#you pay for education but end up googling all the shit yourself :)

[lonely-night]

it's only the end of the first week of new semester the anxiety and depression is crawling up already lmao this is bad

[iwillneverforgiveyousunghanbin]

bully⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

wednesday, seok matthew— phys. ed

⋆˙⟡ zbully1 smut series masterlist! hanbin, jiwoong, hao, matthew, and taerae included. game day (group) chapter here. all 7 endings here.

⋆˙⟡ wc: 2.7k

⋆˙⟡ reader: femme afab (listed first, she/her are used a couple times) // gender neutral (alternate version listed second, no pronouns used at all to describe reader— scroll down)

⋆˙⟡ series summary: five bullies. six days. it's gonna be a hell of a week, babe. stay hydrated.

⋆˙⟡ wednesday summary: it's hump day... *ahem*. unfortunately you're being forced to play contact sports under the leadership of team captain matthew seok. no matter how many times he's made a fool of you in front of your whole gym class, it never gets old for him. oh shit. uh, (y/n)? you might wanna duck...

⋆˙⟡ warnings: explicit smut. 18+. minors do not interact. please read specific smut warnings under the cut! swearing. angst. slight dub-con. small injury/blood warning, no graphic descriptions. bullying. red-pilled, muscle pig soccer player matthew. please rest up for thursday. smut in gn and fem versions are slightly different due to logistics/circumstance. also i KNOW it's called football. chill. we can't all be from a cool country.

⋆˙⟡ bully scale: ★★★★☆(4.0)

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), petting (reader receiving), pussyjob (google it if unfamiliar), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying/misogynistic.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your physical education teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had? 

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at him, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him. 

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing to the team, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal. 

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph. 

you duck.

it’s who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. she looked ready.”

“which part of her looked ready to you? the back of her head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “take (y/n) to my office and get her fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again. 

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk. 

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do wanna spread your legs. just not for me.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but ducky, think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of her for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, misogynistic pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t...”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your clit. 

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk. 

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short-shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pushing at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week? 

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and panties and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub against your dripping folds; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side. 

“so fucking wet for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, wanting more friction. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against your slit more passionately. with each rut, the tip of his cock hits your clit— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen clit, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignore the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap. 

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably. 

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

gender neutral version below

EXPLICIT SMUT 18+ WARNINGS: spanking (reader receiving), heavy petting/stroking (reader receiving), assjob/intergluteal (google it if unfamiliar, it's not anal; no anal penetration), slight dub-con but reader's honestly really fast to come around to this one lol, girthy!matthew, bullying.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　

you stand in a straight line with your other classmates, facing the soccer field and your gym teacher. eyes glued to your sneakers, you’re completely lost in thought. could anyone blame you after the past couple of days you’d had? 

unable to give hao an answer to his question yesterday, he’d simply laughed at you and left you in the orchestra storage closet to redress yourself in shame. you’d thought monday was bad, but tuesday was certainly your lowest point since starting university.

you’d made a vow that evening that something like this would never happen again...

right after you’d gotten off to the memory of it one last time.

your gym teacher, coach yang, blows his whistle to direct the class’s attention towards him. while you’re able to keep your eyes trained on him, your brain is another thing. to be fair, it’s not like you paid much attention during your wednesday afternoon gym class  even without such a heavy distraction weighing on you.

signing up for a physical education class had been the last thing you’d planned on doing while at university, but after a small hiccup with class registration left you shut out of all of your best alternatives, you’d had to settle on the last course available: physical education studies— team sports.

though you didn’t mind exercising and even found it fairly enjoyable when on your own and blasting your favorite music, you’d thought you’d be finished with the stress and chaos of team sports when you finished your high school requirements. you understood each sport enough, but could never seem to put that understanding into practical use.

lightly jogging back and forth and pretending to look engaged until class was over had become your signature specialty. except when an object started speeding towards your face.

no matter how many times a gym coach practiced catching a ball with you, the newly implanted knowledge would always just dissipate moments later. when the recreational game would start and a ball came flying at you...

you’d just duck.

“i’ll take ducky,” a voice suddenly calls. your eyes dart to find the source of the dreaded nickname, unsurprised at the culprit they land on. but why had he just called you?

you blink at the muscular boy, brow furrowed in confusion. “wh-... what?”

“were you paying attention, (y/n)-sshi?” coach yang asks, shaking his head and looking back at his clipboard. “can you explain it again, matthew-sshi?”

“oh, i’d be happy to,” matthew replies with a smirk. “we’re picking teams for soccer drills. wonhee and i are team captains.”

this unfortunately doesn’t answer any of your questions. if matthew was picking teammates of his own free will, why would he call your name?

“and you... want me?” you stumble, shaking your head when you realize how your question sounds. “on—... on your te—?”

“yeah, ducky,” matthew affirms, brow raised in a challenge as he smiles at you. “i do.”

you feel your palms begin to sweat as matthew’s fox eyes stare you down. this had to be connected to jiwoong and hao. you just weren’t sure how yet.

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang barks, pointing to the grass next to matthew. “let’s get moving.”

taking a deep breath, you walk over with your head down and stand behind your new team captain. he turns over his shoulder and winks at you.

oh help.

--------

after about an hour or so of various training drills, you’re surprised to find yourself still in one piece. but so far, matthew had treated you like he was treating everyone else on your team: which is to say, not great but... tolerable.

you’d almost let yourself settle into the feeling of just being one of matthew’s undervalued teammates when a harsh blow of a whistle jolts you from your peace.

“listen up,” coach yang calls from the bleachers. “we’ll be moving on to shooting drills now.”

matthew’s eyes find yours, brow piquing as he smirks. “will we need a goalie, coach?”

fuuuuuck no.

“yep, every team should choose a goalie,” coach yang confirms, leaning back even further on the bleacher behind him. 

matthew walks toward you, smile growing wider with every step. you shake your head, eyes pleading with him to let you live. because that’s what putting you inside a goal was: attempted murder.

“please, matt,” you whisper, breathing getting shakier as he closes the distance. “please, don’t do this.”

he puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes you happily, announcing, “lucky for us, we’ve got a volunteer right here! thanks for helping out the team, ducky.”

matthew slaps your back, encouraging you to take your place in the goal. 

“uh, hyung? should (y/n) really—?” a boy from your calculus class tries to save you, but it’s no use.

“yeah,” matthew interrupts, nostrils flared. “ducky really should. in five seconds or less.”

you dart off down the field toward the goal— which reaching in five seconds would be impossible, mind you— scrambling to make it in time before matthew makes an even bigger fool out of you.

when you finally reach the goal, you turn around and ready yourself for the drill to start. only, unbeknownst to you, the drill has already started.

and a soccer ball is hurtling through the air towards your head at 70 mph. 

you duck.

it’s just who you are.

the ball flies so fast past you, hitting the back of the net and bouncing to the ground. you sigh in relief after narrowly avoiding a collision. you’re so nervous, you suddenly feel a bit of sweat forming at your temples. you reach up and wipe it with your forearm, bringing it back down to see that the liquid from your forehead is not clear...

it’s red.

“(y/n)-sshi!” coach yang yells, laboredly getting up from his reclined position on the bleachers. “oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

he (lightly) jogs over to where you’re sat in the goal, bending down to examine the injury. holding up a finger, he has you follow it back and forth and up and down until he shrugs.

“pretty sure the ball just grazed your skin,” coach yang deduces, holding out a hand for you and helping you to your feet. “who kicked that ball?”

all eyes dart to matthew. he nudges the grass with his sneaker shamefully. “i’m sorry, coach. (y/n) looked ready.”

“which part looked ready to you? the back of the head?” coach yang asks, rolling his eyes. maybe he sees more from his perch than he lets on. “go to my office and get (y/n) fixed up.”

“but—,” you start to protest; the last thing you want is to be alone with matthew after all this.

“now,” coach yang asserts, throwing matthew his key ring. you start to walk back towards the gymnasium, wiping your forehead as it begins to feel damp again.

“yes, coach,” matthew agrees before falling into step beside you. he doesn’t speak, just fidgets with the key ring in his hand until you step through the door to the gym and find coach yang’s office.

he unlocks the door, holding it open for you. you step inside, looking around at all of the different sports equipment and trophies littering your teacher’s office. you jump as the door slams shut behind you and he notices your unintentional display of fear.

“jesus. am i gonna have to change your nickname to jumpy?” matthew snorts at his own joke before walking over to the cabinet beside coach yang’s desk. when he realizes you haven’t followed him, he turns around. “seriously, what’s your problem?”

“what’s—... what’s my problem?” you repeat, blinking back at him unbelievingly. “you kicked a ball at my head on purpose!”

“aw c’mon, ducky,” he says with a cute smile, taking a step towards you. “not like it’s the first time. maybe something else is on your mind?”

your body stiffens, at the taunting look in his eyes. “if you so much as put a hand on me, i’ll—.”

“me? touch you?” matthew interjects incredulously, tongue in his cheek as he grins. “the star of the soccer team has bigger dreams than putting his hands on you.”

the tiniest bit of confidence flickers in you as you think of the perfect reply. “th-thought hanbin was the star of the soccer team...”

“hanbin hyung is NOT—...” matthew starts to rage before seeing your expression. he exhales annoyedly and pats coach yang’s desk, “just shut up and sit down.”

“on—... on the desk?” you ask with frown. “there’s a chair right here.”

“easier to see with you closer to the light,” he answers dismissively, patting the desk again. 

you oblige warily, hopping up onto the open space on coach yang’s desk— feet dangling slightly off the ground. the position feels a little too vulnerable and you eagerly await for this all to be over.

“that’s what i hate about you intellectual types,” matthew says, bending down to open the filing cabinet drawer to the right of coach yang’s desk. he pulls out a small first aid kit, lifting the white box onto the desk beside you. “who the hell doesn’t know how to catch a ball? you think you’re so fucking smart, but you have no clue when it comes to the real world.”

as matthew opens the first aid kit and pulls out an alcohol wipe, he tears the packaging open with his teeth— his biceps flexing as he throws the wrapper into the waste bin by your coach’s desk. 

“then again, i’ve heard a rumor or two that you might know more than you let on,” he says with a soft smirk, gently dabbing the wipe to your bleeding temple. you flinch slightly at the sting. “i just find it hard to believe, ya know? honestly i’m kind of surprised that you have sexual impulses at all.”

matthew laughs to himself as he pulls out an anti-infection topical, twisting the cap off with his fingers. he lifts a q-tip from the kit and covers one side in the topical serum.

“was convinced that was the case after i tried to bag you last year,” he says, dragging the q-tip across your now-clean cut. “only to find out this week that you apparently do want dick. just not mine.”

“you... you what!?” you shout, matthew putting the index finger of his free hand to your lips to keep you quiet. you glare at him until he finally removes it. “didn’t you just say you had more important people to—?”

“and i do. but, to be honest, ducky, i couldn’t help but think about the story of it all. the nerdy little prude letting the jock make a mess of you for the first time behind the bleachers. scared. helpless... euphoric,” matthew muses far too casually, tossing the q-tip in the trash and pulling out a bandage from the kit. he opens the wrapper, scrunching the paper up and laying it down on the desk next to you. “now that i know you’re... tainted... i’m just not as eager.”

“tainted?” you repeat angrily, shifting a bit on the desk. this is exactly the kind of shit you’d expect from matthew. “you really are nothing but a protein-addicted, red-pilled pig.”

he nods slowly, humming as he places the small, clear bandage on your cut— veiny hands delicately smoothing out the edges. “but you like that, don’t you, ducky?”

“no,” you deny quickly with a frown, head tilting slightly in confusion as matthew’s fingers linger at your temple. “i d-don’t.”

“mm, nice try. but this cute little wet spot right here says otherwise,” he retorts, placing a hand on each of your knees and pulling your legs apart with ease so he can get a better look at your clothed center. “i think you more than like it, actually.”

matthew starts to slide his hands up your thighs, thumbs grazing the insides as your cheeks flush. not again.

“two days in a row and you still want more?” he whispers, squeezing each of your thighs in his palms. “what? hyungs couldn’t satisfy you?”

you find yourself shaking your head involuntarily, matthew’s eyes lighting up with this news.

“can i quote you on that?” he asks with a grin, fingers on his right hand now brushing against your still-covered heat. “jiwoong hyung said you like this.”

he applies a little more pressure and, though you try to steady your breathing, a little whimper escapes as he finds your most sensitive part. 

“and hao hyung said you like surprises,” matthew says, looking up at you with lidded eyes— the tiny mole above his cheek visible in the fluorescent school light. if you didn’t know any better, you would swear he was about to kiss you. but instead, he takes a step back and folds his arms across his chest. “you’re all fixed. get up.”

luckily, you stop the pout from reaching your lips, sighing as you hop off of coach yang’s desk and onto the tile floor.

“oh, can you grab the bandaid wrapper?” he asks, putting the first aid kit back in the cabinet drawer. you turn around, looking for the paper wrapper and spotting it on the desk. 

you bend over slightly to reach it, yelping in pain when a harsh smack suddenly comes down across your ass. you fall slightly onto the top of the desk, chest flush against the wood and short gym shorts riding up your thighs.

“were you surprised enough?” matthew teases, hands pulling at the seam of your shorts to expose more of you to him. “cause i’d really like you to let me fuck you now.”

“i’m—... i s-said i wasn’t gonna let something like this happen again,” you reply, shaking your head. couldn’t you just use your brain for once this week? 

“aw, ducky. that’s really fucking pathetic,” he coos patronizingly, hooking his fingers around the crotch of your shorts and underwear and pushing them to the side. “making me so hard.”

“matthew, i can’t—,” you whimper, resolve fading fast as another sickening smack ripples across your ass cheek. “oh my god.”

you feel something start to rub lightly in between your cheeks; it’s warm, veiny and thick. you hear a low, throaty moan escape the boy behind you, his hands gripping into your hips on either side. 

“so fucking ready for me, hm?” matthew rasps and, as you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him, he bites his lip. “bet you’ve thought about this for a long time.”

of course he’s full of himself even now. you don’t care much at this moment though. the first part of his statement is embarrassingly correct: you need him right now. arrogance and all.

you buck your hips back, demanding more. though he smacks your ass again in punishment, he can’t hide his hungry panting as he reaches his hand around to start working at your aching core.

“fuuuck,” he breathes, grinding his length against you more passionately. with each shallow rut, both the tip of his cock and his meaty fingers stimulate the arousal between your thighs even more— rendering you a moaning mess. “easy. fucking told them it’d be easy.”

your high is steadily approaching as the abuse continues on your swollen heat, ears only filled with lust as you block out his mumbling. “matthew, please. i think... ‘m gonna—.”

“let go for me, little duck,” he coaxes, rhythm starting to falter. “yeah? then i can fuck y—.”

“matthew-sshi!?” coach yang’s voice suddenly bellows through the locked office door. “open this door right NOW!”

“no fucking way,” matthew whines loudly as you scramble off of your teacher’s desk— shifting the crotch of your shorts back into place as he slams a fist down on the filing cabinet next to you. “we weren’t finished! i thought i was gonna be the one to—.”

“one... two...” coach yang starts counting down, causing matthew to run to the door and open it immediately. such a petulant child, you think as you ignorie the feeling of your arousal starting to drip down your thigh.

“are you kidding me!? this is the third person i’ve caught you doing this with in here this semester alone, matthew-sshi,” coach yang reprimands as soon as he steps inside, throwing his clipboard down on the floor and removing his baseball cap. 

was matthew about to face serious consequences for this? i mean, he did purposely injure you as a ruse to have sex with him... probably.

“but you’re the team’s best centre-back. you’ve gotta support hanbin out there,” coach yang says with a sigh, matthew subtly rolling his eyes at the mention of his superior hyung. “i just can’t bench you for saturday’s game.”

“oh my god,” you whisper, eyes wide at matthew’s ability to evade punishment. it’s not just infuriating: it’s impressive.

“thank you coach,” matthew says, suddenly turning on that cute charm like the gumiho he must truly be. “i won’t let you down.”

“(y/n)-sshi,” coach yang calls, turning to look at you. “you’ll be cleaning soccer balls after every class until the end of the unit.”

“WHAT!?” you screech in shock. you’ve never received so much as a disciplinary warning in your entire academic career. “but—... but—.”

“you can clean the tennis balls next unit too, if you like,” he says, picking up his clipboard from off the ground and replacing his baseball cap onto his head. “and stop with the ducking, will you? i don’t need a lawsuit on my hands.”

you nod, your entire face burning as your coach looks anywhere but at you. you can’t say you blame him.

“c’mon, matthew-sshi. team meeting in fifteen minutes,” he instructs, walking out of his office. matthew starts to follow, but turns around in the doorway.

“meet me after practice, we can—,” he whispers, until a hand latches around the collar of his shirt and pulls him away, leaving you all on your lonesome in the small gymnasium office.

so... wednesday hadn’t gone how you’d hoped. no use crying over spilled milk (or spilled blood). thursday would be a better day.

but maybe purchasing a chastity belt wouldn’t be such a bad idea in the mean time.

[isa-ghost]

Dude, I feel like an idiot.

I know nothing about any Minecraft YouTubers, and this whole time I thought Dream was in the QSMP, and I was about to block you because I don’t really like him. So I went to your blog and read your tagged pin about not wanting to interact with Dream stans. I was confused by this since I thought he was in the SMP you like and had to Google it and realized Dream hasn’t even been in the QSMP this entire time.

Anyway, I guess PSA to people like me who don’t follow Minecraft stuff: Dream is, in fact, NOT a part of the QSMP.

I feel like such a fool since I try not to lump content creators together, but I really misunderstood this one.

LDFKSDL;FKSDLGJ AT FIRST I WAS ABOUT TO GO ALL "EXCUSE ME??" ABOUT THIS BUT LIKE.

DUDE. DUDE DR*M TRIED TO COPY THE IDEA OF QSMP BEING MULTILINGUAL/CULTURAL AND WAS GONNA CALL IT "UNITED SMP". IT WAS AN ENTIRE DRAMA THING (mainly on Twitter bc that's where the CCs are active). BUT IT LITERALLY [OFFICIALLY] ENDED HIS FRIENDSHIP WITH QUACKITY. AND YOU CONFUSING THINGS SO BADLY WHILE I KNOW THIS IS TOO FUNNY FOR ME TO BE LIKE "UM PARDON THE FUCK" ABOUT IT, SO YOU GET A PASS THIS TIME.

THE Q IN QSMP STANDS FOR QUACKITY. THE CONTENT CREATOR WHO MADE QSMP. (Fans will say it stands for Queer because so many of the CCs on it make gay love canonically in roleplay so often)

ANYWAY

Anon I can promise you most, if not ALL of QSMP fans fucking HATE Dr*m's p*dophile asshole egotistical ass. I want that sack of shit to drop dead like NOW. At all times. I could rant for EONS about his stupid ass and the horrid experiences I've had with his stupid fans. I'm glad you've now learned first hand why people who think "all of Minecraft YouTube = Dr*m & His Friends" are stupid and why nobody who watches mcyt likes people like that.

Dr*m (and the Dr*m Team [Dream & his friends G*orgeNotFound and S*pnap])'s fans are the mcyt equivalent of Tr*mp supporters. No one likes or respects them. No one understands how they can support such a problematic douchebag when there are entire threads of actual literal proof he's a problematic douchebag. Some of the things in those threads are things he has straight up admitted himself are real. Also I am literally censoring his, G*rge and S*pnap's names so their rabid ass stans don't somehow find this post and then swarm & doxx me. Because they do that. I have witnessed genuinely traumatic witch hunts on Twitter executed by Dr*m Team stans before I got rid of that shit app.

Somewhere I have a post of entire TLDR'd reasons between 2021-2022 of why Dr*m fucking sucks and no one should support him.

The SMP you were confusing is DSMP. Dr*m SMP. Which btw he didn't even fucking pay for the server the SMP was on himself. His friend (ex friend? I wish/hope ex) BadBoyHalo (BBH) who IS on QSMP was paying for it. So people like me who fucking hate and resent Dr*m will spitefully call DSMP "BBHSMP" sometimes because almost all the streamers that were on DSMP minus the Dr*m Team were and still are fabulous people, and I will gladly list them and the reasons they're great people if I really have to or if someone's genuinely curious about it. DSMP was awesome. Several were amazing queer creators that wouldn't have the exposure they do now if they hadn't joined and that's just one reason DSMP was great before we all found out Dr*m is a walking talking sack of shit.

So now that you have this knowledge, do yourself and the entire mcyt community a favor: Stop assuming anything Minecraft YouTube = Dr*m = Racist And Bad and Shitty. And start educating other people who think that way that they're wrong too.

Anyone who gets worked up at hearing "SMP" in a sentence is literally getting angry at hearing Minecraft "Survival Multi Player" which is often literally just groups of friends who are also streamers playing Minecraft. And maybe roleplaying as they do so. People who get angry at SMPs are literally getting mad about people roleplaying in a video game about cubes. It's like if they got pissed at a cube version of Dungeons & Dragons somewhat. They just look like a massive fucking clown.

Also, in general, don't forget the golden rule: To assume makes an ass out of u and me.

I am patting your head anon. Thank you for the laugh. Now take this knowledge and do the mcyt fandom a favor by shutting other uninformed people up. We have enough issues we're fighting to put an end to every day. We're not some racist monolith or whatever like some people for some reason think, so many of us are fighting tooth and nail to bring awareness to internal issues in the fandom, constantly. Just like any other fucking fandom. It's absolutely mind-blowing and braincell-killing to me that non-mcyt fans just assume we're all okay with racism or some shit. I've actually seen people like this, it's a real thing somehow.

Also also: I hope anyone who was following me for my previous hyperfixations (looking at you JSE community people who didn't also take the jse -> mcyt pipeline like me) also takes this knowledge. It's one thing if y'all don't want to see me blogging about something you're not interested in. It's another if you've thought something shitty and untrue about me or the fandom currently captivating me hardest this entire time. You guys too, do us mcyt enjoyers a favor, and start educating misinformed people so we don't have to go around expecting to be labeled racist or some other shitty awful thing over liking watching people play Minecraft.

[deniigi]

How to Critically Analyze a Piece of Media

By Deniigiq (Almost Ph.D)

 So as a person who has spent the last 5+ years working in higher education in both research and staff capacities, I feel that it is my responsibility to provide y’all with some tools to help you critically analyze shit that you come across so that you don’t end up guilt tripping yourselves and others around you 24/7.

I am writing this because I see people constantly saying that people no longer know how to critically analyze something or don’t have critical thinking skills, but very few people actually have the time/energy/obligation to break down what that actually means and looks like for others.

The good news is that I apparently do have the time, energy, and honestly, the genuine concern to start to help people do that.

This is going to be a long-ass post.

I am not sorry.

It is not comprehensive.

I am not sorry for that either. This is just a tiny taste of some shit that you can and should really go ham with.

 So anyways, here’s how to critically analyze a piece of media.

 Critically analyze = asking questions of a text/media/object and thinking about answers to those questions.

THAT’S IT, PEOPLE.

THAT’S ALL. Don’t make it more complicated at this point in time.

 Here are some basic questions that you want to ask yourself about a text/media/object (hereafter referred to as a Thing) before, after, and during your consumption of it:

When was this made?

The period in which a Thing is made is important because the world during that particular point in time influences the decisions that went into producing the Thing.

Why was this made?

This question has layers. You will find many answers to this question if you pose it to anything that exists ever. And it should have multiple reasons because humans give many different meanings to individual things. There are often very few absolutely right answers to this question.

Who made this thing?

The layered identities of the people who create a Thing are always present in it. The important part is that if a person creates a Thing, then that Thing will have both insights into that person’s perspectives/beliefs/values/identity AND the limitations of those perspectives/beliefs/values/identity.

What ideas does this Thing include and what ideas does this Thing leave out?

This is a really basic question that you probably don’t think of to ask yourself often, but when you are presented with a Thing, you have to first identity what is literally there right in front of you (example: this is a movie about a superhero. The superhero is a tall, beefy white man. The tall beefy white man has 2 sidekicks. And so on and so on.)

THEN, once you’ve done that, you sit back and think about what is NOT there. (The tall beefy white man’s sidekicks are both white characters. None of them are woman. None of them are people of color. And so on and so on.)

Once you get to this point in your analysis, you start asking different questions about the Thing.

For each answer you come up with to the above questions, you ask yourself:

1. Why?

and

2. How?

Some questions you may find yourself making at this point include:

Why was this Thing done in this way?

Why does this Thing have that audience?

How does this aspect of the Thing affect this other aspect of it?

Why did the person who made this Thing choose to do it X-way and not Y-way?

How might the time and place this Thing was made in affect its creation?

So you may be saying to yourself at this point, “but Matt, this doesn’t sound very critical to me! This just sounds like a load of fucking questions.”

To which I will say: thank god you have finally understood, padawan.

Being critical of something does not mean that you or someone else hates it.

It does not mean that you or someone else thinks the Thing is worthless.

It does not mean that you or someone else hates the people who made the Thing or the people who like the Thing.

It simply means that you have asked questions about the Thing and have recognized what it is, what it is doing, and what it is not doing from a variety of different perspectives.

So that means that when someone comes to you and says, ‘this Thing is having X effect on its audience,’ ‘this part of this Thing is representing X idea in Y ways,’ or ‘this Thing is leaving X people out in its story, which has Y effects’ that ‘criticism’ isn’t actually a targeted attack on you as a person.

This is because Things are not personality traits. Fandom ideas and ships and headcanons and whatever else are not what makes you you. You are special and unique because of so many other things that you do and have experienced. The thing that you like does not make up the entirety of your person or identity, even if that Thing or hell, even if a specific person has a lot of emotional value to you.

