#Alumni and Family Weekend

[marywoodartdept]

Experimenting With Flash

Antonia, our #photography blogger, shares her experience capturing the energy of Marywood’s Alumni and Family Weekend concert using the shutter drag technique. She highlights how this method creates dynamic images. #MarywoodArt #Photography #ShutterDrag

[furioussheepluminary]

𝐒𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲

pairings: hyunjin x afab!reader, non idoal au, strangers to lovers

synopsis: after flunking a test her friend persuades her to get her mind off it with stuff. instead of getting high with the substance, she gets high on the seller.

warnings: suggestive, crack, candy (don't do drugs)

a/n: heyyy babes! im partially back, but i just did this to overcome my block. i am better ofc but now im busy catching up on what i missed in my real world so...ill be back, enjoyyy, if you have extra eyes for errors no you dont

You.

The sweetheart with the pressed skirts and the highlighters neatly lined up on your desk. You had a planner for every semester, color-coded tabs, sticky notes filled with quotes about hard work and ambition. Scholarship student. Honor roll. Volunteer work on weekends. You were the kind of girl professors remembered—the kind who made the alumni board smile and shake hands a little tighter.

And baby, you wore that pressure like a second skin.

Because being "good" wasn’t just for you. It was for your family back home who had scraped together every dream they could just to send you here. It was for the neighbors who pointed at you like a success story. It was for the little girl you used to be—the one who promised she would make it out and make it matter.

You stayed away from parties.

You stayed away from boys.

You stayed away from trouble.

You had to.

---

The campus library was cold.

Not just in temperature, the fluorescent lights buzzed like dying flies overhead, casting everything in that weird sterile glow, like a hospital for broken dreams. You stared down at the crumpled paper in your hands. Big red letters slashed across it like fresh wounds.

D+.

You blinked at it. Once. Twice. Maybe if you blinked hard enough, it would change. Maybe it would rearrange itself into a B...a C...Anything but what it was.

You had studied so damn hard. Flashcards, mock tests, late-night cramming sessions until your eyes burned. You drank the coffee, you skipped the parties, you wore yourself thin because you knew the stakes. And still, here you were.

A failure.

You felt the heat rising behind your eyes before you could even stop it.

"Y/N!"

Your best friend's voice came soft, careful, like she already knew you were teetering on the edge of something dangerous. She rushed over, dropping her own books with a thud, her brows knitted in concern.

She crouched beside you at the study table, laying a hand gently on your shoulder.

"Hey... hey, it's okay. It's just one test, darling. It's not the end of the world—" You yanked your shoulder away before she could finish, your whole-body stiff and trembling.

"Don't—!"

The word came out sharper than you meant, jagged and raw, and your friend's eyes widened slightly. But you were past the point of caring. Your voice cracked as you stood up too fast, the chair screeching backward obnoxiously loud.

"I did everything right," you choked out. "Everything. I worked my ass off. I did everything they told me to do, and it still wasn't enough! It’s never enough!" You felt it break then your anger giving way to the helpless sob sitting stubbornly in your chest. Your throat burned. Your hands trembled.

"Y/N..."

She caught you this time when you stumbled, gathering you into a hug as the dam finally burst. You shook in her arms, silent tears leaking down your cheeks, your body going limp with exhaustion. She rubbed soothing circles on your back, whispering soft nothings like "it's okay" and "you’re not alone," but the words barely registered over the static screaming in your mind.

When you finally pulled away, she tucked your hair gently behind your ear, giving you a look that was all understanding and mischief tangled into one.

"You need to blow off some steam," she said, her tone shifting into something lighter, coaxing a weak, watery laugh from you.

"I mean it. You're gonna combust if you don’t. Listen—there’s this party happening Saturday. Off-campus. Lowkey but... not really. I know some people who could seriously help you forget this week ever happened."

You sniffed, wiping at your eyes like a kid caught crying in the playground.

"A party?" you muttered, half-horrified, half-tempted.

It wasn’t like you.

But God, wasn’t that the point?

Your best friend smirked a little, knowing she had you halfway convinced already. She leaned closer, dropping her voice into a conspiratorial whisper.

"I’ll introduce you to my guy friends. They're... cool. Different. You'll like them."

You hesitated. Your heart hammered at the idea of stepping even one foot off the carefully paved road you’d spent years walking. But sitting here, broken and tired and humiliated, you realized—

The road hadn’t saved you. Maybe it was time to step off it. You wiped your hands over your face, took a deep, shaky breath, and finally, finally nodded.

"Fine," you mumbled.

"One night."

Your friend grinned like she’d just won a bet.

"Atta girl."

---

You stood stiffly in front of the mirror, your hands clenching the hem of your skirt so tightly it crinkled. The reflection staring back at you didn’t even feel like you. Your friend was crouched in front of you, lipstick in one hand, a determined glint in her eyes.

"Stop moving," she said, grinning. "You’re gonna look so hot, it’s criminal."

You tried to smile. It came out weak, strained at the edges.

The outfit she chose for you was way outside your comfort zone—tiny black skirt, strappy crop top, leather jacket thrown over your shoulders to "ease you into it" (her words).

Your makeup was bolder than anything you ever dared to wear.

Smoky eyes, glossy lips. A version of you that looked ready to set the night on fire, even though inside, you felt more like soggy wood.

Your legs shifted nervously in place, the heels feeling foreign, unsteady. "Are you sure this isn’t... too much?" you asked, biting your lip. You stared at yourself again, trying to reconcile the you you knew with the you you were pretending to be.

Your best friend stood up, placing both hands firmly on your shoulders.

She leaned in, locking eyes with you in the mirror.

"Y/N," she said firmly, "you are gorgeous. You just don’t let yourself see it most days. Trust me tonight, okay?"

You hesitated, the weight of your nerves thick in your chest.

Then you nodded.

A tiny, scared nod, but a nod nonetheless.

"Atta girl," she smiled, bumping her forehead lightly against yours.

She grabbed her keys, swinging them around her finger with a casual confidence you could only dream of, and tossed you a wink.

"Let’s go blow some minds."

The drive to the party felt both too long and too short. The city lights blurred past the windows, all neon and chaotic, matching the buzz under your skin. Your friend sang along softly to the music she put on something bass-heavy and lazy, like it didn’t care who it seduced.

You twisted your fingers together in your lap, trying not to think too hard.

As she pulled onto a quieter street, you saw the house in the distance.

Already, there were people spilling out onto the lawn, solo cups in hand, voices raised in wild laughter. Music thudded from inside low and thick, a heartbeat you could feel in your ribs.

Your stomach twisted.

At the red light before the turn, your friend reached over and squeezed your hand.

"Hey," she said, voice soft now. "Listen to me. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to, okay? One wrong vibe, you say the word, and we’re out. No questions, no guilt trips. Pinky promise."

She held up her pinky, wiggling it in front of your face. You smiled for real this time—small, grateful—and hooked your pinky with hers. It was stupid and childish but somehow exactly what you needed.

"Thanks," you whispered. "Always, baby girl," she grinned, letting go as the light turned green. The car rolled up toward the house, headlights catching flashes of students you recognized and a whole lot you didn’t. Somebody was already half-passed out on the front porch. You swallowed hard. This wasn’t your scene. This wasn’t your world. But tonight, for just a little while you were stepping off the road. Your friend parked a little ways down, turning off the ignition and turning to you with a wicked smirk.

"Ready to get a little stupid?"

You laughed, nerves and adrenaline tangling in your chest.

"Not really," you said honestly.

She bumped her shoulder against yours. "Perfect. That’s when the best shit happens." You both climbed out into the night, heels clicking on the pavement, leather jacket heavy across your shoulders. You tugged it tighter around yourself like armor.

Inside, the house pulsed with life.

The door swung open before you could knock, laughter and smoke curling out like welcoming arms. The house swallowed you whole the moment you stepped inside.

It wasn’t just noise it was living. The bass of the music slammed into your chest like a second heartbeat, making your ribs vibrate. Everywhere you looked, there were people draped across furniture, spilling drinks onto worn hardwood floors, laughing too loudly, moving in rhythms half a beat too slow or too fast. The air was thick, syrupy sweet, tainted with something almost electric.

A haze clung near the ceiling—smoke from god-knows-what—and the sharp bite of cheap alcohol hung in every breath.

The lighting was low, a chaotic mess of fairy lights strung carelessly along the walls, some blinking, some dead altogether.

It threw the whole room into this weird, half-lit dream where nothing looked quite real.

You clutched your jacket tighter around yourself, swallowing hard. God, you already felt out of place. Like a sore thumb dipped in glitter. But your best friend—beautiful, fearless, reckless—grabbed your hand and tugged you deeper into the crowd with a grin.

"C'mon, meet my people," she said, practically yelling over the music. You followed, weaving through bodies until you landed in a somewhat less suffocating corner where a group was huddled around a sagging couch. There were introductions you barely caught names flung casually into the smoke, faces blurred by the strobe of some dying LED light. Someone handed you a drink (you didn't ask what it was, and you weren’t sure you wanted to know), and for a while—surprisingly—you almost relaxed. The laughter was contagious, the jokes easy, the chatter flowing like warm river water.

You even laughed once. A real laugh, the kind that caught you off guard.

It felt... good. Foreign, but good.

You started thinking, Maybe this isn’t so bad. Maybe I needed this.

Until—

"Hey," your best friend's voice cut through the fog, soft and careful, right by your ear.

You turned to find her smiling at you—a little too sweetly. Immediate alarm bells.

"What," you said flatly, narrowing your eyes. She rocked back on her heels, trying to play it casual. "Okay, so... I didn’t just bring you here to, you know, socialize." You stared at her. Her grin widened sheepishly.

"Oh no," you said immediately, taking a step back.

"No. Whatever it is, no."

"Wait, wait!" she laughed, grabbing your arm to steady you.

"You’ve been so stressed lately, baby, I just—listen, there’s this new candy going around."

Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s not like the usual shit. It’s different. Good different. Like—light, clean, almost makes you feel like you're floating."

You recoiled like she’d just offered you a live grenade.

"Candy?" you echoed, disbelief painting every syllable.

She nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling.

"Yeah, yeah! It's like—flavored now too. Blue raspberry, strawberry, mango... You barely taste the chemical. It’s honestly amazing."

You shook your head, hard. "I’m not trying any—anything," you hissed.

"Especially not from a party full of strangers who can't even stand up straight."

She pouted dramatically. You crossed your arms. "Even if I wanted to," you said, voice dripping sarcasm, "which I don’t—who here would even have it?" That’s when her expression changed.

Just a flicker. The tiniest, guiltiest little smirk pulling at her lips.

Your stomach dropped. "No," you said instantly, hands coming up like you could physically push the idea away.

"No. No. Hell no—absolutely not—"

She laughed, biting her lip to keep from laughing harder, and leaned in closer like she was about to tell you the world’s worst-kept secret.

"I know a guy," she whispered.

You stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

"A guy?" you repeated, deadpan.

She nodded, looking way too pleased with herself. "He’s here tonight," she added, voice sing-song. " You’ll know him when you see him." You glared at her, heart hammering against your ribs.

"I hate you," you muttered.

"You love me," she winked, already tugging you by the sleeve toward the deeper part of the house, where the lights were darker and the music hit heavier. "And trust me," she called over her shoulder, voice lilting, teasing, almost daring—

"Once you meet him, you’re gonna thank me."

"You’re insane," you hissed, your hand locked around your best friend’s wrist as she dragged you through the crowd. She didn’t even look back. Her smile was wide, wild, laced with that glint she always got when she was about to ruin your life “for fun.”

"You’ll live," she sang, tossing her hair over her shoulder like this was some kind of spa retreat instead of a warehouse party that smelled like sweat and sins.

“I don’t want to do this—” you started.

“—But you will,” she interrupted sweetly, spinning around just enough to walk backward in front of you. Her grin widened. “Because deep down, you’re curious.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Curious about death?”

“No, baby. Curious about him.”

That shut you up. Just long enough for her to find the host—tall, tatted, and shirtless with a joint tucked behind one ear.

She leaned in, whispered something into his ear, and you saw the shift immediately.

