her call to take that risk. She chewed on her bottom lip till it felt sore and then continued to chew on it anyway as she started pacing under the streetlamp, partially to assuage the cold and partially to aid her thinking. The Senate did have a smaller margin, but it was still very much a Republican majority. He had religion on his side, she realised with a surge of annoyance. Party loyalty would get the bill introduced, but once the church called, she smiled humorlessly at the prospect, she wondered how many would uphold political promises over loss of finances and the right to evoke the name of God in the next campaign cycle..

He also had the fillibuster. Just because he avoided the word so tactfully, didn’t mean that the intended presence of it was not noticed by her. She chewed on her bottom lip till the frozen blue skin broke and her mouth tasted of copper. He licked the inside of her lip to soothe the bleeding while she thought harder. The cold made it impossible to focus but her mind was rushing. Rushing with a mix of anger, frustration, exhaustion and above all indignation. 

It shouldn’t have to be this hard. The government was supposed to protect people like Lily, but instead it sat on the threat of the seats of power, extorting and threatening in the name of not getting things done. It was something to brag when the other side curbed whatever the opposition sought to act on. One thing Kim Doyoung struck on was right, everybody in this city had idealism in their eyes— they wanted to change the world, with their names on a big banner: family name, party, beliefs— a labour of labels with which to fill a history book one day in a chapter high school kids skip. 

There was a sick need for immortality in humanity that seemed to trickle down into this town, with people falling over each other, and more often than not their constituents, in search for their own glory, and taking away from others as if it added to theirs. She despised the genre that made up career politicians and she hated this town. Deep down she knew how she was acquainted with the type enough to abhor them so. 

She hated this town.

“I hate this country.” She murmured to herself as she pulled out her phone. Her fingers were numb as she stared at the blank screen of her phone, there were two possible names to call on in this situation. She bit her lip again, wincing as the cold made the wound worse. Deciding on leaving it up to faith, she messaged both before stepping on the curb to hail a taxi. A reply from either would be surprising, yet the more unexpected one came through. She sighed, waving a cab to stop and gave the driver the address he sent.

She entered the lobby of the Watergate hotel, making her way to her second bar of the night— she noted. She walked over and sat down opposite a familiar face, deciding to ignore the triumph in his eyes.

“(Y/N).” The word felt wrong coming from him, like a foreign word he couldn’t pronounce and had no humility to learn how. “I would say you were the last person I’d expect to meet in the new year, but then that would mean I considered it at all.” He raised his glass to his lips leisurely— whiskey, she realised. He relished his sip before placing the glass down, “How uncourteous of me.” The cerner of her lips lifted dryly at those words, “Would you like a drink?” He asked and she shook her head.

“A glass of water would be nice.” Her voice held not an inkling of emotion, she made sure of it.

“(Y/N).” He said her name the same way again, instead of frowning she sat up.

“Jungkook?” She tilted her head and he smiled a little wider, sitting back. His flushed cheeks gave him away the moment she entered, but his laboured movements confirmed his intoxication. She wondered what she’d have to give to be respected in this town.

“If this is what I think its about, and it is, you’re asking for a lot.” The smile dropped from his lips as he gave her a pointed look, he really never had the ability to masquerade a poker face.

“I haven’t asked for anything yet.” She said simply, Jungkook smiled into his glass.

“Of course, that would be inappropriate.” He paused, when he looked up there was a trace of wistfulness, she pitied him at that moment. “But you are here. And you have an agenda.” He scoffed into his glass. She bit down her indignation in the face of his dismissal and took a long breath.

“The Senate.” To the uninitiated, that would sound odd. Jungkook raised his brow at her, giving her a laugh. “They need to vote for the abortion bill, I don’t need them all, just enough to avoid the three-fifth black hole of the Senate. Too many of them could be on the fence, they need a nudge.” She offered to him what she thought was a reasonable method of execution.

“And that’s where I come in? With my family's money?” He asked sourly.

“With your family’s influence.” She corrected him, “The conservatives will evoke their god, so it’s only fair that you evoke yours. You know you just need to ask, the fundraisers come later. Don’t make it sound like a bigger favour than it is.” To this Jungkook laughed, it was loud and laced with bitterness.

“And what do you expect me to do? Call more than half of the senate and ask them to vote against a bill that is clearly against party policy? For what? The promise of a large donation if any of them runs for president?” His brows furrowed more intensely as he was met with silence on her end, on her part she was taken aback by his stupidity, “What?” He snapped at her incredulous expression.

“Why would you even think I’d ask you to do something crass like that?” She asked with vocal confusion, Jungkook sat back with an uncomfortable readjustment of his posture, “There is one person you can call, who will do the work, and who would realistically have a shot at the presidency.” She explained to him slowly.

“Who?” She sighed at his lack of basic context.

“The Senate Whip,” you moron, she stopped short of adding, “The majority Whip, in case you’re confused.” She chimed in instead, giving him the time as his mind worked in front of her, soon enough he sat back with a grave face.

“How did I not realise how intelligent you are before? You were always so affable.” It didn’t sound like a compliment, as much it did an accusation.

“You were busy sleeping with my best friend,” She ignored the way he clutched his glass, hard enough  to almost break it. “Now, will you do it or not?” She knew what the answer was, she just had learned from experience that it was better to let a man believe he had a choice in the matter. 

This was her move, one she was saving all this time. Years ago, (Y/N) gave Jungkook’s grandfather some important guidance. One that saved his company from ruin. The company had just started talks to take over a steel company, that was when Jaehyun came to her— with a simple offer to get her a meeting with his grandfather. She offered to do it without the credit, in fact she would have done it just to ruin Sungjae, but in those days she still let her emotions override her decisions. She listened to Jaehyun though, and met with his grandfather. She told him that she’d been in Europe long enough to know names that mattered, Sungjae’s family had sold a part of their steel fortune to a Eastern European oligarch and the other they were planning on endowing onto him. The political climate of the time was enough for the deal to break, and some further investigation led Sungjae’s uncle to serve some time. She knew she would have gained gratitude otherwise, but meeting their grandfather earned her his respect.

“You don’t even pretend with the niceties, where did your infamous manners go?” He sat up, stalling the moment: he also knew she would leave the moment  she got what she came for.

“You mistake my decorum for manners. We are not friends. I consider my decorum appropriate for our interaction. You just need to maintain yours and give me a straight answer.” She spoke plainly.

“This hotel has quite a rich history you know?” He spoke, consequently ignoring her.

“I was assuming you’d called me here for some underlying purpose, I didn’t think it was to make petty small talk.” She scoffed gently.

“She still won’t leave New Zealand, you know?” He sighed with a little emotion. She raised her brow, confused at his uncalled for confession, “We’ve been married for four years and between work, I only see her in summer when I visit her and Christmas when we go to our lodge in Aspen.” He looked up at her, a whisper of an urge in his eyes.

“I’m sure the distance at least keeps your heart fond. Or maybe you have the freedom to enjoy your free time indulging in infidelity— it is your favourite hobby.” She looked down her nose at his hunched form. He looked up at her with a frown, offended.

“You told everyone. What you did to her was vile.” His voice sounded tired.

“So was sleeping with your best friend’s boyfriend.” Her own face scrunched up, hating him in the moment to bring up such hateful memories, “And one’s own father.” She held back her grimace, Jungkook didn’t look up.

“It was my fault. You could have punished me. You ruined her life because you were hurt.” He seemed to be letting out a grudge long held. Since he kept his volume, she didn’t interrupt, smiling only after it.

“You were always so foolish. I always attributed it to that silly habit of yours, of seeing the best in things, or maybe it was a habit to underestimate. Hurting you would gain me nothing. You insulted me Jeon Jungkook. When you so tactlessly exposed your affair, people had more to say about me than they would have to say about you. They expect it from you, me they judged for staying with you, while others judged for not being enough for you, why would I not serve justice the way I deem fit? I’m not a despot, but you reap what you sow.” She paused and ironed out her frowned face, tapping her nails on the arm of her chair, “The way I see it her life is fine, she got away from that repulsive father of hers and married into one of the richest families in the western hemisphere. Her father will die soon, and that leaves his only daughter his entire gold fortune, that means you. If you want me to apologise for your rushed marriage without emotional connection, save it. I’m not your therapist. You humiliated me in front of my peers and in turn I gave you your Wedding of the Century magazine cover. If you still want to continue inquiring about who was wronged here we can have a line by line retelling of the past. Or would you rather just give me your answer so I can finally be exempt from this day?” She didn’t know she still held a bit of bitterness on her part, but she felt to have won this round of accusations.