And because of that, when someone criticizes a piece of media or an object, they are not criticizing you. Rather, they are explaining to you how a Thing is functioning through a lens that you often don’t have access to or haven’t thought of.

That’s all!

That’s it, folks!

And just so that we are clear, you can absolutely like a Thing after going through this process and finding that it has all sorts of limitations.

You may find that there’s a lot of shit about a bit of media/fandom/object that you don’t like, and you might decide that that shit outweighs the things you do like about whatever it is.

And regardless of the case, you are MORE than allowed to continue to consume a bit of media or whatever and say, ‘you know what? I enjoy this for a number of reasons. And I also acknowledge that there are parts of it that are not good for a number of other reasons. So now when I have fun with this Thing, I’m going to be aware of and sensitive to those less great parts, while also celebrating the good parts of it, too.’

That’s totally fine. In fact, that’s great. That’s amazing. That’s the kind of awareness that people are asking you to have when they ask for critical analysis.

 So. In conclusion:

Critical analysis is a tool that helps you think beyond the surface layer of an idea/thing/object. Being asked to think critically is not an attack. It does not mean that you cannot enjoy something or let it occupy an important place in your heart.

Critical analysis is a tool for everyone to use, and it is intended to help you understand how an idea/thing/object relates both to itself and the world around it.

What you do with critical analysis after that point is all up to your values and morals.

Anyways, if you have more questions, please don’t ask me. Ask yourself and then ask Google for more information or what to do next. That’s a whole different process called ‘researching’ and no one is paying me to teach you all how to research next. (...UNLESS???)

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

[volcanokids]

Hey idk who needs to hear this but the shit going on with Robinhood and Gamestop right now should make you really fucking angry and I’ll tell you why

If you’re not up to speed on the situation, here’s some good posts explaining it. The gist is that using completely legal means, a bunch of individual retail investors (fancy words for normal ass people who, like the rest of us, have very little money) who invest on online brokerage apps (like Robinhood) bought stock in Gamestop after hedge funds worked hard to manipulate the market for their own gains. These average people interrupted the plans of these much larger hedge funds to essentially drive Gamestop’s stock price into the ground by buying all of the stock these companies had and holding onto it, which has now costed these hedge funds BILLIONS of dollars, and for once has disrupted their long standing practice of market manipulation to fuck people over and maintain the wealth of the 1%.

Otherwise average people with accounts on Robinhood, Fidelity, Webull, etc., have now taken and held a ridiculously huge amount of control over GME stock and the rich corporations invested into it and caused it’s growth to absolutely explode. I’ve seen COUNTLESS stories in which many of them turned hundreds of dollars into thousands, made enough much needed money to pay off debts, medical bills, or just to put into savings that they wouldn’t have gotten under other circumstances. They accumulated small fortunes and gave power back to the people, and best of all took that money directly out of the hands of greedy and corrupt billion dollar hedge funds.

But of course, there had to be backlash for this.

Last night (1/27), Robinhood took away its investors’ ability to buy any more stock in Gamestop than they already owned, and today has made its user base fully unable to trade Gamestop stock AT ALL unless it is to sell their already owned shares, like literally fully took away the button that lets you purchase GME stock, period. Straight up preventing trade like this to any degree in the free market, much less to favor billion dollar corporations, is incredibly blatant market manipulation which is very illegal, hence the class-action lawsuit that has already been filed against Robinhood. Hedge funds have lost literally BILLIONS of dollars to normal people trading stock legally, and Robinhood halting trade and making selling the ONLY option for Gamestop, AMC, and similar companies is their attempt at helping the hedge funds gain back their fortune after they failed to manipulate the market in their favor, and fucking over the average people who are invested on their platform in the process. 

Retail investors—regular people—when this happened, lost THEIR ability to buy, and therefore continue taking back the wealth held by the hedge funds, but this restriction on Robinhood has NO effect on hedge funds, who have now been able to buy and sell all day today (1/28) freely. They used the opportunity to drive the price of Gamestop down again, essentially trying to bail themselves out after they manipulated the market and fucked themselves over in the first place. So, Robinhood, several other trading brokers, CNBC, and any other large corporation who has pissed on Reddit for “manipulating the market” have also now revealed their alignment with these companies, who are the reason the wealth in America is as disparaged as it is. They’re complaining, shifting the blame, even making up straight up lies about retail investors being involved in the alt-right to defame the people who have beat them at their shitty game.  

People on Reddit saw the manipulation, played the game fairly, and hedge funds are STILL trying to fuck them over for daring to touch the fortunes that they have gained by their shady as hell practices and fucked up the economy by hoarding. Reddit saw an opportunity to actually literally redistribute wealth, and these companies are trying to put us all in our place and keep that from happening by extremely corrupt means.

Market manipulation has been going on for a very long time with very little pushback from the people who actually take the blow when the market tanks—i.e. lower to middle class people who can’t afford bailouts and end up broke and out of jobs when the market crashes. The crash of ‘08 was caused by big brokers doing illegal shit and fucking around with people’s money with absolutely no personal repercussions. No lawsuits (or at least no lawsuits that did fuck all about it) no jail time for anyone responsible, nothing. Not only has this Gamestop movement taken back some of the wealth, we are beginning to finally hold these companies accountable. Again, as of right now, a class-action lawsuit has been filed against Robinhood for their blatant market manipulation, and hedge funds invested in GME have lost over 5 billion dollars.

We always talk about eat the rich, fuck the 1%, redistribute the wealth. I know the stock market is confusing—it’s made that way on purpose—and I understand anyone’s personal reluctance to participate in the stock market directly because of the hatred for it’s capitalistic nature and everything it’s done wrong and every way it’s failed so many people. But, if you want to actually be a part of a movement that is literally taking billionaire’s wealth and redistributing it right now, show support on social media for the people putting in time and money to make this happen.

I am not qualified at all to give financial advice, and I can’t in good faith tell anyone to buy stocks, ESPECIALLY knowing many, many people do not have the disposable income to be able to do so. Do not spend money you don’t have. But the media is going to and has been altering the narrative, making the small investors look like they’re being corrupt. Do not believe them. They’re often paid out or owned by these big corporations in the first place, they do not give a shit about any of us, about ruining our lives, about taking everything we’re worth. They’ve done it forever. But the HUGE number of people buying GME, supporting, and cooperating with each other with the solitary goal of fucking over these hedge funds, fighting them and beating them at their own game is scaring the absolute shit out of them. It’s becoming a movement that’s being compared to another occupy wall street. It’s showing people they have the power to instigate change and could legitimately lead to an entire restructuring of the system if we play our cards right. Of course changing one capitalist system into another capitalist system is not ideal nor is it the goal, but this whole thing has very quickly become a movement backed by A LOT of people who have knowledge about the system, have seen it work and seen it get corrupted in real time, acknowledged exactly where it fucks us all over, and are beginning to break it down by exposing a huge and obvious instance of corruption at the hands of billionaires.

If you can do nothing else, educate yourself about all the fuck shit these companies are doing, rally support on whatever social media you use, keep posting diamond-hands-we-like-the-stock-gme-to-the-moon-memes, put pressure on the brokerage apps like Robinhood who are manipulating the market and let them know there will be hell to pay. Robinhood is sitting at a well deserved one star review on the google play store for their shitty actions and has gotten burned over and over on twitter, lots of investors are planning a mass exodus and closing their Robinhood accounts when all this shit is over, as WELL as the lawsuit, and all of it has garnered the attention of some very influential figures who now have our backs. All of the repercussions they’re facing is the direct result of our outrage and backlash. Be outraged with us and let’s make real fucking change.

GME to the fucking moon everyone 🚀

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

[steve-rogers-ruined-men-for-me]

Teach Me

Summary: Bucky’s worried about you overworking yourself at your teaching job. 

Warnings: some swearing, cute couple shit

Words: 2014k

A/N: this is my first full fic! I’ve really missed writing just for fun and I have a few more fic ideas and hc ideas in the works! please please please comment and let me know what you think! 

No matter what, you always came to bed when Bucky did. Sometimes you stayed up on your phone or reading but you always at least sat on the bed with him. He knew that you had a big week coming up, with your principal coming to observe you, midterms drawing closer, and your students struggling with the new curriculum the district was imposing. 

You were a high school English teacher and Bucky had met you when your school had put on an assembly about the history of the Avengers. He had noticed you in the back of the auditorium, wearing a soft blue dress and encouraging your students to ask him questions about his prosthetic. He shyly asked Tony to see if he could contact the school later and get your number. He had rolled his eyes at him and had walked up to you and asked in plain English, “The Manchurian Candidate over there wants to take you to dinner. If I set up the reservation and promise to make him show up, will you go?” Your jaw had dropped and you had numbly agreed. James Buchanan Barnes wanted to go on a date with you? Despite your doubts regarding the reality of the situation, you showed up outside the quiet Italian restaurant and the rest was history.

Bucky smiled at the memory of you dressed in a red silk jumpsuit with your hair braided back. You looked like a modern version of the girls he flirted with during the forties. Only, back then, he had been wondering how to get up their skirts but now he was more concerned with taking his time getting the jumpsuit off your gorgeous body. He felt a twitch between his legs and, smirking, shook the feeling off. He padded down to the kitchen, thinking you had gotten hungry. When that search yielded no you, he wandered through the rest of the downstairs. He noted that your car hadn’t left the driveway and checked the calendar on the fridge to see if he had the opening shift at the mechanic’s tomorrow (he mercifully did not). But he took note of how small your writing was on your to-do list for Monday. 

Feeling a pang in his chest, he remembered how he had begged you to let him have your full attention on Friday and Saturday.  While you’d reveled in your domestic bliss, by noon on Sunday, you had been buried in your office with your laptop, surrounded by books, papers, and highlighters. Smiling to himself, he realized where you were. He headed up to the attic loft, converted into your office. The walls were a soft gray and the couch the two of you had bought for your tiny first apartment was squeezed against one wall. 

Bucky’s heart tightened as he saw you sprawled on the couch, wrapped in one of his massive flannels. Your desk light was on and the desk was messier than he’d ever seen it. Your blinking phone alerted him to the fact that you’d set an alarm for midnight, but had been so tired you’d slept through it, a given considering you were working yourself to the bone and it was two a.m. Afraid to ruin your organizational system on your desk, he returned the pens and highlighters to the little decorative cups you kept them in, saved every file you had open on your laptop before closing it, and pushed the papers in imminent danger of falling onto the floor farther back on the desk. 

Content that he had lessened the burden of cleaning you’d have to do tomorrow, he crouched next to the couch. Gently smoothing a stray hair out of your face, he whispered, “baby...come on, get up, let’s go to bed.” You opened your eyes slowly and then jerked upright, sending your phone flying and Bucky scrambling backwards. 

“What time is it!” you cried, frantic. You ran towards your desk, frantically pinging your phone from your Apple Watch. Your clock on your desk blinked back 2:05 a.m. at you. Bucky picked up your incessantly beeping phone and handed it to you as you slumped in your desk chair, head in your hands. 

“I just wanted to get this stupid assessment plan done,” you whispered. You hugged his flannel tight around you as tears started to fall. Bucky turned your swivel chair so you were facing him as he knelt in between your legs. You dropped your upper body and rested your forehead on his shoulder as you sobbed. The weight of turning in grades, making assignments, checking in with your students to make sure they were doing okay, it was weighing on you. Bucky had noticed you sleeping less and drinking more coffee but hadn’t truly realized the toll it was taking on you. Kicking himself for making you spend time with him instead of alleviating your burdens at work, he pulled you out of the chair to sit between his legs, curling you into him and rocking gently. After a few minutes, you tilted your chin up and scooched back. Sitting criss cross between his legs, you cupped your chin and closed your eyes.

“I don’t know what to do, Buck,” you said sadly. You tugged on a loose button on your sleeve, looking like a lost puppy. Bucky knew how much you adored teaching and how much you loved your students. You were always baking treats for them when they did well on exams, buying bagels so that they could eat breakfast, and extending deadlines for the kids who worked. He knew that the American school system had changed since the 1940s and when you had shown him what you had to teach in a week and just how much time and energy went into lesson planning, he almost formed his own teachers union to advocate for you. 

When he found out your dismal salary, he had to take a walk. He spent an hour with Tony railing against your pay and the administrators who punished you for the test scores of students that you had no control over. Tony sat him down after an hour of not being able to get a word in edgewise and finally pledged to harass the local school boards (and the Board of Education if they would call him back) about raising teacher salaries. Bucky had walked home to you pouring over birthday cards your sixth period juniors had given you because they’d gotten a tip that it was your birthday. (Peter helped Bucky hack your Google Classroom). He felt a wave of pride come over him as he looked at you, his selfless girl, thrilled that she was having an impact on the kids she loved the most. You getting so down on yourself broke his heart. 

“What’s wrong with your assessment plan?” he asked, intertwining your hands with his. You looked up angrily. “What ISN’T wrong with it is a better question!” you cried. “The district made the test up and it’s on a fucking scantron because what fucking isn’t these days and it’s not taking into account the fact that school is not the main focus for so many of these kids that have to fucking work and help support their siblings and all they are is numbers on a fucking piece of paper that tells you nothing about the effectiveness of my teaching or the district’s ability to educate them as a whole!” Bucky blinked rapidly as you huffed. You didn’t get angry very often, but when you did and you started to monologue, he understood why you received a distinction with your English degree. 

“Baby,” he started gently, “can I ask you something you may not like?” He knew that you were a planner and that the odds were you were beating yourself up about a task that had taken your coworkers thirty minutes to do. You always wanted to do right by your kids but if you didn’t start sleeping and taking care of yourself, you were useless to everyone, including yourself. You looked up at Bucky through teary eyes.

“Are you going to ask me if the plan’s done and I’m just being picky?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky stood up, taking you with him. He pressed your frame against him, putting your arms over his shoulders and resting his hands on your waist. He stayed to sway slightly, trying to lull you back to sleep and to try to help quiet your mind. “I wouldn’t say picky I just...look. I’m being selfish. I want you to come to bed with me. I want you to play with my hair and whisper that you love me when you think I’m out cold asleep,” he gushed, noting the slight blush that crept up your cheeks. “You are incredible. Your admin are literally fucking stupid, doll. Nothing you do will change that. You are trying your best and if you think that your kids won’t benefit from the 12 different plans you’ve cooked up, then you’re crazy. Your kids don’t need a version 13, baby. They need you whole, in one piece, and ready to fight for them if they need.” He kissed your forehead, trying to ease your creased brow. Giving in to his ministrations, you sighed. You thought about how this plan should’ve probably only taken an hour. But then you rewrote the plan for the week based off of if your kids took a lot of time on the test, a little time, got anxious during it, caught on fire during it, committed larceny during the test and you had to contact the police. You knew it was overkill but you also knew that budget cuts were coming, contracts were up at the end of this year, and you and Bucky were saving to buy a house instead of living in a condo forever. 

“Buck?” you whispered. He lifted his chin off your head and looked down.

“Yeah, doll?” 

You felt the exhaustion settle into you all at once. “Can we go to bed?” 

Picking you up and putting you in a fireman’s carry, Bucky held you the whole way down to your bedroom. He pulled out a shirt of his for you to sleep in while you brushed your teeth and rinsed off in the shower. He walked in right as you were towelling off and he slipped it over your head with ease. He offered to blow dry your hair but you declined, favoring slipping into a warm sleep with him. He cuddled you close, forgoing asking you to play with his hair in favor of trying to hug all the pride he felt about you into your body via osmosis. Your head was resting soft on his chest, one arm curled protectively around his torso. His metal arm was tucked up and around your shoulders, keeping you comfortable. His flesh hand caressed your arm around him to remind you that he would always be there for you. He loved you more than anything. As your breathing evened and his hand on your side rose in gentle time with your breath, he decided that he was going to call Tony tomorrow. He knew a few people who owed him from his time as the Winter Soldier and if they didn’t want their dirty laundry exposed, dammit he was going to make someone in the district fix the stupid test until it worked how you wanted it to work. He hugged you closer to him, giving you one final squeeze before he started drifting off to sleep. He slipped into a dream where he was a professor and you a naughty schoolgirl and he had just convinced you to bend over to pick something up behind his desk when...a loud snore from you jolted him back to the reality of his exhausted teacher girlfriend wearing his baggy shirt, with hair going every which way. There was no plaid skirt here. Only love and admiration. Bucky kissed your temple and willed sleep to come again. 

[hwallout]

quatervois - ljy

summary: “Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

words: 21,7k (this was 38 pages on word im,,,i birthed a monster im so sorry)

genre: assassin!juyeon, assassin!reader, angst, drama, fluff, crack if u use a microscope

warnings: (not explicit) violence, murder, language

early an: holy shit it’s here

The way you got introduced and became a part of such a job wasn’t exactly how one would imagine.

Becoming an assassin hasn’t been a direct wish of yours. As expected, in the beginning, this exact possibility had never crossed your mind. Growing up in an ordinary, middle-class household, it was expected of you to follow the footsteps of many. Never the smartest kid in class, but with a knack for logic and solving thought experiments, you’ve imagined becoming a philosopher of some type. Nothing too spectacular, but interesting enough and different than a usual 9-5 job.

So then, how exactly have you come to holding a knife against a random man’s throat almost daily?

Of course, while young, a person is prone to the effect of the outside world and people surrounding them. Some pupils are lucky enough to live in the best surroundings and are given amazing opportunities; therefore, they grow up into kind, successful people. Then, there are those who thanks to certain circumstances end up walking a different path, all of them hoping for the best possible outcome.

In today’s society, the importance of money was huge. It was expected that every family, containing at least one adult person, was able to deal with constant fluctuation of cash and sudden, unanticipated expenses. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case in many households and those kids had to experience helpless life without enough money, while their parents fought for every coin.

It was incredibly unfortunate that it affected you as well, even so in the worst possible moment – right before university.  

Thanks to stupid reasons that could’ve easily been prevented, your family fell into dept, causing both of your parents to find second jobs. Not having enough money to continue with a rather expensive education, you felt obliged to find a job.

And of course, being so young and ambitious, but mostly misfortune driven, you thought that the future of the household was in your hands. It was a must to find something that pays good, fast.

Consequently, the first night was spent scrolling down the endless pages of Google. You searched for something that didn’t require any special education (because of obvious reasons), but would generously help your situation. Seconds extended into minutes, those into hours, days even. Finding a good job with no degree was pretty hard, yet what else could’ve you expected?  

The issue had you visiting most irrelevant sites, clicking on shady ads (and installing a thousand viruses, probably), asking strangers in online chatrooms. Lost and unexperienced, you struggled and almost accepted the proposal of being a stripper in a famous strip club downtown.  

Almost.  

The job you were suddenly introduced to was something seen in movies and video games only. For whichever reason, it appeared in a dream one night. The dream had you play the main character, dressed in all black, doing all the terrifying, dirty work with random weapons, but being paid a huge sum afterwards. It was scandalous enough to have you hesitating for a little while upon waking up, disgusted at the thought of doing it.

Still, remembering the money filled suitcase, you’ve overcome the initial revulsion fast. Unexpectedly intrigued by the idea, you thought a little research couldn’t hurt anyone. Finding a reliable site that offered information on paid assassins only took a couple of minutes. The author of the article was an ex-FBI agent, therefore you thought there couldn’t be data more reliable than this. Upon a quick look, you’ve come to the conclusion that the study was most definitely written with intent of educating people on this topic, rather than motivating them to apply for it. Oh well.

From an objective point of view, it was exactly what you were looking for. It didn’t require any special degree from any university and it paid horrendously well, with small variations on the amount due to different employers. Reading further though, you realized that not just anyone can become an assassin, or hitman, as people liked to call it.

It demanded years of training, hard work and terrifying change. The author described it as “...complete mutation of one’s mind and personality, utter desensitization to almost everything. Those people become machines...”. You didn’t doubt their words, on the contrary, you believed them completely. It was only logical that a person has to get used to blood, extreme violence, emotionless murder, which were no ordinary or acceptable sights and actions. Of course, you were in denial, about to laugh at yourself for even reading the article seriously.

But then your eyes landed on the pay again. The numbers were huge. It would definitely help. Your family needed this. Sacrifices had to be made.

The next day, you bought a burner phone with the last bits of your savings. Entering an empty alley, you immediately dialed a phone number you’ve found at 3am. You didn’t know what was the worst that could happen, seeing as you were dialing a shady number from a shady website with shady intentions. Maybe the phone would blow up – in which case thankfully, it was a burner. But that then meant you wasted money with no reason.  

Thankfully, the other side picked up and scheduled a meeting for the next day.

Everything about it was suspicious, from the first to the last moment. From the first meeting with a tall, fat man, wearing an expensive suit and a shiny Rolex on his wrist, to the moment that exact man patted you on the back for good luck on your first mission.

The training was all you’ve expected and more. Tears, sweat and especially blood were shed during that tough period. You were put through complete torture – whether it be emotional or physical. In the beginning, they had you watch videos containing mild abuse of random people, only to progress to horrible violence as time passed by. In times where you wanted to look away, a stern and strong man would yell at you, ordering to stay focused on the task – one that would make you used and nonchalant to seeing such monstrosities.

You were trained to take words, threats and even hits with a straight face, only to return ten times harder. Sometimes you thought that self-defense classes you were offered but never took in the past, would’ve definitely helped with the current situation. Simple pistols were immediately introduced to you, strange looking men always pressuring you into improving the mediocre aim. More complicated guns and snipers were thrown in your direction upon noticeable improvement.

Surprisingly, they began “paying” you from the start. The big boss said it was because he noticed your potential and incredibly fast progress, therefore used the money as constant motivation for further improvement. Unfortunately, the trainees you’ve encountered weren’t so positive about it, saying it was the boss’ way of making sure no one ditches out once they enter (“you’ll have to pay the complete sum back, he basically indebted you”). The money you received wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a good starting position.

In a relatively short period of time, a huge change happened. You’ve transformed from someone whose eyes watered at harsh words, body flinched at sudden movement and hands shook while holding a knife, to a person who had no trouble taking a hit to the face, only to counterattack by slitting throats.

Your knack for logic and solving thought experiments and predicting outcomes came in handy, for they’ve worked on further developing that as well. They created a thousand puzzles, testing possible situations (“you have to run away, which route do you take?", "two witnesses saw you; how do you deal with them without anyone else noticing?”), always questioning your answers (“but then wouldn’t that make you more exposed?”, “what if suddenly your target chose to change their usual route?”) and having you argument them thoroughly.

You were trained to notice even the smallest of similarities between two situations, perceive possible danger/risks, predict where a target would appear next based on their recent roundabouts and analyze certain types of behavior. Basically, they tried recreating situations that would slowly introduce you to the harder part of your future job – the planning, unnoticed execution and escape from the crime scene.

The boss had personally hired personnel to train your selective attention. Everything a normal person would pass by and dismiss, you’d notice. The unusual movement of leaves in the corner of your eyes, a black bird in a flock of dark grey ones, the inconsiderable change in a person’s demeanor, a reoccurring but overlooked detail in everyday situations.

Friends weren't particularly made in such a setting; therefore, like many others, you've been alone through it all. Evidently, you've noticed other people around, mostly teenagers who were just introduced to the whole thing – yet never really bothered or had enough time to go and meet them. Everybody was just as scared and hesitant as you were when it all started. In the end, who knew who you'd have to fight against in the future. “Save yourself a heartbreak”.

Interestingly enough though, there was a boy who caught your eye. You weren’t sure when he was recruited, for he never seemed lost or inexperienced. The boy would walk confidently around the training site, shoot exceedingly well at the shooting range and progress through his endurance training perfectly.

Silently, you watched and admired the handsome boy with attentive eyes. Everything about him was as captivating as ever, further piquing your interest with every passing day. His form and skill were envious, while his mature behavior and breathtaking looks stole your breath away.

Eventually though, the boy disappeared.

Your parents were a sensitive topic. At first, they were told the job you found didn't have fixed hours, which sounded like the only logical explanation for why you never came home at the same time.

When the training became more serious and the changes in your personality and looks became obvious, you stopped seeing them. The place of stay was a motel a couple of miles away from the training site (or the supposed store you lied working at). Despite their constant messages and phone calls, pleads to come back home and stop “overworking” yourself, you stood your ground. The money you were paid was still linked back to them, and after a while you were informed that the debt was no more.  

Unfortunately, though, you've come to the point where you didn't want to back out from this horrendous job. And a couple months later, the boss forced you to cut contact with your parents.

Maybe it was for the better, because it wasn't possible to predict if they'd even recognize you. Their daughter built muscle, had a scarred body and went through a drastic change of personality. The desensitization did wonders to young minds. It came to the point where you were able to firstly watch and then execute a certain violent act (on a specialized, human-like doll), without having to look away. The two elders definitely wouldn't want such a person in their household.  

Although there really should've been, there was no shame or regret once the trainee period was finished and your feet set out on the first ever mission and first real kill.

Fast forward a few years after the first mission, and you were considered a high valued assassin.  

There really was no proper reason, but the flow of the river happened to direct you towards the more infamous customers. Drug dealers, wanted criminals, corrupted politicians, all sorts of people involved with illegality hired you. Over time, you've gotten used to it. Already familiarized with customers, type of targets and forms of execution, switching to work for a different type of people simply stopped crossing your mind.

Your prices weren't low at all. Actually, they were one of the highest for the job, yet with a great reason. Despite the victim count passing hundred, there hasn't been a single case that was ever (properly) solved, the employers always getting away with their work. Not even once have you been suspected or connected to any of the assassinations either, and it was all thanks to your tactics.