He looked at you. Then looked away. Then nodded, jerking his thumb toward the staircase like it was some kind of sacred passage. Your heart thudded. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or instinct or maybe some chemical floating in the air that was already getting to you. The host didn’t say much. He just started walking.

You followed. Up the narrow stairs, the music from below muffled with every step, swallowed by thick carpet and the weight of something else something unspoken.

The second floor was nothing like the first. It was quieter. Cooler. Dimmer. The walls were bathed in low amber light, shadows kissing the corners of the ceiling. The smell of weed still lingered but it was cleaner here. No bodies pressed up on you. Just tension. You and your bestie stopped in front of a plain beige door except there was nothing plain about it. Not the way the host stood before it, like he was entering a goddamn chapel. Not the way your pulse surged in your ears.

He knocked in a rhythm.

Tap. Tap-tap. Tap.

Three beats. Deliberate.  You barely had time to ask what the hell that meant before the door creaked open.

And then—

There he was. Hwang Hyunjin. Not a man. Not a boy. A myth standing in flesh, leaning into the doorframe like sin was second nature. Thick black sunglasses hid his eyes, but you felt them.

Watching you. Eating you alive. A leather jacket hung off one shoulder, worn and heavy, the collar dipped low enough to show the soft stretch of his collarbone beneath an army-green tee.

There were rings on nearly every finger—silver, heavy, clicking softly as he tapped one against the wood of the door.

The campus knew of him long before they knew him.

Hwang Hyunjin—the name alone carried this weighty, smoky air like a legend passed around in dorm rooms and late-night parties. No one really knew where he came from exactly; transfer student, runaway, trust fund rebel—every rumor had a different flavor, but they all agreed on one thing:

He was untouchable.

Hyunjin rolled through campus like a storm dressed in leather and silver. White hair buzzed, gold chains, heavy rings, combat boots that thudded against the marble floors. And those sunglasses... indoors, at night, during exams—no one questioned it anymore. Because Hyunjin wasn’t just a student.

He was the Candyman.

If you needed something to survive a brutal week—pills to stay awake, smoke to mellow out, a little powder to blur the edges of a rough night—Hyunjin was the one you found. Or, more accurately, he found you. It wasn’t about the money for him, not really. He had it. It wasn’t even about power, even though the campus bent and buzzed around him like bees to honey.

It was about control. About being the one thing everyone secretly needed but no one dared to claim in the daylight.

 His lips curled into a lazy smirk. That type of smirk. The kind that says, I already know what you’re gonna ask… and I already know you’ll beg for it.

"Yoo," he greeted your bestie casually, voice low and smooth as dark honey.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek like it was tradition. Like she was just another regular in his church of temptation. Your stomach twisted. He hadn’t even looked at you yet. Your friend tilted her head toward you.

"This is my girl," she said, smiling like this was some kind of glorious gift she was offering him.

"She’s curious."

That made him move.

His head turned—slow, precise.

And then—finally—his eyes landed on you.

Even behind the glasses, you felt it. The shift. The sting. The trap. He didn’t speak. Didn’t smile. Just looked at you like you were something breakable and delicious all at once. You felt your heart stumble. The hallway air seemed to thicken, weighed down by his silence, by the way he looked at you. Slowly, he stepped aside. Just enough to let the door open wider.

He didn’t ask your name. Didn’t ask what you wanted.

Just said, quietly,

"Come in."

When you stepped past the threshold, it hits you like a velvet slap. The smell. It’s thick. Heavy. A mix of sweet syrupy grape-flavored smoke, musk, and something spicy like cinnamon gum and danger. Not the kind of weed scent that clings to a hoodie after a backyard sesh. No, this is premium, imported, rolled by hands that know rituals better than religion.

And the room? It’s a vibe. The lighting’s low and moody—just a few red LED strips curling along the corners of the ceiling like blood vessels, and a neon pink sign over the bed that reads:

 SWEET TOOTH.

There’s no overhead light. Just shadows dancing in corners. A king-sized bed with deep wine-colored silk sheets lies untouched, perfectly made like it hasn’t been used yet tonight but the couch, the couch is war-torn. It’s low to the ground, plush, velvet, L-shaped, and crowded.

Four people lounge across it—two girls, legs tangled, laughing with their heads thrown back like everything’s funny when you’re high enough. One guy with dyed blue hair lazily exhaling smoke from a rose gold vape pen, letting it curl around the room like a spell.

And another guy with locs and a septum ring sitting shirtless on the floor in front of them, nodding to the bass playing low from a speaker tucked into the shelf—some underground R&B that makes you feel drunk just listening.

There’s a low glass table in the center. On it? Everything from edibles shaped like gummy bears to powdered "candy" in sleek, silver tins. A tray with perfectly rolled joints stacked like cigars. A black lighter shaped like a skull. Half-drunk wine glasses and three bottles of expensive vodka with the caps missing. It’s organized chaos. It’s the kind of place where secrets are currency. Where loyalty is shown in silence. Where rules are only suggestions…unless Hyunjin makes them.

And he?

He glides in like he owns the air itself. His buzzcut looks almost metallic under the light—white-blond and razor-sharp, adding edge to the smoothness of his presence. He doesn’t say much. Doesn’t need to. He snaps his fingers once—not loud, just casual—and someone tosses him a joint. He catches it one-handed, lights it with that skull lighter, then turns to your bestie with a smirk that says this ain’t her first trip.

Your friend? She slides right in. She throws herself onto the couch, instantly welcomed like a sister of the smoke. One of the girls lifts her legs for her to sit, then plops them right back in her lap. The guys dap her up. One even kisses her hand.

She fits here. Like velvet to velvet. She’s already laughing, already high, already home.

And you? You’re standing at the door like a wide-eyed lamb in a room full of predators with perfect cheekbones. Hyunjin notices. Of course he does. He walks past you—not looking, not touching, but his presence brushes against you like a breath of hot air.

He leans down by the table, grabs a tin of candy, and offers it to your best friend without a word.

She pops one into her mouth, hums, and turns to you.

"Still nervous, baby?" she teases, licking her bottom lip. "You don’t have to do anything. Just… feel it. Try it. Or don’t. But you gotta breathe."

You’re about to respond when Hyunjin finally speaks. Soft. Lazy. Velvet-over-glass. “You brought her to the garden,” he says, eyes still not on you.

“She can pick the fruit if she wants to.” And now? Now he turns. Finally looks at you, jawline clenched slightly from the drag of the joint between his fingers. His voice is lower this time, smoky.

"What's your name, angel?"

You tell him your name. It comes out soft, stuck somewhere between your lips and the tightness in your chest. He hums it. Slowly. Like he's letting it melt on his tongue.

“Pretty,” he says, letting the word linger in the low fog between you. And then he leans in.

Closer.

He’s not even touching you, not really, but somehow his heat is crawling up your spine like your nervous system has been hijacked. He cocks his head, eyes half-lidded but locked in, and asks,

"So… why’d you come here?" Your throat closes up.

You blink—once, twice—trying to form a sentence that doesn’t sound like “because you look like sin and salvation at the same time.”

Instead, your voice comes out breathy.

“I-I didn’t plan to… My friend, she—she said— I mean I wasn’t gonna—”

Hyunjin grins.

Not mocking. Not smug. But slow and warm like he finds your panic endearing. He raises an eyebrow and taps the side of the tin in his hand.

“You ever tried any before?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. Never.”

“Mmm,” he murmurs. “Then we’ll start with something light.”

He reaches into the tin. Fingers poised. And just before he picks, you blurt it out—

“No—wait!”

Your voice cracks, a little too loud for the hush in the room.

Some heads turn but your bestie just watches, wide-eyed and hopeful like she’s seeing you shed skin for the first time. Hyunjin freezes. His eyes flick up.

You swallow hard.

“I don’t want light,” you whisper. “I want to forget. I want to forget what happened. Please.” It slips out of you, ragged and raw—like someone tore the band aid without warning. Hyunjin stares at you for a long moment. The music fades into background haze. Then he exhales smoke through his nose, slow and thoughtful.

“…Are you sure? Whatever happened can’t be that bad?” Your best friend chuckles from the couch “Yes, yes it was.” And even though your lungs tighten and your stomach flips, you nod.

“Yeah.”

He holds your gaze for a beat longer. Something unreadable flickers in his expression. He doesn’t smile this time. Instead, he reaches into the tin and pulls out a candy glossy, smooth, faintly lavender in color.

“Okay,” he says. “This one’s special.”

You take it with trembling fingers. Place it on your tongue. Let it melt. The taste hits slow at first—floral, citrusy… like honey and thunderstorms.

And then—

Your body begins to slip.

The floor becomes the sky. The air is liquid silk sliding against your skin.

Everything feels warm not hot. Not burning. Just… comfortable. Like slipping into a tub the exact temperature of your soul. Your head lolls back, and a lazy giggle escapes before you can catch it.

“I feel like... like the air is... hugging me,” you slur, your voice soft and half-lidded. “Hugging... hugging real tight.” Hyunjin’s beside you now, arm supporting your back before you even realize your knees started to give. You fall into him. And he lets you. His hand finds your hip like it was made to sit there. The other one gently cups the back of your head, guiding it to rest against his chest. His shirt smells like smoke and sandalwood and something lemony, something fresh.

“You’re okay, angel,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. Your hands clutch his shirt like it’s the only solid thing left in this world. Your words spill like syrup.

“I—mm, I thought you’d be mean... like cold and scary, you know? But you’re... you’re like... warm. Like toast." Hyunjin chuckles. Soft. “Toast, huh?”

“Mmhm. Fancy toast. Like... croissants.”

He laughs again, low and fond, and something about that sound sends goosebumps all down your spine. Meanwhile, your best friend is squealing half-laughing, half-sniffling.

"Look at her! Oh my god, she’s so gone—finally! It’s what she needed."

But Hyunjin doesn’t let you fall apart in public. He gently lifts you, one arm around your waist, the other keeping your head steady against his shoulder.

“Come on,” he says, mostly to himself. “Let’s sit somewhere quieter.”

He guides you to a corner of the room just far enough from the noise. Still low light, but more cushion. A loveseat covered in faux fur and velvet pillows. He settles down, pulling you gently into his lap like it’s instinct. You curl into him, face hidden in his neck. And his arms stay locked around you, firm but not suffocating. Like he’s not going to let you drift too far.

You sigh into his skin.

“Your heart's loud... I can hear it...” Your fingers rest on his chest.

And Hyunjin? He doesn’t say anything. He just lets you listen.

Your body’s loose.

Your thoughts, liquid. You’re sprawled in his lap like he was made to catch you, and maybe he was because he hasn’t let go of you since the second you melted into him. You’re safe here. You know that. But your lips still ache. And your fingers start to wander first curling into the cotton of his tee, then trailing up his chest, brushing the silver chain around his neck. Absent-minded. Delirious.

And then—

You tilt your head up, eyelids heavy, gaze glazed and pleading.

“Hyunjin…”

He hums, low in his throat, not quite a word. His hands rub slow circles into your back. You lick your lips.

“I wanna kiss you.”

Hyunjin goes still. The air changes—like the music pulled back, the shadows leaned in. He clears his throat. “You’re high,” he says softly. “You don’t want that. You just think you do.”

“I do want it,” you mumble. “Been wanting it since you said my name.” He sighs through his nose. “You don’t mean that.”

“Do too,” you pout, slurring. Your fingers slide up to his jaw, tracing the sharp edge of it. “You’re so pretty. You’re like—like an angel that smokes weed and paints with blood.” That pulls a laugh out of him. Raspy, reluctant. But real.

“Jesus,” he mutters, and tries to look away—

But your hand tugs his chin back to face you. “Can I?” Your voice drops into a whisper.

“Can I kiss you? Just a little?” His jaw tightens.

He’s quiet. And you can see it in his eyes—the war. The part of him that wants to be good. Respectful. Safe. But also the part that’s been dying to know what you taste like since you first sat across from him. “You’re not thinking straight,” he murmurs, but it’s not a no. You hear it—the edge in his voice. Like it’s costing him everything to stay still.