“You made sure to have an audience to display my shame, yet nobody was around when you ended up at Jaehyun’s room that night. Do you really think I’m that foolish? He walks into my room with my peers and ends up with you grieving at his door. What a truly Jaehyun thing to do that was: burn down everything in his path because he wants something he can’t have.” Jungkook looked at her with a glare of accusation. Her throat was dry and she couldn’t risk swallowing in the fear he sensed her bewilderment. The fact that Jaehyun exposed the affair was news, but she wasn’t going to express that to JeonJungkook, “One glance constantly over his shoulder like he needed to keep an eye on you, when you were with me. What a patronising bastard, acting like it was his place.” He fumed visibly this time. She was still a little shaken, a lot of new information sprinkled haphazardly in front of her like a puzzle she needed to piece together. She decided to speak on one part.

“You flatter yourself, I was never yours. Don’t misunderstand my vengeance; I never loved you, nor was I hurt and grieving for you. I exacted justice so you’d finally understand just how you underestimated me. You thought I was some polished trophy you could beat your meat into because the victory of winning over your golden cousin got you off. I gave you the leverage to use me like a shag doll because you were meant to worship me for it. I was the best thing that ever happened to you, even when I left you I gave you a gift of a bigger name.You’re so inadequate, you blame him. Jaehyun never crossed a line, not then and definitely not now. You’re the one who wants to shift your blame, you’ve always been a little boy. You have no place talking about where I went after I found you in bed with my friend because somebody sent me a message to come see what my boyfriend was upto. You are, still after all these years, wasting my time.” She watched as he leaned closer on his seat, thinking.

“You already know you’ll get what you want. You let my grandfather know before me, I’ve been compelled to say yes to anything within our means, quite the impact you seem to leave. So stop insulting me (Y/N), it’s been many years and I don’t underestimate anyone anymore. I made a mistake but you are as deliberate as a sword with your justice. Get out, I don’t want to have to think about you before I go home.” She laughed out loudly at his admission.

When her taxi finally pulled up to the driveway of her hotel, she was so exhausted that she thought that the walk to her room would knock her out cold. It had started snowing and she watched the doorman open an umbrella as her taxi drove in. 

“You should go inside.” She spoke up to the man as he rushed up to the open taxi door with the umbrella in his hand. The man gave her a small smile and stood in his place, “Right, it’s your job.” She gave him a smile as she remembered what the doorman had told her previously and got out of the car. She stopped at the reception desk to pick up her key from the man at the desk.

“There’s someone waiting for you at the bar Ma’am.” He informed her as he handed her the key.

“Who is it?” She asked, jarred. She lifted her wrist and checked her watch, it was midnight. When she looked back at the man she seemed reluctant to answer.

“He didn’t give his name Ma’am. But,” His voice trailed off before he looked away, “It’s congressman Jung.” His voice lowered a little.

She stared at the man for a small moment, like the words he said hadn’t translated into information yet. Truly, she was so tired it wouldn’t be uncharacteristic. She blinked twice a little heavily— she had sent him a text, she didn’t have the authority to be displeased.

“Thank you.” She mumbled to the receptionist before turning to the bar, the embrace of a warm bed becoming a distant possibility.

The bar was scarcely full, soft jazz playing with repetitive insistence, when she walked in— eyes wandering around before landing on the figure they seeked. 

Jung Jaehyun was the kind of beautiful that was hardly unassuming. Infact, ever since puberty had made its place, it was obvious that Jung Jaehyun was a very attractive person, the kind that made people turn and look: it was something to be appreciated. 

She knew for a long time though, that he wasn't meant to be touched. He was always dipped in infamy that way— not a tangible entity but a name bred through word of mouth: a creature of reputation. Men like Jaehyun didn’t really exist because their reputations preceded them so greatly, he was to everyone what they needed him to be and he hid his feet in shoes bigger than his size. It was easy to admire an enigma, but she had also learned how hard it was to love the man under it. It was because she admired the enigma so greatly, with the strength of a small star in her own right. Maybe it was her fault for not accepting his fate while being acquainted to it— you couldn’t separate the man Jaehyun was from the reputation he breeds of himself; and he could never really fully transform into the creature while also being a man she could love— sometime in the last few years, she became acquainted with that tragedy.

She approached where Jaehyun sat, head buried in his phone, his lower lip protruding like it always did at that angle. The enamel of his flag pin shining under the ceiling lights and casting a blinding reflection in her eye.

"Why are you here?" She spoke up when her toes landed on his heel. He looked up, confused at the interrogation.

"You texted me." He said evidently. She clenched her jaw; it shouldn't be so obvious, that he should show up and wait— she didn’t even want to ask how long he was waiting. She watched him a little dumbly, she had sent him a message, yes. But she did not expect him to show up at her lobby, she frowned over how he acted like her expectation of that very thing, was somehow warranted.

"I had then, but you didn't respond, so." She took a step back and sat at the seat opposite his.

"So you met my cousin? I heard. It's positively touching how concerned you are that I keep my job. If only the House cared about American employment as much as you, (Y/N)." His words were harsh, sour and bitter with an entitled betrayal he did not conceal.

"If you drove all the way here to tell me about that, I'll save you time. This isn't about you, not everything is. The bill isn't about you. Even if you convince the House, what happens after that is not in your control. You should have saved yourself the trouble, and used the energy you were going to waste on preaching to me, for the floor tomorrow." She vexed. Instead of replying to her snide remarks, he noted her unease.

“What is it? Why are you agitated?” He asked with concern, she wanted to groan. The real downfall of someone knowing you well was when they thought they knew you too much.

“I’ve been here a day and every person I meet has either patronised me or threatened me. I’m not agitated, I’m angry. Nothing happening is about you, any one of you.” He wanted to ask who she meant, but she continued “It isn’t about me either. This isn't about glory, it's about security. Everyone here treats this like a game. Your job is not a game Jung Jaehyun, why don't you take this seriously? Why don't you understand why I'm taking this so desperately seriously?" She sat back, looking away and taking a large inhale to control herself.

A waiter walked by a moment later, asking for an order. Jaehyun turned to his glass, gesturing for a repeat; after which he turned to her. She considered it for a moment, before she gave in. They both ordered a whiskey each.

"Why did you meet him?" He asked about Jungkook without indulging her other words.

"Do you know who Kim Doyoung is?" She asked him, something in his expression shifted and she realised that he had to have known him well.

"What did he want from you?" He asked, sitting up and pushing to the edge of the chair, till his knee touched hers.

"Time." She looked at him, up close Jaehyun's beauty burned in the same way it enamoured— she had to look away, "And the bill. Before you introduce it, I assume." Jaehyun looked at her, there was a state of confusion which wanted to feel betrayed in his eyes, she sighed at his lack of faith, "I didn't give him either. The bill isn't mine to give." She sat back, her knee pushing away from grazing his. Jaehyun's eyes fluttered down at the movement, a second's distraction from the world, starting to shift around him with slow laboured turns.

"And what was his leverage?" He asked like he already knew but was hoping for a different answer. If Kim Doyoung had dirt or bribe, Jaehyun would handle it with finesse, like he handles his other cut throat colleagues on a daily basis. But Kim Doyoung did not play outside court. He was a dirty fighter and one of the more efficient of the Conservative pool, but he never resorted to extortion.

"He's a Senator, Jaehyun." She looked at him knowingly and he sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand on his face vigorously, till it was red and he was more agitated. He hated the ‘F’ word of the Senate with passion.

"Fuck." He snapped into his hand.

"He won't kill the bill." She said with dead certainty. He pushed his hand into his hair, pushing the mop back and around till he let go and his hair fell on his forehead with a soft drop, free from the confines of its previous pushed back style. Like that he looked younger, but it just made him look his real age, she realised. He suddenly didn't seem like a congressman anymore, no more an enigma. At the moment, he was just her Jaehyun.

"That's why you went to him?" Jaehyun asked after a moment, not looking at her.

"Yes." She didn't hesitate.

"Kim Doyoung doesn't work like that. You can't bribe him, he believes in himself." Jaehyun explained to her.

"He doesn't need to. He can be the most honourable man in the Capitol. He still needs fifty nine other people for his threat to have any basis. The faith I have in this city guarantees at least a handful of those will cave into higher authorities." She seethed with an unseen fire under her exterior.

"No." Jaehyun spoke through gritted teeth, she turned to him a little surprised, he looked at her with a lost sense of frustration and continued, "He can have his beliefs, he still works clean. Why should I be any different? This bill isn't about me, I never said otherwise. But where it goes is a matter that I will be associated with and I will not be associated with bribery. I told you to stay out of this." He didn't look at her, like an adult disappointed in a child, his gaze avoided hers. “When Republicans shy away from the abortion debate, anyone would guess some form of suppression is involved. Do you think this is a movie? Where means justify the ends?” He questioned her, clearly too angry for his voice to dare with volume, “Means are what are used to discredit rivals in this city.”

"He came to me!" She countered, the table closest to them turned to her and she sat back, sinking into the cushion of her chair. When she looked at him, he was thinking hard and she somehow felt inclined to regret telling him.