One could argue that there weren’t many ways a person could be murdered, but you managed to prove such a statement wrong. Not a lot of executions you've done followed the same path – which only showed how creative but also knowledgeable your mind was.

Because of one simple hair strand, whose color faded a long time ago, they called you Red. The nickname stuck with you ever since those torturous, trainee days, and nowadays, it helped avoid using your real name. You doubted anyone even knew what it was.

An interesting period began during your sixth year. Numerous politicians, usually the ones that heavily opposed the new government, would be found dead around the city. Not just them, but gang and mafia leaders who became too powerful and prominent in the public eye as well – many of those who hired you in the past.

Much like always, this government experienced the lack of trust and satisfaction from citizens. Rightfully so though, the public demanded change after supposed rigged elections, finally having enough of the fake democracy. Heavy and frequent protests blew up the nation, huge crowds of people led by a few brave individuals. Unfortunately, though, a few weeks in, the leaders of those would be found dead after announcing the protest scheme.

The terrifying amount of sudden assassinations were never solved or explained. At least to the public. The huge leap in numbers shouldn’t have been thrown under the mat so easily, yet it just happened. People began living in anger and fear. All the officials had to say about it was a simple “we're looking into it, but it’s not our main priority”, words that only intensified the rage felt by the citizens. That topic would always be dismissed with the same exact answer, occasionally adding that those assassinated already had “worrisome and problematic backgrounds”.

“It was only a matter of time when something as tragic as death would happen to them”

The situations greatly benefitted them; they wouldn't make an effort to explain whatever happened even if they weren't involved. All of those people worked against them, one way or another anyway. Still, the murders weren't spontaneous, and just like many others, you caught onto their sly play.

For a little while, you tried getting some insight and information on the cases. Your intentions weren’t to solve them and serve justice, but rather find whoever was the one hired by the government. It was pure curiosity to know who was the infamous colleague.

The information given to the public (obviously) wasn't much, and you were left connecting all the different cases using simple wide shots and shitty descriptions. The best source of information appeared to be freelancing journalists, who published the most details. Unsurprisingly though, those weren't enough for a proper open case either, for someone evidently prohibited them from posting more.

One thing that had you frowning was the fact that everything was way too clean, perfect and similar to your own way of work.

Closing the laptop after reading yet another empty article, you looked around the dark room. Sighing out in frustration and cracking fingers one by one, you wondered if you're supposed to consider those people your actual colleagues or rather enemies.

The clock ticked eleven and fifteen; just forty-five minutes before midnight. The atmosphere in the tiny apartment was calm, no sound other than your quiet breathing heard. Darkness filling your bedroom was only interrupted by the big moon that greeted you through an open window. Yet, much like any other Friday, the outside world seemed to be bustling with life, getting ready for what's yet to come.  

Standing up, you stretched fast and walked towards the entrance door. Picking up a black coat from the hanger, keys and phone from the little table next to it, you headed outside. Tomorrow was yet another mission, this time a man by the name of Lee Baekgon. The reason was usual, another member of a gang who had involved himself with the government, becoming an unfortunate mole.  

Thanks to the extensive week-long watch and study you've done on the man you had gotten used to his ethics and everyday habits. The experience you had and the surprisingly uninteresting and bland life of Lee Baekgon allowed you to do so in such little time – which always brought more money. The faster the execution is, the more expensive it is, and of course, you cared about the amount in your pocket.

Now, having everything planned out and prepared, you went out for a relaxing walk – as per usual on the night before. The streets were filled with people, hurrying in all directions, either coming back from their late shifts or going out with their friends.

Setting a regular pace, you camouflaged into the crowd and breathed in heavily. Colorful lights from nearby stores lit up the street in a thousand shades, creating a unique palette out of the usually dull path. Your eyes skimmed over people, not really staying locked on anyone's head or scalp. All of them were plain shapes to you, only looking similar to those who you've had the job of executing. Either way, it was pleasurable to hear the overall sound of people. The voices, laughs, gasps.

Suddenly and surprisingly, as if trained, your eyes locked onto a tall, lean, dark blue haired man walking in the opposite direction. It could’ve been because of his height or hair, but he stuck out of the dense crowd like a sore thumb. The stranger wasn't looking at you, rather ahead of himself, but you immediately scanned his profile. An unfamiliar feeling spread through your body, sending shivers down your spine.

The man carried himself with a certain kind of confidence, his steps calm and collected. He held his head high, looking forward as if staring at an invisible dot, walking towards an unknown destination. His eyes, although dark and hooded, were sharp and focused. The nose bridge of his created a slight shadow over the side of his handsome face.

Unexpectedly, as if sensing your eyes, the man looked back for a short second. Immediately, a familiar image of a teenage boy who exceeded in all training fields flashed before your eyes. Alas, before you knew it the man was taking a sharp turn and straying away from view.

The organ inside of your chest performed one incredibly hard beat, before going back to normal. Someone bumped your shoulder, apologizing right away and breaking the short-lived daze. For another moment, you stood motionless, looking in the direction of the other, the blue strands now long gone.

Shaking your head quickly and picking the pace up again, you tried processing what has just happened.

You'd see the man quite often after laying eyes on him for the first time. He even had a nickname. Blue.

Blue's fashion was quite predictable now, for the man seemed not to prefer colorful clothes. During the day, his wardrobe consisted of simple t-shirts, black jeans and occasional black leather jacket. One thing that changed almost daily though, was the bag that he'd carry. Nonetheless, Blue would always walk as nonchalantly and confidently as ever.

Each time you'd encounter him, the man would remind you of that certain boy. Weirdly enough, Blue never once looked back, no matter how many times or how close you'd pass by. No matter what though, you'd notice the same pair of sharp eyes peeking through thick blue bangs – a feature you very well remember.

The second thing that would have anyone's interest piqued, was that you'd see the man at the shooting field as well. On the days when you decided on visiting and practicing your (already impressive) aim, he would already be there. You'd watch from afar, the last couple of shots he'd take before turning around to leave. The male never once stayed any longer. Blue wouldn't even check on his hits - he'd shoot thrice and leave immediately.

A thing that many would fail to notice, would be the fast movement of his arms as he pushed the gun back into his rucksack.

Over time, you've realized that the number of encounters with Blue was too great for a stranger. The possibility of it not being an accident started bugging you. Eventually, it became worrying.

In the dead time of the night, while walking through forgotten alleyways no one really passes through, you'd see him. On rainy nights, while everyone else ran or hid away as to not get soaked, Blue would walk calmly.  

And maybe he had always been there, yet you simply never cared or gave it enough attention up until recently. Or maybe, it was something more serious.

His sight would often be locked onto his feet, hands shoved deep into jean pockets. During the night, Blue would wear all black, a mask and hood frequently covering up his face, yet the dark blue strands never failed to peek out. He'd also wear the same black worn out backpack, the one he never brought out in the daylight.

Although you've met and dealt with many different kinds of people, never once had someone managed to make you feel so curious but anxious at the same time. Neither of those feelings felt good.

Despite your initial pleasant surprise, Blue became someone who you disliked pretty fast. It bugged you how the two worlds happened to overlap at the most unconventional of times. Whether it was when you were spying on someone, following them or coming back to the base with blood on your hands, the man would make his appearance. You suddenly felt as if this stranger had a whole insight of your life and knew all of your secrets. As if he was aware of your job and worked as a spy whose target was you.

Feeling apprehensive was something you never expected to experience, especially while out of work. For the first time ever though, you thought about executing someone who you weren't ordered to take out.  

Thanks to instances such as those stated earlier, you've developed a side mission over time. As if in you were in a game and suddenly had to unlock another small part of the main story to progress. There was an undying need to find out if your suspicions were correct and what exactly was so off-putting, upsetting about this man (who seemingly did no real harm to you). And of course, if there was a way to fix it before jumping to the last, desperate solution.

Truthfully, you never got any thrill from the pure act of execution. Taking someone's life was as emotional as raw poetry, but those emotions were never felt by the heart, much less the brain. Sometimes you wondered what your thoughts on everything would've been if you hadn't changed so much.

Taking another deep breath, you grit your teeth and backed the scared man against a wall. With a knife held close to his Adam's apple, the man gulped and winced for the last time. Fat beads of sweat raced each other against his neck. There was no remorse for the other – neither him or the rest of his happy family.

You didn't hear the pleads and wishes of the victim, as the cotton gag filling his mouth prevented any noise from escaping. The thin blade sliced through skin and flesh in a delicate manner, effectively damaging his windpipe. The man gasped for air, but only coughed back blood. White cotton soon changed color. Watching the white material turning red didn't make you feel any different, just like the eyes of the man who struggled in pure agony.

Only when it looked like the blood was about to create a puddle on the ground, did you remove the cotton. The other gasped two, three more times, too exhausted and lightheaded to take any action. With much force, you pulled the body towards an open manhole and dumped it inside, listening to the way it heavily fell into the water.

That's what drug debt does to you.

Closing the manhole up, you stuffed the bloody cotton inside your coat and hid the knife inside of your boot. Taking off black gloves and mask, you pushed them beside the cotton and walked in the opposing direction than the one you came from.

The connected alleyways seemed to go on forever, but they were no unfamiliar place to you. To say that you used them often wasn't a lie, but there was rarely anyone else doing the same. Light steps echoed shortly; the fog that unusually filled the tight space became thicker as you delved deeper. Suddenly, there was yet another echo coming from the other direction. The person was seemingly walking towards you. Unconsciously, you prepared to reach down for the knife.

Through the fog you could faintly make out a silhouette of a man approaching. Every step you took allowed a clearer view of the other, and eventually the full sight of his figure. With an exaggerated eye roll and in pure disbelief, you silently cursed your absolute luck. It once again proved to be just who you expected.  

Blue walked with hurried steps, something you haven't seen before. Upon coming close enough to you, he looked up from the ground, pace slowing down and eyes meeting for the first time in a long while. Time seemed to slow down as well for both, one short moment extending to unexpected lengths.  

Both were dressed in similar, dark attire, carrying a fake expression of innocence. Yet, the moment their irises met, a certain feeling spread throughout their bodies, as if they quietly confirmed it wasn't a coincidence that they met here at this time.  

No words were exchanged, the moment finally ending as you passed by each other. There was a strong urge to look back after the other, but an inner voice whispered quietly, saying it was smarter not to do so. Not even when the man's steps promptly stopped echoing and you felt eyes on your back.  

A couple of steps later, you picked up on a sudden, but barely noticeable smell of human blood. For a moment, you were tricked into thinking it was the cotton or knife that were stuffed inside your coat. Still, the closer you got to a certain container leaning against a building wall, you realized it couldn't be it.

Once a foot away from the huge object, you stopped. The smell wasn't at all strong, but still noticeable enough. You didn’t want to interfere with whatever took place, but it didn’t take long to realize someone laid dead in there. In the end, it was the smell you were surrounded with pretty much daily.

Dots were beginning to connect slowly, but you were once again forced into moving. The feeling of being watched was making you feel uneasy, but this time you were tempted enough to turn around.  

There was no one standing where you expected them to. He was gone.

Sighing out loud, you turned around, took a quick left and finally walked out of the alleyway. There were almost no people on the streets, and the weird feeling was finally gone. The walk back to the base was just enough time to analyze all the different possibilities that unexpectedly plagued your mind.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that it happened so soon.  

A few rather peaceful days have passed since your last encounter with him. Time seemingly fled by, but unlike many other, these days were calm. The missions have come to a stale; therefore, you effectively used your free time to do chores and visit the market. In the end, the fridge wouldn't fill itself up.

The thin paper bag swung side to side as you walked. Cans and bottles made an unrecognizable but even melody as they clashed against each other. Lost in thought, you aimlessly walked forwards, enjoying the cool gust of wind hitting your face.  

But then, in the corner of an eye, you picked up on a man running towards you.

He was in his forties, a body of short, strong and somewhat fat build covered by a formal, grey suit. There was little to no hair in the middle of his head, while two thick patches spread on the sides. He wore a panicked expression, eyebrows furrowed and eyes all but screaming for help. It took him only a few seconds to reach you.

“Miss?” The man panted, immediately bending down to place his hands on his shaking knees. “Miss, I beg for your help”.

Glancing at his face again, you recognized the other as Mr. White - a man who has been barking against the government quite a lot recently. The propaganda he preached was slowly but surely gaining more supporters, and it suddenly clicked for you. This little rat probably had a sudden reason to feel unsafe and afraid of experiencing the same end as many others. What a shame he was brave only on the TV.

For a moment, you were hesitant, unsure if accepting to help was a right thing to do. Especially when such a person was in question. You waited a minute, while the other gathered his thoughts and managed to form coherent words. He must’ve sensed your reluctance, for not another second was wasted before he began explaining.

“I’m sorry, I feel exposed and like I’m being followed and...” Mr. White went on, blabbering something you only hummed along to, while scanning the surroundings. The park he came from wasn’t that crowded, unlike the last time you’ve passed by. There were only a few families playing with their kids and people walking their dogs.  

Nothing out of the ordinary, yet a certain man walking a tall Doberman managed to have you interested.

“...that hooded man...”

Lips moving to form a smirk, you almost patted yourself on the back for suspecting the right person. The stranger was rather tall, wearing black fitting jeans and an oversized cherry red hoodie. Despite it being warm outside, a big hood was pulled over his head, and his face was somewhat covered by a cap he wore underneath. A strong hand gripped the chain leash that held a dauntingly big, black Doberman on a trained distance, walking in a calm pace. The dog was huge, with ears pointed up and forwards, steps elegant but threatening. One could swear that it could rip a man’s head off with one bite.

“Why didn’t you take a taxi?” You asked back, cutting off the current ongoing speech.

“I tried... I tried calling for one but... none... none stopped, please help me... stay with me, wait with me” He practically begged, knees bent and hands pressing together as if praying. Passerby watched the scene unfold with surprised expressions, some even mocking the way the male behaved. Frowning at the current situation, you pulled the man up by his bicep, not in the mood for any unnecessary drama. He looked way too pathetic.  

Nodding as a reply, you started walking towards the pedestrian crossing not so far away. On the other side, at the designated spot, you’d be able to call for a taxi.

The whole time, you ordered Mr. White to walk in front - as if your smaller form would be any coverage for him. Despite not being strong, the wind was still powerful enough to carry the quiet echo of footsteps behind you. The person walked with the same pace, keeping suspicious distance.

Once at the traffic light, you stopped. The panicked politician didn’t dare move, his limbs stiff and frozen like a paused frame. At the given moment, you weren’t sure if the man was even breathing – his chest wasn’t at all moving. Unfortunately, the wait for the light to turn green was quite long. The steps that used to echo behind you came to a halt as the suspicious man finally caught up. It was then that you turned around to look at him – eyes meeting with a pair that held no emotion inside of them.

Blue looked even more handsome up close and in broad daylight. With fierce eyes and dominant aura, he seemed quite intimidating. While his facial features now resembled a grown man, they once again reminded you of that certain young boy. It was a sudden flash of clear memory, something you’ve only experienced while crossing paths the blue haired man.

Blue attentively caught onto your interested gaze, for his eyebrow rose and lips formed a smirk. Slowly, as if you were supposed to notice, he glanced behind at the motionless politician and then back at you, this time with a wider smirk. Such a bold move.

And of course, it shouldn’t have surprised you that it was him. Coincidence no more; your doubts were crumbling down like a house of cards thanks to the sudden stimuli.

The black dog watched you like prey, hungry eyes tracking every move. Thankfully, it was properly held in its place by the stronger man.

As soon as the light turned green, Blue took off, not sparing any more attention to neither of the two. The Doberman trailed in suit, walking graciously beside its owner, following the exact pace. You let him a few steps ahead, before crossing the street with Mr. White who seemed more relaxed now.

Paying the last bit of attention to the young man, your eyes unconsciously trailed down his leg. Immediately, you noticed the outline of a certain object that strained against the material of his fitting jeans. With a quick analysis, you recognized the weird shape – it was a knife.

That was it; exactly all the additional information you needed. The young boy grew up to be someone you now worked against.

Work, work, work. That’s all your mind was filled with for the past few weeks, and with a good reason. Being an undiscovered assassin often demanded immense amounts of creativity (which really proved to be hard when unmotivated) to avoid similarities between cases. Sometimes, you even had to choose the riskier and more public approach, much like today.

The current mission demanded a month-long preparation and as crazy as it might sound, obtaining explosive was the easiest part of it. You were lucky to have a couple of acquaintances who somehow had the exact stuff you needed, and at a great price as well.

For exactly four weeks, you’ve watched over a certain man, a tall, strong and well-known drug dealer called K. Besides actively selling all sorts of opium and illegal substances, the man led a powerful gang named The Vipers. You’ve never been hired by that gang, but you’ve heard a lot about them through numerous connections and accidental eavesdropping. Sometimes, you thought that assassins were the biggest threat to their employers, thanks to the amount of insider knowledge they pick up on over time.

The Vipers heavily depended on their leaders, brothers K and B. The older sibling, K, as the stronger leader, took most control over their big bites, while B did the other, sporadic and less serious work. Still, they cooperated perfectly, working in sync to create a big, illegal underground market, that the government never spoke about.

Unfortunately, they got themselves into a big fuss with another powerful gang, Weiro, the details never once directly explained to you. There were a couple of things that you could’ve suspected went down, but really, it wasn’t your job and interest. Anyhow, Weiro employed you, with a strict order to kill K in an extravagant way that will have his gang warned properly. Their request had your eyes rolling back; music wishes were never a favorite.

For a whole month, you studied the man, all of his whereabouts and paid attention to the people he interacted with from an unassuming distance. While K probably lived a very stressful and interesting life behind the closed doors of his hideouts and warehouses, his everyday ethics were pretty bland and easy to predict. Of course, you weren’t the one to complain, for it made your job easier.

During that time, you’ve also thought of an extravagant but careful enough way to finish the mission. Thankfully, creativity wasn’t a skill you lacked most of the time.  

The plan was simple when broken down. Every third day, at 4pm, K. drives from his home to The Vipers’ main warehouse. He takes the exact same route to reach that destination in the shortest period of time, driving either his black Porsche or B’s red Dodge. Both cars were one of a kind in the area. There are exactly 6 traffic lights he has to stop at before advancing to the highway and leaving the city. With some advanced work, you managed to interfere with them through a tiny device that was set up and connected to a phone. It still didn’t work at command (which you wish it did), but it bought some time by prolonging the red light.

Thankfully, your city had a wide chain of sewers that spread under every single street, numerous manholes leading in and out.  

The public town cameras positioned at almost every corner were connected to your phone as well, allowing a great view of the street you’ll be operating on – or underneath, for a better narration. Navigating through the sewers should be relatively easy, thanks to the map you’ve studied numerous times. After interrupting the traffic light, K’s car will (presumably) stop right above a manhole, through which you’d be able to set up a 30-second explosive. The car should explode a street away, killing K.

Surprisingly enough, the plan worked out perfectly. With hurried steps you’ve walked into one of the empty alleyways, immediately running towards an already open manhole. There was a bright yellow warning that indicated a hole in the ground – one that no one closed even after a whole year of the sign just standing there. Looking around for the last time, you slipped in, sprinting away the moment your feet touched the ground.

Steps echoed through the empty tunnel, contact with wet surface only creating loud splashing noises. Currently, the screen of your phone was split, half showing the camera display of the street and half exhibiting a blue button and a frozen counter. A few minutes of fast navigation through the sewers, you looked up, realizing the designated place was there. A quick look up granted proof that the plate was there. K was then taking a turn, only a few hundred meters away from you.  

With a quick and forceful tap of the blue circle, you watched the light turn red.

The powerful vehicle driving closer appeared even louder down there. When K stopped and the noisy engine came to a halt, the cameras were there to confirm his perfect position. Hurriedly, you climbed up, working the plate open with a miniature crowbar (that you carried in a backpack, along with the explosive). Then, with calculated and calm movements, the metal cover was carefully moved and the car was right there.

Huge amount of smoke entered through the opening, making you cough. Much like always, time was precious and there were only twenty more seconds. Skillfully, you securely tied the tiny bomb to the underside of K’s vehicle, closing the manhole up and setting the timer off immediately after.

The light turned green and the mighty engine roared for its last time.

Taking a clean jump down, you ran back the same way. Somewhere in the middle, you heard a huge bang, followed by strong vibrations of the ground. Smirking, you nodded in satisfaction because of yet another case well done.

Outside, on the main street, while many panicked about the car currently on fire and a dead man inside, the familiar blue-haired stranger watched with calm in his irises. He was leaned on one of the walls, laughing at the scared pedestrians and their clumsiness. Then, as if programmed, the moment you came out of the alleyway, he turned to face you.

Caught like a deer in headlights, you stopped in tracks. Blue smirked boldly, nodding slightly with a raised eyebrow – as if giving props for the finished job. Once again, an anxious feeling overtook your body, slight goosebumps appearing on soft skin. Gulping, you took a deep breath and walked right past, trying not to look intimidated by his sharp gaze.

Despite the familiarity you felt, Blue never once showed any signs of knowing who you once were or where you came from. Yet, it looked as if he knew exactly who you were and who you worked for currently, which was a worse situation to be in.

Once again, you aimlessly walked through lit up, bustling streets. Unnecessarily, you felt like a part of the normal community during these times. The chilly wind was somewhat relaxing against warm skin, serving as a distraction from overthinking. There were a thousand things that could go wrong every time, and thinking about them wouldn’t make anything easier. In the end, your skill and instincts never failed you, every move already memorized as muscle reflex.

About twenty minutes in, you caught onto a familiar person a few meters ahead. There was a small group of people separating the two of you, therefore they allowed short glimpses. Still, the tall, lean physique and dark blue hair that gleamed under the street light, gave their identity away. It was him.

The man’s posture was something you were already used to – relaxed, with steps long but calculated. His head was bent down lifting up for a second only, before falling down again. With the way his arms were positioned, you supposed the male held a phone or some sort of device in his hands.  Not daring to approach, you chose to follow his movements from a safe distance.  

A tall, strong man took a quick right turn into one of the side streets, effectively distancing away from the crowd. You wouldn’t have paid any special attention to him, if it weren’t for Blue’s gradual stop as well. Choosing not to blow the cover off, you continued with the same pace for a little while, ignoring the other as you passed right by. After about thirty more steps, you sat on one of the free benches that allowed a clear view of the blue haired man.

He stood on the same place, now leaning against one of the street lamps, phone still in hands. The device lit up Blue’s beautiful features, his stern eyes occasionally looking up and at the direction that man disappeared in. From his actions, you presumed he was the next target, and the assassin was only studying his behavior and roundabouts.

Although you couldn’t see, Blue watched the man enter one of the buildings, then waited for the lights on the 3rd floor to turn on and a window to be opened, much like always. When that happened, he pushed the phone into his jacket and turned around, happy with the final observation. You sneakily watched from afar, admiring the relaxation and carefreeness.

Then unexpectedly, Blue turned his head slowly, eyes meeting with yours. They found you so easily and that’s when you realized there was no cover to begin with. The uneasiness once again itched your skin. It was clear that he was aware of your positioning, hell, he probably even knew when you were behind him. The man’s eyebrow rose in an amused manner, before he looked the other way and walked away.

Something told you to go and follow.  

Taking careful and light steps between people, you tried to stay as low-key as possible, although the other probably expected – scratch that, knew – you were behind. His phone rang, an annoying ringtone interrupting the previous atmosphere. Blue picked up quick, talking quietly but laughing loudly at whatever the person on the other end said. Quickening the pace, you were able to get close enough to hear pieces of their conversation – unfortunately it wasn’t anything interesting, rather a casual talk between two friends. You suspected the man used this as a foolish cover.

Suddenly, he turned a corner, disappearing right behind. The phone call was still ongoing, his strong voice echoing through the alleyway for just a short period of time before getting lost in silence. You waited a couple of seconds before advancing.

It was your shadow that first made it around, but it made no effort of warning you about what’s to come. A silent scream left your lips, as the man you’ve been stalking for the past twenty minutes stood right ahead. His body was so incredibly close, minty breath fanning against your face. The corner of his lips formed a teasing smirk.  

“Hello, Red” He spoke, voice low, but with a pinch of playfulness in it. His big hand lifted up and reached behind your ear, taking a hold of a certain strand of hair. Noticing the expected color was no more, Blue frowned lightly. “Oh? It’s not red anymore?”

His act evidently surprised you, eyes wide open and lips parted slightly. The fact that he called you Red had only increased the bewilderment. A battle of foreign emotions started inside of your mind and chest. A foreign, bubbly feeling was fueled by pure hope that the other somehow remembered you, while the rational mind suspected the man’s real intentions and knowledge. In the end, Blue had never once interacted with you directly, how would he know about a hidden strand? Who did he hear it from?

“Hello, Blue” You replied, looking him right in the eyes and choosing to ignore his previous question. There was a slight tinge of dominance in your words, something that the other wasn’t quite expecting. “Nice to finally meet you”

“Haven’t you a long time ago, though?” He questioned, the smirk now turning into a light-hearted smile. Something about it had you wanting to wipe it off immediately. Nevertheless, his words once again had a double meaning. They echoed in your mind, replaying like a never-ending mantra. Technically, the two of you were no strangers, but what reason should you give him? Was it thanks to the faith that intertwined your paths or was it the history you’ve indirectly shared?

“Let’s just say I like to make things formal like this” The more you observed the man’s features, the more you grew intrigued. He was just so perfectly sculpted, and it made no sense that someone as breathtaking as him busied himself with such dirty work. Yet, God only knew what had forced the young boy to choose such a path.