“Please, Jinnie…”

The way you say his name? He flinches. Almost imperceptible. But his hand clenches the velvet cushion behind you. You lean in. Close. Lips brushing his cheek, then trailing toward his jaw.

“I just wanna feel something real,” you whisper. “And you feel… real.”

And that’s when he breaks. A breath. Shaky. Shattered. His hand slides to the back of your head. The other curls around your waist like instinct.

“…Just one,” he warns, his voice gravel, threaded with restraint. “Just one and we stop.”

But you’re already leaning in, lips parted—

And when they touch his? Everything stops. The kiss is supposed to be soft. Chaste. But it isn’t. Not when your mouth still tastes like that candy sweet, citrusy, dizzying. Not when your lips part for him so easily. Not when you moan his name into the kiss like you’ve been holding it back for days. Hyunjin groans low in his throat, like the taste is hitting him. The drug lingers on your tongue magnetic, devastating. And it messes with his head.

His grip tightens. The kiss deepens. Your hands find his chest, sliding up his neck to tug at the back of his buzzed hair, and his lips open wider, tongue slipping into your mouth like a man starved. It’s not careful anymore. It’s hungry. You shift in his lap, thighs sliding over his hips, and he lets out a hiss between kisses, one hand falling to your hip to steady you. (But God, he doesn’t want you to stop moving.)

“Shit,” he gasps against your lips. “We shouldn’t—fuck, we shouldn’t—”

But he doesn’t stop. His mouth finds yours again, sloppier this time. Open. Wet. Wanting. You’re gasping now soft, whimpering sounds between kisses, hands all over him like your body’s trying to memorize every ridge of him before the high fades.

Hyunjin is losing it. Your taste, your voice, the way your thighs bracket him so carelessly it’s driving him insane. He pulls back for a second, breath heaving, eyes wild.

“God, you’re gonna ruin me,” he says, voice wrecked.

You smile, dazed and drunk on more than the drug.

His lips are flushed.

Yours are glossy. The air around you is thick with weed smoke and tension, the kind that clings to skin and sinks into your lungs. Music thumps in the background, the kind of rhythm you feel in your chest more than your ears. Someone’s laughing on the other side of the room, but it sounds miles away.

Because all you can focus on is him.

Hyunjin. Eyes gleaming under the hazy lights. Hands warm around your waist. Lips still wet from the last kiss you gave him like he was air and you were drowning.

You giggle against his jaw, all dazed and mischievous.

“You taste like peach gum.” Hyunjin huffs a breathy laugh, cheeks pink, eyes dangerously soft.

“You taste like trouble,” he murmurs.

“And you like trouble, don’t you?” you tease, tilting your head so your lips graze under his jaw dangerously close to that pulse that jumps beneath his skin. He opens his mouth to respond, but you don’t give him the chance.

You kiss him again. Harder this time. Your hands tangle behind his neck, and you press your chest to his like your body already knows exactly where it belongs. His head tips back slightly, letting you take the lead—inviting it, even. Hyunjin’s hands have found your thighs now, gripping gently, but tight enough to let you know he’s still hanging on.

Barely. You move your mouth to his neck, and the second your lips latch onto that soft patch of skin under his ear? He chokes on a breath. His fingers dig in just a little. You start to suck.

Hyunjin swallows hard. “Y/N… f-fuck…” His voice is so wrecked you barely register the click of a phone camera a few feet away. But your best friend sees it all.

Her eyes widen. She zooms. She snaps the picture. And then—

Finally, your bestie calls your name loud.

“Y/N!”

You blink, half-lidded and high, and lazily pull back from Hyunjin’s neck. “Huh?” She points at you from across the room, phone still in hand. “Get off of him! You’re embarrassing yourself, babe!”

You pout like she just took away your favorite toy.

“No…” you murmur, nuzzling back into Hyunjin’s neck. “I wanna stay with him. He’s warm…”

Hyunjin laughs under his breath, half flustered, half wrecked. “You’re really not making this easy, you know that?” You wrap your arms tighter around his neck like a koala. “Don’t wanna be easy.” Hyunjin bites his lip. “Oh my god,” your best friend groans, stomping toward you. “Get your lips off his neck before I come drag you!” You glance at her then back at Hyunjin.

And with the most impish grin?

You go right back in. Hyunjin makes a noise—somewhere between a groan and a laugh—his hands now trying to gently push you off. “Okay, okay, hold on—wait—nope, not the neck again, that one’s still—oh god—Y/N!”

But he’s laughing. He’s loving it. Your lips drag against his throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses as you giggle, high and loose.

Until—

“GIRL, I SWEAR—”

You’re yanked off of him by the arms. “NOOO!” you whine, kicking gently as your best friend pulls you away like an angry mom removing her child from a boy at the playground.

“Let me goooo, I was gonna kiss him again!” Hyunjin leans back on the couch, dazed, buzz a dissarranged mess, neck marked and shining, smiling so wide you’d think he just won the lottery. “You’re insane,” your best friend hisses. “She’s cute,” Hyunjin says with a wink, his fingers brushing the hickey you gave him. “Kinda possessive though.” You reach out for him again like a drunk kitten. “Hyunjinnnnn—”

And he just laughs, shaking his head as he watches your best friend drag you off knowing damn well the second, she lets go? You’ll probably come running back. Hyunjin stands now, eyes low, playful smirk still tugging at his lips as he walks over and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear. You stare up at him like you’ve just a god.

“One more kiss?” you whisper, voice barely there.

Hyunjin pauses—like he’s considering, fighting every bit of logic in his head—but then he sees your pout. Your hands on his chest. The way your high has made you all gooey and clingy and sweet.

He sighs softly, then tilts your chin up.

“Alright. One more.”

He kisses you gently—slower this time. Less rushed. Less high, more… lingering. His fingers slip into your coat pocket mid-kiss, sliding in something small and smooth. Then—

He leans in again, lips barely brushing your ear.

“Call me when you’re sober. I want to know what you’re like when you remember everything.”

Your breath catches. Your body reacts before your brain can even register it. Goosebumps. Heart hiccuping. He pulls back just enough to see your fluttery expression, then smirks. Your best friend, holding another little bag of candy, gives Hyunjin a nod. “Thanks for the hospitality. She’s gonna be crying about you the entire way home, just so you know.”

He only shrugs, eyes locked on you. “Let her.”

---

You’re slumped in the back seat, head against the window, glossy eyes staring out at the blur of streetlights. The city looks like a dream—golden, liquid, not quite real. Kinda like how your lips still feel. Like he’s still kissing you.

Your best friend glances back at you. “You good?”

You sniffle. “No.”

She sighs. “What now?”

“I miss him…” you whisper dramatically, eyes welling up again. “He was so… perfect. Did you see his lips? Did you feel his voice? Why did you make me leave? Why did you do that to me?!”

Your best friend can’t help it. She laughs. “You’re gonna be so embarrassed tomorrow.”

“I don’t care,” you sniff, pouting. “I wanna call him. I’m gonna call him and tell him I love him.”

“You don’t love him, baby, you’re just high.”

You sit up, teary-eyed and passionate. “No. I love him. And his buzzcut. And his pants. And his hands. And—and the way he whispered in my ear like he meant it!” Your best friend grabs your phone before you can unlock it. “Nooope. You’re not drunk texting a man named Hyunjin at 2am while still tripping.”

“But he put his number in my pocket like a movie, girl…”

“Exactly why you’re not texting him.”

You sniff again, quiet for a beat… then—

“I’m gonna marry him.”

“Oh my god—”

“I’m gonna marry him and we’re gonna have a cat named Bento and he’s gonna kiss me like that every morning—”

“Lord have mercy.”

You curl into the seat, hugging yourself, eyes glassy but soft. “He was so sweet, though… and so pretty…”

And back in the party? Hyunjin’s still sitting on the couch, head tilted back, lips still tingling. Smiling to himself. Your gloss is still on his mouth.

And he doesn’t wipe it off.

---

The second you stumble into the dorm, the scent of Hyunjin—cologne, weed, and that warm skin-sweetness—follows you in like a ghost. You barely make it two steps before your best friend gently tugs on your arm and sets the mini first aid bag she keeps (because she’s that kind of responsible) on the kitchen counter.

“Alright,” she says, flipping the light switch, “before you go all ‘oh-my-god-he’s-the-love-of-my-life’ again, take this.”

You blink down at the painkiller and water bottle she hands you, pouting like she just asked you to eat your vegetables. “Whyyyy?”

“Because your body isn’t used to being blitzed, princess,” she sighs, brushing your hair back, “and tomorrow morning I’m not waking up to you crying in the toilet because your brain feels like scrambled eggs.” You groan dramatically but take it anyway—tossing the pill back and gulping the water down. Then you just stand there, slightly dazed, like you forgot what your body was supposed to do next. Your best friend nudges you toward your bedroom. “Go. Shower. You smell like a party and desperation.”

You scoff, wobbling off with a muttered, “Jealousy doesn’t suit you, bitch…”

You undress slowly, the cool air hitting your flushed skin. Every movement makes your brain feel like it’s lagging, but the moment the hot water hits your back?

He’s there.

Hyunjin. That smirk. That voice. Those lips.

Your fingers brush over your own mouth and you swear you can still feel him. Taste him. It’s like the water only wakes up the memories instead of washing them away. You press your forehead to the wall and groan. “God… I kissed the hottest man alive… and then moaned on his lap like a freakin’ drugged-up romance novel…”

And you didn’t regret a single second. You pad out into your room, towel still wrapped around you, head dizzy—not just from the drugs wearing off, but from something more dangerous: anticipation. You yank open your closet, tug on your oversized sleep shirt with trembling fingers, and then pause… eyes locked on your jacket hanging from the chair.

You rush over and plunge your hand into the pocket like it’s hiding treasure—because it is.

And there it is. Folded. A little crumpled. But still carrying the ghost of his fingers. Hyunjin’s number. Written in quick, slanted handwriting. With a small arrow. And a dumb little smiley face. Like he knew you’d be freaking out about it.

You grab your phone with sweaty hands, unlock it, and type his number in so fast your thumbs trip over themselves. Then you just stare at the message box. What do you even say to a man who kissed you while you were high and whispered the softest threat of obsession into your ear?

Eventually, you settle on something simple. Soft. Just barely flirty.

Y/N: “I’m home. Don’t think I’ll forget your face anytime soon.”

Then you hit send. And drop your phone like it’s radioactive. You climb into bed, sheets cool against your skin, body still thrumming. Every time you close your eyes, he’s there. Every time you breathe, it feels like he’s still on your lips.

You turn over. Then again. Then back. Still nothing. You reach over and check your phone. No reply yet. You groan and throw it on the pillow beside you.

“Hyunjin…” you whisper into the dark, cheeks flushed. “Please don’t ghost me, you beautiful demon…”

And that’s the last thing you remember before the painkiller kicks in, your lashes flutter shut, and you drift off…

Dreaming of slow kisses and smirks that should come with a warning label.

---

The light bleeding through your window is offensive. Aggressive. Your eyes crack open with the kind of regret that clings to your bones. Mouth dry. Muscles sore. Thoughts? Scattered like your dignity at that party. You try to sit up—bad idea. The world does a cute little somersault. You flop back down like a Victorian woman mid-faint.

“…am I dying?” you croak, your voice sounding like a gremlin’s first words.

Your phone buzzes somewhere beside you. You fish around, knock it off the bed, cuss dramatically, then finally snatch it up like a beast reclaiming its prey.

Your screen lights up with two notifications:

 Hyunjin: Couldn’t forget you if I tried. Let me know when you wanna kiss me while sober.

Crazy AHH: 4 Attachments. Caption: MY GIRL WAS GONEEEEEE LMAOOO

Your soul leaves your body. Ascends. Then crash-lands straight back into your chest with a painful thump. You open the photos. And boom—there you are.

—Straddling Hyunjin’s lap.

—Your hand in his buzzcut.

—Your face halfway eaten by his.

—One pic is blurry because you’re literally giving him a hickey with enthusiasm.

You let out the most horrified gasp known to man. “I WAS A MENACE.” You don’t bother changing. You don't brush your teeth. You're marching down the hall like a woman on a mission—shirt askew, socks mismatched, your hair doing post-apocalyptic things.