"Your hearing." He looked into his glass, "From the rumours I hear, there will be only two Democrats in the entire panel. They're going to attack you.” His eyes wandered across the room as a realisation seemed to interrupt his thoughts, he then groaned into his hands before pushing it into his hair— it made him look exhausted, “That’s why you were speaking to McGail, he’s a weak link.” He avoided her gaze and she stared at his embarrassment with an apathy she found pleasantly surprising.

"Don't be apologetic, it's not a good look on you." She remarked and the right corner of his lips twitched up.

"I'm not. You still interfered with my ability to do my job." She turned to him, but he continued, "But I understand why you did it." He sat back sighing softly.

"Okay." Was all she could say, sitting up with a deep breath.

"You know they'll ask you about me right? How the timing of the whole thing looks like. The implications of the access." He warned after a moment’s silence, “It’s also an election year.” He groaned into his palm for what felt like the hundredth time in the span of the conversation. She didn’t want to admit that it was unsettling to see Jaehyun that helpless in the face of what was his strength.

“If they ask me I’ll turn it around.” She said earning a confused look from Jaehyun. He looked up and stopped before speaking, sitting back as the waiter arrived with a tray; he placed their ordered drinks and walked away, she continued, "I'll say that when you heard about the case, you asked me to pursue it. You were so moved by the story that you had to do something." She threw down the pine stirrer she was fiddling it like it was a gesture of finality.

"You would lie under oath to the Senate?" He questioned unalarmed, carefully waiting for her answer.

"It's not a lie. You care about this, and it is you I'm fighting for." She sat up, he bit the inside of his cheek visibly.

"How is this for me?" If he was perplexed or indicated, his voice didn't express it, only his eyes.

"I don't join fights I'll lose, Jaehyun." She pushed up on her seat, the distance reducing and her voice dropping with every word, "I'm fighting this one because you're at the other end, and I know you'll meet me halfway." She paused, a stutter in her breath, "Legislative and Judiciary. It's as solid as it can be." He watched her eyes, the familiar glint of an ideal in them. "Without one, the other is nothing." She finished. He waited for a moment as he decided his next words, she waited for him to speak.

"Work for me." He spoke as he looked at her eyes, there was a pause where her breath went in sharply. He had never asked her to work for him before this, it was never a question because they were dating; and when they weren’t anymore they didn’t speak. She knew that working for him would be the final nail in the coffin in their relationship. She knew she would have to keep getting him elected while he went on to Marry his all-American trophy wife.

 "This could all be easier, you want to fight? We'll win them together, I'll give you fights worth losing too." He paused, looking at her for signs of relinquishment. "Just come work for the government of the greatest democracy in the world." He spoke with his politician voice. 

She sat back with a soft groan, finally picking up her drink to moisten her throat. "That's up for debate in the twenty-first century." She scoffed, shaking her head like she was shaking off the idea.

"It still is. We still are. It's what we fight for in public service, we protect the idea of this nation." He reprimanded.

"And what about the nation meanwhile?" She raised a brow.

"That's what staffers do. Whether you like it or not. Politicians care about the numbers because we work for the people, that means we can only do two things. We either do what the people want," he paused and she tapped her nail on her chair impatiently at his dramatics, rolling her eyes and emptying her drink. "Or we get them to care about what we want enough." He sighed like the thought was exhausting, she had to agree.

"And Staffers?" She filled the silence out of impulse, her voice hoarse from the whiskey slipping down so urgently.

"But staffers work for us. Their job is to find how to make people care, government staff are the most important people in this country." He almost flattered.

"Yet nobody is electing them in the world’s greatest democracy?" Her voice was a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

"They elect us to do that part." He smiled, a short laugh escaping from his chest.

"Remind me next time to file a writ to change the name to the United Republic of America. Has the right ring to it." She chuckled humorlessly. (Y/N) got out of her chair a moment later, her drink weighing her movements down and making her regret her decision to order it, "I have to go now. I'll have to meet someone from the Senate staff tomorrow.

"You didn't answer me." He questioned and she sighed a little louder, "Listen to me. You could have a future here." He proposed

"No." She halted him, "I don't. The people here are condescending and suspicious by nature. They're bad and shrewd and just plain mean. I don't like it." As she walked away from him in an attempt to end the conversation, he followed.

His voice, laced with vivid confusion, followed as he matched her fast strides, "It's not about whether you like it or not." He stepped back with a halt, realising she came to a stop by the elevator. "I'm telling you that you have a talent. Now that talent could either give you a nice comfortable job getting rich off the worst people." He sighed, looking at her a little earnestly when she turned to him, like he hoped. "Or you could use it to do something about the world we live in, to have it mean something. Come on, I know you see it, what I see." He touched her cheek so tenderly, she froze. "Living could mean something if we leave a mark. We can." He urged.

"I can't work for you Jaehyun." Her voice came out a small whisper as she stepped back, "it's not about any of this. I just can't work for you."

"I won't cross a line if you decide to. We'll keep a professional distance." He surrendered. She turned to him with confusion and contempt.

"I'm not you. I can't just turn it off, I love you too much." She paused as the words slipped out of her mouth, closing her eyes as she accepted the moment, coming to terms with her uncalled for confession, her eyes remained closed, "I love you too much and I can't just come work for you like that doesn't exist." She stepped back from him.

"Don't say that like it would be easy for me. I'm just trying to get what I can (Y/N) god damn it." He stepped back himself, groaning with frustration as he angrily ran his fingers through his hair, "Why do you make it so hard? You say it like I have to pick between loving you and giving you the job you deserve to have.” He groaned harder, pacing around a little like he was trying to walk off his emotions.

“Because that’s the reality Jaehyun. You’re in a relationship with a girl, now you want me to work as Capitol staff. I’ll be paid by taxpayers if I do, do you really think it would sit well if they found out about us? All of sudden people are going to wonder if you hired me for my talents in politics or in bed and whatever credibility I build by desperately working on this writ and talking to stubborn politicians, will disappear faster than you can say ‘conflict of interest��. This country has a vile history with political scandals Jaehyun, I do not want my head on a spike to set an example. It’s not like you’ll be able to do anything then, if even you wanted.” She stopped, letting go a deep breath like it was symbolic of the burden on her chest.

“You still don’t trust me.” Jaehyun shook his head, smiling sadly to himself.

“The last time I trusted you, you left me for your Father’s approval.” She stopped speaking, running her own hands through her hair. She regretted speaking immediately, it was unnecessary to bring up the past and she knew it— especially standing next to a Hotel elevator. But it were moments of outbursts like this that seemed to bring out the depth of affection from both sides, the polarity was currently giving her a headache.

“I’m sorry, that wasn’t fair.” (Y/N) spoke after a silence, “I’m tired, I have had a dissapointing day, but that’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have said that, it doesn’t matter.” She sighed again; her voice was small now, and it kept sinking in on itself. She finally turned to call the elevator.

“You didn’t answer me.” His voice reflected hers, she only stared at the elevator door in reply.

When the elevator opened he felt a sense of urgency that increased only when she got on. He ignored it and turned away. But as he walked away and heard the elevator door start to whir to close behind him, he found himself turning around and placing his hand on the door. She looked at his hand, then his face— shocked by the sudden outburst.

"For what it's worth." He paused, biting the inside of his cheek for a moment's hesitation before speaking on, "I have never given you a reason not to trust me." He stepped inside, letting the elevator door close behind him. They stood at a distance, watching each other. She waited for him to continue. He exhaled sharply, "You know that. Of course you do." He exasperated, "We don’t have the smoothest path or the sweetest story, but our problems are always situations, it was never each other." He took a step closer, she took a step back. But his resolute eyes had her attention, "You can say that you hate me, that my actions caused all if this and I’ll agree. But how can you think that?" He asked her.

"Think what?" Her voice came out recoiled and sharp, he let it graze past.

"That I would not do everything in my power to fix it." He demanded. “I need to know that you knew that all this time, all these years."

"You couldn't even admit that to the next person we encounter." She scoffed, looking up and blinking her blurred sight away as she kept her forgiving eyes in check. "So please don't do all this again. I have things to do that are more important.” She turned away from him, the sound of the elevator proceeding to be the only noise between them.

When her floor arrived she stepped out silently, turning back only at the sound of his footsteps.

"Don't get off. I mean it." Her voice was without edge but solid in its conviction. Jaehyun's steps faltered as he looked up confused, "Just go home. I have a meeting at 8 am." She sighed as he took a step on the elevator, halting it.

"The Senate," Jaehyun began like he was trying to explain.

"I don't have any political points to lose Jaehyun. All they can do is shake me up." She looked down at her shoes and smiled to herself, looking up at him, "I'm not scared; I believe in what I'm fighting for, they can't hurt me." She tried to hide a laugh, Jaehyun just watched in silent splendor. "They have politics points to lose, and I'll hit them like the cold January air." She let herself laugh. There was a pause where he just watched her a little.