“Well then, my name is Juyeon” Blue extended his hand for a handshake, once again showcasing just how big his hands were. Not bothering to take the gloves off, you accepted his greeting, somehow managing to feel the roughness of his palm over the black leather. A quick mutter of your own name was seemingly enough for Juyeon, for he hummed along and repeated it with the same tone. You didn’t miss the smooth flow of the vowels off his tongue.

Tranquility enveloped the small alleyway. Wind blew through it in strong waves, messing up your hair. Two frames stood just a step away, never once breaking eye contact, but prolonging the silence that swallowed every other sound. It was becoming awkward, yet neither knew how to bring up topics that obviously interested both.

“So, want to grab coffee, or?” Juyeon asked, breaking the suffocating atmosphere. His words served as a splash of cold water that brought you back into Reliaty, eyes averting their gaze for the first time. You watched a rat run from one trash can to the other, disappearing behind it in a matter of seconds.

“No, I actually have something more important to do” The truth was, you wanted to go with him out of pure curiosity, but a lot was holding you back. Even after imagining this exact moment a thousand times, you weren’t sure you were ready for it. Apart from that, there was yet another more impulsive reason for the refusal. You’ve been taught that everyone was an enemy when looked at from the right angle, especially in this job. Therefore, you were to deny as a precaution to not allow just anyone to use any information against you.

And what’s the most unfortunate was that Juyeon wasn’t just anyone. He was exactly your type. Which meant that he was both the most dangerous and safest of them all. The worst combination.

“But less important than following me for about...” The male looked down at his watch, an expensive device tightly secured around his wrist, “20 minutes?”. Blue's expression was one of curiosity, probably anticipating the reply to his remark.

“I had time to kill” It wasn’t at all believable, but the other let it slide with a slight chuckle. He glanced at you with an amused look, before speaking.

“Kill huh? Working so late?” Juyeon teased, the chuckle from before now growing into an audible laugh. Truthfully, this exact reply had caught you off guard pretty well and the silence that suddenly spread was a solid proof of it. Fortunately, though, the other allowed time to think of an answer properly, all while having the cheekiest smile spread on his lips.

“Why so surprised? Weren’t you doing the same a little while ago?” Juyeon nodded at your question, shoulders shrugging fast as if to nonchalantly approve of it. You were quite surprised with his quick confirmation that didn’t hold a pinch of hesitance. It felt as if he was perfectly fine with verifying all of your suspicious and letting you know about the trivial things. Logically speaking, it was only fair, considering how much he apparently knew about you.

“Well then... I can’t do anything about your time” Tsking to show fake disappointment, the male pushed his hands into tight jean pockets and gazed down. It was surprising that he wasn’t pushing the proposal, rather accepting the denial. For whichever reason, your pride accepted a decent hit. With one foot, he carelessly kicked a rock on the ground with a heel, making something underneath his shoe cling. The sound didn’t go unnoticed.

“I guess I’ll see you around then” Juyeon added, before turning in the other direction and slipping away. Before you could react, the man was already ten steps ahead, carrying himself in the same relaxed fashion as before. His steps echoed, the soles of his shoes way too hard on the ground. Upon a quick accidental look, you noticed a piece of shiny metal on his heels, reflecting off the light that happened to hit them directly. Huffing was your only reaction to it.

The whole way back, your thoughts were a hectic mess, one that couldn’t be calmed down, for they always wandered towards the blue haired assassin.

You never really liked warehouses, for they were way too open. Thankfully though, the one you were working in today wasn’t empty – crates and boxes filled with unknown substances and materials were scattered all around, as well as machinery that’s used to move them around. Overall, all of those objects allowed much cover and plenty of room to comfortably work around the broad place. Moreover, your steps weren’t going to echo too much in such a setting.

Today’s target was a man named Captain Lee, a case similar to about a hundred others previously assigned – work with government officials. You never cared how many people did what, but you supposed the most died because they hadn't paid their part of the deal or smuggled with the government. Either way, they happened often and you will never run out of work just because of that.  

Hidden and on a great distance, you watched Lee and another man (assumed government official) enter the warehouse. Unfortunately, both had a generous number of bodyguards, but luckily, none were allowed inside. The huge door was the only easy entrance option, but since that would immediately ruin the mission, you decided to infiltrate some other way. Working fast and precise, you climbed up set of drainpipes and entered through an open window on the roof. Done in less than three minutes – record time. Dropping down was a more challenging move, but nothing too bad, for you entered far enough from the two men to remain unnoticed.

Your shoes that were two sizes bigger, proved to be a bigger hassle today than ever before. The metal railing was very hard to move over without making any unnecessary sound. The mask on your face helped you breathe properly, the air being way too stale for anyone’s liking. Thankfully, there were no major light sources that would interfere with your cover. Full black attire matched perfectly with the semi-dark surroundings.  

The voices of the two males weren’t loud, but in an empty space like this, the echo was immense. It helped you navigate around or between the crates and gigantic shelves in the most accurate manner. The pistol in your hand was already equipped with a silencer, your hand reaching up to stabilize it for the last time. Slowly, you sneaked closer, back pressed against a set of boxes.

Then, unpredictably, something moved in the corner of your eye.

Stopping dead in tracks, your full attention moved to the staircase not so far away. It was protected by one of the huge machines – those you supposed organized all of these crates. Your mind promptly wandered off to the worst scenario – it must’ve been a guard you failed to notice. Gripping the pistol with more force, you aimed at the suspicious area, holding the bullet in, but ready to fire if needed.

Despite the darkness, you noticed a puff of blue hair. Lowering the gun with an inaudible sigh, your eyes rolled back, jaw clenching in frustration. The boy peeked out carefully, irises finding yours in an instant. He nodded in your direction, hand moving slightly in a low wave.  

Looks like the day has come when the two sides get to work together.

Juyeon seemed to realize that as well, for he moved closer to the edge of his cover, evidently willing to make a plan of action. For a moment, ego and pride made you think about ditching the offer, why would you ever need help? But on a second thought, he would definitely make everything easier, and who in their right mind would deny that? Shuffling closer, you accepted the silent proposal with a nod.

Although far away, the two succeeded in communicating through short signals, functionally organizing a proper scheme. You’ve got to know the male was equipped with a knife only – which really didn’t make things easier, but it was possible to work around it.

Juyeon got moving quick after ending the discussion, making his way around the warehouse. You watched his steps until he disappeared, readying yourself to fire at Lee and disappear if anything goes wrong. In the end, you weren’t going to risk getting caught because of someone else’s mistake all while already being so close to completing your part of the job.

Once in position, the other assassin threw a coin in another direction, the tiny object immediately serving as a distraction. Exactly then, both of you jumped out of cover, not giving the two men any reaction time before It was too late.

Juyeon grabbed the official from the back and covered his mouth with one hand, the other coming up to slit his throat, while you fired two rounds at Lee’s head. The pistol, although suppressed, made two sets of noises that still sounded through the warehouses.

Experienced, you knew that if the bodyguards had trained ears, they’d pick up on the sound. Therefore, in a hurry and with a wish to get out of there asap, you grabbed Juyeon’s unoccupied hand and took off running. Hurried steps probably made more sound than the shots you were worried about, but thankfully there was still no one that could hear them.

Juyeon diligently followed behind, holding onto the thin blade and occasionally looking back at the entrance door. Fortunately, both of you were able to reach the exit in a matter of few minutes. Just a moment before slipping out, he picked up on a glimpse of two bulky silhouettes entering the warehouse. Pay people to protect you, only to be murdered without witnesses. Bodyguards my ass, Juyeon thought.

Neither spoke until far away from the mission location. Walking through the woods, both tried making as little noise as possible, gripping their weapons tight just in case there was any more danger. In the natural setting, black clothes greatly contrasted the greens, yellows and browns. Nonetheless, the two figures silently walked through with determination.

Only when in complete clear, did the both stuff their weapons inside their attire, taking the hoods and masks off before anyone could notice. More relaxed and less covered up, you’d look like a normal couple taking a walk in the nature. The road you took led towards the center of the city, but it was a long, long walk.  

After scanning your emotionless face for a few minutes, Juyeon was the first to break the silence.

“Don’t you feel the smallest bit of remorse? He had a sick wife and year-old twins waiting for him at home” The question was a pure shocker. Instantly stopping in place, you looked the other in the eye with the most baffled expression. Out of everything he could’ve asked, that’s what he chose to say? Was he judging you? Was he expecting you to actually care?  

You weren't sure where he was coming from.

“Excuse me? Do you? Are you any better than I am?” You bit back, hoping the pure annoyance that dripped from your words reached the other. Juyeon’s face didn’t change at all though, it remained blank, as if your passive attack hadn’t even touched him. As if you were getting worked up for no reason.

“He didn’t have a family; I don’t sign such things; therefore, I don’t feel that way” The male replied, in a matter of fact tone. His attention wasn’t on you, but an invisible dot in the distance, somewhere between all of the trees and bushes. Still, he could clearly feel you looking at him with a suspicious expression.

“Don’t look at me with those eyes. I have a choice and I choose not to do it, simple as that. Not everyone works for the same people and has the same goals as you”

You wondered how can someone make your blood boil in such a short period of time. Much like you, Juyeon trained for years; it was a fact that he had no empathy for any of his victims – such thing was inevitable. Every assassin in training had to go through the desensitization program, and no one was different than the other when it came to feelings of this kind. So, what exactly was he trying to do with his questions?

Why did it matter if you cared or not? Why did it matter if someone had a family or not? What was the difference? Just because he worked for ‘the good guys’, he got to be the morally right one? What even was it they fought for? Peace, order, harmony in the community as a whole? Or satisfaction, more power of the hungry ones on top by murdering individuals? You had to laugh.

All these years of work and you’ve never once stopped to think about someone’s family or friends, for it simply wouldn’t have changed anything about the final decision. “No hard feelings” was one of the few rules of the whole ordeal. Killing people was your job, the execution of someone didn’t have anything to do with their sick wives or young children.  

You stepped forward, pressing a finger into Juyeon’s chest.

“Listen up pretty boy, we’re both murderers. We carry the souls of hundreds on our weapons. It doesn’t fucking matter who our targets are. We’re the exact same; except, I’m honest and I only do this because it pays good fucking money, and what is it you’re striving for? With your ass always covered? Pitiful peace and justice? That’s pathetic. There’s no such thing in this job.”

At this point, you were fuming, jaw clenched and eyes boring holes into the other’s forehead. Although your voice was hushed, it was quite authoritative. The boiling blood that flowed through veins quick only fueled your irritated brain. Truthfully, the boy did feel slightly intimidated, but more so intrigued.

“Get your head out of that utopia mindset. “Oh I’m killing because that helps keep our community peaceful”, no! You’re killing to make the rats on the top happy and get paid a fortune! You’re taking a life whoever you’re working for. It does not matter if they have ten starving children, or a sugar baby waiting for them at home. There’s a reason they should be dead and you’re not the one to question it! Much less using family as an argument! That’s pointless!”

Juyeon didn’t try and oppose your thoughts, only watched your annoyed being work itself up with every sentence spoken. The smirk on his lips slowly grew wider, eventually turning into an honest smile. Although not in ideal conditions, you managed to captivate him so much, and the man wanted to know and hear more from you, even if that meant you had to yell at his reasoning.

It was interesting how the tables have turned though. Juyeon suddenly wanted to continue observing and listening to you, admire this smaller being that held so much power and determination. It was only now that the male realized the appeal of doing so, after so many years of wondering just what had you looking at him from a distance for so long. The two of you were so different now, despite being so similar back then. Yet the one thing that hadn't changed, was the beauty of the young girl that had evidently followed her into adulthood.

He’d hardly admit it, but he was glad that faith had done its job at setting the two of you up again.

Thanks to your state, the next fifteen minutes went by without any more words. Juyeon kept a safe distance, a couple of steps behind you, unsure of what to do. The tension was beginning to make him uncomfortable. At one point, the thin blade placed inside of his hoodie moved, and the boy let out a fast yelp. The knife managed to shift in such a way that fortunately didn’t harm, but warned the other of its position.

Juyeon crouched down and pushed one arm underneath his hoodie, moving the weapon and trying to push it deeper into the hidden fluffy pocket. For whatever reason, worried about the lack of presence behind, you turned around and noticed the man crouching down, an uncomfortable expression on his face. Approaching out of pure curiosity, you lowered to be on eye level – not quite expecting Blue’s next move. Just to break the unbearable tension, he thought.

With a quick grasp of your arm, Juyeon pulled you towards him, falling back into the soft grass. The two figures fell down, one of which was smirking wide with hooded eyes and the other wore an astonished expression.

“You see Red, you’re some type of enemy for the regime as well, working for sketchy people and killing unnoticed... Be more careful, otherwise I can make some money off you too” The boy joked, voice calm but low. His sudden change of demeanor had you pleasantly surprised and without much thought, you joined in on the play. Situated on top of him, you lowered yourself down, just a few inches away from his face.

“Oh, you can, but you won’t” You replied back, a smirk of your own bidding its hello.

“What makes you think I won’t?” Juyeon answered, suddenly pressing something sharp against your stomach. In any other instance, the action would have immediately set off your self-defense mechanism, but right now, the man was allowed to have his harmless fun. Somehow, you felt the other wasn’t a threat, and your senses never lied to you.

“Because it’s against your morals, pretty boy. You wouldn’t dare. You kill only when ordered and I highly doubt I was ever on your list” With that, you managed to take home a doubtless checkmate. The man tried ignoring the way you called him for the second time that day. Slowly but surely, you took a hold of Juyeon’s big hand that held the weapon and moved it away to a much safer distance. The other let you, without any protest or fight back.

“Plus... I don’t think I’m working against you; I don’t touch anyone else but the bad guys, remember?”

At such close proximity, it was possible to predict what were the thoughts of both. Unexpectedly though, beside a moment-driven need to press your lips together, there was a hidden feeling of understanding and content. Both remained in the exact position for a little while, breathing the same air and enjoying this unique situation.

Without any special reason, you lifted up and touched Juyeon's nose with a soft finger. The act changed the atmosphere quick and caused both to giggle, pleasantly surprised to experience it recklessly Mindfully, you then hoisted yourself up and off the boy, helping him get on his feet as well.

An imperceptible crack formed inside of your soul, something that was just a beginning of a storm.

The next two weeks passed by without any encounters. You took time off to regain energy before moving onto the next scheduled and fixed mission, while Juyeon busied himself with the usual, easy executions. He’d run around the city, hang about in underground passages throughout the day and sneak through alleyways during the night. His victims weren’t big bites at all, for he had gotten used to simple cases of unprotected individuals.  

Juyeon has always been covered by the government, which was to be expected since he did work for them. Every single life the assassin had taken, was never recorded in his dossier, for it remained as clean as ever. The cases he and a few other colleagues worked on were never investigated properly, always thrown under the mat or closed by the court after a few days. It often happened that innocent people were forced to take blame, just so the families of victims felt ‘content’ and ‘justice’ - despite it being far away from that.

The boy had a proper reason for why he chose the path of paid assassination. It's not rare to hear that people who’re born in a violent environment grow up to be violent as well – and unfortunately that was exactly what happened to the blue haired assassin.

Juyeon was only seven when he had lost a dear parent. On an unfortunate night, his father had come home shitface drunk and proceeded to beat up his mother. It was sad to say, but the boy, as well as his younger brother, were used to violence, as it occurred almost daily. Their mother would always usher the two youngsters into their rooms, before she strongly took all of the anger of the older so her kids wouldn’t have to. The man had rarely ever come home sober, and the number of times they listened to the pitiful gasps and cries downstairs was way too great to count.

Still, one night, Juyeon noticed his mother laying on the ground in a pool of red liquid and her mouth parted with eyes fixed on an invisible dot. The father, enraged and unable to process the situation properly, lunged towards him. With extreme amount of luck, Juyeon managed to shield his younger brother for a second, immediately grabbing him by the hand and running out into the open.

Even so young, Juyeon was aware of everything. Raindrops fell in an even, calm rhythm on the pavement while the sky flashed every now and then. He ran almost barefoot, the socks on his feet soaked by the wet pavement. All the time, he held tight onto the younger’s hand, encouraging him to continue running despite everything else. The teddybear his brother carried was dragged along the ground, plastic nose creating a strange noise over asphalt ground.

It took a long time until they were able to find someone on the streets in such weather. One young and reliable looking woman stood under a shop shade, seemingly waiting for the pour to stop. Mindfully though, she ran out of cover to help the same moment they came into view. The woman was shocked and distressed, listening to the heartbreaking story of two young souls who spoke through never-ending tears, their voices breaking with every sob.

Juyeon and his brother were taken into custody quick, and their father was arrested in a matter of one day. Sadly, the siblings were soon separated, both going into different families due to unknown circumstances. They never saw each other again.

Juyeon grew up into a teenager with a never dying urge to get revenge on his father. The picture of his mother lying dead on the ground replayed behind his eyelids every time they closed, it only fueling the hidden fury. He couldn’t fall asleep easily and when it somehow happened, he wouldn’t sleep for long as the image would haunt his young mind even then. Juyeon was unwillingly updated on the state of his father, who he visited not even once.

Either way, Juyeon silently plotted how to get back on the remaining parent, not letting anyone know anything about those plans – which fell apart in the end. The elder died in prison two years later – cause unknown. Juyeon hadn’t bothered to go to the funeral.

The teen ended up without a revenge, nor the justice he thought his mother deserved. Juyeon turned towards bad habits and streets fights, often falling victim to toxic relationships. Everything he did was to ease off the horrible feeling of guilt and anger he simultaneously felt. Secretly, everyone feared him, his sharp words and skills, despite the boy never doing any intentional harm to others without a proper reason. The fights Juyeon got into were only when he felt immoraly wronged, or when someone really pissed him off.  

Eventually, the boy was introduced to the job he’d later become a professional at. Young Juyeon thoroughly thought this tough decision over many times, especially when standing before the big, bossy man who immediately offered him a contract. The older said that people like him tend to be perfect for the job, particularly when driven by a certain emotion – something that would drive them on. At first, Juyeon wasn’t sure where he would end up with a “degree” in assassination, therefore hesitance was a reasonable reaction.  

Sly as a fox though, the boss used unfortunate history against the rookie. Juyeon was told that if he did well enough, there’s a chance he’d be accepted into the government guard – and it fought for justice and peace.  

It was surprising how kids of different backgrounds happen to receive the same treatment and training, only to end up on different places again. One could think that since everyone experienced identical programs, they were meant to work together – when it was the exact opposite. The minor differences in performance and work ethics that could easily be overlooked, were the ones that labeled you a certain position. And unfortunately, it often depended on just what kind of person they turned you into.

Juyeon thought about his time there often. Short pieces of memory flying by and disappearing in an instant. The six years he spent watching different clips of torture and learning how to flawlessly execute a silent murder. All the days his mobility was challenged – running the same course, climbing different heights and crawling through miniature gaps while carrying different weapons.

He thought about all the different people there, all of the kids that he watched get beat up and heard scream – many of those giving up after only days of training.  

But she never did.

The little girl that always observed his practices and paid attention to his every move, as if she was trying to remember them as well. He remembered the younger taking everything thrown at her like a complete champion, determination and will for success written over her face in bold letters. Juyeon always wondered just what it was that made her so persistent.

Shivers ran down his spine as the face of the little girl in his head took on familiar lines. They formed a mature and stoic, yet beautiful as ever face. Juyeon sighed loudly, still not processing the fact that faith made it be so their paths crossed again.

How exactly the two of you managed to find each other so fast in a club full of people, was unexplainable. It could’ve been a sixth sense that you’ve developed, for the two pairs of eyes immediately locked the moment you walked in. Thanks to previous experiences and an uninteresting game of guessing, you’ve come to the realization that once again, the playing field was same for both.

Slowly creeping up to the man, you threw your hands around his neck, attempting to dance to whatever song the DJ was remixing. It was an easy way to get blended into the crowd and communicate with the other without raising suspicion. Flashing colorful lights along with the excessive amount of fake mist and sweaty people once again reminded of the reason why you didn’t like clubs. But alas, work had to be done.  

Juyeon had caught onto your plan, but the smirk and hooded eyes clearly showed that he was quite amused with your boldness. Carefully, his big hands creeped up to your hips, bringing close to his and swaying them to the beat of the song. With a gasp of surprise, you giggled, turning around in Juyeon’s hold, back pressed flush against his strong chest. The male’s head moved closer, lips lingering just above your ear. Out of pure curiosity, with a swift move, your ass ground against Juyeon’s crotch, eliciting the sweetest gasp in return. Before any remark could be made, you glanced back, speaking in such a volume that no one else heard.

“Who is it tonight?”  

“One of the sisters, Yuri” Juyeon replied, voice low and rough, soft lips finally touching your ear. The grip on your hips tightened, as a precaution to not dare pull the same trick twice. Although the colorful tints of flashing lights turned the whole room into hectic mess, Juyeon was thankful for it hid the flush that unknowingly overtook his features.

“Oh, how exciting!” You replied in a sarcastic tone. “I’m here because of Aria!” The answer received a hum of understanding in return.  

The two sisters, Aria and Yuri, while not the most influential on the streets, had managed to get themselves involved in quite a few problems with the big ones, for a short period of time. To know that the fall of both happened due to one’s mistakes was slightly disappointing. It was one of those rare cases you were disclosed all details, and simply put, it had your eyes rolling back. Everything could’ve been easily sorted out.

Despite being twins, they were complete opposites. Aria was always the calm, calculated and careful sibling, while Yuri ran around, causing problems, concerning herself with illegal jobs and getting away with it thanks to her connections. Those associates often asked for something in return, and more often than not, it was someone with some type of political power. You guessed that’s why Juyeon was here tonight. Can’t say it wasn’t to be expected.

Aria, although the more mature twin, got dragged into everything thanks to Yuri. Surprisingly enough, she managed to find a place in the community fast. At first, Aria often did the dirty and hard work of finding new druggie customers for her bosses. Eventually, she progressed and ranked up significantly (no one really knows how she did it so fast), finally allowed to deal crack and heroine by herself – while of course having to pay a percentage back to the leader. The semi-autonomy was there in theory.  

It all went smooth and well until Yuri found out. To her irrational brain, it only meant free shots of fun every time she needed it. Therefore, like a fool, Yuri started using the drugs her sister had to sell, without giving a coin back. Whatever the reason was, Aria let her.

Debt happened fast, as Aria couldn’t pay back enough money, nor make up a good enough excuse as to where the drugs went. The siblings tried prolonging their (Aria’s) payment date and buying just a tad bit more time to get everything sorted out. Empty promises were spoken through disposable phones as Aria pledged the money will be ready soon.  

And as if they were suddenly blind and deaf to the fact of being in debt, the sisters decided to open a nightclub. Apparently, the earnings (they hoped would happen fast) would be used to pay back thousands of dollars they owed.

Unfortunately, being too hopeful was never a good thing. And that’s why you were there on the exact day of the grand opening.

“Well then, can I ask you to be my partner in crime, Miss?” Juyeon whispered, nudging your temple with his nose. Although in the mood to play with the other for a little while longer, you had to get to work first. Once again turning in his hold, you nodded and began bopping along to the new beat that vibrated off the walls. With foreheads pressed together, you tried ignoring Juyeon’ sharp gaze and focusing on discussing a plan of action.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

It was unusually easy to get inside of the security room, turn the cameras off and delete all footage of the current night. With a bit of secretive work, two assassins found a blueprint of the whole floor, familiarizing themselves with all important points of the nightclub – first and foremost the security room. Immediately, both got to work.

Thanks to your moderately revealing outfit and Oscar-worthy acting (no sarcasm intended), you worked as a distraction in the first part of the plan. Accidentally walking into a male bathroom, you managed to gain attention of drunk and drugged men. As expected, they followed out like hungry dogs.  

In the meantime, Juyeon slipped in and out of the bathroom through an open window. The drain pipes, weird infrastructure and façade of the whole building, allowed him to make his way around and towards the security room. The window was barely open, but with a bit of force, it was lifted up higher and Juyeon jumped in without much sound.  

With quick work of skilled fingers, the footage was deleted and all cameras were disabled for the night. Following the same path, the male left, making sure to lower the window into its previous position before returning to the bathroom. Luckily, your charm and flirty words worked well enough to keep other men outside the room until Juyeon came back.

He felt wronged seeing everyone looking you up and down as if you were some type of provocative art piece, hoping to get a feeling with their nasty fingers. Immediately, Juyeon approached the little group and wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder, leading you away. Sounds of disapproval were heard from the rest, but neither paid no mind, already focused on the next piece of the plan.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Keeping up the cover often required creative and interesting measures. You’ve been there, done that many times, yet never once have you made out with someone in public because of it.

At one point of the night, while progressing towards the next point, you’ve noticed a couple of guards paying a little bit more attention than usual. The amount of security surrounding one piece of the corridor was enough information to understand that the sisters (or at least one of them) were in one of those rooms. Trying to play drunk and drugged was so far the best shot at being left alone, but it seemingly didn’t work this time, as one bulky man walked towards you. The sound of his voice was almost silenced by the deafening music playing in the background.

“I’m sorry this is a-”  

Suddenly, Juyeon pushed you against a wall. Big hands cupped your face, holding it so delicately, carefully, as if you were a rose made out of glass. Yet, his lips moved against yours with a hungry and lustful feeling, only breaking apart to catch a breath before continuing where interrupted. One of his hands trailed lower, hitching one of your thighs over his hips, earning a rather surprised and breathless gasp in return. Unfortunately, the guard wasn’t willing to cooperate.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to leave this area” He yelled, voice unexpectedly high for a man his built. Juyeon chose to ignore the other, kisses now trailing underneath your jaw and over the tender skin of your neck, nipping but not strong enough to leave any marks.