You throw open your best friend's door like you pay rent for it. “WHAT. THE. FUCK.” She’s sitting cross-legged, happily eating dry cereal out the box. Doesn’t even flinch. “Good morning, slut.”

“DELETE. THOSE. PHOTOS.”

She squints, pops another Frosted Flake into her mouth. “Hmm... no.”

“YOU TOOK A PICTURE OF ME TONGUING A STRANGER—”

“Technically not a stranger. Technically a drug-dealing, underground-party-hosting, buzzcut-having, Greek-god-lookin’ legend.” She grabs her phone and waves it. “And technically? I took four.”

You groan and faceplant into her bed. Your muffled voice whines, “I gave him a hickey… I think I begged him to kiss me…”

“Oh, you begged all right,” she hums proudly. “Full-on ‘please daddy I need it’—like a champ.”

“Kill me.”

“Can’t. You’re finally interesting now.”

You roll over, dazed. “God… I barely remember anything. It’s like flashes. Warm hands. Cold couch. His mouth…” She sits beside you, patting your thigh. “I gotchu. Here's the SparkNotes version: You showed up, shy. He showed up, hot. You tasted one slightly rebellious candy drug and then proceeded to fall in lust like a Disney princess on molly.”

You groan again, pulling a pillow over your face. “I have to apologize. Like, actually. To his face. I was so embarrassing—he probably thinks I’m a psycho.” She gives you a look. “Babe… you kissed him like the rent was due.”

“EXACTLY. I need to apologize or die trying.”

“Well, good luck with that,” she chirps, hopping up. “You’ll probably never see him again. Hyunjin doesn’t do public appearances like that. Man’s like the final boss of a video game. Rare sightings only.”

You blink. “Wait… seriously?”

She shrugs. “I’ve only seen him four times. And once was in a dream. Whenever he’s doing transactions and stuff he’s rarely the one delivering by himself.” You sit there, pillow clutched to your chest, brain slowly rebooting. You want to laugh. Cry. Apologize to the ghost of your sober self. Then you grab your phone again and reread his message.

Couldn’t forget you if I tried. Let me know when you wanna kiss me while sober. Your heart does a little somersault.

You whisper, almost reverently, “Maybe… just maybe... I’m his glitch.”

Your best friend throws a sock at you.

“Get your high ass up and drink some water, Romeo.”

Back in your room, the walls feel too quiet. Like they’re watching you. Judging you. Whispering behind your back like, “That’s the girl who turned into a Greek tragedy over a man with cheekbones.”

You shut the door and lean your forehead against it. You exhale.

“…okay,” you murmur to yourself. “Okay. Breathe. Be normal. Apologize. Then die.”

You shuffle over to your bed, plop down like you’re made of wet laundry, and snatch your phone again. Hyunjin’s message is still glowing on the screen like a taunt:

Couldn���t forget you if I tried. Let me know when you wanna kiss me while sober.

Your thumbs hover.

You type:

Hey, I'm so sorry—

Backspace.

Hi, I really didn’t mean to—

Backspace.

This is embarrassing but—

Delete.

You sigh, fingers shaking like you’re defusing a bomb. Then you finally send:

Hey. I’m so sorry for last night. I was out of it. Like... a lot. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable or weird you out. I never do that. I’m not even the type to go out like that. I literally came for candy and my best friend.

You watch the little “Delivered” icon appear. Then panic sets in. So you send another.

Like, I’ve never even smoked anything before. Not even cigarettes. Or like… cinnamon sticks. Okay that’s not a drug but you get what I mean.

Another.

The point is I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a mess. You were really sweet and I probably acted like a drunk toddler and I kissed you without permission even though I begged and like—

You don’t stop.

—you probably think I’m crazy now but I promise I’m not I just had a lot on my mind and I kinda wanted to forget everything and you were there and you were really hot and then your lips tasted like strawberry sin and I kind of malfunctioned—

Before you can finish another unhinged paragraph, your phone buzzes violently.

Incoming Call: Hyunjin

You stare at it like it’s a mirage. Then, after a full 3 seconds of panic-screaming into your pillow, you pick up.

“H-Hello?”

There’s a chuckle. Low. Warm. Smooth like velvet soaked in caffeine.

“Damn, angel. Did your thumb get possessed or something?”

You groan, already facepalming. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was a spiral. I spiraled. I tunneled. I backflipped into hell.” “Yeah, I could tell,” he laughs. “I was trying to respond, but you were texting like your life depended on it.”

“It did!!” you cry dramatically. “I defiled you in public and now I’m gonna get banned from every party within a five-mile radius.”

“Oh please,” he snorts. “If anything, you just made the party memorable. And gave me a free neck tattoo.” You whimper. “You moaned, didn’t you?”

“…A gentleman never confirms nor denies such things.”

You groan again and flop backward on the bed, phone against your cheek.

Then, quieter, “I just… I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’ve never been that out of it before.” His voice softens. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I was just trying to be careful with you.”

A pause. “Did you mean what you said? About trying to forget something?” You swallow. “Yeah. I just had a rough week. And for a second, when I was with you, it felt like none of it mattered.”

The line goes quiet. Then he murmurs, “Well… for the record? I liked holding you. You talk a lot when you’re high. But it was cute.”

“…I talk a lot when I’m sober too,” you mumble, a bit shy now.

“I know,” he says smugly. “I read your entire novel in real-time.”

You both laugh, and the sound makes your chest warm. Then he hums, voice deepening just a touch. “So… you still wanna kiss me while sober?”

Your breath catches.

“…maybe.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

You’re curled up on your bed, tangled in your sheets like some post-drama princess, phone still pressed to your ear like it’s a lifeline. Hyunjin’s chuckling softly on the other end, and your cheeks are still warm from the way he said “I’ll take that as a yes.” Like it was obvious. Like you were already his.

You roll your eyes, trying not to smile too wide.

Then he drops it, real casual:

“So… when can I take you out?”

You blink. “Wait, what?”

“A date, babe,” he says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. “You, me, daylight. I wear a shirt with sleeves. We eat food. Talk without the scent of questionable choices in the air.”

You sit up a little. “…You wanna take me out.”

“Mhm.”

You frown, trying to piece together the logic. “But… I’ve never seen you on campus. Like ever. You just—appear at parties like the final boss of temptation and then vanish.” You hear his breath hitch in a laugh. “The final boss of temptation, huh? That’s a new one.”

You shoot back, “Don’t dodge it. Seriously. Why now? Why start showing up now?” There’s a pause. A short one. Then he exhales through his nose.

“I don’t really hang out on campus unless I have to. Most of my classes are online this semester, and… I guess I just keep to my space. Fewer people, less noise.”

He adds after a beat, “I’m not… sketchy. No offense taken. I get why you’d think that. I just know when I’m in the right place, with the right people, and when I’m not.”

You stay quiet. Processing.

“And about last night,” he continues, voice steady. “That wasn’t me out of control. I don’t take anything unless I know I can handle it. There’s always someone there I trust, and I don’t make it a habit. No addiction. No spiraling. Just sometimes… I need a little quiet in my head too. You get that?”

You do. God, you do.

“So…” he says again, soft and sweet like caramel left too long in the sun. “Give me a chance. Let me show up. No candy, no smoke, just me. Sober. Present. And I promise you—”

You hear the smile in his voice.

“—the sober kiss will be worth it.”

You groan, flopping back against your pillows with your arm thrown over your face. “You’re so annoyingly smooth.”

“I really am,” he agrees smugly.

You exhale. Your heart’s doing that annoying thing again thudding way too fast for someone who was just whining into her pillow about this man twenty minutes ago. But then you smile, teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“…Okay.”

“Yeah?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes, Hyunjin. You can take me out.”

He exhales dramatically. “Thank God. I was one dramatic inner monologue away from begging.”

You snort. “I was already there last night.” “I remember,” he teases. “Vividly.” You’re already regretting this. And also looking forward to it way too much.

---

Parked just outside the gates of your dorm area, it’s warm in the backseat of Hyunjin’s car. Not temperature warm, energy warm. Like the windows are fogged with heat they didn’t even notice rising. Your fingers are tangled in the lapels of his jacket, your lips still tingling from the last breathless kiss, and Hyunjin’s hands are at your waist, thumb tracing soft, unconscious circles against your top. You both pause, lips inches apart, breathing each other in, and then he laughs. Quiet. Airy. Disbelieving.

“How did we even get here?” he mutters, forehead brushing yours.

You grin, leaning back just enough to raise a brow.

“Oh, I’ll tell you how,” you say, poking his chest, and he watches you like you’re a slideshow of every one of his favorite moments.

 Earlier That Night

It started at that art café you never knew existed—dim lights, jazz playing low, the scent of coffee and paint lingering in the air. Hyunjin had booked one of the private studio pods in the back. You raised a brow when you walked in and saw the two canvases and all the paint.

“Don’t tell me we’re painting each other,” you teased.

“I was gonna say your soul,” he replied dramatically. “But sure, your face works.”

You both ended up painting… chaos. He painted a cartoon version of you with exaggerated lips and a crown of Cheetos, and you drew a sad pigeon with his hairstyle. You laughed so hard your stomach cramped, and Hyunjin got paint on your nose—on purpose. Then he wiped it off with his sleeve like a gentleman, only to accidentally smear green on your cheek.

Afterward, he took you for tacos. Not a fancy restaurant. A literal taco truck parked near the river with plastic chairs and napkins that flew if you didn’t hold them down.

“I like it simple,” he said with a shrug, handing you a bottle of Jarritos. “Besides, the best dates end with oil stains on your shirt.”

“Bold of you to assume this is one of the best,” you teased.

He tilted his head, smiled lazily. “It is.”

You tried not to blush. Failed. He noticed.

Then came the riverside walk. He didn't rush it. You talked about favorite movies, bad habits, weird childhood dreams. You found out he used to write poetry. He found out you used to pretend you were on a reality show whenever you were alone in your kitchen.

“I still do,” you admitted, and he laughed so hard he tripped over a pebble.

The stars came out. You leaned into his side.

And now—backseat of his car. Lips swollen. Breath short.

“So yeah,” you whisper now, fingers tugging gently at his jacket. “That’s how we got here. From pigeons to tacos to… tongue.”

Hyunjin grins, gaze flicking to your lips. “What a cinematic journey.” You hum, thumb brushing over his cheek. “Can we go back to making out now?” His grin turns slow and sinful. “Sure thing, baby.” You slap his chest. “Don’t—call me that.”

He leans closer. “Why not, baby?” You whine, actually whine, and smash your lips to his.

The kiss that follows is messier than the last. Greedier. No pauses this time. His hands find your thighs, your fingers curl in his hair, and he moans quietly into your mouth when your teeth graze his bottom lip.

It’s intoxicating—the way you fit, the way the tension coils tighter with each touch. His jacket ends up discarded somewhere between the seats, and your lipstick is absolutely wrecked. He doesn’t care. Neither do you.

And when he pulls away for breath, pupils blown and lips swollen, he smirks.

“We should get lost more often.”

The windows of Hyunjin’s car are fogged over, the air thick with warmth and echoes of every kiss traded like secrets. Now, your head rests on his shoulder, your fingers curled lightly into the folds of his sleeve, and his arm is slung lazily around your waist like he couldn’t let go even if he tried.

It’s silent for a while.

Not awkward—comfortable. Like the universe finally stopped spinning for just the two of you.

You sigh, tilting your head slightly to look at him. “Can I ask you something?” Hyunjin turns his gaze down to you, that soft half-smile forming again. “You already are, aren’t you?”

You flick his chest gently. “I’m serious.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, shifting so he’s facing you a little more, one leg folded up on the seat. “What’s on your mind, pretty?” You play with the hem of his hoodie for a second, then look up. “How’d you get into… all this? The candy. The job. Everything.”

His smile dims—not in a sad way, more in a way that says he wasn’t expecting that, but he’s not running from it either. He looks away for a beat, his thumb still stroking circles into your side.

“It started with my cousin,” he says after a moment. “He was older. Got into the wrong crowd, dragged me along when I was still trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. First time I ever touched anything was at a house party with him. I hated it.”