"After the hearing every person, down to the interns, will know who you are. That is the day you start counting your political points. I want you to remember, when people at the hill start offering you things, remember everything you said just now." His face was numb the way it was when he was talking about politics. Her reply was confusion. "Choose the fight you believe in. Good night (Y/N)." He turned around and went into the beeping elevator. She watched as the door closed on her face. She walked away, towards her room, feeling heavy under the weight of the Capital.

[therainroguefanfiction]

🔥 ℝise Ⱥbove I̾t ◈ Chapter 045 [Abuse of Power]

📑 Table of Contents | ◂Backward

Word Count: 3,332

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

〈“Will anyone come forward? Who is to blame? They’ve all tried to hold me down, but now I’ve turned it all around. Got the hope I need to get off the ground, stay alive and try another day.” Vickeblanka, “Black Rover”〉

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What an insane fucking aura Stain has… such strength, such conviction. He needs a serious fucking chill pill, bro. Izuku’s body shook in fear against me, his wide eyes trained on the hero killer. Even the fucking pros are frozen in shock and fear. For fuck’s sake, do I have to do everything around here?

I pushed Zuku to the side and rushed forward, twisting my body to slam my leg against his stomach. What little bit of consciousness he had left fled his body as the knife clattered to the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as his body fell to the ground.

“That ain’t it, chief,” I grunted. “You say only All Might is allowed to kill you? That’s a wet dream because that blonde idiot would never kill anyone for any reason. The fucker ain’t got it in him to do so. And besides,” I smirked, holding up my hand as flames swirled against my palm. “Allowed to kill you? I’d like to see you spout that crap when you’re locked up with the worst of the worst!”

“J-Jen…” Izuku squeaked.

I glanced at him and sighed, lowering my hand. “But it’s not like you can hear me and I’m way fucking overdue for some fucking sleep. Release,” The sound of shattering filled the night air as my torn and burnt school shirt returned to my body. Deadpool, I’m coming to see you, bud.

“Jen!”

“Winchester!”

Darkness.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

I stared out the window, watching a bird hopping from branch to branch. Although Hosu general had a few healers on their staff, they are nothing compared to Gran, so most of my injuries hadn’t been fully healed.

The door slid open and a thin man in a white coat stepped inside, his grey-blue hair slicked back. His name is Akashi, the doctor that’s been tending to me since I arrived. He glanced up from the clipboard, his blue eyes meeting mine. “How are you feeling, Miss Winchester?”

“Like I got ran over by an eighteen-wheeler twice and then he did a u-turn and did it two more times.”

He sweatdropped. “That’s oddly specific…” He cleared his throat. “Would you like to know the extent of your injuries before we took care of you?”

“Yeah, why not.”

“Your left shoulder was broken, along with several ribs, one of which nearly punctured your lung. The puncture wound on your stomach was the worst of your injuries, it was quite deep, but your quick thinking at closing the wound prevented you from bleeding out. There will be a nasty scar once it’s fully healed, though. For the future, when you get stabbed by something, don’t pull it out.” Akashi deadpanned.

I returned his pointed look with a blank one. “Yeah sure. Walking around with a piece of fucking glass sticking out of my fucking torse is totally a fashion trend I want to start.”

He ignored me, returning his eyes to the clipboard. “Other than that, there were various cuts and bruises across your body, but nothing serious. We fixed your shoulder, so you should be able to use your arm, but I suggest you take it easy since it’s not fully healed.”

All things considered, not too bad, I guess.

“You can come in now,” Akashi called out.

The door slid open and the short man, Gran Torino, stepped inside. “Come on, girl. The chief of police needs to talk to all of you at once. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

I groaned in protest. “Ain’t it easier to bring them to me?”

“Easier for you, maybe.” He grunted, folding his arms over his chest.

Che, no sympathy for the wounded. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cold shot through my socks as soon as I touched the linoleum floor. Thankfully, the nurses had changed me into pants and a shirt instead of those horrendous hospital gowns because I ain’t about that life. Gran Torino led me down the hall to a room where two men stood. One I recognized – it was the guy that had tried to take me to the hospital.

His eyes met mine and he rushed forward, relief on his face. “You’re okay, I’m so glad!” The relief quickly switched to disappointment. “I trusted you to go straight to the hospital. What were you thinking? You were already badly injured and then you went after the hero killer. You could have died, do you understand?”

I scratched my cheek. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I don’t regret it, though. I’d do it again.”

The second man cleared his throat and holy fucking salsa dancing chimichangas is that a dog on two legs?? Why is this bitch so goddamn tall?? “We should scold them together, woof.”

Bro, he just fucking barked, I can’t.

Gran Torino nudged me forward and I reluctantly tore my eyes from the dog, entering the room. All three boys snapped their heads to us.

“Jen!” Zuku sprung off the bed, stumbling with a squeak. I rushed forward, catching him with my good arm. He buried his face in my neck, arms tight around my waist. “We were so worried… they wouldn’t tell us where you were or if you were okay.”

I hummed, running my fingers through his hair. “I won’t die so easily, not when I have so many brats to look after.” I helped him back to his bed before sitting on the side.

Gran Torino stomped forward. “Idiot! I could yell at you for hours right now!”

“Yeah… I’m… sorry…” Zuku mumbled, looking down at the covers in shame.

“But before I do, you’ve got a visitor. This is Hosu’s chief of police, Kenji Tsuragamae.”

The tall dog entered the room on cue, his hands in the pockets of his suit pants. Todoroki and Iida immediately stood up and Zuku struggled to do the same. “No, please stay seated, woof.”

I held my breath to prevent myself from laughing. I mean come on, can you blame me? He’s a fucking dog for fuck’s sake and he keeps barking! What even is my life?

“So, you’re the U.A. students that brought down the hero killer, huh?”

“We are,” Todoroki responded hesitantly.

“Stain has some serious injuries,” he continued. “Severe burns and several broken bones. Right now, he’s in the hospital under strict guard, woof. Here’s a lesson you should have already learned – when quirks became the norm, the police force sought to maintain the status quo. It decided we wouldn’t use quirks as weapons.”

What the fuck is the point, then? If you got a bitch comin’ at you with the intent to kill, you can bet your ass I’mma use my quirk as a fucking weapon.

“That’s when heroes came in. They could do what we couldn’t – if they were licensed, of course, woof. It would be impossible for the police to condone the use of deadly quirks. After all, we’re here to stop such harm from being done. The only reason the pros can use their powers now is because of the strict code of ethics that the early heroes chose to abide by.”

I scratched my cheek. He just started talking and my brain is already starting to hurt. This mutt is throwing information at me like I’mma be graded on it. He should be thanking us for doing what he failed to do, but I get the feeling that ain’t gonna happen.

“That’s why it’s against the law for un-certified people to use their quirks to cause injury. Whether you were up against the hero killer or not, none of you have the authority to harm a villain. That means the four of you, and your supervisors – Endeavor, Manual, and Gran Torino – are sure to receive harsh punishments for this gross abuse of your powers.”

Todoroki beat me to the punch, his voice angry. “Now wait a minute. If Iida had not stepped in, Native would have been murdered. And if not for Midoriya, both of them would be dead. No one even realized that the hero killer was in Hosu. Are you saying we should have just stood back and watched people die?!”

“Calm down,” Zuku held his hands up.

“No, he’s fucking right.” I snapped, glaring at the mutt. “The whole fucking reason we’re training to be heroes is to use our fucking powers to save people. What kind of hero turns their back when someone is about to fucking die, huh?! You’re damn fucking right I used my quirk to harm that fuck and I’d do it again!”

“Jen…”

“So, it’s okay to break the law as long as it goes your way?” His eyes narrowed.

“But, sir -” Todoroki clenched his teeth. “Isn’t it a hero’s job to save people?!”

“This is why you’re not a full-fledged pro yet. It’s obvious U.A. and Endeavor haven’t been teaching you near enough. What a shame.”

Oh no, he fucking did not just go there.

“You damn mutt!” Todoroki spat, stepping forward.

“You’ve got some nerve, you fucking dog.” I snarled. “Insulting U.A. like that. U.A. is the fucking best school, full of people that actually give a damn about others!”

“Todoroki! Winchester!” Iida cried out. “Listen, he’s right!”

“Stop right here, kids.” Gran Torino held his hand up to prevent us from getting any closer to the dog. “You wanna hear him out to the end.”

The mutt continued, “What I’ve said is the official stance at the police department, but any punishment would only be necessary if this went public. If it did, you’d probably be applauded by citizens everywhere, but there’s no way you could escape from being reprimanded. On the other hand, we could say Endeavor saved the day.”

I glanced at Todoroki, seeing his body tense up. Personally, I don’t give a fuck about getting credit or not, I’d much rather prefer not to be in the limelight. But Endeavor getting the praise? Really?