Growing impatient and with an obvious pressure from his colleagues that bore holes into his back, the guard grabbed and  Juyeon’s bicep, effectively breaking the two apart. It took all of Juyeon’s mind strength not to turn around and break the man’s arm – that much was obvious from the sudden fire in his eyes.

“Leave” The bigger said, pointing back towards the direction you’ve came from. With glassy and hooded eyes, you watched the intimidating man, giving him a wide, forced smile. Pointing between the two guys, you started laughing, occasionally looking away and trying to suppress more giggles from spilling out. Juyeon caught onto the tactic and followed it, his shoulders rising and falling in a fast rhythm.

“I’m sorry~ we’ll goooo” Not wanting to create any unnecessary drama, you grasped Juyeon’s hand, leading the way while fake stumbling and force laughing the whole time. The male tried supporting you, and for a more authentic look, his own steps shortened and uneven.

“Drunk kids... I can’t bel..” Was all you’ve heard from the guard, before his voice blended in and disappeared in great noise that was an EDM beat.

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Around one in the morning, when the night was reaching its peak, the two targets came out of their room. Despite other distractions, Juyeon and you spectated from a safe distance, dancing against each other for the nth time that night. As per usual, Yuri appeared high and out of her mind, while Aria dragged her towards a small terrace that overlooked the dance floor. There was a guard that followed behind.

“I guess it’s true that they’re giving a speech tonight... how eventful” With a sarcastic tone, Juyeon whispered in your ear. You looked up towards the terrace and hummed along to signal his words have been heard.

“There’s only one guard following, there must be more up there” He continued, head dipping low and lips caressing the exposed skin of your neck. Following the beat of the song, Juyeon moved one of his legs between yours, interested to see the reaction he’d get. His bold touches and moves intensified the unusual tension and sudden heat you already felt. The mission had to be done fast, since you weren’t sure how much more of this new, pleasurable torture you could take. Both were being pretty unprofessional, evidently forgetting about their main focus at times.This wasn’t at all like either of them.

“Taking them out up there is too risky anyway” You began, leaning your head back into the juncture of Juyeon’s shoulder, before speaking again, this time with a more teasing tone “Can’t guarantee that my idea is safe either, though. Are you up for the challenge?”

“Oh woah, don’t get too cocky on me now, baby” Blue replied, smirking when your head shot up to look him in the eyes. It faded fast, an eyebrow raising in a questionable manner, as if his words weren’t special and deserving of such a reaction. “Tell me. I get to hear the offer first before taking it, right?”

“You’re acting way too unprofessional. We’re here with a reason” You whined, suddenly wanting to distance away from the other, but a tight hold on your hips didn’t allow that.

“Me? Unprofessional? Maybe I’d believe that if you weren’t the one grinding down on my thigh” Juyeon bit back with a generous amount of confidence, the one that people carried themselves with when they were aware of being right. The colorful lights hid the immediate flush that overtook your features. A quick look to the right proved the man that his words definitely had an effect.  

“So? Are you going to tell me or let a chance slip away?”

°•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° °•. ✿ .•° 

Aria and Yuri laid dead inside a big closet, their necks snapped and heads hanging in an unnatural way. Juyeon and you once again happened to be the most compatible teammates, getting the job done and leaving the club before anyone suspected a thing.  

The time between leaving and present passed by in a blur and way too fast. Or maybe it didn’t, maybe it was just the power of Juyeon’s soft touches and hungry kisses that made you forget all about it.

Currently pressed against a cold brick wall a few streets away from the nightclub, you enjoyed the attention the man was offering. It all felt unusual and new, but not in a bad way. The wall temperature greatly contrasted the one of the body pressed against you, creating an unusual but pleasant combination. Juyeon’s lips rarely stayed on yours, often wandering down to your jaw and juncture of shoulder. This time though, he didn’t care about the marks, pink bruises now decorating the expanse of your neck. With hands in his dark blue strands, you pulled Juyeon closer, moving in just the right ways to allow more access to the soft and undamaged skin.

It wasn’t clear why both assassins gave in to the sudden want for each other. There were no evident emotions to back up their actions, just a strong need that had to be fulfilled with no one else but the other. Some could suppose it was the consequence of their blunt actions from before, while others may argue that it was something much more meaningful. A relatively new, exciting state of mind and experience that obviously didn’t have to happen, yet it did. A slipup so to say - or at least both hoped that it was.

“How can you be this hot after just murdering someone?” The man asked breathlessly, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips that formed a slight smile. His sharp eyes looked at yours with a new kind of emotion, something you weren’t able to pinpoint just yet. Juyeon’s deep but quick breaths matched yours, both trying to take in as much air as possible in a short period of time.

“What can I say, I’m a natural at keeping people around my finger” You raised a pinky up, playing along, voice low and seductive. Truly, there were missions that required acting flirty and playing dirty, therefore your charm has developed quite a lot. Still, what you tried implicating at was the situation from earlier that night, when all those men gathered around you. There was no reason to expect a reaction from the other. Juyeon’s expression quickly changed into something that resembled a frown, but it disappeared just as fast, not allowing any time to make any remarks about it.

Suddenly, the thigh that was once again positioned between your legs flexed, making you flinch and unwillingly whine. The man smirked, closing in the distance again, but not enough for yet another kiss.

“Should I be scared to become one of those people, then?” He whispered, irises playing between your eyes and lips that were just a breath away. The intimate proximity that went on for way too long happened to have a negative effect on you. Gradually, a pinch of doubt and hesitance began clouding your mind, scolding it for being too carefree next to the other. They reminded of just who the man was, and that the game currently played was a dangerous one. Without much thought, like a reflex, your hand moved quick, retrieving a pocket knife and pointing the tip at Juyeon’s barely covered stomach.

A gasp of sincere shock left the man’s lips, eyes opening wide, as he scanned your face. With an indifferent voice, but a slightly different mind, you spoke.

“I don’t know, should you?”

It was impressive to see how much effect people had on each other. Despite being busy with constant planning and thinking, there was always space in both heads to think about each other. Occasional pondering about his lips on hers, or her hands in his hair – all intensifying the anticipation for the next time.

Juyeon often found himself rushing missions because he knew the female wasn’t busy at the moment. Whenever passing by the familiar building and a certain room had even the slightest bit of light in it, the boy would invite himself over. It appeared that Juyeon risked much more than the other, and definitely much more than he should’ve.

Just out of pure skepticism that underlined every action, you never directly planned any of the meetings, rather letting the other barge in or set time and date. It was easy to catch onto his habits and when to expect a knock at your entrance door. For added security, weapons were kept in secretive places for quick use if the man ever decided to turn on you. And although fighting a never-ending battle inside of your mind, you grew to anticipate the hidden meetings. His kisses were spreading fire throughout your body, words messing with your mind and touches offering pure euphoria.

There were occasions when the two of you would meet at the rooftop, one always back from a mission while the other waited patiently. Sometimes, Juyeon’s hands still dripped fresh blood, the male not willing to waste any time on cleaning them before rushing towards you. It was a special feeling knowing that the fingers that used to do such horrifying things caressed your skin so delicately.

Slowly but surely, some type of understanding was established between the two. Then, the whole relationship wasn’t purely based on physical connection, and it meant much more than a way to satisfy hormonal human needs. Periodic talks about present worries and bothers, as well as thoughts on current events, allowed them to get to know each other better. Alas, the connection never reached its highest level, as numerous obstacles stopped them from reaching it – biggest being the female's constant hesitation.

Objectively speaking, Juyeon let himself open much more than the other did, always easy on bringing up topics to discuss about and contemplate on. He also shared much more information about himself, many of them being trivial and harmless things, but still something you stoically held back on. Of course, that didn’t mean you were silent during two-way conversations, just pickier about what you wanted to share.

Juyeon understood that, and he appreciated everything you’ve told him. That compassion was the foundation that will slowly build a more trusting and open relationship in the future. You valued his way of acting, enjoying harmless discussions and gradually getting used to having a companion who became a part of your almost daily life.

With a little bit of effort from both sides, everything was going to work, or at least you hoped. You encouraged every passing meeting, every second together, to hit the wall of reluctance with as much force as possible – still, unfortunately, it stood strong.

Blue and Red created purple during their nights together, merging with the beautiful melody of the storm that only grew bigger the closer it got.

Thanks to the impeccable weather, it was slightly challenging to get to the roof this time. However, with master level acting, fake politeness and a little bit of luck, you were able to avoid suspicion from the residents you passed by. Most definitely, and fortunately, not a single soul knew that there was a sniper rifle packed in a rather sizeable guitar bag you carried. Along with its components such as silencer, optical sight, bipod, additional ammunition...

Once on top of the building, you immediately unpacked the bag’s contents. First of was an expensive, albeit small door jammer that was installed straight away, effectively sealing the entrance you just walked through. Trying it a couple of times just to make sure, you deemed it impossible to open. Next was the sniper.

Having done such a thing countless times before, it didn’t take you long to properly set and load the weapon with a set of new bullets. The fresh smell of metal filled the small space around. Hiding behind a pile of rubbish, you set the bipod behind the cornice, muzzle and barrel pointing towards the road your target was supposed to appear on soon.  

Then, like a lightning, you immediately withdrew back, sniper pulled way behind and body pressing flush against the ground. There was a sudden feeling of being noticed and even watched, to which you were always quick to react. Keeping low for as long as time allowed, you dismounted the bipod as it only made advancing more difficult. Slowly but surely, you moved around, setting everything up on another corner with tall plants and flowers. The aim wasn’t as clear as before, but it wasn’t too big of a problem. Yet, despite the natural cover doing its job relatively well, the dangerous feeling was still present.

Taking a quick risk, you took off the current optical sight and mounted another, angled one, that allowed you to look around without being too exposed. Since you were on the 11th floor, on the tallest building in the area, there was no way someone could’ve noticed you from the roads down below. Glancing over them quickly just to make sure, the theory was deemed correct – no pedestrians had their heads raised up and looking in this exact direction.

Looking at the sky, you searched for drones or any other objects that could be supervising the area (as that unfortunately, did happen before and they had to be destroyed manually, via a gun). Thankfully, there were none, but instead of making you feel relieved, it only intensified the anxiety previously felt. Where was it coming from?

All you needed to get the desired answer, was an accidental glance over the roof of the building right across from yours. There, behind a pile of wooden planks, metal bars and all other unnecessary trash, you noticed a barely noticeable, but suspicious movement. Locking eyes on the exact spot and rolling the plastic on the sight, you zoomed in, getting a clearer image.  

Shockingly enough, there was a barrel peeking right between the two wooden planks, and it was pointed right at you.  

And then it quietly fired.

The bullet would’ve missed anyway, but thankfully, you moved down just in time, watching it penetrate the wall behind. Your heart leaped, pumping blood faster and kicking against your chest, almost as if it tried jumping out. Strange type of fear enveloped your body. It wasn’t fright for own life, rather unpleasant surprise that fueled thoughts of being outplayed. At this stage, you knew very little. Was it only one person? Were there more people? Were you cornered?

For whatever reason, the person on the other building continued firing, twice to be exact – yet both bullets hit the exact same spot as the first one. It didn’t make sense at all, but at least ir allowed keeping track of the opponent.

In a quick act, you moved, peeking just enough to expect to be fired at, but it never happened. Moving once again and receiving nothing in return, you positioned the sniper and looked through the sight for the nth time, trying to confirm if they were still on the same location. And that’s when you noticed.

A blue haired man peeking out, head cocked to the side, his sharp eyes and smirk offering a teasing, harmless expression.

Rage, disappointment and distrust overtook your body fast, blood boiling on a temperature higher than before. All emotions served as a strong reality check, a shot through the heart and mind, reminding of just who you were. They helped strengthen the invisible wall you were so desperately trying to weaken, ruining almost all of the progress made. Still, their consequences that will definitely leave a mark were your own fault and no one else’s.  

A drastic switch happened. While following Juyeon’s movements through the sight, you unconsciously aligned his head with the red dot in the middle. That person was suddenly someone who made you feel threatened, anxious, alarmed, and not the one who was supposed to help achieve change. You expected so much from him, yet all you currently felt was pure let down and anger. The inner battle was as hectic and loud as ever. A finger creeped up to the trigger, trembling as it came in contact with cold metal.  

Before the pull happened, your phone vibrated almost unnoticeably. It apparently did the right, desired trick, as it effectively broke the dangerous, fury-driven daze. With an audible sigh, you remembered who the actual target of the day was, aim moving downwards in a quick motion. Just as predicted and on time, a big black jeep turned the corner, driving into the street underneath you. Getting into a more comfortable position, you trailed the movement of the black vehicle.

First and only to come out of the car was the exact target. His appearance was immediately followed by two quick, (thanks to the silencers, somewhat) muffled gunshots, the bullets hitting just right. With two holes in his big shiny head, the man was sent falling down, momentarily holding onto the open door before faceplanting the cold concrete. Blood seeped out, painting the previously grey ground in a dark red, almost black color.

But the thing was, you only shot once.

Albeit caught off guard with the shocking realization, there was way too little time to get lost, every second more precious than the last one. Hurriedly, you deconstructed the sniper, pushing everything inside the guitar bag in a careless manner. When done, you moved towards the door and took the jammer off in record time before storing it inside the carriage as well.  

A quick glance was thrown in Juyeon’s direction, but unfortunately there was no sight of said man. For whatever reason, you were somewhat glad.

In a slow and relaxed manner, with calculated steps, you took the stairs again, making sure to appear just as natural and neutral as before. Thankfully, almost no one occupied the hallways. On the 5th floor, there were two elderly women happily boasting about their children, beside who you passed with a polite bow. You even smiled at them, but the expression was deemed unseen thanks to the black mask that covered your face.

Luckily, another semi-smooth mission was done with. You were out of the building and away from the scene in a couple of minutes, with no doubts about being seen or suspected. The only bothersome thing was the sudden change of feelings towards the blue haired man. A dangerous and slightly embarrassing switch could’ve had a very tragic outcome.

And of course, it wasn't worth missing out on the fact that for the first time, both had the same target.

You agreed on further meetings, although they were much different than those in the past. A drastic change in atmosphere was present from the first second, yet neither really wanted to comment on it. Despite being close physically, Juyeon didn’t feel warmth coming from you anymore, or at least not in the same amount as before. The male felt your body shiver under a cold gust of wind, but your skin didn’t feel any colder underneath his fingertips. When he tried offering you a jacket to cover up, you denied with a half-hearted smile.

It was unreasonably late, around three in the morning, which meant the city was at its calmest. There were less people on the streets than fingers on both hands and almost no apartments had their lights on. The moon was the most trustful source of light, its soft hues illuminating everything and making it more beautiful.

Nowadays, fewer words were exchanged as well. Silence was common, both bodies quietly cherishing what was left of a cracked relationship rather than trying to fix (or ruin?) it with meaningless talk. Leaned against the male’s shoulder, you tried forcefully letting go of tension to feel a piece of that carelessness that once existed between you. Truthfully, there was a willpower to continue fighting and experiencing the strange kind of joy, but there were so, so many obstacles. And most of them were created by you.

Neither had the explanation as to why this was still an ongoing thing, why neither gave up despite the little flame burning its last few seconds. No matter how long you searched for the answer, it just didn’t appear. A deep sigh resonated in a small bubble of space.

The biggest and constant bother was that invisible wall, still standing proud. Apparently, it grew taller and stronger every time you remembered the unfortunate event from two weeks ago. As time passed by, you became more skeptical, giving time and attention to thoughts you weren’t fond of. They whispered and laughed at a poor being for daring to experience something it wasn’t supposed to in the first place.

You didn’t even look Juyeon in the eyes anymore, always finding a nearby rock or wall crack a more attractive sight. Why? The fear of looking up and seeing no emotion in the man’s eyes was a fearful thought, mighty enough to forbid you from even trying. And why was it affecting you so much, why were you still holding onto it? You didn’t know.

Hell, your fucked-up mind was daring you to kill the man and he didn’t even know about it.

Juyeon, much like always, put more evident effort into the whole thing. It looked as if the male was aware of the trigger for this sudden stumble (not fall!), and was ready to give it his all to fix everything. Immense guilt was evident on his face, and if you looked up just once, you’d be able to read it off his beautiful features.

Despite your mental distancing and defiance, he never gave up transparently trying. You being there with him every night was all the hope Juyeon needed to continue. Even if you weren’t as willing to see him the next day, Juyeon would knock on your door. Even if you weren’t in the mood to talk, he’d ask a question about one of your favorite topics. The assassin wasn’t religious (and truthfully, how could he be?), but every night he’d pray for this tough period to end already. If for nothing else, then to have your eyes lock with his one last time.

Overall, these last few nights were a weird type of battlefield. Juyeon’s hand moved up to your shoulder, occasionally rubbing down your arm, hoping to feel just a bit of warmth there. You’d allow it, sighing and leaning into his hold, trying to, for the nth time, force a bit of feeling back.  

Either way, the two waited for a beautiful sunrise before disappearing in two different directions.

You should’ve believed the tension that thickened with each word the other said. You should’ve refused and backed out from this exact job when not even one person in the room appeared familiar. But it didn’t happen.

For the first time in an incredibly long time, the employers weren’t a part of a mafia or drug dealing gang. That much was disclosed, with a rude comment that it wasn’t your job to know anything more about them, anyway. It had your blood boiling and eyes squinting suspiciously, irises locking down every of the five men present.

Their detailing about the job that had to be done was just as, if not more, brief. Not believing that someone expected you to work properly with just three sentences of information, you asked a couple of times to have them repeated. Every time, the leader of the group sighed louder, eyes rolling back in an over-exaggerated manner, before turning around and giving a knowing look to the man beside. Were they joking around with you?

When asked about the basis behind this assassination, in hope of getting at least a little bit of early lead on who you’re dealing with, the man offered nothing useful in return. Instead of giving a proper reason, or at least putting effort into making a believable story up, he threw something senseless right at your face. Upon asking how you’re supposed to work without knowing how the target looks like, they replied with:

“They’ll be the only ones there, guaranteed. It's just a little game of hide and seek... with a twist. Isn’t that exciting?”

You were spared the detail that the target was just as (if not more,) experienced than you at these “murder plays”, and they demanded huge amounts of caution. Three main points were specified, the address, time and the fact that this was an extremely dangerous mission. The legitimacy of that information remained unknown, as they once again failed to give a coherent explanation. Despite the last point serving as a warning, you suddenly weren’t given a chance to back out.  

“Excuse me?” You said, disbelief all but dripping from those two simple words. “You’re sending me against another assassin, did I connect the dots correctly?”

“You’re a smart one”

“I don’t want to work on this case” You denied, getting ready to leave, when the other cleared his throat.

“We want this person taken out at any cost, and we particularly chose you for it. In the end, we did hear quite a lot of positive reviews... therefore you seem to be the right person, no?” The man tried flattering you, but his voice was laced with venom, lips moving slowly to form an unnatural, wicked grin. He wasn’t looking at you with fake friendliness anymore, rather an emotion that could soon turn dangerous.

“That doesn’t matter to me, I have the right to not accept the job. My signature is not yet written on the papers” A small pile of documents resting on the table was pointed at, endless rows of black text only missing a simple name written in ballpoint pen. The other chuckled lightly, gaze turning threatening in a blink time as he lifted a blue pen and spun it around his thick fingers.

“That’s easily dealt with” The weight of his words hit immediately, a shocking situation that you’re dealing with for the first time. There was no training for this and lack of experience was making you a nervous mess.  

Shuffling body mass from one leg to the other, your eyes remained on the ground, hands anxiously intertwining. There was nothing that came to mind that would help the current position, and you wondered what all of this was about. No one has ever forced you into working for them, much less threatened to sign the contract in your name.

The man chuckled once again, saying nothing but thinking a lot. This was it, they had you.

“Don’t you want this?” Another male spoke, his frame moving from the doorway and opening a black suitcase on the table. The carriage itself probably cost a fortune, as it was made of expensive leather, and the mouth-watering amount of money inside was as alluring as ever. It would probably be the best paid work ever. Still, you managed to look up from the bills and into the leader’s eyes with strong confidence.

“Does it even matter? You’re forcing me to do it anyway” The words barely made it past your tongue, their weight way too heavy. The freedom you had while working was something greatly cherished (for a lack of better words), and it was suddenly taken away. It almost felt as if nothing was in your power anymore. Fearful shivers ran down your spine.

“Well then, glad we got that behind ourselves. Sign here”

The whole process of sealing the deal was done in a matter of seconds. Your signature was scribbled in the ugliest way possible, and the pen was thrown to the other side of the room as a form of protest. The weak plastic broke due to the force of impact, the ink painting a patch of white wall blue. Turning around to leave, you stomped with heavy steps, glaring at each and every male in the room for the last time. Then, one step away from the doorway, you heard it.

Your name. Your real name.

The one no one ever used.

“Good luck, you’ll need it”

The door closed behind in a loud thud, not allowing you enough time to properly react. Just once your face hit the fresh air, did the heaviness of the decision fall upon your body. What have you done? Who were those people and why did they refuse to introduce themselves?  

Doubts filled your head – were your employers suddenly against you? Were they suddenly hyperaware of your knowledge, or scared that you’ll turn to the other side, become their enemy? Was this actually a ploy made to get you out of the game? The thought made you gulp audibly; wondering if but knowing that it was too late to turn around and tear the contract paper into thousands of pieces.

There’s also no way ditching the mission came into discussion. With the way they acted, god only knew if each and every step of yours was watched on. Holy shit.

The walk home was a long one, not particularly because time passed by slow, but because you purposely chose the longer path. Eyes filling with tears, your reaction was one of pity. Reaching up to brush the watery substance away from the corner of your eyes, you looked at the shiny finger. This was the first time in a long while that something managed to bribe out the emotion of grief. And for the first time ever, it was for no one else but yourself.

Tiny rocks sounded under your shoes just quietly enough to not ruin the perfect sneak up. The sky was grey, thin but overlapping clouds blocking sun from coming your way. Luckily, it meant you could move with more freedom, not having to worry about unnecessary shadows and their power to ruin cover.

The first abandoned building you were heading towards was huge, with main walls almost completely ruined. Chunks of concrete, bricks and other unnecessary trash created stable cover that you’d usually be thankful for, yet now dreaded.  

This was the exact address you were given, but the trick was that it happened to be a whole wide field with two abandoned buildings. On top of that, the opponent’s identity was still unknown, therefore you had no knowledge of who to look for and where. For all you knew, they could already be in position and aiming right at your head. “It’s just a little game of hide and seek, with a twist”. Instinctively, you ducked behind the nearest tree, feeling the heart strengthen its beats. Carefully and in calculated pace, the advance towards the entrance was continued.

There was a huge hole in the ceiling of every floor. It reached all the way up to the destroyed rooftop, almost as if something heavy fell from above and demolished the concrete surface. With back pressed flush against a piece of wall that still stood strong, you took a deep breath and reached down for a favorite of weapons, your trusted knife.

Suddenly, there was a strange type of noise coming from an unknown direction, resonating throughout the whole building. In the midst of a less careful and more panicked moment, while trying to retrieve the blade, it sliced through the delicate flesh of your calf. A quietly yelp of pain escaped your lips, hand immediately stretching to press on the wound. The feeling of blood running down your leg was accompanied by burning pain, and you tried ignoring it while climbing up the stairs.

Thanks to the special soft soles of the boots, your steps weren’t heard over the hard ground. They also didn’t put much force on your calf, therefore the advance to the 1st and 2nd floor went by almost without a problem. Occasionally, due to a bad step, the wound would reopen, another flow of blood quick to rush out along with a thousand silent curses.

The doorways on both floors were as demolished as the rest of the building, preventing anyone from walking through and forcing you to move up to the 3rd. Dodging and crouching down at places where you’d be exposed to the outside, you all but crawled up.

The third floor seemed different; way less disintegrated than the rest. Once there, you looked around and through the now available doorway. The corridor was very long, filled with wooden planks that once resembled doors leading to empty rooms. On the other side, about fifty meters away, there was another stairway, much like the one you took just now.

Alas, despite the burn in your calf, there was suddenly that alarming feeling of being watched.

Immediately ducking behind cover, you gripped the knife tight and took a few deep but quick breaths, planning the next move. Someone was definitely in there, and the rapid heartbeat was making sure you were constantly aware of it.

The feeling gradually subdued the more time passed by. You looked around attentively, once again taking notice of the still gaping hole on the ceiling. There was no one watching you through it though, so the trigger must’ve been from either outside or down the hallway. Remembering the noise from earlier, you completely crossed out the possibility of them being outside.

Which of course, wasn’t in your favor at all.

Peeking out just so the top of the head showed, you tried bribing out shots or any kind of attack from the other – something that would indicate where they were located. Receiving nothing in return was slightly confusing, but it also offered a pinch of hope. Maybe they moved, which meant you had a chance to sneak up behind them, or maybe they’re just hiding, which meant it could all go down very fast.

With a hurt leg that was slowly growing numb, there wasn’t a lot of time you had left before retreat was necessary. And never once did that happen. Therefore, trying to protect pride and get this done just to never see those nasty men again, you tried winging it. Pressing the wound one last time, you whispered a prayer before taking off through the open doorway.

There was just enough cover to move around in semi-safety, back turned towards one of the walls. Your eyes perceptively scanned every corner, every pile of rocks which could offer any type of protection. Occasionally, ignoring the pain, you’d jump inside one of the rooms to your right, hoping to catch the other off guard. The knife in your hands was gripped tight, leather handle shining slightly due to a thin layer of sweat coating it.