You glance up at him. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “I hated how it made me feel like I wasn’t in control. But then… life kept hitting. My parents got divorced. I flunked out of a program I didn’t even care about. Everyone expected me to be something I wasn’t, and—” he sighs, resting his head back against the seat. “Taking just the right amount? Made me feel like I had room to breathe again.”

You nod slowly, your hand finding his and holding it. “Do you take it often now?”

“Not really.” He looks at you again. “I know my limit. I help people who don’t. I only ever take it when I’m sure of myself. When I’m in control.” You study his profile. He looks so different in the dark. Less cool. More real. More Hyunjin, less the mystery boy with perfect lips and a car too nice for a college kid.

You lean your head on his chest. “What would you be doing if you weren’t in that world?”

His voice is quiet, but honest. “I’d be painting.” You blink. “Painting?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles softly. “I actually got a partial scholarship to an art school. Didn’t take it. Thought it was stupid. Thought I was stupid.”

“You’re not,” you say immediately, looking up at him. “I think you’re—actually… you’re kind of amazing.” He lets that settle between you two for a second, then smiles—one of those real ones, the ones that tug at the corner of his lips slowly and warm his entire face.

“You think so, huh?”

You nod, cheeks heating. “Mhm.”

“Even after I gave you that sneaky light candy?”

You gasp in betrayal. “You lied to me?!”

“I saved you from passing out,” he laughs, nudging you with his shoulder. You’re both still giggling when you check your watch and—shit.

“Crap,” you sit up straighter, reaching for your phone. “I didn’t realize it’s so late. I have a lecture at eight, and if I show up hungover from sugar and spit-swapping, my professor will literally murder me.” Hyunjin chuckles, adjusting his seat so you can climb out more easily. “You sure you have to go?”

You look at him, biting your lip. “I really want to stay.”

He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “Then make me your reward for surviving class.” You roll your eyes. “Wow. Humble.”

“But honest.” You lean forward, kiss his cheek. “Thanks for tonight.”

He tugs your wrist gently before you go, pressing one last kiss to your lips, softer than the others. “Sweet dreams, pretty. Text me when you get to your room, yeah?”

You smile. “I will.” And as you step out into the night, the cold biting against your skin, you swear you feel a little warmer than before.

---

The next morning, Hyunjin’s car still smelled like her.

Faint traces of her perfume clung to the back seat—warm, soft, something expensive-smelling but chaotic, like her. Like a scent that didn’t belong to one person, but to a thousand moments all tangled up together. The memory of her fingers curled in his shirt, the whimper she made when he bit her lip too gently, of her voice whispering “Can we go back to making out now?”—

Yeah. He was doomed. Hyunjin leaned back in the driver’s seat, now parked outside his place, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers. His phone buzzed beside him. Not a notification. Not even a new text. Just the screen lighting up every few minutes from him checking it over and over again.

No new messages yet.

She’d made it back to her dorm. Texted him that she was in. Sent a sleepy, slurred voice note that said something like “Tell your backseat I said thanks for the ride, and your lips, too.”

God, he’d replayed it three times.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. She’s unhinged. He liked it. More than liked it. There was something wild about her. Something he couldn’t predict, couldn’t label. One minute she was pressing kisses down his neck like she owned him, the next she was asking him about his past with eyes full of genuine curiosity—not pity. Not judgment.

Real. She was real. In a way nothing else in his life had been for a long time. Most people flirted with him because they liked the thrill of his mystery, the edge of danger that came with his name. But not her. Not Y/N. She didn’t want the high. She wanted him. She asked him about his cousin. His art. His stupid dreams. Stuff no one ever cared about unless they were trying to get something.

She wasn’t trying to get anything.

Except maybe another kiss. He groaned, grinning at nothing. He hated being soft. He despised it.

And yet…

The softest he’d ever been was last night—his hands running down her spine as she giggled against his lips, her voice sleepy in his car, her smile tucked into his chest like it belonged there.

He grabbed his phone again. Opened her contact. No message yet. He typed something out. Deleted it. Tried again. Deleted that too. Eventually, he just saved her contact name as Backseat Bandit and laughed to himself. God, he was so gone.

Hyunjin turned the engine off, leaning forward to rest his head on the wheel. “What am I doing?”

Then his phone buzzed. A new message.

From her.

[YN]: Hey. Made it to class. Barely. I blame you. Also my lips still tingle. I think I hate you. But not really. Just a little. Okay bye.

Hyunjin smiled down at the screen like a complete fool.

Then typed out his reply:

[Hyunjin]: Still thinking about last night? Same. Hope your lecture’s boring so you think about me more. Also—I miss your lip gloss. And your mouth. In that order.

Send. He tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, smirking.

Let the chaos begin.

the picture did a number on me and i don't care if its edited.

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[imaginespazzi]

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance. 

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away. 

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night. 

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily. 

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved. 

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else. 

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone. 

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?” 

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around. 

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet. 

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late. 

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard. 

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave. 

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay. 

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months. 

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question. 

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away. 

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter. 

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart. 

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine. 

Until she’s not. 

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine. 

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck. 

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down. 

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out. 

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion. 

 “I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers. 

“What?” 

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home. 

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind. 

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight. 

April 2033 

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age. 

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word. 

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her. 

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen. 

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother. 

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes. 

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room. 

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it. 

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse. 

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too. 

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever. 

“Why would this be about Clémence?” 

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again. 

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown. 

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other. 

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen. 

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks. 

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her. 

“Hey,” she whispers. 

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?” 

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029 

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave. 

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off. 

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had. 

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years. 

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen. 

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown. 

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again. 

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it. 

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp. 

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could,  “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze. 

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever. 

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too. 

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back. 

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk. 

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug. 

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face. 

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs. 

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests. 

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women. 

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins. 

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking. 

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world. 

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette. 

“Clém-” Azzi sighs. 

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home. 

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand. 

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence. 

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip. 

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless. 

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up. 

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly. 

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently. 

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns. 

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air. 

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door. 

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles. 

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand. 

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally. 

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow. 

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously. 

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much. 

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound. 

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells. 

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right. 

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi. 

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first. 

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder. 

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs. 

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice. 

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

[pomefioredove]

wait wait wait, your requests are open for noble bell for this weekend only? (if i got that right?!) sound perfect gimme 14 of em. anywhos if i did not getting the date wrong i have one! and if i i did please just let me shrivel up and die, thank you.

post college rollo and reader who live together as “roommates.” they’re 100% more than roommates and everyone can see it but them. rollo is probably some senator or something and insisted reader moves in with him cause he insists that since he’s making laws more just for magicless people there’s literally no where safer for them to be. just basically some domestic fluff with two people who act like they’re married and don’t even realize it. i personally think it would be way cuter to read from the perspective of a third party but if you’re willing to write this you can do it anyway anyhow and i’ll still be happy. thank you! <3

(if i got the weekend wrong i will absolutely die so please let me down gently, i am accoustic so i no no understand very basic things such as “this weekend” or “next saturday” if the day of the week is before a saturday)

oooh a bit of a future au... this is cute

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ and they were roommates

type of post: fic characters: rollo additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, kinda written from a 3rd perspective

Rollo Flamme's favoritism had never been a secret.

He might have been quiet, reserved, repressed beyond all reason, but there were some things even he couldn't hide behind his star-spotted handkerchief.

The very moment you arrived at Noble Bell College, you were his.

Rollo Flamme beheld you with a sort of reverence that could be called sacrilegious. That is to say, one had never seen idolatry until one had seen the way he looked at you, the way he touched you as if you were made out of porcelain, as if he could break you with an unclean hand and a breath.

His coldness and cordiality towards the others never changed.

For all your kindness, your smiles, your gentle touches upon his cheek that he would never have let anyone else give, you could not change him. And you did not try.

It was a tragedy in two parts.

Not that it mattered, of course. Not to you.

As far as you were concerned, the world began and end with each other. In a room full of people, mages and scholars and royalty, Rollo Flamme would still only look at you.

Nothing was confirmed. Your affection for one another was kept to lingering touches and burning glances across the long, morose hallways of Noble Bell.

If anyone had asked, and they certainly did, Rollo's handkerchief would come to sit over his mouth and he would remind them that gossip is unbecoming.

And to be decent, thank you.

Yet the rumors could never be smothered, and they lingered after Rollo's first graduation, and another, and to his seat on the Fleur City Council.

You lived with him.

You lived with him, in his family home.

And he would continue to deny anything romantic, giving the same excuse that he had since Noble Bell, that you simply had no one else to look after you, and it was his duty as a civil servant to see to your care.

Which was utter bullshit.

But, perhaps, bullshit that you both believed.

Outside of the council, it was rare to see him alone. When he went out, he went out with you. When he attended public events, you walked by his side. When he worked at home, you sat in his study, by the fireplace, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

Rollo would excuse himself from small talk and after-hour business like so:

"It's been lovely talking to you, Senator, but I'll be late for dinner,"

"Please, come by my office first thing tomorrow morning. I'm expected at home,"

"I'll have to be going, now. I have an excursion on the town tonight. With whom? Well, whom else?"

It became widely accepted, amongst his colleagues and the public, that Rollo Flamme was married. One might not have guessed, of course, from his cold demeanor, but rumors of the magicless alumni from Noble Bell that he so adored smoldered.

Rollo did not concern himself with the whispers or the knowing looks his colleagues gave each other, until a warm day in late March where a well-meaning secretary from another branch asked if he had any children.

"Children?" he had scoffed. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

The poor secretary looked like he had seen a ghost. "Well... you're married, aren't you?"

"Absolutely not. What gave you such an idea?"

And he seemed reluctant to answer.

Rollo had gone home that night with much on his mind. When you asked him if anything had happened at the council, he said "Nothing eventful".

To Rollo, who had lived in Fleur City, lonely yet not alone, for so many years without a kindling of friendship and not a thought on romance, he had never once questioned your relationship. You were his companion. His first, and last. That's all that matters.

Isn't it?

He could ask for nothing more than you. Your voice, your smile, your hands and warmth mingling with his. He was happy with you. Your friendship is enough for him.

Isn't it?

Despite what he tells himself, that night, when you sit close to him in front of the fire, reading a book he recommended simply because he recommended it, Rollo finds himself looking at you twice as much as usual.

He puts an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, and you stay there, as if you had always belonged there. With him.

[ahedderick]

One of the cool things about Found Family (in real life) is when it is affirmed. "We're having [Family Event] - you're coming, right?"

My mother and my MIL both passed away before my son was two, and before my daughter was even born. One of my mother's friends, childless herself, stepped into the role of grandma/auntie. She's treated as if she were my mother's sister. And twenty-some year later, that relationship is thriving. This weekend was a big 'Homecoming'/alumni event at K's school. Aunt L, you're coming, right?

Good times were had.

[raya-hunter01]

Homecoming

One Shot

Carmelo Hayes x Black Female OC! (Kayla)

Rating: 18+

Warning: Smut

Summary: Carmelo is nervous about returning to his college alma mater FAMU for its homecoming. An alumni ball between his fellow brother Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity and sister sorority Alpha Kappa Alpha is taking place.

Why is he nervous, you ask? A special someone he took for granted is going and he has no idea how to make things right. Follow Carmelo down memory lane as he tries to figure out how to fix the mess he made. Will Kayla forgive him or will this end in disaster as Trick travels with Carmelo to be his wingman for homecoming weekend.

This was a story request from royalkay23 who gave me the music and ideas that we put together. I hope you enjoy it!

NXT Show

Carmelo POV

“Damn, another night, another show,” I sighed sitting down trying to unwind a bit before I showered and got on the road. Pulling out my phone I checked my messages.

“Damn, I already told Darnell, I was comin’ so what the hell he keep calling for?” I hissed putting in my code to listen to his voicemail.

“Man, I forgot you had a show, I talked to Angela, and she convinced Kayla to come this weekend. You better get ready to do some groveling to get yo’ woman man. I’ll see you down there, later bro,” his voice making my stress levels rise.