“Stain’s burns would support this story completely and we could pretend you weren’t involved, woof. Thankfully, there were very few witnesses. This could be the last you heard of any punishments. It would mean no one would know about you, though. You’d receive no acclaim at all. The choice is yours.”

Why does this sound too good to be true, huh?

“Personally, I know where I stand.” The mutt held his thumb up, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “I don’t want to damage any promising young careers. Not for a mistake like this.”

“Bitch, huh?” I deadpanned. “You just fucking said – and it wasn’t a mistake, bro!”

“Either way, we have to take responsibility for being negligent supervisors…” The man, according to Iida was called ‘Manual’, hung his head in shame.

Iida approached him and bowed at the waist. “I’m sorry, I should have listened.”

Manual lightly karate chopped his head. “Yeah, you caused us a lot of trouble. Remember that, and don’t do it again!”

Zuku lowered his head. “And… I apologize, as well.”

“Me too,” Todoroki bowed, mumbling reluctantly.

Gran Torino looked at me expectantly and I stared back. “Well, I ain’t fucking apologizing. I don’t regret my decision to step in and help them. My goal is to protect these brats, no matter what it costs me. Was it stupid and reckless? Maybe, but I still stand by my decision. I would rather rot in a cell for the rest of my life than live with the thought that I didn’t protect them when I could have simply because of a stupid rule. Not only that, but that first fucking battle left me no choice. She was after me like a fat kid after the last fuckin’ twinkie.”

“Jen,” Zuku sweatdropped.

Gran Torino grunted and in the blink of an eye, he was in front of me, his foot in my stomach. The air left me as I stumbled backward into Todoroki’s arms, clutching my stomach. “Toshirnori was right about you, we have our work cut out for us with you. You should have accepted my offer!”

“You fucking moldy ass shrimp,” I wheezed in pain.

“I know it’s not fair,” the mutt spoke up. “You won’t enjoy any of the fame and praise you probably would have received otherwise but at least,” He bowed at the waist, his arms straight at his sides. “Allow me, as the chief of police, to thank you.”

“You know, you could have started with that…” Todoroki murmured, glancing at me.

“For fucking real,” I muttered. “Being a hero ain’t about fame. Who fucking cares if we get praised? That’s the whole reason Stain even exists, ain’t it? People are becoming heroes for the fame and the cold hard cash, not because they genuinely care about others. They don’t want to help people, they just wanna help themselves.”

He hummed thoughtfully as he straightened his body. “Perhaps, but I personally believe that good deeds should be rewarded, woof.” I clicked my tongue and looked away. “Now, I must return to the station and I ask that you accompany me there, Jen Winchester.”

Zuku tensed up, his eyes darting between us. “Wait, is she in trouble? Now that I think about it, you didn’t mention a fourth supervisor, why is that? Who did she intern with? I don’t remember anyone mentioning it. Plus, she was badly injured when she arrived on the scene. She said something about the first battle, what did she mean by that?”

I sweatdropped at his muttering spell, walking over and resting my hand on his head. “Don’t worry, Zuku, they just need to ask me some questions about somethin’ I saw before the battle with Stain. Heal up well and I’ll see the three of you back at school, alright?” I headed for the door but paused. “Can one of you get ahold of Katsuki and let him know I’m alive?”

“I will,” Iida responded.

“Thanks,” I grinned, closing the door behind me.

⊱ ────── {⋅. .⋅} ────── ⊰

Kenji opened a door, motioning for me to step inside. “What here, we’ll be with you shortly, woof.”

I grunted, stepping into the bare, cold room. The door closed behind me and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room. The thick walls blocked out the sounds of the police station. After leaving the three boys, he had checked me out of the hospital against the doctor’s wishes and drove me straight to the Hosu police department.

I fell into the metal chair with a sigh. The metal table is bolted to the floor so it can’t be moved, and another chair sat on the other side. A bright, fluorescent light sat in the middle of the ceiling, directly above the table. The wall behind me was almost completely covered by a thick black glass – a two-way mirror. Geez, why I do I feel like a fuckin’ prisoner right now?

The door opened and I lazily glanced over. “Hello, Jen Winchester.” The man smiled, closing the door behind him. “Do you remember me?”

He does look familiar, but, “Nope.”

He sat down across from me. “We never officially met. My name is Naomasa Tsukauchi.”

“Ah,” I sat up, smacking the table with my right hand. “The fucker that said the teachers saved us at the USJ and completely undermined the fact that the students fought hard as fuck.”

“Right…” he sweatdropped, his smile turning sheepish. “Sorry about that.”

“What are you doin’ in Hosu?”

His smile dropped. “We found the pro hero Caraphernelia. Another student from U.A. arrived a day late for his internship and when he stumbled upon the scene, he called the cops. After informing U.A. of this, we learned that two students were due to intern with her. And then U.A. got the call from the hospital about you and the others.”

“Wait, who was the other student?”

He shuffled through the papers in his black folder. “Regina Reggian, a student from general studies.”

Are you shitting me… that fucking kid.

“I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” Naomasa said seriously, giving me his full attention. “No detail is too small.”

I leaned my head back to rest against the chair, closing my eyes. “It started after Aizawa announced that we’d be interning with pros. During lunch, I got a text message from an unknown number. It told me to choose her agency if I wanted to learn about my mother.”

“I see. And did you tell anything about this message?”

I thought about Kat for a moment before shaking my head, “Nah.”

“So you chose her agency. Then what happened?”

“The first floor was completely devoid of life, so I went up to the third floor where I was told to go, right. Everyone was already dead when I got there. I was about to call someone, but then they showed up.” I scowled.

“We found the phone pinned to the wall, but it was destroyed so we couldn’t determine the owner.” He mused, scribbling on his notepad. “Can you describe who showed up?”

“Kurogiri, the warp gate from the USJ incident and some rodent fuck. He wasn’t at the USJ, at least not from what I saw. He looked like… if you took a shit ton of different rodents and fused ’em together.”

“The League of Villains… Did you fight them?”

I scowled, remembering that mutt’s words as I smacked my hand on the table. “The fucker attacked me, so I defended myself. What, was I supposed to just let him spear me like a fucking kebab instead of using my powers?” His lips twitched up but he said nothing so I continued. “I tried to leave because I didn’t like my odds and there wasn’t anyone to protect so I had no reason to fight, but that misty fuck is pretty smart and he got me.”

“They took you,” he concluded, tapping his pen on the pad as he watched me with thoughtful black eyes.

“Yeah,” I leaned back in my chair. “They chained me to a fucking chair in a room without a window or even a clock. And it was so dusty. What if I fucking had asthma, huh? I doubt the fucking League of Villains has an inhaler on standby, but that raspy fuck could probably use one.”

“Did they say what they wanted with you? Why they took you?”

I tried to keep a blank look on my face, but my eye twitched, making him raise a brow. “I forgot to mention – I’m pretty sure that bitch was workin’ with ’em.”

He nodded. “We have confirmation of that after searching her office.”

“They tried to recruit Stain, too, but he refused.”

“I see,” he scribbled the info down. “Anything else or are you done avoiding my question?”

I groaned, setting my chair down so I could lean on the table. The cold metal felt good against my skin. “Tomura Shigaraki and Kurogiri apparently both had feelings for my mom and since she’s dead, I’m the next best thing, but their boss had other plans.” My hand lifted to the pendant, my fingers curling around it. “He wanted this.”

“Why didn’t he just take it instead of taking such a big risk?”

“Can’t,” I glanced up at him. “I mean, you can take it off me, sure but it’ll always come back. It’s got some sick attachment to me. Tried to get rid of it so many fucking times as a kid, but it was always back around my neck when I woke up.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “That’s interesting,”

A knock sounded on the door and a woman poked her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, detective, but there are two men here demanding to see Winchester. One of them is claiming to be her father.”

We exchanged a confused look.

My father? It’s gotta be Toshi, right? But… he’s never introduced himself as my parent before. And if it actually is him, he wouldn’t be demanding to see me, that ain’t his style. What the hell.

⊱ ────── {⋅. 🔥 .⋅} ────── ⊰

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[mollykittykat]

The Cupboard Game Pt. 2

AU in which Splinter evaded the contents of the mutagen canister and ended up raising the turtles as a human. No real warnings apply. Mostly family fluff with a teeny hint of angst. (Also available on A03: http://archiveofourown.org/works/10471893/chapters/23136108)

[If sum won coms wat do we do?]

Splinter got the fist text message a mere few minutes after he clocked in, when he was gathering his cleaning supplies and heading off to mop up the coffee spill in the recreation room.

He allowed his sons to send him text messages so long as it was important, although to four year olds “important” easily ranged from ‘I’m feeling lonely’ to ‘the stove was left on’ and everything in between. Though the turtles always forgot to say who was speaking before sending a message, Splinter could usually tell who it was simply by their writing pattern.

This one was from Leonardo. He had an average vocabulary for someone his age, misspelling things and sometimes allowing autocorrect to fill in the wrong word, but that aside he used the phone properly, and was typically clear and concise about his messages.