Tension was as high as ever, air becoming thick to an almost suffocating degree. For the first time, you felt undoubtedly scared. Your mind was clouded with a thousand racing thoughts, all of which only intensified the sensation of panic. The more time passed, the more your eyes aimlessly wandered around empty spaces, growing more tired and unable to notice possibly important details.

The amount of blood you lost was probably in the red zone, moving around becoming more challenging with every step. Still, doing the best possible job was always a requirement, therefore you used last spurts of strength to enter the 2nd to last room in the long hallway.

Once again met with a different terrain, you immediately noticed a demolished doorway, connecting the room to the one right beside. Upon quickly deeming the current room safe, you crouched down, sneaking towards the linking point. As if sensing danger, you patiently waited a couple of moments, trying to breathe as quietly as possible. If not for the protective leather handle, the blade would’ve sliced through your hand due to the impossibly strong grip.

Someone on the other side coughed. A curse followed right after.  

Both moved rapidly, reaching out for the other through the doorway.

You were held at gunpoint, jaw feeling the pressure of a cold muzzle on it, while a strong hand grabbed your hair, pulling it back. Your own hands grabbed the other’s collar, tugging down while holding the thin, sharp blade against their most sensitive point, Adam’s apple.

Neither moved.

Blue watched Red with surprised eyes, irises playing inside the broad space of dark brown. Your gaze tried locking the man down, scanning those beautiful features while still avoiding his sharp eyes. Unexpectedly, a weak wave of emotion hit, bringing back a piece of what you wanted for a very long time. There was a slight urge to reach out and caringly caress his sharp cheeks, cup his jaw and kiss his lips.

But there was a gun pressed against your skin, and a knife against his.

And neither moved.

The war started. Horrid battles began and ripped your heart piece by piece. Everything was on the line and an indecisive mind was as dangerous as ever. The realization that this man, despite everything that happened, was the last person you wanted to harm, hurt the most. It was the quick moment of reminisce about the old times, when everything was just starting. He was the only one who gauged new, thrilling, pleasant emotions and made them feel like they’re exactly what you needed. And it was the truth.

But the weight of the weapon on your jaw reminded of the not-so-bright moments as well. A flashback of the day you were teasingly shot at sent shivers down your spine, feelings of pure anxiety and fear coming back in an instant. Rightfully so, they were strong and rivaled the positive ones, trying to outweigh them and take control over your next actions. The man was still someone who dared pull the trigger on you, dared taking that type of unpredictable risk.  

If he dared pull it again, you dared slit his flawless, soft skin. But embarrassingly enough, you’d never have enough strength to be the first one, no matter how impulse-driven. Harming him definitely was your last wish. The thought of it even being a possibility made your eyes water, tears welling up and falling like never before, straining your soft cheeks.

Juyeon’s heart ached as well. Sadly, it opposed two separate and strong thunders. The first one hit hard, touching the intimate topic of his feelings towards you. It wasn’t a secret that you’ve changed him as well. In a word of gloom, blood and violence, you made everything disappear and instead of war, brought peace to his mind. Most of the time, it was enough for Juyeon to know that you were there, and every worry would fade away. The mutual understanding was then something he grew accustomed to and happy for. The male didn’t feel like he didn’t deserve attention anymore.

But what hit even harder was the fact that Juyeon was aware of your current thought process, and the guilt once again ate him away, bite by bite.

Carefully, the grip on your hair was released, gloved hand reaching up, thumb wiping a falling tear. Rough material nearly scraped your skin, a frown appearing on the other’s face almost immediately. Juyeon bit down on the glove, taking it off before placing his hand back on your warm cheek. The act made your eyes water even more, lips trembling and throat constricting to stop loud whimpers from escaping.

Still, the weapons didn’t move.

“Juyeon” You suddenly whined, finally finding strength to say his name. Lightheadedness was slowly overtaking your whole body, vision blurring fast. The pain in your leg although still present was long forgotten. Every letter carried huge weight, every taken breath felt like the last and you wondered if taking that bullet hurt any less. Unconsciously, your hand began shaking, resulting in the thin blade moving against the man’s delicate skin. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but Juyeon visibly and audibly gulped under the metal.

“They... they set us up to kill each other, Juyeon” The realization hurt like a sudden kick to the gut. It was supposed to happen sooner or later. All suspicions you weren’t willing to think about came out to be true and the terror spread through your body in a strong wave. Everything made sense – why those men weren’t willing to introduce themselves, why refusal wasn't an option and why no proper explanation was given to you. They were aware that if you knew even one of those things, you wouldn’t have dared to show up in the first place.

Or would you? Would they be able to push just the right buttons and play with your mind as they were right now?

You were set to break apart.

Do it. Don’t do it. Do. Don’t. Past and present were clashing together, habits and new found emotions. For the first time in a while, you felt somewhat disgusted with your job. Yet, the wheels were turning, reminding that you’ve been doing this for years and now was no time to give up under the pressure. It was so, so easy to end this all, much like hundred times before. Swallow down the hard feeling and contractions of your heart, cut through like you’re used to. Emotions were just an accident, an error in the system of a machine.

All this time though, Juyeon’s hand remained on your cheek, and only now was it only noticeable that he wasn’t holding you in place. The muzzle of the gun wasn’t as strong on your jaw as it was before. Juyeon wasn’t going to actively fight or harm you either, that much was clear. This had to end somehow, and the male was about to use his last possible chance.

“Look at me” The voice he said it with was soft, but underlined with a certain type of authority. For whatever reason, as if under a spell, your eyelids opened, irises immediately locking on his.

And then it all crashed down.

All the doubts and hesitation were immediately gone. Your hand moved, putting pressure on the weapon for just a quick moment before letting go completely. Heavy blade fell onto the ground with a loud and high-pitched noise, one that echoed throughout the whole building. The invisible wall was no more.

At the same time, Juyeon released the gun, hefty metal hitting concrete with just as loud of a thud. When the pressure disappeared and the current situation processed properly, your body went numb. Legs giving out, you almost collapsed on the ground. Luckily, Juyeon managed to catch you just in time. The male lowered the smaller body onto the ground, holding it carefully.

Your head hung low; eyes wandering all around the room, but not focusing on one spot. This was the first mission you’ve ever failed and the fear of possible consequences was scary.

Juyeon’s hands enveloped your face, just holding it firmly. Neither had an obvious cheerful expression, but there was a lack of certain something that made both seem more at ease. He caressed the soft skin, examining your face that was blank of any emotion. It was the moment of complete calm.

Upon focusing on the man, you noticed a clear red line just underneath his Adam’s apple. Instinctively, you reached out, running a smooth finger over it and listening to Juyeon’s strained hiss. A new wave of tears welled up in your eyes, yet the other was quick to wipe it away.

“Can you listen to me?” He questioned, with a gaze that suddenly turned more serious, albeit none the less caring. The breathing rhythm was slow and deep, almost as if he was trying to calm down in the fastest way possible. With a slight nod, you replied, hoping to keep enough consciousness to listen until the end.

“Let’s escape this hell” You would’ve definitely reacted greatly to the proposition, if it weren’t for the lack of energy in your body. Instead, the reply was a simple, perplexed look, a result of not quite processing what was talked about.

“Escape, disappear, perish, they’ll never know. They’ll never find us because... because they’ll think we’re dead. Isn’t that what they wanted? To wipe us off the list?” The tone Juyeon used was a hopeful one, as if the man already had everything planned and was ready to go right this second. And maybe, just maybe, that was the case.

“We’ll move countries and get new identities – I have a couple of friends that could and will help us with that. We’ll start a new life away from... away from all of this, because we can’t stay” Gradually, his words became more rushed, too many thoughts and too little time to wrap them up. “We can’t go back. They’ll kill us themselves, you know that, right?”

Juyeon was right. In the planned scenario, one of you was supposed to die today, while the other would’ve been finished off upon reporting the case. You’ve thought about it many times, making up scenarios and trying to find a way to get out of them. No one has ever trained you in that field or shown any ways of dealing with it, and there was an exact, fucked-up reason for it.

“Or we could just...” His eyes wandered off to the two weapons lying on the ground, tears welling up fast. There’s no way that was the only other option, yet...

For a moment, you glanced at the objects as well, not out of interest, but pure disgust. Just a mere thought of what could happen made your stomach twirl and heart hurt. Turning around to look at the other, you noticed a teardrop that made it down his jaw. Wiping it off gently, you smiled, speaking in a low and calm whisper.

“No... no. Let’s... let’s go. Let’s disappear together, wherever that takes us, Juyeon” The mind finally accepted the sudden feelings that were no longer confined and hidden. The imaginary, but nonetheless strong, cage and restrictions were no more. You finally felt proper euphoria of freedom.

Speechless, but immensely happy, that’s what Juyeon was in that exact moment. His chest abruptly wasn’t enough space for the organ that beat at an incredible pace, with new-found strength. Tightening his hold, the male pulled you towards his chest, into a first, proper hug. Your hands sneaked around his body, trying to squeeze as hard as possible and relish the beautiful moment. In such an intimate position, it was possible to feel that exact excited heartbeat of the male.

After a long period of comfortable silence, you quietly spoke into his chest, “Please piggyback me... wherever... I don’t think I can walk”  

“Oh my god, you’re hurt?!” Juyeon noted in an alarming tone, eyes immediately scanning your body and finally noticing a streak of red liquid on the concrete underneath your leg. He loudly cursed at himself for not seeing it earlier, hand reaching down to press on the wound. Although not fresh, it still gushed out more blood, earning another hiss from you.

“Yeah, no shit mister... fuck be careful! I wouldn’t go all baby... and soft on you if I... I didn’t feel like fainting. You were lucky today” You bit back jokingly, trying to keep the light atmosphere that was slowly coming down its high. Juyeon’s head shook at that, a quiet ‘you’re not in position to speak like that’ passing through his barely parted lips. A pair of hands worked fast on tying a thin jacket around your calf to stop further bleeding.  

“How?” He asked, confused but curious at the same time.

“I’d rather not talk about it” Your head turned away from the other, irises locking onto one of many holes on the wall. The male chuckled at that, checking the knot before standing up with knees half bent. He helped you stand up and climb up on his back, strong arms instantly gripping the back of your thighs.

“Bet you hurt yourself, clumsy”

“Yeah, bet”  

With a loud, content sigh, your head lowered onto Juyeon’s back, eyes closing as you finally drifted off to sleep. There, on the closed, but broad battlefield, the two warriors accepted their faith. They made up their minds for a different future, something neither were sure how to approach, but were more than ready to experience together. A future that didn’t revolve around blood, murder and secrecy, one that would allow both to heal and live their lives breathing properly.

Quatervois, a heavy change no one expected. A decision made fast, but a result of long, aimless thought and experience. And some may say this was deemed to happen sooner or later, but was it? If things were just slightly different...  

Guess we would never know.

AN: well... here it is? truthfully speaking, i’m very satisfied with this work, and i love every piece of it, but it has been giving me so much stress oh my god... writing has taken me so much time because i tried so hard to make it perfect and i really hope reading almost 22k of this was worth it, and that you’ve enjoyed it. at some parts, i’ve maybe focused on the main female character too much, but i think that to understand her character, it’s important to have an in-depth point of view. i’d really appreciate it (to the moon and back) if you guys could leave feedback for this one. thank you so so so much for reading, have a good day <3

[lnkedmyheart]

Something I don't like about the people who criticize skam og is this. The criticism often comes in the case for Vilde's sexuality, Evak, and Sana and Isak's conversations.

Here's the deal, Vilde's whole fan made lesbian storyline was high key based on stereotypes. She doesn't actually show any evidence of being gay or wlw like Isak did from day 1. At best some of her interactions can be seen as bi-curious but she is pretty consistently into men. Eva is most definitely bi and yes something CAN be said about the easy sexualisation of women in general but that's because it's more normal (unfortunately) like lingering shots on girl's asses and shit.

The Evak situation. Well, just because these guys are white men doesn't reduce the fact that they are gay. Hi, white gay men also have problems. There is nothing wrong with Skam having white gay men, it's not an attack on your identity and it's not them being white supremacists. Also the show itself handled their story with a lot of respect (more than straight pairs even) it's only the rabid side of the fanbase that went too far but that's everywhere. Also I saw someone say they were horrified that Even was presented as a good guy and not some awful human being because of his mental disorder which triggered their trauma with a bipolar abusive bf so I guess we should just demonise this kid with a mental illness. Like buddy, if one guy was a jackass to you and used his mental health issues as an excuse it doesn't mean all bipolar people deserve to be demonized. You aren't wrong for having trauma but you are a bitch if you think people with bipolar disorder should never be depicted getting a happy ending. Get some therapy for that bitchy behaviour and grow the fuck up.

Lastly, the Sana situation. As a queer, poc I actually agree with white boy Isak on what he told Sana. Asking questions is important. But any sane person knows that doesn't mean actual racists mocking you. Seriously, not once did Isak mock her Or question her experiences, he simply told her to stop looking for racism in every little interaction. It's heights of gaslighting if you're sitting there waiting for someone to make a comment that sounds vaguely like a remark that could have racist undertones under a microscope. Context matters. Most people of a different race will ask you about things because we only have the internet. Half of my culture is presented in the most skewed and ridiculous manner possible online. It's detached and covered in tons of commentary by both people who want to pedestalize and demonize my culture. You don't know if everything online is a fact. So yes, I would much rather someone come up to me and ask about the various things about my culture and know how to respect it. Even if they keep doing so again and again. And I'm not stupid so as to not know when someone is being a racist dick vs when someone has a genuine question. I don't need to sit there on my high horse getting livid about people not knowing about my religion and presenting myself as a cynical twat to others when racists are out there to do just that. And if some jackass does come up to me to mock me I have enough brains to know that I'm being mocked. And how the hell are non racist people supposed to know what is and isn't acceptable unless they know what they need to know through someone who lives that life.

Stereotypes don't make a lesbian, white gay men doesn't equal racism and white supremacy, and most importantly ignorance isn't racism. And y'all keep insisting "go educate yourself" but are such lazy fucks that you don't even wanna inform them about the reality and instead tell them "google exists" Like google isn't a fuck ton of garbage that works on which site pays the most amount of money and survive solely on misinformation and spice factor. Half the racist bs people spout is shit they've seen on the internet.

[itsdanii]

hey bub! i just sent in my application to attend college in the PI (i’m filipino btw) and i was wondering if u could give me any tips ab living in there since i’ve lived in america my whole life

Hey, bub! I'm so glad you've considered Philippines as a choice for your education! Depending on the University you've chosen, you'll either love it or hate it. There's no in-between 👀. I don't actually know shit about surviving in the Philippines but here are some tips which could hopefully be useful to you ♥️

Tip 1: Hydrate, hydrate, hydrate. Philippines is a humid country. It's either hot or super hot, unless you live in the highlands (like Baguio City) of course. If you don't want to end up dying of dehydration, I suggest you drink water as much as you can.

Tip 2: Sucreen. I know that this is basic knowledge but unless you want rashes by the end of the day, do use a sunscreen - no excuses! Plus, it also helps in preventing skin cancer! ♥️

Tip 3: Always have an Umbrella. Philippines has only 2 seasons (said Google) - rainy season (June to November) and dry season (December to May). You can never go wrong with an umbrella. Our climate here is a bitch. One moment you're enjoying your walk out in the sun, the next, you're drenched in rain water.

Tip 4: Have a pail and dipper inside your bathroom. We, Filipinos, are fond of using pail and dipper instead of showers and bath tubs. It's less expensive and also prevents wasting water!

Tip 5: Academic Pressure. If you're going to study in the Philippines, make sure that your mental health is your utmost priority. Why? It's because students here are given endless tasks. Tasks are often due just a couple of days after it has been given and some professors will not hesitate to give you a failing grade when they're not satisfied with your outputs - No return, no exchange. You'll have to take summer lessons to make up for it ♥️ I'm not saying that this isn't the case for other countries, but this is what I've noticed in the educational system here.

Tip 6: Rice. In the Philippines, you'll never run out of rice. Take advantage of it! You can eat it with anything! It's basically everywhere and is basically what we, most people, eat for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Tip 7: When you're in Manila, avoid wearing jewelries especially when walking around Quiapo. Summary: you went out with a necklace and went home with none. 👀

Tip 8: Never hesitate to get to know people. Filipinos are one of the most welcoming people (not really sure but that's what I've heard). As long as you don't act all mighty and disrespectful, the people around you will surely love you!

Tip 9: Filipino Time. Never believe someone who would say that they'll meet you at a specific time. They'll probably arrive 30 minutes late so don't arrive too early lmao. Again, not applicable for everyone, but most.

Tip 10: "Po" and "Opo". In the Philippines, we use the expressions po and opo to show respect to our elders. Make sure to never forget these words when talking to someone of a higher authority or someone older than you ♥️

Tip 11: Jeep. Jeepney is one of the most popular mode of transportations here in the Philippines. If you're planning to ride one, make sure to know your destination as well as the route of the jeepney you're riding. Jeepneys in the Philippines have certain routes that they follow so unless you want to get lost, familiarize yourself. Paying the fare is quite unique when riding the jeepney. You don't just give your payment to the driver, you'll have to pass it the person sitting infront of you and they'll do the same until the collected payment of the passengers reaches the driver.

Tip 12: Starbucks who? KFC who? In the Philippines, there is only Jollibee supremacy. Don't argue with me, nobody can beat the taste of good ol' Jollibee chicken Joy.

Tip 13: Learn to wash dishes. In the Philippines, we use our hands in washing the dishes. Not everyone has dishwashers installed in their homes thus you should learn how to wash it your own.

Tip 14: "Pst!" and pouting. When you hear someone saying "Pst", they're probably trying to call your attention, and when someone pouts their lips, it doesn't necessarily mean that they're asking for a kiss. Most of the time, Filipinos point at something with their lips instead of saying the exact location 🤦‍♀️

Ex. NORMAL PERSON:

Q1: "Where's my pen?"

Answer: "On the table."

Ex. FILIPINOS:

Q1: "Where's my pen?"

Answer: 😗

That's it for Dani's Tips! Shall you have any questions or violent reactions, feel free to message me. Mwah!♥️

[ecsta-zi]

My experience with white privilege (and how I found out it was real)

I was 20 years old and had been living in the Bronx for 4 years. I had a GED and seasonal/temp experience in both the restaurant and retail industries (3-4 months each.) So i only had about a year of experience working in retail and about 6 months or so working in restaurant. It seemed as though I was only capable of obtaining temporary jobs. It was frustrating because no matter how hard I worked at these jobs I just never seemed to be good enough to be hired permanently. Both times they simply told me that there were no permanent positions to be filled but my insecurities tell me I wasn't good enough.

When it came time to find a new job my boyfriend's mother referred me to Lisa Employment Agency at 247 West 35th Street New York, N.Y 10001. A job agency where you can only get restaurant jobs. She handed me my money and I was there at 8:45 am on 05/17/17.

When I came in, there was an area for people to wait. It was already filled for being nearly 9 :00 am and per usual I am the only caucasian in the room. Most of the people in the room were black and hispanic men. Some were half asleep, some of them were on their phone and some simply looked stressed. I saw an empty seat on the left side middle row at the end. Ahead there were a few desks. A Hispanic woman to the front left whos name is Sue and another Hispanic woman to the front right. In the back with the big desk there was a Hispanic man by the name of Rene Munoz.

Before my body even touched the seat I was called up by the big man himself (Rene.) I handed him the money and the resume I created myself. He looked at it and said "you don't have a lot of experience but that's ok because you're young." He made a phone call and I had a job interview set up for me to go to immediately. My position was "helper" at the juice bar at Pier 59 Studios. My starting wage was $15/Hr. This was BEFORE the minimum wage was set to $15/hr. If you don't know what Pier 59 Studios it is the LARGEST photography studio in the world. Name any fashion magazine! They've done shoots there. Now I am an obese pale white girl who wore their makeup like it was still 2010. Everyone there was GORGEOUS and the place was boujee as fuck. Even the damn secretary at the front desk was super model gorgeous. I felt out of place. Anyway, when Rene Munoz handed me the card he told me "bring more people like you, you know your kind....your friends."

He basically told me to bring more white people.

Prior to arriving my boyfriend's mother who was friends with sue (lady at the desk to the right who got my boyfriend the job at blake and Todd on 47th street) told me that sue told her that they were looking for more white people and that I would not have a problem getting a job because I'm white. My boyfriend's mother is hispanic as well as my boyfriend.

Since I was 14 I've been in and out of homes, cities, and towns where I was the only white girl. I was use to jokes like that. Like "oh don't worry you're white the cops won't pay you no mind" or the one time my friend said to her mom "don't worry mom she's white we won't get into any trouble." as a joke. I simply thought it was another one of those things.

I didn't actually think she was being deadass!!!

At the time I wasn't going to sit there and run my mouth about how racist that shit was. A bitch needed a job I didn't want to lose MY job opportunity by preaching. I shut my mouth and I went. [ Insert White Privilege Here]

At this agency you pay a fee and they give you three shots to try out different jobs. If i didn't like one they'd give me another.

My first day at Pier 59 studios was my training and I couldn't handle the pressure. There was so much perfection expected of you because you're serving drinks to people who worked in the fashion industry. There was talk about the famous people who came in and out of there, and there were perfect gorgeous people around me and i was a potato. Also apparently there was this very important french woman who worked in the industry having some brunch meeting. I wasn't about catering to people and celebrities in the fashion industry. I didn't show up the second day.

When I try to tell people this story, especially people from my race, they get so mad at me because they're the type of people who don't believe in "white privilege." They say the same thing as any other white person who doesn't get it. "I had a hard life, i was poor, i had no privileges, i had to work hard for everything I have. No that wasn't an example of white privilege it was an example of racism" That one was the most idiotic I've ever heard. But they fail to realize that there are employers out there that would literally take one look at you and one look at the black guy next to you and choose you simply because you're white. They don't understand that these men that were waiting in the waiting area were 10+ years older than me and obviously way more experienced! That they are waiting for jobs to accept them for an INTERVIEW because the employers working with the agency told them theyre not hiring black people and that they aren't hiring people who can't speak perfect english. I mean, it was heavily implied given the fact that only poc are sitting there and i walk out with a job interview in less than 20 minutes and was straight up told to my face to bring more people like me . They overlook the part where I tell them that Rene acknowledged the fact that I had little experience and he still gave me this boujee ass job with high expectations!! Completely missed the fact that the man told me to BRING MY KIND. That the color of my skin meant that I had a long list of employment opportunities because that is what they're looking for.

I was like them in a sense. I too grew up shit poor, i have a ged, I'm basically white trash and that I never got anywhere bc of my skin color. That day though, reality slapped me so hard I still can't believe that REALLY happened, that it still happens and that it happened right in front of my face.

I didn't do a thing about it. I felt so guilty for awhile and I still do. This isn't that "white guilt" shit or me "apologizing for being white." I know that pisses off white people.

Black and Hispanic people contributed a lot to who I am and where I am right now in my life even at 23 years old. I was raised and mentored by strong black queens who I would do anything for. If it weren't for them I probably wouldn't be alive. I was educated and influenced by black men. If it weren't for them I would still be struggling with reading comprehension, i would've failed english and history. I would've never got my GED. I wouldn't have gone to college. If it weren't for latinas I wouldn't know shit about cooking or cleaning or how to manage money, i wouldn't have a home, and i wouldn't have done anything decent in my life.

All of these people, people of color, who lifted me up off the ground, picked up every piece of my brokenness, and made me whole are the reason why I felt guilty. Not because I am ashamed to be white. But because I am ashamed of the fact that I wouldn't have even been there at that job agency if it weren't for them and that I failed to be an ally all for some boujee ass job I didn't want anyway.

I had to accept the fact that there wasn't much that I could do.

One day I was fucking around on google maps, writing reviews for places I've been to. I decided to look up Lisa Employment Agency and I wrote a review regarding what happened that day. A warning to those who are poc and desperate for a job to not give them their money. That was the best that I could do.

The purpose of me writing this is because people don't understand how real this shit is and that it still happens. White people don't understand that just because YOU yourself have never been in a position where you used your white privilege doesn't mean that it doesn't exist.

It does. Its real. And it's fucked up.

******Below I have a photo of the card that Rene gave me. I still have it for some reason. A big chuck of it was cut off but you can still see the name of the man at the agency. You can see where it says Pier, the date is there, and my starting salary. (I cut a piece of it off to scoop up my weed sorry) It is the only proof I have that it happened. The name and number written above my name was the name of the owner or manager at pier 59 studios.******

[texxasserialroundup]

Incoming college students.. listen up!

I have been asked about some tips or advice for incoming college students, both traditional and non-traditional, so here it is.. enjoy!