What does he mean she’s coming down? Fuck, should I even go? Will she even wanna talk to my ass?

“How did shit get so complicated,” I whispered pinched my nose truly frustrated.

Things used to be so easy; then we made it complicated by giving in to our desires. If only we never crossed that line, we would still be close.

I missed her, I knew the first day I met her that I wanted her to be apart of my life forever.

--------

FAMU Move in day 2019

“Remember we’re gentleman, carry their bags to their rooms. Be welcoming and act like ya’ll got some sense. Give them a couple weeks to get used to campus life before ya’ll start aggravating them,” our oldest fraternity brother Scott said as we all snickered.

“We got you, boss,” I said trying not to laugh as Darnell hit my shoulder trying to hold it together himself.

“No funny business Carmelo, this ain’t an opportunity for you to schedule your next hookup,” Greg hissed as I nodded scoping the parking lot not listening.

“Damn, I got her,” I said pointing to a beautiful young lady standing with her parents about to start pulling luggage outta their trunk. Oh, she bad….Legs and ass for days.

“You ain’t slick, you tryin' to holla at her,” Darnell whispered as I grinned. “I don’t know what you talkin’ about. If ya’ll will excuse me, I’m going to see if they need some help,” I said quickly making myself scarce before anybody could get a word in.

Making my way over to the family I couldn’t help but hear her mom fussing over leaving her daughter here. Smiling, I listened quietly trying to give them a minute before I interrupted.

“Mama, I will be fine,” she said reassuring her mother as they had her surrounded in a group hug.  “You go to your classes and back to your dorm, these folks are a little too wild,” her mom said looking at a couple making out not far from us as I snickered.

 Sorry mama, that’s something I wouldn’t mind doin’ to your daughter…Damn, Melo play it cool…

“Mama, I can handle it, I’m not going to be out here actin’ a fool but I will have fun sometime,” the Carmel beauty said being honest with her parents as her dad smiled.

“As you should, all work and no play sucks, babe give her a break. We raised her right,” her dad said as her mom took a deep breath.

“Yes, ya’ll did, now trust me,” she pleaded with a beautiful smile. Damn, a smile that could start a full-blown war….

 “I do trust you, baby, it’s just it’s your first time away from home, and I’m worried,” her mom said looking around at their surroundings.

“Have you talked to your little boyfriend who couldn’t bother to be here,” her dad said with disgust.

“Daddy, Justin is getting ready to go to college too. It’s ok, he’s going to come up soon,” she said her tone trying to keep the conversation light and positive.

Well, let me introduce myself, maybe that can change the subject, it seemed the mysterious beauty didn’t want to talk about it.

“Excuse me, do you guys need some help?” I asked said as she turned around and instantly blushed when we made eye contact.  

Damn she fine, fine, ok act like a gentleman and don’t embarrass yourself.

“Hi! Um, I guess we do,” she said looking around at all her things on the ground and in the trunk.

“What’s your name son?” her dad asked, as I grinned.

“I’m Carmelo, and I’m from the Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity, sir. I’m apart of the fraternity welcoming committee. We help students move in on campus,” I said shaking her dad’s hand as he smiled at him.

“An Alpha man! I like that, I pledged to that fraternity when I was in college, my daughter here is a junior transfer and is pledging to your sister sorority Alpha Kappa Alpha,” he said proudly as my ears perked up at the new information.

“You don’t have to tell everybody, Daddy, I might not even make it. Hi, I’m Kayla,” she said shaking my hand as I felt myself falling into those beautiful brown eyes.

“It’s always nice to meet a fellow sister, welcome to the family,” I said gently kissing her hand. Her mother scoffed, clearing her throat and interrupting our moment as I reluctantly let go of her hand as her dad laughed.

 “It’s nice to meet you as well ma’am,” I said taking her mother's hand in mine, kissing it as her smirk grew by the second.

 “Oh, you charming, stay away from this one Kayla,” her mom said as I smiled nervously at her…Alright, don’t let her see you sweat.

“Uh, let’s get you moved in Kayla,” I said trying to change the subject, helping her dad pick up some of her bags. “I would love that,” she said smiling brightly at me.

 For the next hour, I tried to learn all I could about her as we moved her into her dorm.

Her phone also had been ringing nonstop, but she ignored it. “He knows I’m movin’ so why blow me up like this. I’ll call him back in a minute,” she said as we carried up the last of her things.

 “When you do….Tell him he should have brought his ass here to help us move you in if he wanted to know what you are doing every fuckin’ second of the day,” her mom said as Kayla rolled her eyes behind her back.

Poor thing was getting it from all ends, I could see she needed a break from her mother, and it seemed her boyfriend.

Her parents walking ahead of us into her dorm gave me a chance to be nosey.

“Is that you and your man?” I asked, pointing at the wallpaper on her phone. Looking at the photo seemed to have her conflicted, almost nervous.

“Uh, yeah he is, we’ve been together for two years,” Kayla said as I observed her uneasiness.

“Ok, well maybe when he comes to visit, ya’ll can come check out one of our parties. We throw the best ones on campus,” I said trying to make conversation not wanting it to end as I sat her bags down inside.

“That would be cool, thank you for helping us, maybe I’ll see you around,” Kayla said as I felt the excitement dancing in my chest.

“Yeah, you definitely will, might as well call me your new best friend,” I said turning on the charm as she laughed.

“Well, maybe I’ll see you around best friend,” Kayla joked as I walked out of her dorm with a pep definitely in my step.

Senior year was definitely shaping up.

------

“Aye, you planning to shower or what?” Trick asked bringing me out of my thoughts. “Yeah, I am, just was thinking about Kayla and if I want to go to the Alumni ball,” I said as Trick sat down in front of me and stared intently.

“Well, you deserve to have fun too, maybe ya’ll can talk and work this shit out. I mean it’s been four years, she can’t still be mad,” he said as I sighed.

“I said some fucked up shit that I can’t take back, I don’t even know how to approach her,” I said feeling helpless.

“You go up to her, apologize, and try to make it right. That’s all you can do,” Trick said as I stood up shuffling around the room gathering my things.

“Thanks, man maybe it’ll all work out and I’ll have fun this weekend,” I said as Trick smiled.

“Now that’s it, be positive and have fun this weekend. I’ll even go with you and be your wingman.  I can tell you when to talk and when to shut the hell up, 'cause you talk too much sometimes,” Trick said as I laughed truly thankful for him and our friendship.

“Well, I might take you up on that, let me shower so we can hit the road,” I said heading to the showers.

“Aye, you gon’ get her back, you just gotta shoot your shot!” I heard Trick yell as I started my shower.

I truly hoped so but for now, I had to be realistic, I had a lot of groveling to do, and I was prepared to do it if it meant Kayla could be in my life again.

---

Delata Flight 193

Kayla’s POV

“Angela, I’m going to have fun and stroll with my sorors. I’m not going to resurrect issues from four years ago,” I said as she rolled her eyes at me.

“Ya’ll two need to talk and squash this shit, you know he didn’t mean it. He was jealous because he was in love with you…Still in love with you might I add,” she said as I scoffed.

“In love…..Carmelo…… Girl bye!” I exclaimed rolling my eyes. “Even if he was in love with me, it don’t make it right what he did.  Have a conversation like an adult and not say spiteful shit. And can we just drop this conversation, you are ruining my buzz,” I said finishing my glass of champagne as Angela sighed grabbing her phone.

Damn, I guess she was going to be team Carmelo all weekend. Love my ass.

“So, he wrestles, that’s cool,” Angela said as I looked over and saw her scrolling through Carmelo’s Instagram as I smiled.

Many of our late-night talks about our dreams began to invade my mind. He was always passionate about wrestling so it didn’t shock me that he made it to the WWE.

Leaning back in my seat I sighed trying to get in the right head space for this weekend. I wanted to have a good time, it would even be better if I could avoid him.

“Girl, he got to work with the undertaker, look!” Angela exclaimed as I leaned back over and looked at his latest Instagram post on her phone.

“That’s awesome,” I whispered happy him. He looked so happy. As she scrolled to the next picture My focus went to the tattoo of an eye on his upper arm, it seemed to stir something in me, but I didn’t know what.  

I felt like I knew the meaning of it but I couldn’t piece it together as I looked at the beautiful tattoo of a woman’s eye with makeup smudged. Angela quickly swiped to the next post before I could truly process it.

“So, are you going to talk to him this weekend? Angela asked as I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes trying to tune her out.

“No, I have no desire to talk to him, I’m over it,” I said as she laughed. 

“Bullshit, you were in love with Carmelo, and you still are,” she countered as I snapped my head back looking at her wearing a frown.

“Don’t look at me like that, you gon’ put your big girl panties on this weekend, and get yo' man back,” Angela said with determination as I shook my head.

“He was never my man Angela; we just were two friends who had sex one night and it ruined our friendship. Worse mistake ever, I should have taken my ass home that night,” I said smartly as Angela sucked on her teeth.

“Nah, I don’t agree with that. Ya’ll were two friends who loved each other and were scared. He self-destructed jumping to conclusions and you were hurt by his assumptions,” Angela said as I got my air pods out of my purse.

“I’m done talkin’ about Carmelo, I’m takin’ a nap now,” I said putting my air pods in, turning my music on low.

“I know you can hear me so I’ma say this. I know he was wrong, but I think you are takin’ the one bad thing he did and erasing all the good. It wasn’t always bad Kayla and one mistake shouldn’t define him or his love for you, or your love for him,” Angela said as I continued to tune her out.

Yes, he did a lot of great things for me, I couldn’t deny it. Did the good truly outweigh the bad?

---

Crossing Day 2019

Kayla’s POV

This is supposed to be an amazing night for me, but I feel shitty. It’s nothing but chaos all around me as I see Carmelo and some of his fraternity brothers helping set up the stage for our ceremony that starts in an hour. I hate we got a late start.

My phone ringing for damn near the tenth time within the last thirty minutes is pissing me off as I see Justin’s number.

“What do you want Justin?” I asked, truly fed up, especially after the bomb he dropped this morning.

“I just wanted to make sure you were good,” he said as I pulled the phone away from my ear in disbelief.

“Justin, how am I good? You called me this morning to tell me you’re not coming. You knew how important this was to me,” I said trying to keep my emotions in check not wanting to mess up my makeup.

“It’s not that big a deal, it’s just a sorority thing,” he said as I felt the tears coming. “Really, so something I want to do isn’t important to you. Even though everything you do, I come and support you,” I said raising my voice as Carmelo made his way towards me.

“You ok Kayla?” he asked as shook my head, sighing as he put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Who is that? Is that your so-called homeboy, I shoulda known his ass was there. I ain’t blind I know ya’ll like each other,” Justin hissed.  

“Look, I got to get ready, I need to get my mind together,” I said trying to end the call.

“Well, that’s cold, you don’t even wanna talk about it. You must be spreadin’ your legs for his ass. Maybe we just need to call this shit off,” he said as I scoffed knowing where this was going.

Gaslighting 101, chapter five, Hide Your Guilt and Accuse Her of What You Are Actually Doing.

This bastard was cheating, and I knew exactly who it was with.

“You know I’m not cheating on you. Just grow a set and tell me you want to break up instead of playing games Justin. I know you sleeping with Regina, the jig is up, ok,” I said as the line got quiet.  

“Look, it ain’t about her, I’m just sayin’ maybe we just need to end this. Experience new people and just have fun, I don’t want to be tied down right now Kayla,” he said as I took a deep breath and looked at Carmelo, who gave me a nod of encouragement.

"I'm here Kay," he whispered as I fought back tears. He was always there to pick up the pieces and wipe my tears.

“Justin, why did you have to do this today? It could have been any other day but today. Look, just lose my number because you’re officially blocked, it's over,” I said hanging up and blocking his number as Carmelo took me in his arms and I broke down.

 “Hey, I got you,” he whispered as I cried. “I don’t think I can do this today,” I cried as his strong arms pulled me closer.

“Oh, yes you can and will because you have worked hard for this. Today is your day, don’t let him take that away from you,” Carmelo said as I nodded slightly pulling away a sad smile adorning my face as he carefully wiped my tears.