[Is there a stranger in the apartment?] Splinter’s return text was sent immediately. Normally he waited at least a thirty minutes before replying, not wanting to be caught shirking his duties to pour over his phone messages, but after yesterday’s encounter he was fearful that he had been too quick to deem Michelangelo’s slipup inconsequential.

There was an extensive pause, eventually followed by the long slow “typing…” message that lingered for a while. Though this was status quo for a barely literate preschooler Splinter’s heart hardly beat the entire time.

[No] [Mike want to no just in cays] Splinter let out a heavy sigh of relief, then returned with his own text.

[Remember the fire escape on the fifth floor? It leads to an alley where there is a drainage pipe leading into the sewers. If you can’t hide and must run, go there.]

He knew this would strike a familiar chord with his oldest son. They had gone over a similar escape plan when discussing what they should do if a fire should break out in their small dingy apartment, a news story about such an accident striking justified anxiety into the hearts of his four children.

[The sewers are infested with bacteria, won’t we get sick?] The next text came two hours later, this one obviously from Donatello. The turtle was very intelligent for his age, sending full sentences with proper grammar and vocabulary words that most parents could only dream of getting from a four year old. Splinter finished scrubbing down the sinks, and once they were shiny and clean he took a moment to exchange his supplies in the janitorial closet and reply to the text.

[We won’t have to stay there forever. It’ll just have to do as our hiding spot until we find a new home]

Another two hours and there was a new text. The timing for this one apropos, as Splinter had just settled down for a lunch break.

[I don want to hid in sewer thats dum this were the toylet water goos we shelled not had to hid] [Wy cant we moov to a big tenthose like peepol on tv] Raphael was clearly less patient in his texts, writing runnon sentences interspersed with nonsense words, the meaning behind his statements sometimes a struggle to understand. In some ways he was similar to his older brother, thought there was a tone to his wording that certainly set him apart from the others. It took Splinter a solid minute to realize that “tenthose” was bad spellcheck child speak for “penthouse”

[You mean penthouse? the big glass fancy rooms at the tops of skyscrapers? Penthouses take a lot of money, more than I can make.]

There was a pause. He took a bite of his sandwich as he waited for the child to finish reading the hefty sentence. [Even if u werk 198490829 ours?]

[Even if I work all the hours in the world]

Splinter finished his lunch break and was retrieving the floor buffer and a few fresh rags when another text came in…. though this one was ambiguous whether it was from Leonardo or Raphael. [I do not want u to work all the ours in the world] Splinter couldn’t help but smile at this one, taking a moment to send back an immediate reply.

[Neither do I]

Four hours passed, the phone remaining silent until Splinter clocked out. Putting on a jacket to shield him from the brisk humid wind he tore into the New York streets toward the location of his next job. The overhead sky was beginning to darken, the air thick with the smell of condensation as the forecasted rainstorm rolled in a day earlier than predicted. Splinter sighed, wondering whether or not he should ask for a ride from one of the acquaintances at the docks rather than risk returning to the apartment on foot.

His phone buzzed, the arrival of another text pulling him out of his thoughts.

[Papa heanrm forkn sjklj isnuwant abcdefgabc Mikey] Even if the turtle hadn’t put his name at the end it would have been obvious who had sent the undecipherable key smashing. Luckily, Splinter often found that messages from his youngest son, though impossible to comprehend, were immensely easy to appease.

[I love you too]

He let out a sigh, contentment and exhaustion fogging together into a single undecipherable emotion as he put the phone back in his pocket and continued his way toward the docks, where heavy crates of imports and exports would be waiting for him. It was hard work, but it had an aura of adventure to it and was worth the extra money. This time, however, he knew who would be waiting there. He felt it in his gut; certainty that the moment he was done loading crates Nezumi would bump into him, claim it was a coincidence, then push and prod with his offer once again, and worst of all… Hamato Yoshi was actually beginning to reconsider.

The night Splinter got the turtles, for all of the positive changes it had brought to his life, was a long exhausting night of many conflicting thoughts. The idea of calling the police or notifying a neighbor came to mind more times than he’d ever like to admit, the sight of four reptiles the size of infants, acting like infants, initially striking him as wrong… horrific even. But they weren’t merely acting like infants, they were infants. With every passing second the genetic mishaps showed themselves to be nothing more than helpless children, who would likely be hurt or even killed if word got out about their existence. Not knowing where else to go Yoshi brought them to his apartment. He panicked at every crying fit, he panicked over whether to feed them warm milk or insects from the windowsill, he turned up the television in order to cover up the sound of their fits until the neighbors complained, and then he panicked when the tenants knocked on his door. All night, for many nights, he made the changes necessary to carry on with the secret existence of four infants, soundproofing cupboards and stockpiling supplies. He moved on instinct, an unexpected family in dire need of protection filling his life with a sudden unexpected vigor that he hadn’t felt since his days with Shen and Miwa. Of course it couldn’t last forever. He could only be absent from his waitering job for so long before he met an ultimatum: earn a living, or leave four squirming infants all alone for eight hours on end.

He knew he couldn’t choose the latter, it would put his newfound family in a position of terrible neglect even if he dedicated every hour he had apart from work to tending to their needs. He needed a miracle, and the universe followed through, though not without it’s price.

It was by sheer luck that one day, when he was walking to the convenience store, he discovered Nezumi being thrashed by gangsters who were demanding some sort of overdue payment. Splinter didn’t know much about the situation, but he did recognize when a lone unarmed man was being threatened by hoard of thugs wielding blunt weapons. To this day he still didn’t know whether it was intuition or simple stupidity that inspired him to interfere, but in the end Nezumi got a good glimpse of what he was capable of. As a show of gratitude Splinter was given an offer, an offer that would have him working for only two hours in the dead of night, filling his pockets with more than enough to pay the rent while leaving him full days to take care of his infants sons and ensure they got a decent upbringing.

Underground fights. Serious underground fights settling bloody feuds under the gazes of vicious gamblers. It was illegal and dishonorable and extremely dangerous and yet, so long as he wouldn’t be hurting anyone innocent, Splinter knew he couldn’t refuse. After that, his sense of being was constantly jumping back and forth from opposite sides of the spectrum. During the day he was a father, a good father, watching small children slowly learn to talk, teaching him what he could about language and history and how to keep out of sight. However, when he was in the fighting ring, he was a submissive attack dog beating men that were all muscle and meat into unconsciousness while surrounding crowds shrieked and hollered. It reached a point to where even the simplest fights turned into behemothic bet-hedging schemes, Nezumi leeching off of the ‘“street cred” Splinter never wanted to make a name for himself in areas that Splinter wanted nothing to do with.

Those months contained some of the best and worst moments of his life. Overall, however, he couldn’t say he had any regrets. All it took was one memory of the quartet of two year olds falling asleep in his lap while he read about the antics of The Cat in The Hat, and he could contentedly affirm that… despite everything… he had done the right thing.

Would it be the right thing if he went through with it one more time? It was just a couple of nights in the ring, maybe only one night judging by the purse Nezumi had mentioned yesterday. With money like that he would be able move his family to a small place outside the city limits, somewhere far away from the constant prying eyes of strangers where the turtles could run around carefree like boys should... …. like they deserved to.

When Splinter arrived at his destination he found his suspicions confirmed. There was Nezumi, sitting in a dingy little sports car just off from the docks, windows rolled down a crack to release the smog of a half-smoked cigarette. The moment their eyes met the skinny tattooed scarecrow jumped, startled to see that not only had his target arrived, but he was walking directly toward him. There was the sound fumbling as Nezumi let his cigarette drop to the floor and rummaged around the glove compartment, probably in search for some hidden weapon. When Splinter yanked him out of the vehicle by his wrists it became clear Nezumi probably should have dedicated more time to locking his door than locating his switchblade, and before he could so much as blink he was pinned to the concrete, foot on his back, arm twisted until pain forced him to unhand his weapon.

“Hey hey hey hey!!! Cool it! This trip had nothing to do with you! I’m out here meeting some old friends!” he squealed as Splinter took the switchblade “Coincidence! Pure coincidence! I’m not-“

“How much did you say that purse was?”

Nezumi suddenly stopped, rubbing his sore shoulder as he found himself released from the painful hold. He rose back to his feet, watching his attacker casually toss the swiped blade to himself, a look of calm earnestness on his face.

“You… you’re serious?” “I don’t know yet” Splinter muttered, “Tell me how much I’ll win if I take part in this fight you talked about.”

“Th-… thirty grand if you win the final round. Twenty grand if you get second place and-” “Fine.” Splinter closed the switchblade and pocketed it while giving his answer. Forgetting his swiped weapon, Nezumi took a moment to come to grips with what was happening, a look of idiotic glee on his face when he realized his hopes were confirmed. “The Splinter is back in action?”