So I am what you call a non-traditional student I did not go to college right out of high school it took a couple years for me to realize that it was important for me to pursue a higher education beyond my high school diploma. My very first freshman semester I took two classes, one of these was a developmental math course ( I ABSOLUTELY LOATH MATH!) and of course I dropped out of college soon after, honestly I don't even think I did like a full month of classes I just stopped showing up. I wasn’t motivated and all I really wanted to do was hang out with my friends and do hood rat shit (LOL)  Fast forward 4 years after that, when I AGAIN decide to get my act together, it took that mixed with having some personal experiences to kind of get my head straight in regards to my future endeavors and what I want to do with myself. When I say that it's hard to do college by yourself, y’all... it is so hard, it doesn’t help that I'm an introvert who doesn’t like to ask for help from tutors because I feel like I am burdening them and I’m worried that I will embarrass myself with dumb questions.  Neither of my parents graduated high school so that was no help with homework or studying and at the time I was going to a Community College and so the atmosphere is not quite like a four-year University. Everybody just kind of stays to themselves so it is not like it is easy to mingle make new friends, there is not a lot of on campus activities and stuff like that so that also made it difficult. But also I did not know how to study, honestly I'm not going to lie to you guys, I'm currently working on my third college degree and I still don't know how to study and sometimes that really kind of like puts things into perspective about our educational system in regards to the way that they teach towards a specific curriculum. I think that teaching students how to study is extremely important. The way that I get through my college classes is a lot of crying, and I am not being sarcastic, that is exactly what happens. I do a lot of crying, there is a lot of frustration, there is a lot of screaming at myself, there is a lot of self-bullying and personal demons that I battle with. I do not feel like I learn like everybody else, I cannot just read something or watch a video and retain information. Everything must be repetitive; I must read it over and over and over, I must highlight things and make up little phrases in order to remember topics like the Krebs cycle. So, it is repetitive, and it slows me down, it is frustrating, and the experience overall is overwhelming. Especially recently with covid a lot of my classes have been online which essentially translates to teach yourself a brand-new topic, good luck, and may the force be with you kind of thing. For people like me who deal with what my boyfriend calls “impostor syndrome” it really rattles any self confidence that I built throughout my college career and it makes me feel like the achievements that I've done so far aren't valid and that I don't deserve the degrees that I have and that maybe it was a mistake . With these things being said I just want to spread some positivity and some good vibes in regards to anybody who is a freshman going into college, a current college student, or a non-traditional student such as myself who feels like they might be too old to go back to school. Everybody is dealing with their own struggles and college is not easy, if it were everybody would have a college degree. Some tips from myself would be not to be afraid to ask questions, if you're like me, I have really bad anxiety and I don't feel like I can bring myself to ask a question during lecture in front of the class so I'll either email the professor afterwards or I will speak to the professor one-on-one during office hours or I'll try to grab her as soon as class is over before she leaves an ask her a question. The reason why I say this is because college moves very fast and the professors honestly it seems like they're not going to put any extra effort into helping you understand a topic if you don't express your confusion or if you don't understand the topic. At the end of the day you're paying for your college education and you need to create self-confidence and remind yourself that you're worthy and that your questions do deserve to be answered no matter how ridiculous they sound in your head no matter if you think that it will sound dumb. I cannot stress enough the importance of getting your questions answered. My second piece of advice is to utilize any type of group study offered, like I said before, I have really bad anxiety and it's hard for me to just walk up to a stranger and ask to be a study buddy. What I've noticed though is that a few students will get together or it will just be one student and they will start a group chat through either GroupMe or through text message or you know through canvas which is the educational platform that my University uses, and it really helps because you still have access to study guides, notes, or if you miss a day you can reach out and ask what you missed. As well as review and go over important topics and information posted. A lot of the times you don't even have to be face to face with these people, all of it is through text messaging or email. Another really good piece of advice is learn how to use OneNote and Google Docs and learn how to use it in a group format so that multiple people can work on one document together in real time so you can watch somebody else edit a midterm review while you're also adding to a midterm review it.will.save.your.life! Just spend a couple minutes, get on YouTube watch a quick tutorial nothing crazy just a quick rundown, y’all, I am telling you it will do wonders. Next piece of advice will have to be not to compare yourself to other students. My first semester of college at a four-year University I went all out on the school supplies, I bought so many journals, I bought so many sticky notes and planners and different colored pens and sharpies and highlighters. I had index cards, I had binders, I had sectional post-its, basically if office depot sold it I had it in my backpack.  I quickly learned that I did not need half of that crap, but when you're excited about going to your first year of college you want to be prepared and if you're like me I watched other people’s YouTube videos about their experiences and things that worked for them and so I tried to pick and choose what I thought would work for me. Long story short it did not  help and I think that really played a big part in my self-loathing in a sense because I would see all these other students super organized with beautiful handwriting, multi colored notes and just over the top every day, never faltering, just like the perfect student it seemed. It's okay not to be super organized, it's okay not to have the perfect notes, it's okay if all of your notes from all of your classes are in one notebook, if it works for you, it works for you.  No matter what that may be, just keep in mind that this is your college journey no one else’s. Finally, I will emphasize to invest money in a good backpack. Like do not take the backpack from high school with you, I did that, and it was a disaster honestly. It is like my dad used to say growing up, “you get what you pay for.” You are going to be carrying a lot of stuff, probably a tablet, a laptop, textbooks, journals, binders, you name it and you need support for your shoulders, for you back and for your neck. I say this from experience, my college campus is one of the largest public universities in the state of Texas, it takes me 20 minutes to get from my car to the campus, once on campus, I have another eight minute walk to get to my first class. So, it is detrimental to me and my physical health to have a good backpack with support that holds everything and equally distributes the weight correctly. I know this sounds crazy but that is probably the one thing besides getting a good laptop that I would invest a lot of money in. Lastly, I will leave you with this, college is a scary experience for many people and right now we're in very uncertain times which only adds to the stress, but I want you to know that there are resources out there for you and other students and faculty who are more than willing to work with you and accommodate accordingly. Please do not be afraid to reach out to anybody for any type of assistance whether it be academic, mental or physical help, we are all in this together. Be kind to one another and stay curious. -SLR

[peachymhaechan]

“Are you sure this is legal?”

Genre: fluff, a tad bit of angst, you already know the fuckin vibes; best friends to lovers! au

Warnings: swearing, breaking into a closed pool i guess ??? honestly p tame compared to what i normally write

Pairing: na jaemin x female reader

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1OT332LXdqZmRE28NxPRzg?si=OGJL7n3KQYmcpfCwVFhRQw

A/N: i hope the ending doesn’t translate to me not knowing how to end this too badly lol,,, also- not to be political or anything but,, here are some petitions to sign if you haven’t already :) https://blacklives.help/?url=https://blacklives.help&gclid=Cj0KCQjw9b_4BRCMARIsADMUIyqCSaXuMx89tawp4m0X8HiGhh8gGI_jWIO-aWY72f8TKaLdF0GHh3YaAmnAEALw_wcB#petitions 

Being friends with Jaemin was always an adventure. Having met him in preschool and growing up down the street from him, you had plenty of memories from early childhood all the way to adulthood. You experienced just about every big milestone moment together- losing your first baby tooth, entering middle school, being heartbroken for the first time, getting your license, even opening your college acceptance letters to your dream college together. From the moment you two met, you were both attached to the hip and inseparable ever since. Luckily, you both had the same dream college and both were accepted, so not even post-secondary education could get you two away from one another. 

The summer before college, however, life seemed to change. 

You and Jaemin had been through so much together, and you both had felt like nothing would change that. There had been many late night talks discussing your future plans; you’d find your significant others, get married (with each other as the best woman and man of honor, of course), have kids, and have your kids be best friends. Simple as that, no other way of thinking about it. 

It was a few days after graduation, and you went over to Jaemin’s house in the evening, already expecting to walk into his house and find a living room full of teenage boys playing video games since Jaemin didn’t respond to any of your texts. Kicking off your shoes and throwing on a pair of slippers by the door, you found your suspicions to be correct. Jaemin, Jeno, Renjun, and Haechan all lounged around Jaemin’s living room, completely focused on the television screen broadcasting their game of Call of Duty. They all spoke amongst one another, switching between discussing the game at hand and other matters- specifically, Jaemin’s love life. 

Or, you should say non existent love life, as Haechan so lovingly reminded him. 

“Jaemin, are you ever going to ask Y/N out? Or are you going to keep leading on that girl you took to prom. Crap, what’s her name? Isn’t it like Kim or something? Ah, fuck, Jeno, why’d you shoot me?” Haechan whined out, stopping you on the spot. I’m sorry, fucking pardon? you thought, not sure if you heard correctly. 

“Dude, I’ve thought about it and I just- I don’t know. I wanted to take her to prom and ask her out afterwards, but then Y/N was asked by Mark and… the timing was never right, and it never feels like it ever is right. I’m just going to push it off until college, I think,” Jaemin mumbled, fingers aggressively jabbing at the controller in his hands. At his words, your mind went blank and your body started running on autopilot. Jaem liked you? Like, like-liked you? No way. No fucking way. 

“Jaemin, you gotta ask her out, dude. You let Mark swoop in for a bit, and you’re lucky she ended it before it went anywhere. Are you going to let the same thing happen in college? What if she doesn’t cut the guy off before things get serious, and you never get it off your chest?” Jeno asked, raising a few solid points. You hated to admit it, but he made sense. It was still weird to hear out loud, though. You had never thought of Mark as ‘stealing you’ from Jaemin, and truth be told you did enjoy all the times you had with Mark, but you didn’t want to get into something serious when he was about to leave for a college that was all the way across the country. Long distance relationships work all the time, but you didn’t want your first serious relationship to be long distance. As always, Jaemin was there to cheer you up after your first heartbreak, lending you his shoulder to cry on. And ever the gentleman, he didn’t even complain when you got snot all over his shirt from crying so much. 

But hearing all those things made you wonder why Jaemin was there for you to cry on; in the past you had wondered how Jaemin was always such a steady and strong person in your life, but now you were doubting how and why. 

A couple more seconds of silence passed, and then Jaemin’s mom noticed you before Jaemin and the rest of the boys did, and she yelled, “Jaem, Y/N’s here!” to which she received no response. 

Sighing, you strolled over to where Jaemin was sitting and stood in front of him, trying to get his attention, but to no avail, as he simply just stood up and looked at the TV screen over you. 

“Jaem, you’re lucky your mom is in the other room, otherwise I’d be cussing you out right now,” you told him, putting your hands on your hips and scowling at the boy. The previous conversation ran through your head, and it took everything in you to force those thoughts back and just act like everything was normal. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin and the rest of the guys were secretly shaking in their boots and wondering how much of their conversation you overheard. 

He stuck his tongue out at you in response, saying, “We’ll be done in just a minute.” Sighing, you flopped down into his spot on the couch, further incentivizing him to finish up his game and pay attention to you. To annoy you, of course, he sat down on you. 

“Jaem, what the hell,” you yelled, voice muffled from his back being right on you. The rest of the guys were too focused on the game to even notice the antics going on between you and Jaemin. Slapping his back, you tried to get him off you but in retaliation he bounced back on you, making the situation even worse. Thank God they finished that round shortly after and he got off you. 

“You suck,” you said, pushing Jaemin off and making him fall on the floor. He looked up at you from the ground and pouted, sticking his bottom lip out so he looked like a baby. All the guys stood up, setting their controllers down and stretching. “You lowkey deserved that, Jaemin,” Renjun announced, arms raised over his head in a stretch. Jaemin suddenly got a smirk on his face, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head, making your eyes widen in fear. 

“Na Jaemin, don’t you dare-” 

The next thing you knew, you were being pulled onto the floor by your legs, a scream leaving your throat but quickly dissolving into a laugh. How you didn’t see that coming you didn’t know. 

“Ew, gross-” 

“They’re doing couple shit again-” 

“I just threw up in my mouth-” 

Rolling your eyes at the comments of the guys, you pulled yourself up off the ground and pursed your lips in annoyance. “What are you guys, twelve?” you rebutted, not tolerating their childish behavior. 

“I will have you know, I just turned thirteen!” Haechan quipped back, making everyone snicker a bit. “Yeah, you sure as hell act like it, too,” you replied, making him scoff. “Anyways, I’m bored. Entertain me,” you announced, dramatically sighing and flailing your arms around. 

“Dude, summer just started. How are you bored already?” Renjun asked you, skeptical as to how you could be so bored in such a short amount of time. “Uh, hello? You guys are basically my only friends, and nobody has answered their phones all day. Yeah, I’m bored, give me something to do, talk to me, ask me to hang out, whatever,” you explained, slightly guilt tripping them. You were only partially lying when you said they were your only friends. You had other people, too, like Chenle and Jisung and Mark and a few others, but they weren’t as close as you were with Renjun, Haechan, Jeno, and Jaemin. Well, Jaemin, specifically. You were certain that if you needed an organ transplant or something, Jaemin would be at the hospital in a matter of minutes and ready to donate. The same couldn’t be said about the others, but you get my point. 

“Okay, fine, let’s order a pizza or something and have a movie night in my backyard. Sound good?” Jaemin suggested, appeasing the group. Naturally, at the mention of pizza, all the boys got excited and aggressively nodded their heads, signalling they were in. Jaemin’s parents bought a large projector for the backyard a few years ago so that whenever he had friends over they could all hangout in the backyard and not disturb the adults inside the house. Smart thinking for them, plus all of Jaemin’s friends had fun with it, so it was a win-win situation. 

You guys all got to work setting up the projector and blankets on the ground in the backyard, trying to hustle so it would all be done before sunset. Luckily you guys succeeded, and Jaemin came back outside with a few pizza pies, the swarm of teenage boys surrounding the pizza before you could even think to get any. Over the years you had learned that if you wanted food, you had to act quick, otherwise all the guys would eat it all without any remorse. So, like always, you jumped into the mayhem and managed to get away with a few slices. Content, you retreated to one of the blankets and sat down, happily chewing away at a piece of pizza, listening to the guys all chatter in the background. Faintly, you heard Haechan and Renjun bickering over something trivial like always, while Jeno and Jaemin stood by and mediated the whole thing. 

“Pepperoni is totally a saturated fat, dumbass!” 

“Nuh uh, saturated fats are liquids at room temperature, wise one! Unsaturated fats are fats like pepperoni and other meats, like, I don’t know, salami!” 

“Actually, according to Google-” 

Someone sitting down next to you pulled you out of your stupor, and you found yourself being surprised by Jaemin sitting next to you. He flashed you a grin, knowing that you secretly enjoyed listening to those two fight like an old married couple as much as he did, though he’d never admit it, either. 

“I’m sorry none of us responded to your texts today,” he said, finishing the last of his pizza and wiping his hands on a napkin. You shrugged, not sure how to properly articulate your true feelings. 

“It’s okay, it just sucks feeling like I’m the only one left out, ya know? And I want to hang out with you guys as much as I possibly can before college. I know that we’re going to school together and will see each other regularly- and if we don’t then I will hunt you down and force you to hang out with me, by the way- but that’s not the case for the other guys, and I want to make the most of this last summer. This is the last summer that we can still be kids and have fun and not have to worry about how much debt we’re in or how much our student loans are. Let’s live a little while we can.” 

Jaemin narrowed his eyes at you, abruptly laid down on the blanket and stared up at the sky, and then quickly shot back up to a sitting position. For once in your life, you couldn’t read the expression on his face, concerning you a tad bit. 

“You’re right,” he told you, standing up and going to his phone to pick a movie for the projector. “You’re right, I hadn’t thought of it that way, to be honest. We should be having fun, though, while we can, because it’s not like the past however many years we’ve known the rest of the guys where they’ll be a five minute walk away. Let’s do some dumb shit this summer while we can still get away with it,” Jaemin said, swiping through Netflix before eventually stopping on the Bee Movie. 

“I mean, I agree with you for the most part, and I’ll do whatever. As long as it isn’t illegal, that is. Your parents would kill you if you got caught and so would mine. They’d tag team it and kill us both, Jaem,” you said, not sure what exactly he had in mind when he said dumb shit. Jaemin, however, and your group of friends in general, seemed to be experts on dumb shit so you couldn’t even imagine what he had up his sleeve. 

He turned to look at you with a sly grin on his face and said, “I guess we better hope we don’t get caught, then.” On that note, he came and sat back down next to you again, tugging you down to lay on the blanket next to him. You chuckled at how clingy he was, pinching his cheeks and cooing at him to annoy him. It didn’t work, though, because the next thing you knew, Jaemin was trapping you in his arms and pulling you to his chest, where he cooed down at you and pinched your cheeks. That seemed to catch the attention of the other boys, because they all shut up their argument about saturated vs. unsaturated fats and turned their eyes onto you two. The three of them got shit eating grins on their faces and one of them discreetly took out his phone, taking a video of you two without you guys even noticing. 

From that point, the three of them silently made a pact to do whatever they could within their power to finally get Jaemin to confess to you. So, after a series of aggressive head nods in different directions, they decided to quietly tiptoe back to the house and leave you two outside alone. 

And, the sad part is, you and Jaemin didn’t even notice that the guys were no longer there until about thirty minutes into the movie. “Ya like jazz?” Jaem quoted with the movie, then noticed that you were the only one laughing. “Wait, where’d everyone else go?” he asked, looking around and finding absolutely nobody else in the yard with you two. 

“When did everyone else go?” 

“No clue,” Jaemin responded, shrugging his shoulders and staring at you. He narrowed his eyes, pursed his lips in thought, and stared at you. 

“Jaem, you’re giving me major creeper vibes right now,” you told him, making him laugh. Standing up, he reached his hand down for you to grab so he could pull you up. Sliding your palm in his, he gave you a huge smile and pulled you up, immediately jumping up and down. Giggling, you asked him, “What are you thinking about up in there?” and gently knocked on the side of his head. 

“I’m thinking that we should do something fun, go live a little,” he explained, grabbing his phone and your hand in his then pulling you into his house. His mom was in the living room, watching Jeopardy and drinking tea, fully invested in the show. 

“Mom, where did everyone go?” he asked, leaning against the wall and looking at the TV. “Oh, Jeno said he had to go feed his cats and the others said they needed to help him. Didn’t know it took three people to feed two cats, but you learn something new every day, I suppose,” she informed you two, a glint in her eye that said she knew more than what she was letting on, but you and Jaemin decided to just let it be. 

“Ah, okay. Well, anyways, we're going to go on a drive,” Jaemin told her, surprising you. Somehow you managed to keep your face under control and not display how shocked you were. Living in such a small town, it wasn’t unheard of for teens to go on drives to the local Walmart or the shitty gas station chain for entertainment, but usually you were aware of the plan before it happened. Not when Jaemin was telling his mom he was taking the car. 

“Okay, honey. Stay safe, make good decisions, don’t drink and drive, wrap it before you ta-” 

“MOM, WHAT THE HELL?!” 

You had to agree with Jaemin on that one. 

“I’m just saying! Have fun!” she exclaimed, laughing lightly at his outburst and your disgusted face. 

“Bye Mom, love you,” Jaemin said, slipping on a pair of slides and grabbing the car keys from the dining room table. “Bye, Mrs. Na,” you told her, waving before you left the house. 

“So what’s the plan?” you asked, hopping into the passenger seat and picking a playlist from Jaemin’s phone. A while ago, you had made a playlist full of songs that reminded you of how hanging out with Jaemin made you feel, and after hearing it once, Jaemin fell in love with it. So, anytime you two were going on a drive somewhere or even just having a dance party in your room, that playlist would be the go to. 

“We,” he said, grabbing your headrest to see the driveway and road behind him, “are going swimming.” Naturally, you were confused for quite a few reasons. One: it was almost eleven o’clock at night. Two: none of the other boys or you had a pool. Three: you were wearing jean shorts. 

“Um,” was all you could say, too many things running through your head to properly articulate them, but the one big one was simply ‘What?’

Reaching out, he turned the music up and started dancing a bit in his seat, making you relax a tiny bit. Jaemin seemed so carefree, you figured that you had trusted him enough thus far in your life, might as well trust him on this one, too. 

“HANDS ON THE WHEEL, JAEM!” you yelled when he grabbed your wrists to make you dance. He laughed and put his hands back on the steering wheel, navigating the streets so that you were on track for the community pool. You looked over at him, turning in your seat to face him, and sat there in awe. It looked like something out of a movie, really; the street lights illuminating the highs of his face, the bright smile spanning his entire face, wind blowing his hair around. In that moment, you could feel your heart skip a beat and your throat get tight. There were so many things that you wanted to say to him, like how you knew he was your best friend but your feelings were suddenly very much so not best friend-like, or how you don’t know why your palms start sweating when he smiles at you, or how the casual hand holding he always did with you had you weak in the knees. You weren’t sure exactly when all those thoughts started popping into your brain, but the couple months prior made it increasingly difficult to be best friends with him. Normal best friends don’t think about kissing each other, but there you were, wondering how his lips felt. 

“Enjoying the view?” Jaemin teased, noticing your gaze on him and blushing. “Eh, it’s not too bad, if I’m being honest,” you teased back, a smirk on your face. You wondered why he was blushing so much, but you chalked it up to the humidity despite it cooling down. “Well, you should take a picture of it so you can remember it forever.” 

The statement made you scoff, and you hoped it came off as an exasperated, you’re so full of yourself kind of scoff, but in reality it was a much different scoff. It was truly an exasperated, how could you even think I’d forget something as big as this? kind of scoff. 

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, Na Jaemin,” you stated, leaning back against the car door to fully gaze at Jaemin as he drove. He had one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the middle console, completely at ease while driving you to the pool. His lips were curved up, obviously pleased with the situation at hand. 

“Yet you keep coming back to me, Y/L/N Y/N,” he shot back, trapping you in a corner. Clicking your tongue, you shook your head in mock disappointment. 

“That I do. Not entirely sure, why, I should probably start working on that,” you mumbled, feigning disinterest. Right as you said that, Jaemin pulled into the parking lot of the closed community pool, the street lights illuminating the lot and providing you light to see. 

“Am I supposed to swim in my jean shorts?” you asked, pointing down to your legs. You doubted Jaemin’s parents would have been thrilled with the idea of you sitting in his car on his leather seats with wet jeans on. Yes, the car might have been his, but his parents contributed a hell of a lot of money to buy it, as well as the general upkeep occasionally, and upkeep definitely covered wet jeans on leather seats. 

“Do you even have towels with you?” you asked, Jaemin turning the car off and getting out to go to the trunk. He pulled out a duffel bag with gym clothes in it, sorting through it before taking out two towels and a pair of shorts. 

“Here,” he said, holding out the pair of shorts to you. “There’s a drawstring in the waistband, so you’ll be fine.” You took the shorts from him, holding them up to your waist to try and get an idea on how large they’d be on you. The answer was very, as they went down to your shins. The sight made Jaemin lightly laugh, giggling at the fact that those shorts were on the brink of swallowing you whole. 

“This should be interesting,” you mumbled, trying to calm the blush taking over your cheeks. It was hard to not blush whenever Jaemin laughed like that, the mere sound of his voice enough to drive you crazy. 

“I think so,” he hummed in agreement, a giddy gleam in his eyes. Jaemin was genuinely excited, and as were you. However, you couldn’t help the ball of nerves in the pit of your stomach from forming at the thought of getting in trouble. With a smirk on his face, Jaemin led you over past the entrance and to the side of the pool that was surrounded by a chain link fence. In theory, maybe having a chain link fence was not the best in regards to security, but the pool always had cameras on the property to prevent breaking and entering. 

Jaemin looked around a few times to make sure nobody was around, then tossed his towel up over the fence, and started climbing. Your eyes widened, not sure what to do in that situation. He must have been really confident in everything to be so nonchalant about breaking into the community pool, that was in the middle of the community park, that was regularly patrolled. 

“Are you sure this is legal?” you asked Jaemin, eyes frantically flicking between Jaemin easily scaling the fence and the rest of the park, making sure nobody else was around. He looked down at you from the top of the fence, swinging his leg over to the other side and smirking. 

“Relax,” he said, using a calming tone and climbing down. “Chenle said that they’re in the process of installing new security cameras, and the park security usually don’t go out for their nightly patrol until one in the morning.” He landed softly on the ground with a light thud, peering through the fence to meet your eyes. There was an impish glint in his eyes, and you knew what you had to do next. 

Taking a deep breath, you tossed the shorts and towel over the fence (which landed on Jaemin’s head to your satisfaction), and started to go up. At the top, you looked down at Jaemin, who gave you an encouraging thumbs up, and realized that holy fuck that fence was a lot taller than what you previously perceived. All it took to get you to keep going was one look at Jaemin. A couple seconds later, you had your feet on the ground, hand wrapped around Jaemin’s upper arm to balance yourself. 

“Ready?” he asked, the shorts and towels in his hand, a crazed grin on his face. Seeing how excited he was made a small smile work its way onto your face, and you tried and failed to not show it, but he knew. You grabbed the shorts from him and ducked inside the women’s locker room, changing into the shorts as quickly as you could and then walking back outside to find Jaemin sitting on the side of the pool with his feet in the water. He looked oddly peaceful, watching his reflection on the surface of the water. The sight put a smirk on your face, making you cross your arms and lean against the entrance to the locker room. You wanted the moment to last longer than it did, because the second you sighed out in content, Jaemin turned around and noticed you. 

His face automatically lit up into a beam, clearly relieved to see you. “I thought you fell into the toilet for a second,” he informed you, standing up and walking over to you. You met him in the middle, gazing up at him. “Haha, very funny,” you counter, rolling your eyes. “I’m pretty sure these could be pants on me,” you pointed out, gesturing to the shorts that went down to nearly your ankles. 

As expected, Jaemin started to uncontrollably laugh at the spectacle of you wearing his gym shorts. “You look so stupid,” he wheezed out, legitimately tearing up from laughing so hard. “You’re such a jerk!” you exclaimed, scoffing in disbelief and punching his arm. He rubbed his arm where you hit him, but he did not stop laughing, only pissing you off more. 

“You better watch yourself!” he warned, mockingly pointing his finger at you. Tossing your shorts and towel onto a chair, you stuck your tongue out at him, egging him on further. Bad decision, you realized a second too late. Without any warning, he charged towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist. He swung you up onto his shoulder, your legs on the front of his body and fists slamming against his back. 

“NA JAEMIN! LET ME DOWN!” you demanded, legs swinging wildly. You figured that with enough thrashing he’d set you down on the ground, but you were oddly mistaken. You could hear the smirk in his voice as he answered, “As you wish.” The next thing you knew, you were tossed into the air and then breaking through the surface of the water, the cooler temperature sending goosebumps up your arms and legs. 