“No more tears, go get ready. I’m excited to hear your Crossing Introduction tonight. I know it’s gon' be fire, just like you, and make sure to shake that beautiful hair for me,” he said gently playing with my freshly silked-out hair.

“Ok, I’ll make sure to remember that,” I said reluctantly stepping back as Angela came running up.

“Girl, ya’ll can flirt later, we need to finish getting ready. See you in a few Melo,” she said pulling me away as I laughed.

“Never change Angela, and congrats!” he yelled as she waved back at him.

These two are a mess but it was time. It was time to step into my sorority destiny.

Everything seemed like such a blur as we waited in line with our heads down. I was getting more nervous as each new soror went before the crowd introducing themselves.

Focus Kayla you did well on the march, now it’s time to let them know who you are.

“Alright Kayla let’em know,” my new fellow Soror whispered as I smiled, tossing my head back and whipping my hair back and forth as the crowd screamed. Here goes nothing…

Stepping out of line and going to the front of the stage I felt nervous till I looked out and saw Carmelo about three rows back smiling at me.

“My…… Name….. is!” I shouted, loud and clear pausing between each word.

“What’s your name?!” the crowd asked as I smiled and began moving my body and hands in sync with my words.

“Kayla!”

“Yea!” (crowd)

“Belle!”

“Yea!”

The crowd participating as I said my name had my heart racing. Pausing, taking in the moment, I saw Carmelo wink at me.

Giving him a sexy smirk, I tossed my head back and began shaking my hair again just for him.

“Peaches!”

“Yea!”

 Slowly lowering my head, I paused, building excitement as they waited to hear what my last name was.

“Taylor!”

“Yea!”

“And I am from the Peach State, the one and only Atlanta, GA! And this Georgia Peach has joined this great sorority and I’m this line’s number 17! I shouted with pride bending down into our stroll stance with a bright smile.

Finally releasing the breath I was holding, my eyes found Carmelo again as he licked his lips. His gaze grew more intense as Darnell whispered something to him.

Were they talking about me? I saw Carmelo dap him up sharing a mutual nod before he turned his attention back to me and winked.

"A'ight Peaches, I see you Ms. AKA!" he shouted as I smiled getting back in line.

Yes, it was over! I had done it!… I was an AKA….

----

Later that night

Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity House

Carmelo’s Room

“You sure you good?” Carmelo asked as I sat my drink down and curled up next to him on the couch. “I’m fine, thanks for being there tonight,” I said glancing up at him as he seemed to be in deep thought.

“It’s no problem, it was no other place I’d rather be,” he whispered caressing my face as I felt myself melting under his gaze.

“What are we doing?” I whispered as his lips slowly descended towards mine.  “What we've always wanted to do,” he whispered gently taking my lips in a kiss as I moaned in pleasure.

“We can’t, I don’t want to ruin our friendship,” I whimpered against his lips as his arms encircled my waist pulling me onto his lap.

Feeling his hardness underneath me had me shook. He was hard from just a simple kiss.

 “Mmhm, you feel that Kay? That's what you do to me," Carmelo whispered as I shivered. "Melo we can't," I pleaded as he silenced me with another kiss.

"We both want this, stop fighting it, baby. It won’t change anything, we'll still be us,” Carmelo whispered, his sexy voice casting a powerful spell over me.

 Looking into his beautiful brown eyes I saw nothing but the truth in his words. Kayla just let go and give in to what you want.

"Tonight...Just for tonight," I whispered as Carmelo's grip on me tightened. "I got you," he whispered slowly undressing me.

I felt shy, as he tossed my dress, anxiously over his shoulder before caressing my breasts. “You are so beautiful, just everything I imagined you’d be and more,” Carmelo whispered kissing my neck as I moaned in pleasure, his masterful hands making quick work of my bra.

 His words eased my nervousness and awakened the boldness in me.

Playing with the waistband of his sweats, Carmelo bit back a moan in anticipation. “Go ahead baby, you can touch it. I want you too,” Carmelo moaned as I purred at his words.

Nervously stroking him, his moans urged me on as his mouth feasted upon my neck. “Mmm, yes,” I moaned continuing to stoke him as he slid my thong to the side.

“You got a condom?” I whispered into the air as he nodded, reaching over, fiddling around in the drawer of the small lamp table beside us, as I claimed his lips in a powerful kiss.

His moan of triumph as he retrieved the condom and ripped it open made me tremble against him.

 “Let me,” I whispered against his lips, climbing off his lap, slowly sinking to my knees, holding his gaze I slowly placed the condom over the tip of his length.

Damn he was way bigger than Justin, it caused me to pause in my actions and stare.  

“Don't be scared, I'ma make you feel real good baby. I promise, now gon’ put it on and come take a ride,” Carmelo groaned, picking up on my nervousness as continued to stroke him.

My pussy quivered at his words; it excited me. Using my mouth, I slide the condom down over his hardened length as he bit back a growl, entangling his fingers in my hair.

“Shit! It’s like that baby?” Carmelo moaned, looking at me in amazement.  “Uh huh,” I moaned looking at him, while taking him deeper into my mouth

“Got dammmn Kay,” Carmelo hissed as his head fell back against the couch in pleasure. “You like that,” I whispered as he looked at me through hooded eyes. “Hell yea, I love it but if you don’t stop, this gon’ be over before it starts,” Carmelo panted as I smirked releasing him.

“Mmm, I wouldn't want that, ” I whispered climbing back on his lap nibbing on his neck as he growled grasping my hips, slowly inch by inch filling my wet center with his hardened length until he was to the hilt.  Our moans of satisfaction filled the tiny room.

“Fuck, you feel better than I ever dreamed,” Carmelo groaned against my neck as I began to ride him.  “Mm, you too,” I confessed wrapping my arms around his neck as he began meeting my thrusts in desperate need.

“Yea, ride… Mmhm ride dat shit……Just like that Kayla,” Carmelo moaned encouraging me as we chased our end. “Promise me nothing changes….Mmm,Melo!” I exclaimed as he began gently massaging my clit with his thumb as I used his shoulders to steady myself bouncing with a purpose.

 “Mmhm, nothin’ gon’ change, I promise Kay. Now let’s get this nut together baby,” he whispered as he took me higher and higher. “Yes! Melo, Mmhm I’m ready!” I cried as I rotated my hips against him hearing a low growl escape his lips that began to grow in volume as we shared each other’s love.

That’s what it was, love and it was scaring the hell outta me and by the look on Carmelo’s face I could tell it was scaring him too.

“Kay…Kay..Fuck!” Carmelo moaned, finally finding words as we were reaching our end.  “I know, God I know," I moaned shuttering against him as our lips met in desperation.

“I’m cummin!” I whined against his lips as he caressed his tongue with mine, deepening our kiss.

“I’m right there with you,” he moaned as we exploded together. Collapsing against his shoulder I struggled to catch my breath as he held me tight.

For awhile, nothing was said as I relaxed in Carmelo's arms. I felt overwhelmed, I knew I had messed up…I had fallen hard for him.  I felt my tears coming as Carmelo caressed my back.

“Don’t cry Kay, we good. See you doin' all this cryin' lately, I'ma have to get a tattoo of a tear on this shoulder. Better yet, ima put your whole eye up there with the makeup smudges and all," Carmelo said kissing my shoulder.

“See why you gotta tease me,” I said caressing his arms as he sighed.

“Look at me Kay,” Carmelo said lifting my head off his shoulder wiping my tears.

I would never tease you. I’m just glad you trusted me and allowed me to be there to catch your tears,” Carmelo whispered caressing my face, placing a gentle kiss on my lips.

Yep….We fucked up….Big time.

---

“We're about to land Kayla,” I heard Angela say as I opened my eyes taking in my surroundings.

“I’m sorry I just meant to catch a small nap, not sleep the whole flight,” I said taking my air pods out and putting my seatbelt back. on.

“You good girl, it ain’t nothing like listening to music and letting it take you away,” she said smiling at me.

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said trying to shake the memories that were clouding my mind, and the other pieces of the puzzle coming together had me feeling overwhelmed.

Pulling my phone back out I went to WWE.com, turning slightly in my seat so Angela couldn't see. I would never hear the end of this if she knew I was looking at Carmelo's photos but I needed to see the picture again.

In my search, I found an article with the picture in question attached with several other backstage shots. I began skimming through the article and a question threw me for a loop.

WWE.com Exclusive

"So, what is the significance behind this tattoo of the eye with what seems to be makeup smudged?"

"I got it about three years ago, I got it to remind me of a special someone I knew in college. She was my best friend and my number one supporter. She encouraged me to chase my dreams, and I never forgot that."

"Well, are you two still in touch?"

"Uh, no we aren't, but who knows what the future holds."

---

“I can't believe he really got that tattoo,” I muttered to myself in disbelief. “Who got what tattoo?” Angela asked leaning over, trying to look at my phone as I quickly opened another tab.

“Uh, nobody I know, I was just thinking about the dream I just had,” I said which technically I wasn't stretching the truth very much. My memories with Carmelo were creeping into my brain and it scared me.

“I hope it was a good dream to start your weekend because we gon’ have fun these next few days,” she said as I sighed.

Girl, if you only knew I would rather be anywhere than Florida this weekend. This was dangerous, I had to keep my guard up.

Maybe I should have just stayed home.

---

The Next Day

PHIRSTPHAM Cookout

Carmelo’s POV

“Damn, it’s thick out here,” Trick said as I grabbed us a beer. “Yea, they partyin’ hard, half of them probably ain’t making it to the ball,” I laughed looking around trying to find Kayla. 

“Aye, didn’t her homegirl tell you they’d be here?  I’ma need you to chill man,” Trick said as I tried to shake my nerves still looking around.

“I know I’m jus…just,” I said stuttered as I spotted her. “What the hell is wrong with you?” Trick asked turning around to see what had me shook.

“Damn, is that her?” he asked smiling as I nodded still unable to speak.  “You stupid as fuck if I may say so myself,” Trick whispered shaking his head as I growled.

“Look you ain’t gotta rub it in, you supposed to be helping me, and stop looking at her like that,” I hissed as Trick shrugged his shoulders.

“I am here to help you but I ain’t dead. Is that her friend?” Trick asked pointing at Angela. “Yea, that’s her, a straight pain in the ass but I adore her,” I said as Darnell came running up.

“Ooou! I know you see yo’ girl, she out here serving body for days!” Darnell exclaimed as Trick smirked.

“Man shut the fuck up,” I said seething as he laughed. “Now is that how you talk to your frat brother who just talked to the DJ and he’s about to play our favorite stroll with the AKAs,” he said as my eyes widened in shock.

“I know you didn’t,” I whispered as he smiled. “Yep, so get ready,” he said taking off towards the crowd.

"This idiot here is just fuckin’ stupid,” I said as Trick seemed confused. “What’s the issue, I mean a dance can’t hurt nobody,” he said as I sighed.

“In the stroll, I lead the Alphas and Kayla leads the AKAs,” I said as Trick's eyes lit up. “Oh, shit that’s perfect, maybe it will break the ice with Kayla,” he said as I drank the rest of my beer.

“If anything it may entice her to choke my ass out for being so close to her, but I guess I ain’t gotta choice,” I said as I heard the opening cords of Knuck if you buck by Crime Mob

“Class of 2020 and 2021 I need you on the floor it’s your time to shine,” the MC said as I saw the girls already dancing falling in line behind Kayla as she smiled brightly swinging her hips and arms.

“Aye, you betta get yo’ ass over there,” Trick said as Darnell was waving me over as I went to join my frat brothers.

“Taking my place in line across from Kayla felt weird as she seemed to not pay me any attention as she strolled with her line sisters.

“Let’s get it fellas!” I shouted blowing my whistle as we began steppin’ in sync with the girls doing our own stroll.

I saw Kayla look over at me in shock for a second before she recovered and continued leading her line sisters.

“Knuck if you buck!” Angela screamed as the AKAs kneeled deeper in their stance, killin’ it.