“‘Mister Takara.’ Or Daiki if you want to be informal.” Splinter knew he’d regret accepting that “stage name” the moment it caught on. His old self laid across ocean, lost in the passing years, but making his lifelong nickname into a tacky “extreme warrior” title served to twist the knife rather than help him move on. But of course, Nezumi took the correction as a signal to keep their plans on the down low, and still wearing that stupid smile the scrawny little thug placed a finger against his own lips in a gesture of silence and winked.

Decision made and instincts already telling him this was a terrible idea, Splinter turned away and began heading back toward the loading docks. “I’ve got to go. I’m already late.”

“Wait wait wait!” Nezumi rushed ahead, blocking Splinter’s path with outstretched arms. “Tell me when you get off work! I’ll come by and pick you up!”

Splinter shot him a doubtful glare.

“I’m taking you to dinner!” Nezumi explained “It’s on me. You can ask for all the details you want over some hot grub and some wine. Huh? What do you say?”

Splinter’s glare softened. He would have to skip out on the wine, he had a notoriously low alcohol tolerance, but the idea of a good meal swayed him. That, plus a ride home that would keep him safe from the rain, and he couldn’t find the will to protest.

[I’ll be home late] Raphael saw the text at about six, an hour before their father was scheduled to get home. The small turtle slowly mouthed the syllables, getting through the sentence at an agonizing pace before Donatello swiped the phone and read the sentence at his preferred speed.

“Papa’s gonna be home late Leo!” Big dark blue eyes looked up just in time to see the brainiest of his brothers get tackled to the ground, Raphael wrestling to regain possession of the blackberry cellphone. Leonardo, remembering how angry Splinter had been the last time they’d broken a phone by fighting over it, trotted over and took the device from his feuding siblings before texting back.

[time?] [Very late. There is apple sauce and cheese sticks in the fridge. Nuts raisins and crackers in the cabinet. Be in bed by 8.] [Ok] [Make sure everyone brushes their teeth and washes their face too] [Ok]

“What is it?” Leonardo had just sent out the last text before his youngest sibling snatched the phone from his hands, squinting at the letters with his tongue hanging out of his mouth in concentration. “Papa’s gonna be late” Leonardo explained before his brother could finish reading the first word, snatching the cell right back much to Mikey’s displeasure. “We’re gonna eat and get ready for bed without him” “No bedtime story?” Leo shook his head no, a dutiful look on his face as he trotted to the kitchen and opened the fridge door, standing on his tiptoes in order to reach the assigned snacks.

“Don’t worry though! Papa usually makes up for this stuff. He’ll prob’ly bring pizza tomorrow!” Though this reassurance seemed to please the youngest turtle, Donatello and Raphael didn’t look all too happy.

“He shouldn’t be out longer! He needs to sleep more! Thas’ the opposite of what I told him to do!” Donatello said, sounding close to tears as he gave a little stomp of his foot. “Whadya mean he’s not going to be home?!” Raph added, joining in with his sibling’s protests “He’s never home and I miss him!” “He misses us too!” Mikey whined in turn, now crying for reasons he himself didn’t quite understand until Leonardo and shoved an unwrapped cheese stick into his mouth, satiating him.

“We just gotta be patient. We’ll watch TV” Leonardo reassured, as if watching television wasn’t something they’d already done all day to pass the time waiting for their father to get back. Already bored by his brother’s suggestion Donatello peeled back the translucent foil on the window, big ruddy brown eye peering up at the sky.

“Turn it to the weather channel. I don’ like the look of those clouds. Papa really should’ve looked at them before deciding to stay out longer” Raphael wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and found the remote, slowly clicking his way toward channel six. Mikey chewed contentedly on his cheese stick as he yanked some blankets down from the back of the couch, curling up on the floor in front of the screen as his eldest brother delivered the food and began dividing it out between his siblings.

[ecotone99]

[FN] Late For Work

Beth was not an early bird. She never once was able to truly get the worm, as they say. Despite being a diligent and faithful worker, she could never find it in her power to get to work on time, leaving her co-workers baffled.

“She doesn't look like someone who would be late,” they'd say. “She looks like a boss who'd kick our asses if we arrived even half a second after work began.” Beth's form was tall and lean, with plenty of curves to boot. She was often draped in a black buttoned blouse with a white skirt that flowered underneath and fell to a quarter of an inch above her knees. Upon her head was short, curly blonde hair that practically sparkled. The face below Beth's hair was a bit thin, but hid her age quite well behind a veil of beauty. She was the personification of the boss.

And yet, here she was again, late, still drinking her morning coffee. Beth had already showered and dressed herself, and after finishing her cup, took another confident look at herself with her phone, then smiled. She looked ready. And with that, Beth took her next confident steps outside her door, making sure to lock the house, and began to walk to work. Beth preferred to walk, driving was not her cup of tea. It was too dangerous in her mind, as she had witnessed her fair share of accidents, more than most would be comfortable with. Not that the city she lived in was especially bad for drivers, though. It was nice, at least in her eyes. It kept her busy. It was always lively, as people marched to and fro at every turn, like a rainbow of fabric and faces. The best part is, it was great for business, as she could see the markers above everyone's head. One said thirty five years, another said two hundred and seventeen days. They all had their own date, and it was simple to find one who was 'expired' in such a dense, highly populated area. This information was crucial to her job, as important as the air she breathed. However, Beth was stopped from marveling at them when she felt her phone vibrate in her hand, as one of her co-workers was ringing her. With a tap of the accept button that had popped up, she put the device to her ear.

“Yes, what is it Charlie?”

“You know you're late again, you're making the poor man wait,” Charlie muttered with his generally gruff voice.

“I know, I know. I'll be there shortly. He won't have to wait much longer.”

The call ended with an abrupt click, which made Beth frown. With a disquieted sigh, she kept on her way. She lightly slapped the walk button at a crosswalk, patiently waiting for the light to switch to red. A rhythmic hum escaped her lips as she bounced back and forth on the tops and balls of her feet. After a second or so, the walk signal blinked on, and she briskly made her way past the stopped cars. Up ahead, she spotted a few drivers another road racing ahead and ignoring the speed limits. It was a common sight, but upsetting nonetheless. People just don't appreciate their lives enough, they're so risky, she thought. Her work had made her more cautious than most, always obeying every rule she could and enforcing them to the best of her own ability.

After turning down another sidewalk at the same even pace, she could see a large white sign; Wayland County Hospital. It was a nice facility, not expensive but rather accommodating, large enough to fit a good amount of people. As she turned past the row of vehicles and watched the sliding doors open before her, Beth greeted everyone she came across with a pleasant smile followed by a nod. Her walking speed increased, as she went past nurses and doctors alike, making her way to the emergency ward. Inside, Beth found the room she was looking for. The name on the side stared her in the face, made her feel guilty in the pit of her stomach.

Alex Scott.

The man laying on the bed was covered in wounds, bleeding from nearly every point of his body. His two broken legs were propped up at the end of the bed, and Beth could tell his pulse was faint, growing even fainter as time passed. Every moment was agony for Alex, and it was all because of a vicious and violent car accident. She should've been there, as the marker above his head made it blatantly obvious. All zeroes, he was overdue. Beth tiptoed around the bed and medical equipment without making a discernible sound, and gently placed her palm and the man's bandaged hand. He didn't move, but Beth felt him looking towards her, the part of him only people like her could see. She saw his family, his friends, his life, all of it flashed before her in an instant. There was a moment, through Alex's eyes, of him going to dinner with his wife. The beautiful woman across from him looked pleased, covering her mouth while laughing at what Beth presumed was a joke. Another scene came, of him speaking to his mother and father. More and more alike came to Beth's eyes, both happy and sad. She took the information in stride, and gave Alex a comforting and warm smile.

“Sorry I'm late, but it's time to go, Alex.”

There was silence; long, drawn out silence. Then came acceptance. Alex's heart rate flat-lined. He took her hand with a sad smile, stepping out of the hospital bed. Only she could see him, his physical body was still in the bed, the life it once had was now gone. Without his wounds and bandages, Alex was a nice looking man. There was a tinge of guilt in Beth's chest. He had to suffer because of her, because she was late. But Beth could make it up to him now with closure, showing him parts of the world that meant the most to him, to put his soul at peace. Sure, Beth was almost always late, but there wasn't another agent of death like her out there. And she took a bit of pride in that.

submitted by /u/SPC_Author [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2OCtItI

[opedguy]

Expert Says No Hope to Denuclearize NKorea

LOS ANGLES (OnlineColumnist.com), Nov. 22, 2017.--Hoping to resolve the North Korean crisis without war, 71-year-old President Donald Trump set his red line that he would not accept a nuclear-armed North Korea.  While Secretary of State Rex Tillerson works 24/7 on a diplomatic solution, 33-year-old North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un works feverishly on completing a nuke-tipped Intercontinental Ballistic Missile {ICBM].  Tong Zhao, a fellow at the Carnegie-Tsinghua Center for Global Policy in Beijing, sees no effort by Pyongyang to disarm its nuke and ballistic missile arsenal. Putting North Korea Nov. 21 back on the U,S. Terror Watch List ratchets up tensions with the hermit Stalinist state. Zhao thinks all the belligerent rhetoric in recent months intensified Pyongyang’s pursuit of a nuclear-tipped ICBM, capable of hitting the U.S. West Coast.  Whatever war of words between the White House and Pyongyang, Kim pursues his nukes.