Your feet hit the bottom of the pool and you stood up, rubbing the water out of your eyes to glare up at Jaemin, who stood in front of you outside the pool and laughing at you. 

“You’re such a jackass!” you exclaimed, only fueling him and convincing him to do what he was thinking of. Aka, cannonballing right in front of you. The water that you just rubbed out of your eyes was splashed back at you, successfully ticking you off. Jaemin popped back up with a grin, shaking his head to get the wet hair out of his eyes. 

“Are you happy now that you threw me in?” you asked, lightly splashing at him. 

“Very,” he admitted, the smirk not leaving his face. 

“Is my misery funny to you?” you fired back, hands landing on your hips. 

“Very,” he repeated, smirking even bigger now. Reaching your breaking point, you swam over to him and quickly dunked him under a tiny bit before he could react. He came back up with a significantly smaller smirk, mumbling something along the lines of, “I probably deserved that, to be honest.” 

“Uh, you think?” you jabbed, swimming away to the deep end. You floated there on your back, staring up at the sky and smiling at the stars. In that moment, you felt complete peace. In all honesty, your life was pretty nice. Aside from that awkward, not knowing where you two were in a relationship with you and your best friend. 

Speaking of him, said best friend came swimming over to you and looked over at you, an unknown gleam in his eyes. He rested his chin on his hands on the side of the pool, looking over at you with admiration. You stopped floating and looked back at him, scanning his face for any signs about what was going on inside his head. 

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, genuinely curious about what was going through his mind. You used to be so good at telling what he was thinking about, able to communicate with each other with just a glance. Somewhere in senior year, though, he became a little more… hesitant, to say the least, when it came to sharing his inner thoughts. At first it hurt, but then it made you take a step back and reevaluate things. If you were being one hundred percent transparent, the same day that Mark asked you to prom with a dramatic sign in his shaking hands, a nervous lilt in his voice, was the day you came to terms with your feelings for Jaemin. ‘Will you…. Will you go to prom with me?’ Mark had asked, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead from being so anxious about confessing his feelings and having them be so on display in front of his peers. You so vividly remember thinking, ‘I am in love with Jaemin,’ but stubbornly saying yes to Mark. It’d be a huge lie to say you didn’t think Mark was a sweetheart, with his boy next door aura and guitar playing and innocent church boy vibes, but he just… didn’t have your heart. Your heart belonged to the boy you grew up with, the boy you hung out with on the playground in elementary school, teased in middle school for his peculiar interests, and who you had so desperately wished would have asked you to prom instead. 

“You,” Jaemin simply replied, sending your heart aflutter. He really knew how to mess with your feelings. 

Quirking an eyebrow, you kicked off the wall of the pool and swam to the shallow end again, fight or flight kicking in against your will. You weren’t one to run from your problems, per se, but for the past couple of months, you had worked so hard  to not let your true feeling show and tarnish your relationship. For fuck sake, you had been best friends since as long as you could remember. Every big event in your life, Jaemin was always there. The last thing you wanted to do was to fuck it all up because of your selfish feelings. (It’s worth pointing out, I think, that those are feelings you couldn’t help.)

“All good things, I hope,” you called out, not having to look over your shoulder to know he was already making his way back to you. 

“Very confident of yourself, aren’t you?” Jaemin shot back, a teasing tone lacing his words. You let out a tiny giggle, saying, “Look at me, how can I not be? I am me, after all. You should be grateful I’m even gracing your presence.” He made it too easy, sometimes. But at least he was able to bounce off you, playing with your humor. 

“You’re right,” he told you, surprisingly serious. That got you to look over your shoulder at him finally, spinning around to stand in front of him. The expression on your face was essentially one big question mark, not expecting to find him standing there with his heart on his sleeve, completely vulnerable to you. 

It was common for Jaemin to be so open with you, but this was a different kind of open…. His expression was something you’d never been shown by him before. 

“Are you finally going to tell me what you’re thinking about?” you asked, hands itching to find purchase on his chest, or his arms, or run through his hair. Every nerve in your body yelled out at you to do something, touch him, but you fought it. After all, your relationship could have been destroyed with one touch, one impulse decision, one sentence, three words. 

“Are you sure you want me to?” he whispered, peering down at you through his lashes. The lashes that you had always admired, been so jealous of, but somewhere along the way started to wonder what it felt like to feel them on your skin as you two kissed. 

“Why not?” you jokingly breathed out, dry humor disguising the gravity of it all. For the longest time, you had been so caught up in covering your true feelings to salvage your relationship that you forgot that Jaemin had the exact same power you did; one sentence and he could destroy the fourteen years of friendship you had. 

“I am in love with you,” he gushed, that statement coming out in a rush. He brought his hands to brush some of the hair out of your face, and the tremor gave away how nervous he was, but the strong look in his eyes stood as contradictory. Gazing into his eyes, you finally placed what that unknown gleam he that always had was. It was the same one you had when you looked at him. 

“I know that me saying this jeopardizes everything we have, and I’d hate for one sentence to ruin what we have, what we’ve known the entire time we’ve known each other,” he told you, voicing exactly your own concerns. Wow. “But I feel like I can’t go on pretending anymore.” Again, wow. Despite the seriousness of the situation at hand, you couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that left you. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, hands finally placing themselves on his chest. Jaemin looked down at you in confusion, having laid his true feelings out for you to only laugh. “I’m not laughing at you, dear God I’m not, I just…. You put into words everything I’ve been feeling for months now,” you clarified, meeting his gaze, a small smile on your face. “If I’m being honest, as cliche as it sounds, I’ve been fighting the same battle in my mind for months now. I actually only went to prom with Mark to try to get over you, because I was scared to face my feelings for you head on. I didn’t want to ruin what we had,” you admitted, cupping his face in your hands. The blush dusting his cheeks ignited a warmth in your chest, the feeling spreading. 

“God, are we stupid,” Jaemin said, his hands resting on your hips and pulling you closer to him. 

“I know, we are such dumbasses sometimes. I guess it was meant to be,” you replied, getting the nerve to do what you had dreamed of for the longest time. Standing up on your tiptoes, you connected your lips with his. Even though he tasted like chlorine (and you were sure you did, too), you wouldn’t have changed anything in the slightest. 

At that moment, everything was right. The stars aligned, the cosmos was in your favor, everything was as it was supposed to be. You both smiled into the kiss, so incredibly relieved that it was finally happening. Breaking away, you both kept your foreheads together and lightly laughed, eye contact being held still. 

“I guess we owe Chenle a thank you,” you said, lacing your fingers through Jaemin’s. 

“Yes, we do,” he hummed in agreement. You wished the moment could have lasted forever, but the headlights of a park security guard’s car put an end to the dreamlike moment. 

“Fuck,” you two hissed at the same time, jumping into action. 

“The thanks can wait until we get out of here without getting in trouble.”

[thisnerdsadventures]

i graduated.

i graduated yesterday from MIT!! with a BS in computer science and engineering :)  a few of my friends and i celebrated over zoom with my mom in the background as they played video after video on the commencement live stream while only taking 10 minutes to scroll through our names lmao. the ceremony was done and done after 12pm PST, and i spent the rest of the days watching suits.

cw: protests, police brutality

I wanted to spend a good amount of this post talking about how it feels to graduate and what I’ve learned over the past 4 years. I’m still going to do that, but I want to start with how I felt this morning, as I watched protest videos on Twitter and tapped through an endless stream of call to action posts on Instagram. In the hours around commencement, I didn’t feel as happy as I should’ve, probably because the world we are graduating into is an actual Hot mess. We should’ve graduated onto Killian Court, with the sun out and hope and optimism with the world smiling upon us, but instead we graduated at home, separated by a global pandemic that our country refuses to take seriously and surrounded by protests and anger and racism, sent out into a world where people refuse to take a virus that has killed over 100,000 people in the US seriously and where a white police officer can literally kill an unarmed black man on the streets in broad daylight and nothing will happen without an actual public uproar. 

Frustrated, helpless, sad, angry are a few of the things I’m feeling. I feel frustrated because I know the community I grew up in and currently am in is a part of the problem. (For those of you who don’t know, I grew up in Orange County, California, which is surprisingly conservative for California, and has a lot of middle to upper class Asian and white people who are the types to denounce things like affirmative action, black lives matter, taxing the wealthy. Obviously not everyone here is like this, but actions like this make me remember why i wanted to leave :/ -- https://www.reddit.com/r/orangecounty/comments/gt7ift/oc_sheriff_department_raises_blue_lives_matters/) And I feel helpless because I don’t know how to help - if we were back on campus, we’d take the T out to Park St or even just walk there to Boston Common protesting, marching to City Hall, but we’re dispersed now, and not as many of us can drive out to the nearest big city protest, esp with COVID. So it begs the question of what we can do from our laptops, our homes?

Here’s some links that I’ve seen recently and have found really great:

Where you can donate, and where you can learn, a summary.

The Minnesota Freedom Fund is an organization that helps pay for immigration bonds and bails, but I think they’ve recently posted that they’ve gotten a lot of donations, and are now encouraging people to donate to other local organizations [x] and George Floyd’s family [x]. 

As an Asian-American, I recognize the privileges in society that we benefit from, and it’s our responsibility to stand up in solidarity now and actively fight anti-Blackness today. Here is an awesome Medium post I read yesterday, listing out some of the ways we can help -- https://medium.com/awaken-blog/20-allyship-actions-for-asians-to-show-up-for-the-black-community-right-now-464e5689cf3e

One thing that I’ve been thinking about lately is how much anti-blackness actually appears in our own families and communities - I know I’ve heard many many racist comments from the people around me, so now more than ever, it’s important to have these conversations and educate one another on how we can do better. Another thing I found really interesting was reading about where the model minority myth came from, why it exists, and the damage it does. NPR article. tl;dr educate one another, educate oneself

I also just stumbled upon this google doc that is so in depth, so if you want to read more about more actions you can take, look here -> [x]

welp. that’s all i can really say on that, or at least I think the links do a better job.

1) So going off of that, the first thing i guess i can say MIT did for me was instill a drive to action. I remember before college, I was mostly in this socal bubble, shit in the world definitely happened (ok maybe not global pandemic level) but we didn’t see its effects as much. When I moved to Boston and started meeting people from different backgrounds, that changed. These people here are so inspiring in the way that they don’t sit around or mope or ignore the problem, they choose to do something about it, whether its a pset, the next MIT admin shitshow, or COVID. They go up and beyond what’s expected for them to make the world the better place, and I think that’s something i learned to do a bit of.

2) Another thing I learned was to forgive myself - we all have to forgive ourselves for being less perfect and for whatever dumb stuff we’ve done in the past. Like you might not even realize it’s happening to you, but taking stuff out on yourself way harder than you should might be a product of you just being angry at yourself for mistakes in the past. Everyone wants to be perfect, that’s just a product of who we are as people, a product of the environment we’re in. But the sooner we forgive ourselves for not being perfect, the faster we can move to growing and being better.

3) We are all pretty valuable people. It angers me to no end when people settle for less than they should, whether it's out of fear that something else might not come along, or they just don’t know their own self-worth. A big example of that is how often people will accept lowball offers and fail to negotiate salaries at all. And it drives me up the wall that it happens to people I know and love because it makes me wonder if they can see how much they really are worth. So much of our time at MIT is spent just wondering if we’re enough. But once you leave the MIT bubble, you realize how open you options are, and that maybe we should spend more of our time advocating for ourselves and believing in our own worth than letting people define that for us.

4 and 5) i learned that moving too quick to label people as completely good or completely bad never ends well. Same goes for companies, organizations, issues, everything. This was a hard lesson to learn, I had to learn it, relearn it, unlearn it, learn it again, and I made mistakes after mistakes after mistakes. When confronted with a bit of bad, I closed my doors, thinking I had all the good in the world I needed. But what I really needed was perspective. That maybe there was some x, y, and z, and those were bad, but there was also a, b, c, d, f, g and those were all so, so good. I can get pretty angry in the moment - I did this again just the other day, when I was projecting my anger towards someone to the whole two year relationship. But this time, I had another friend watching my situation on a balcony three floors up who heard and listened to all the good they had done for me and reminded me about it. This is why its points 4 and 5, that its also so important to have friends around that will listen to you, not just during the bad, but also the good, so they can tell you when you’re being irrational and to really be there for you when you dont even know you need someone to be there.

6) one of the things i learned the hard way was how to know when someone is your friend, and how to know when friends truly have your back. something that my experiences have shown me (and 11.011, ngl) is that when it seems like someone has your back, they might not, and when they have to choose sides, they may very well not choose yours. But here’s the thing I have learned: when faced with that, good close friends do not leave. They show up. Do friends fight? hell yeah. and they apologize and grow from it. They confide in you and answer your call at 1am. They know you better than you know yourself, so when you start losing sight of your true self, they remind you. There is no condition to your friendship, no prereq. When a crisis happens like COVID, they show up, they help you pack, they calm you down when you’re panicking, and if they’re not there in person, they reach out, they ask how you’re doing, and they offer support. When you graduate, they send you surprise gifts or join your zoom party or at the very least, remember the date and text you congratulations. Turns out, good, real friends are hard to find in this world, but it’s important to remember to not give up on finding them. it might take a couple years longer than you had thought it would for finding friends in college, but that’s ok. someone once told me that although the journey was hard, it led me to this point, and that that’s what made it worth the struggle.

So yeah, graduating was a lot to deal with. I’ll be back in the fall for my masters and im starting my internship in 2 weeks, so there will still definitely be updates on this nerd’s adventure!

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 47

Chapter Summary - Danielle and Tom host a few of his friends, but Danielle feels as though she may not be good enough for Tom, something Sophie reports back immediately. When Tom goes to talk to Danielle regarding the matter, he walks in on her speaking with baby Kit, and realises something.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

So, according to Wikipedia, Tom lives in Belsize, a beautiful, leafy little area in North London, so I googled houses there and they seem to be in all shapes and sizes. Using that, I decided to make Tom have a beautiful, three-story townhouse, for no other reason than why not?

Oh, and Jeremy and Francis, as far as I am aware, are totally fictional.

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog  @jessibelle-nerdy-mum @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer @hiddlesbitch1 @winterisakiller @fairlightswiftly @salempoe @lys-syl @youcantcatchafallingstar

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know.

The rest of the guests arrived soon after, and much to Danielle’s relief, there was no name forgetting or mixing up. She felt slightly out of place amongst them all; successful, well educated and clearly highly knowledgeable in a range of different topics. Tom was currently speaking with the man named Jeremy regarding the political upheaval in Sudan, both men seemingly knowing a great deal on the subject. Danielle knew that with going there, Tom was at the very least been briefed on the situation, and of course, being ever meticulous Tom, had read as much as he could, she only read his briefing, not wanting to worry too much about his visit, and she had left it at that; so as the men continued talking, she left the room and went in search of Sophie, who was feeding Christopher.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed,” Danielle admitted.

“I can imagine, it gets easier, or I think it does, I think you just learn to ignore it in the end.”

“I want to do well at this; I want to make Tom feel like this is working.”

Sophie frowned. “Is it? Is it working?”

“Yeah…”

“Then why say that you want him to feel like it is?”

“Because I…” Danielle looked at her hands.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just that stupid little voice in my head saying stupid things.” Danielle dismissed.

“You doubt that he thinks it is?”

“I have no idea, I think he does, but then I think about the people he was with previously and how they are of,” she pointed towards the direction of the living room, where Tom and the others were talking at present, “that set, and I am just…I mean I was never wanting for anything, my parents had good jobs and I was an only child so I had everything I could ever want, but I’m not…”

“One of us?” Sophie asked with a small smile and a raised brow. “You are aware going to public schools, fancy colleges and having bigger bank accounts mean toss all really, some get mummy and daddy to pay for opportunities for you, and though it makes a load of people feel overly self-important, to others it makes them feel like they are branded as ‘privileged’ and have to work harder to prove they are just as normal as everyone else.” She paused for a moment for Danielle to think about what she had said. “Tom doesn’t care if your parents weren’t the Duke and Duchess of Ireland, in fact, I think he actively avoids those types, and with regards his previous relationships, I do not know him as long as Ben has, I never would claim to, but Ben has made mention he is happier this time with you than he ever was with them, more than once. Besides, they didn’t work so clearly there was something that was wrong with them and having grown up alongside many of that sort, I suspect a few things were not to his liking.”

“Aren’t you ‘one of them’ though?” Danielle joked.

“Pfft, no, I am far better than them,” Sophie winked and smiled before both women ended up laughing. “Could you hold him for a minute, I really need to go to the bathroom?”

“Work away.” Danielle smiled, taking the toddler, “We’ll be alright for a moment, won’t we, handsome man?” Christopher just babbled in reply before the word ‘yeah’. “See, we’re fine.” Sophie laughed and rushed to the bathroom.

“Hey, where have you been hiding?” Ben asked his wife as they bumped into each other in the hallway. “Where’s Kit?”

“He’s in the kitchen with Danielle; I was feeding him in there when she came in.”

“Is she alright?”

“Overwhelmed, she feels a little out of place.”

“Tom was hoping that wouldn’t happen.” Ben cursed.

“She is a little out of place, she knows that, but that is why this needs to happen, she needs to see that it’s okay that she didn’t have the same upbringing as us, that that doesn’t matter to Tom and those who are actually his friends.”

“Is Kit bothered being left with her?”

“Doesn’t seem to be.” she looked to the kitchen, though she could not see in, she could not hear her son whimpering or crying.

“I am just going to report back to Tom quickly and go rescue her before Kit has her wanting to get herself sterilised.”

“You are so dramatic.” Sophie slapped his arm before going toward the bathroom once more.

As soon as Ben walked into the living room, Tom rushed over to him. “Have you seen Elle? She was here a few minutes ago?”

“She’s in the kitchen, she got a little overwhelmed and worried she didn’t belong.”

“Shit.” Tom grimaced, “What will I do?”

Laurie immediate inserted himself in the conversation, having heard what was happening. “Go tell her that it’s alright, obviously. You can’t dismiss her fears or she won’t voice them to you, and then they fester and she will just leave. Just tell her it’s fine, I’d get intimidated by my magnificence too if I wasn’t me and it passes with familiarity.” Tom and Ben laughed as Hugh’s wife rolled her eyes at him. “In all seriousness though, she is clearly not a big crowds person and this is the best idea on how to get her used to everyone.” He commended. “Nice girl, what did you say she does again?”

“Safety officer.”

“Yikes, rather her than me, couldn’t take that pressure, much rather recite a few lines.” Laurie shuddered.

“I know; she’s amazing like that.” Tom smiled fondly.

“I do believe that Hiddleston is smitten,” Laurie teased.

“He is, trust me.” Ben nodded. “Now come on, I will take my son away and you will talk to your significant other regarding her insecurities.” Placing his arm on Tom’s shoulder and herding him to the kitchen.

Just as the approached it, they could hear Danielle talking inside, so they came to a halt and listened. “And soon, you are going to have a little brother or sister, and you are going to have a lot of fun together when you get older. I never had anyone, and it can be very boring, so even though there are going to be days that you want to kill one another, I know you will be glad to have each another too.” There were a few babbles from Christopher in response. “And you can come to visit us and Mac all the time, won’t that be nice, he likes you.”

“Woo-woo.”

“Yes, Mac is a woo-woo.”

Tom looked to Ben who grinned smugly back at him before they edged their way into the room, not surprised to see Danielle walking around with Christopher on her hip, happily looking at different things as she spoke to him. it was the toddler that saw them first and gurgled loudly at seeing his father. “Dada.”

Realising they were no longer alone, Danielle turned and smiled to the two men. “Sophie is gone to the bathroom. You don’t mind that she left him with me, do you?”

“Not at all,” Ben grinned, going over to his son, who had his arms out for his father. “You can steal him any time you want.”

Danielle smiled happily at him before looking to Tom, who was staring at her with a look on his face he had never had before still over by the door. “Is everything okay?” she asked fearfully.

Ben looked around to his friend and noticed the obscure expression also. “Tom?”

As though snapped out of a daze, Tom jumped a little, “Sorry, yeah, I…” he shook his head a little. “I just got lost in a train of thought there.” He smiled sheepishly. “Ben…”

“We’ll give you two a minute, I think someone needs a nap anyway.” Benedict excused himself before leaving the room.

“Is everything okay?” Danielle repeated.

Immediately Tom came over and wrapped his arms around her. “It is, I just can’t believe how great tonight went. How are you feeling?”

“Tired, I may have…”

“Got yourself a bit over-nervous?”

“Just a tad, did it show?”

“Not in front of others, no. But Sophie…”

“Have you had her spying on me?”

“No, I had Ben get her to keep an eye on you in case you felt you couldn’t come to me.”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“The only way you could ever disappoint me, Elle, is if you disappoint yourself. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am just scared.”

“Good, because that means you care about this.” He grinned back, using her own words from earlier in the day against her.

“What caused you to zone out a minute ago, it didn’t seem like something bad?”

“You look lovely by the way, I don’t think I saw that top before.”

“I got it in town yesterday with your mum and sister,” she looked down, “I thought it was more suitable for tonight than anything I had with me.”

“It is lovely, and with regards to your question, in case you think I was avoiding.”

“Which you were.”

“I got a little startled when I heard you say to Christopher about him coming to visit us and Mac, it made me think you were serious about our discussion on us someday…”

“We talked about it, didn’t we, about after a while, it might be on the cards?”

“I know, but hearing you say it so surely,” Danielle would have been worried he was regretting suggestion it in the first place were it not for the hopeful smile on his face. “It just made it all the more wonderful to think about.”

“You really are that desperate for a dog.” She joked, causing him to chuckle. “And didn’t your mother ever tell you not to eavesdrop?”

“In our defence, you two were talking and we did not wish to interrupt.” Tom grinned, “Do you really wish you had siblings?”

“Yes, I think that is why I sort of bonded to Emma so much after dad died, I felt like I had no one left and she was like what I think having a sister is like, so I loved being around her, she was the right amount of empathy and distraction with happy things, so for her to…”

“She is just busy at the moment, wait and see, it’s not as bad as that mind of yours is convincing you it is.”

“I know,” she sighed, cuddling into him. “So everyone…”

“Adores and respects you,” he replied. “Laurie thinks reading lines is far easier than your work and Jeremy cannot believe you had the guts to give up college, move to a new country and work your ass off for years as a paramedic, a job that is by far one of the most commendable vocations out there, and now are after getting your way to where you wanted to be. No racist slurs, no putting you down, because truly good people don’t think that way. And I seldom surround myself with anything but.” He grinned.

“Except me,” Danielle grinned, earning a growl from Tom. “I’m joking.”

“What will we do with her, Mac?” Tom asked the dog, who had gone and sniffed his hellos to everyone on their arrival before heading back to his bed for the evening. On hearing his name, he looked to Tom and wagged his tail. “He thinks you need to stop belittling yourself.”

“Is that right, dog whisperer?”

“One of my many talents, darling,” He grinned, kissing her. “Thank you for tonight.”

“I just hope I don’t fuck up.”

“Not possible.”

*

It was almost midnight when everyone said their goodbyes. Overall, Danielle did not get the same sinking feeling she had gotten with Charles as she had with any of Tom’s friends, much to her own relief.

“Well now, that was fun.” Laurie declared as he was living, “Though, do not expect it to be returned, you set the bar too high on house gatherings. So instead, next time, dinner out, on us.”

Danielle bit her lip slightly. “Thank you,” Tom grinned to his friend, “Soon, when it’s made public, we are just trying to enjoy the quiet for now.”

Laurie looked at Danielle and smiled. “She’s the sort of girl for you Tom, grounding. It’s what kept me sane for a long time; having Jo to keep me level.”

“I hope we are half as lucky.” Tom smiled. “And thank you for coming this evening and for your advice.”

“Glad I could help.” He looked at Danielle with a wink. “Try and look after him, will you? He’s a bit of a loose canon some times.”

“I have noticed,” Danielle laughed. “And I hope you have a great Christmas and I wish you all the best at the Golden Globes.”

“Well, next to him I look like an old crock, but hopefully we’ll get a few bits of metal for our work, what do you think, Hiddleston?”

“Hopefully,” Tom chuckled as he embraced his friend. “Take care Hugh, I will see you soon, Jo, thank you for joining us this evening.”

“Well, someone has to keep him in check.” She teased as Tom kissed her cheek. “All the best you two, and thank you for the lovely evening,” Jo turned to Danielle, “If keeping morons like these two for killing themselves ever gets boring, you would thrive as an event planner.”

“Aw, thank you,” Danielle was slightly shocked when Jo took her in a tight hug. “I am sure we’ll be forced to endure their bragging when they win their awards soon.”

“I will be sure to ring you up to complain to when they do. All the best dear.”

With that, Danielle and Tom were alone again. “That went well.” Tom smiled, wrapping his arms around her from behind and kissing her shoulder. “I really do love this top.” His eyes travelling to the small valley between her breasts that were almost forced together to fit into it, his tongue darting out as he did so. “Delectable.”

“Calm yourself, Big Boy, we have a lot of cleaning to do.”

“Like hell, we are going to bed, and when you are scribbling note after note tomorrow, I will clean.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Darling, you had the house immaculate and the food readied all by yourself today, this will be my job now, so I insist. Upstairs to bed with you, I want to strip you naked and curl up next to you.”

“What, no sex, Mr Insatiable?”

“No, I want something far more intimate, holding you against me as I fall asleep, knowing you are my gorgeous and outstanding significant other.”

“Most people would just say ‘girlfriend’.”

“Those people don’t seem to realise that that term does not do how I see you any justice. Now, bed.”

“I really should clean, but fuck it, I am exhausted.” Danielle sighed, turning and walking up the stairs ahead of him.