           Zhao believes that Trump calling Kim “Little Rocket Man,” threatening “fire-and-fury” and promising to “totally destroy North Korea” has given Kim incentive to continue his nukes and ballistic missiles. Zhao can’t really believe that anything Trump said has to do with Kim working feverishly on nukes and ballistic missiles.  Taking the Cool-Aid from Pyongyang’s unending propaganda, Kim’s nuke and ballistic missile program has been going on for over 25 years. “I am afraid that this move may further convince Pyongyang that the United States adopts hostile policies against North Korea and Washington has no intention to establish a normal relationship,” Zhao said.  Zhao can’t fathom North Korea’s collusion with Russia, China, Pakistan and Iran, all sharing nuke and missile technology.  Trump’s colorful Tweets have zero to do with Kim’s nuke and ballistic missile program.

            When Iran and North Korea celebrated Aug, 6 the opening of a new North Korean Embassy in Tehran, Trump knew it was more than coincidence.  Let there be no mistake, Iran and North Korea share nuke and ballistic missile technology.  Trump’s decision to label North Korea again a state sponsor of terrorism stemmed directly from North Korea’s technology nuke and ballistic missile exchanges with Iran.  Weighing on Trump’s decision was the vacant face of Otto Warmbier, a student returned to the U.S. Sept. 16, a brain-dead zombie, dying three days later. Adding Pyongyang to the Terror Watch List was also followed by Kim Jong-nam’s Feb. 13 assassination with VX nerve agent at the Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia airport.  Blaming Trump’s rhetoric for Kim’s feverish pursuit of nukes and ballistic missiles is preposterous, given the regime’s brutal track record.

            Trump’s decision to place Pyongyang back on the Terror Watch List was long overdue, since removed by former President George W. Bush in 2008.  Bush hoped the gesture would bring the late Kim Jong-Il to the bargaining table. Nine years later, Kim is dangerously close to a nuke-tipped ICBM.  “This could greatly undermine the prospect of having a diplomatic solution over the Korean nuclear crisis,” said Zhao, stating the obvious.  Without Kim agreeing to disarm, Trump can wait only so long before Cruise missiles and smart-bombs hit Pyongyang.  Putting North Korea back on the Terror Watch List ratchets up the pressure on Kim to consider the repercussions.  Trump said the action “will impose further sanctions and penalties on North Korea . . .  and support our maximum pressure campaign to isolate the murderous regime.”  Zhao thinks that China and the U.S. see North Korean disarmament differently.

           Meeting at Mar-a-Lago, Fl, Aug. 11, Chinese President Xi Jinping and Trump agreed that North Korea must denuclearize the Korean Peninsula.  There were no degrees of separation between Xi and Trump on North Korea.  Speaking at the China-United States Exchange Foundation in Beijing Nov. 13, Zhao insisted that China sees North Korea as an “insecure” country trying to protect itself with nuclear weapons.  “For Chinese, we feel we can tolerate a nuclear-armed North Korea in the foreseeable future while we work out a long-term disarmament strategy,” said Zhao.  Zhao knows that North Korea has made countless nuclear threats against the U.S., with North Korea’s Foreign Minister saying Sept. 23 that it’s inevitable that North Korean would hit the U.S. with an ICBM.  With China North Korea’s biggest trading partner, China isn’t worried about a North Korean nuke.

            Going to the Nth-degree playing the diplomacy game, Trump’s run out of patience with North Korea’s nuclear ambitions.  Unlike China, that isn’t the target of North Korean nuclear threats, the U.S. is in North Korea’s crosshairs.  North Korea told NATO Secretary Jens Stotenberg Nov. 8 that its nukes and ICBMs are not meant for anyone but the United States.  North Korea’s official KCNA news bureau said Sept. 14 that it would turn the U.S. to “ashes and darkness,” “sink” Japan and “wipeout” South Korea.  With those kinds of existential threats, it’s no wonder Trump drew his red line on North Korean nukes and ballistic missiles program.  “China believes there is zero hope in denuclearizing North Korea,” said Zhao, confirming, what Vladimir Putin said Sept. 5 that North Korea would rather “eat grass” than give up its nukes and ballistic missiles, pushing the world closer to the brink.

About the Author  

John M. Curtis writes politically neutral commentary analyzing spin in national and global news. He’s editor of OnlineColumnsist.com and author of Dodging The Bullet and Operation Charisma.

[silviajburke]

The Second Largest Bubble in 100 Years

This post The Second Largest Bubble in 100 Years appeared first on Daily Reckoning.

How big is the current stock bubble?

How about the second-biggest stock bubble of the past 100 years! That’s the conclusion of veteran market technician Erik McCurdy, senior market technician for Prometheus Market Insight.

Based on current price-earnings (P/E) ratios, “Only the peak in 2000 during the dot-com bubble created a more overvalued market than the current one,” warns McCurdy.

The S&P 500 is up a blistering 240% from its March 2009 lows. Yet the overall economy creeps along at half-steam. The recovery — such as it is — is the weakest since the Great Depression.

What accounts for the discrepancy? Is it the Fed?

If you think it is, you’ve probably been reading lots of Jim Rickards and David Stockman.

And you’d also be right…

McCurdy: “Those gains have been fueled primarily by the Federal Reserve and its reckless stimulus policies… By holding short-term interest rates near zero for seven years, the Federal Reserve has encouraged malinvestment and speculation… creating massive market distortions and imbalances.”

Does he say when the bubble meets its inevitable end? No. No one can precisely. We know one brilliant analyst who’s predicted, to the date, hour and minute, 11 of the past two crashes. In the famous words attributed to John Maynard Keynes, “The market can stay irrational longer than you can stay solvent.”

But McCurdy says “at a current duration of nearly eight years, the latest cyclical top is long overdue and could form at any time.”

But this McCurdy fellow isn’t the only one eyeing straws in the wind…

Julian Emanuel is U.S. equity and derivatives strategist at UBS. From whom:

“The wall of worry which has supported stocks for eight years has given way to a deep sense of hope and optimism.”

Optimism. Isn’t that good? Not always:

“Such optimism is often seen near the end of bull moves/beginning of corrections rather than at the early or midstages.”

Optimism? The S&P has gone 70 straight sessions without a single fall of 1% or more, and it’s working hard on 71 — its longest streak since 2006, when it hit 94, according to CNBC.

“And you can remember what happened in 2007 and 2008,” warns Boris Schlossberg of BK Asset Management.

Indeed, we can. More: “There’s definitely some sort of a storm coming. I don’t know if it’s going to be mild, or more severe, but it’s almost impossible for me to believe that we’re just going to have this… calm for much longer. Something’s going to trip the markets and they’re going to get corrected.”

Ah, yes, something. But what exactly?

China goes for a “maxi-devaluation” of the yuan, perhaps. Many think China could do it soon. The market saw double-digit corrections the last two times China devalued a few percent, in 2015 and 2016. What would a 20% devaluation do?

Maybe something happens with Russia. Or maybe the media dig up something on Trump that roils markets. Or the Fed botches its way into another crash.

Whatever it is, the experts will probably miss it and then explain afterward how obvious it was at the time. And here’s a prediction, sure as sugar: They’ll try to pin it all on Trump. Even if he had zilch to do with it.

The establishments (plural), the globalists, the media all loathe Trump with a passion verging on lunacy. And what better way to discredit him and all the stump-toothed, gun-toting, beer-swilling deplorables from flyover country who put him in office?

Their cry will be this: “See what happens when those know-nothing, anti-globalist populists are allowed to call the shots? If we were in charge, none of this would have happened! (And under their breath: America first, we’ll see about that.”)

Many people will believe them. Then the elites can resume their places atop the pyramid. And the rest of us can resume our own places… far beneath.

Regards,

Brian Maher Managing editor, The Daily Reckoning

The post The Second Largest Bubble in 100 Years appeared first on Daily Reckoning.

[corruptiio-blog]

i made some changes in the “replies” section of my rules and im just gonna paste them here so everyone reads them and i dont have to make everyone go to my rules page.

ONE. First, please not harass me about replies. It usually takes me about a week or two to get to replies. I promise you I've seen them. If it's been a month without seeing a reply from me, feel free to send me a message. I may have actually missed it if it's been that long.

TWO. Second, I run the replies on this blog through the queue and I don't plan to change that. If that's going to be an issue for you, then this isn't the blog for you!