“I see ya’ll!” I heard someone yell as I cracked a smile.  It felt good to stroll with my frat brothers and most of all Kay.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of her as she danced, whipping her hair back and forth almost teasing me. She knows what that shit does to me.  Trying to refocus I cut my eyes towards Angela as she smirked at me.

“Yeah, act like you know! Stop playin’ wit her, take us on out Peaches!" she yelled, swinging her arms as Kayla smiled, walking as only she could pretending one of her hands was a mirror as she fluffed her beautiful hair with the other.

The crowd parted, cheering them on while allowing them to pass as we followed closely behind them.

Damn, Kayla still could command a room like no other. “Uh, you can thank me now,” Darnell said as I looked back at him and rolled my eyes getting out of the line, trying to find Kayla again.

Kayla’s POV “We still got it, that was fun,” Angela said as I laughed. “Girl, AKAs gon’ always bring that heat,” I said smiling at her. “I know you saw him, so when ya’ll gon’ talk,” Angela said as I sighed.  

Jeez can I have a moments piece without somebody telling me to talk to Carmelo.

“I didn’t see Carmelo, what are you talking about?” I said playing dumb.

“Oh, so you don’t know me now,” Carmelo said as I sighed looking at the amusement dancing in Angela’s eyes as I slowly turned to face him.

"I’ll let ya’ll two talk," Angela said practically running away as I scoffed. “I hate you!” I hissed as she laughed.

“Look can go talk, I think we both can agree it’s overdue and we don’t want to make a scene here,” Carmelo said as I looked around at everyone having a good time.

“Fine, but I’m not going far,” I said following him through the crowd as he led me to the side of the building.

The silence was defining as we both were trying to think of words to say to each other. It had been three years since we last saw each other after all.

I don’t know what came over me but I slapped him as hard as I could the sound echoing around us as Carmello stumbled rubbing the side of his face.

“A’ight I deserved that,” he said as I took a deep breath trying to not make a fool outta myself. I couldn’t let him know how he truly broke me.

“Yes, you did and more. You’re lucky that’s all you got from me,” I said as Carmelo raised his hands in surrender.  “Kay, I know I hurt you and I’m sorry,” he said as I looked at him my expression unreadable.

“It's Kayla to you, only my friends call me Kay. Look, can you make this quick, I got something to do,” I said folding my arms over my chest.

“So is this how it’s gon’ be the whole weekend, you just ignoring me. I’m trying to apologize, Kayla,” Carmelo said as I tried to wrangle in my feelings.

“Why are you apologizing to a whore. I mean that’s what you said I was right?” I said as a look of defeat and horror crossed his face.

“I didn’t mean it if you would just let me talk,” he started as I cut him off.

“I’m just a needy whore that will ride any dick right,” I said slightly raising my voice as he cringed at my words.

“Look, I was drunk, and I said some shit I didn’t mean alright. You know I lo—,” Carmelo's voice trailed off as he looked down unable to look at me. What was he going to say?

“Carmelo, being drunk ain’t no excuse, I thought you were my best friend!” I exclaimed frustrated that I was letting him get to me.

I am your best friend! Regardless of how you feel about me, you are my best friend Kayla and I miss you. Can you please just forgive me? he pleaded as I tried to walk away. "Carmelo, please stop," I begged trying to walk away as he blocked my path. "Say you can forgive me, please," Carmelo pleaded, his eyes drawing me in as they stared into my soul. I couldn't look away if I wanted.

“Kay, you know I didn’t mean it, can we just agree to talk sometime before we both leave Sunday,” he pleaded as I finally nodded, not trusting my words as I saw Angela walking over.

“Hey, ya’ll good, Kay?" she asked rubbing my shoulder as I held back tears.

“Uh, yeah we were just talking about not letting the drama of the past ruin the weekend," I said wiping a few stray tears that had fallen as Carmelo sighed in relief.

“Well thank God, we all deserve a good weekend of fun,” she said my eyes still focused on Carmelo as he glanced quickly at the tattoo on his shoulder before looking back at me.

I felt a shiver run down my spine, as I tried to shake it off.

“Well, uh, I’ll let ya’ll get back to the party and I will see ya’ll tonight hopefully,” he said giving me a hug, catching me off guard.

Carmelo’s POV

I knew I was pushing it but I couldn't help it. I had to hold her in my arms. Come on beautiful hug me back.

I couldn’t let her go until she hugged me back.

I felt her trembling hands touch my back as I sighed in relief pulling her closer. “I’ma make it right, just let me please. I’m sorry Kay,” I whispered in her ear as I felt her relax against me. Angela smiled at me before leaving us alone.

"You hurt me, Mel," Kayla whispered as I felt my heart sink. “I wish I could take it back, baby,” I whispered honestly.

I didn’t know what else to say, I had played the scenario over and over in my head a thousand times. How different everything could have been if I had just told her how I felt that night. If I did, we wouldn’t be in this shit now.

“I need to go," Kayla whispered pulling away as I felt empty again.

"Yeah, me too, I hope I see you tonight," I said as she flashed a half smile.

"Maybe, I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get there," she said not looking me in the eye slowly walking back back to the party.

Don't give up on me yet beautiful I whispered watching her walk away from me and carrying my heart right along with her.

----

Alpha Phi Alpha Fraternity House

End-of-Year Party

Carmelo’s POV

It was the last party of the year, graduation was near but Kayla was occupying my mind.

We kept our word, after our night nothing changed. We woke up that next morning and went back into our regular routine. Two best friends who adored each other.

 I had gone out with a few girls since then and Kayla was into her sorority life and wasn’t dating.

She had told me how she wanted to heal from the breakup with Justin before she dated anybody. I can’t help but admit I wanted more, and no girl could compare to her but I didn’t even know how to tell her.

"Let me get this straight 'cause you are confusing the fuck outta me. You like Kayla, but instead of telling her you bring Robin to this party. The girl who has made her life hell since she joined the AKAs. You stupid as fuck,” Darnell scoffed hitting me on the back of the head.

"Shit, you didn’t have to hit me, I know I’m wrong,” I said rubbing my head as I saw Kayla on the dancing floor dancing with Angela as I saw Anthony approach them.

"What the fuck is he doin'?" I hissed seeing my frat brother whisper in Kayla’s ear as she blushed, nodding as he pulled her away from Angela and they began dancing.

“Looks like he knows a beautiful woman when he sees one and he asked her to dance,” Darnell said as I growled.

“Fuckin’ freshman thinking he can come in here and do what he wants. Let me set his ass straight,” I hissed finishing my beer.

“Um, why can’t he ask her to dance? She’s single and so is he," Darnell said as I stormed past him not wanting to talk to his ass anymore.

Soon as I got closer Robin slid in front of me catching me off guard. "Hey, I have been looking for you, let’s dance," she said throwing her arms around me as I reluctantly danced with her.

I didn't know how to feel as Kayla looked at me in shock and uncertainty as Robin and I danced. I knew by her eyes she was hurt by my dating choice of the night.

Sighing I tried to play it cool as our eyes seemed to fall deeper into each other before she laid her head on Anthony’s shoulder avoiding my gaze as he seemed to be enjoying it a little too much for my liking.

"Motherfucka," I whispered as Robin pulled back looking at me. "What’s wrong babe?" She asked as I played it off. " Uh, nothin’ let’s go upstairs after this song. I know better things we could be doin', " I said as her eyes lit up.

Yea, I was wrong but I didn’t care at the moment.

"Hands up here now," I heard Kayla say as she moved Anthony's hands back to her waist. He had been trying to caress her ass.

"I'm sorry beautiful," he said as I saw red, I don’t even know what came over me as I stepped away from Robin and went towards them.

"What are you doing!? I know you ain't going over there, she don't need you to save her!" Robin hissed following me. Hell I don’t even know what I’m doing, but I know he ain’t gon’ be touchin’ on her like that.

"Aye, you need to keep your hands to yourself," I said interrupting their dance gently grabbing her arm and moving her behind me as I stepped in Anthony’s face.

"What is your problem, Melo?! We were just dancing," Kayla said as Anthony smirked.

"Ain’t it obvious, he can’t take somebody else takin’ an interest in you Kay, he just wants you to be his little plaything," Anthony said as I grabbed him by the collar snatching his ass up.

"My problem is every time I turn around yo’ bitch ass tryin’ to take something that belongs to me,” I hissed dangerously low as he laughed. "Oh, so she's yours huh," Anthony taunted as the music stopped and people began to stare.

"Let me talk to you for a minute," Kayla whispered grabbing my hand, as I let go of Anthony. I was getting more pissed by the second looking at his cocky ass.

"I know you new freshman, so you don't know me. Keep smirking, I'll knock all your fuckin' teeth out," I hissed, his smirk dropping instantly.

"No your not, let's go," Kayla said steering me towards the stairs as the music started back up.

"Don’t you go up there with her Carmelo! If you do I’m going home!" Robin yelled following us upstairs as Kayla rolled her eyes.

"Just go home, I'll call you later Robin," I said trying to not cause a scene seeing a few people were still looking at us.

"I’m serious, you go in there don't ever call me again," she said as Kayla opened my door pushing me inside before turning to face her.

"Good! It'll save him a trip to the free clinic! Anybody fucking you ends up with something bleach can't wash off and a ten day perscription of penicillin, Bye, irrelevant!" Kayla yelled slamming the door in Robins's face as I heard her scream on the other side of the door before walking away.  

"Aye, you didn’t have to be so rude," I said as Kayla laughed sarcastically.

" Really, you wanna talk about rude. All I was doing was dancing with him and you come over acting like an asshole," she said as I invaded her space pushing her up against my door towering over her.

"I’m sorry ok, I just saw him touchin’ you and I wasn’t thinking," I said honestly caressing her face as she nervously bit her lip before my lips gently grazed hers.

"We need to talk Mel," she whispered as I groaned reluctantly stepping away from her. She was right we needed to talk badly but I didn't want to do it now.

"Ok, what are we talking about?" I asked frustrated the moment was ruined as she looked at me in disbelief.

"Are you serious?  Well, let’s talk about why all of a sudden you actin’ like you my man," Kaylas said as I sighed feeling the anger in me boiling. She couldn’t see that I liked her.

 "We’re friends Carmelo, remember that night wasn’t supposed to change us," she rambled running her hands through her hair, pacing.

"I know what we agreed on, I ain’t dumb!" I yelled as a knock on the door interrupted us.

"I heard yelling….Are you ok in there, Kayla?" Angela asked as she tried to calm her breathing before she responded.

The last thing I needed was Angela bustin’ up in here making matters worse.

"Yeah, I’m good I’ll be down in a minute so we can go," Kayla said as Angela tried to open the door.  

"She’s fine Angela, damn!" I hissed as Kayla sighed. "Don’t get no attitude with me 'cause you fucking stupid. Jealous ass, I’ll be downstairs Kayla,” Angela said as quietness filled the room.

"What are we doin'? This isn’t us, why are we arguing with each other Carmelo. What’s really wrong?” Kayla asked.

Ok, tell her how you feel…This may be your last chance.

" I’m cool, we’re cool. I’m just trying to say before you put yourself back out there, just know women can’t do what men do," I said as Kayla frowned at me.

"What are you tryin' to say?" she asked as I tried to choose my words wisely. "I don’t want a bad reputation following you, I mean all it takes is you opening your legs to one of these idiots and then you are labeled as a whore," I said as I saw the flash of anger cross her beautiful face.

Fuck, I opened the gates of hell.

"Are you saying I’m a whore!?" Kayla exclaimed as I growled. "No! I ain’t sayin’ you’re a whore! I’m sayin’ don’t be out here in these streets grinding up on these clowns like a needy whore that will ride anybody’s dick," I said as Kayla reached up and slapped the fuck outta me.

How dare you? I wasn't grinding on no motherfuckin' body, we were just dancing. Meanwhile, you fuck anything with a gash and me simply just dancing with someone leads to a conversation as to how you don’t want me to be a whore..You're unbelievable," Kayla said throwing her hands up in frustration as I rubbed my face.

"Look, I ain’t gon’ argue with you. I said what I said and if you don’t like it, you can leave. I’m sure Anthony is ready to make you his new little plaything anyway. I’m sure he’ll love that lil trick you do with your mouth,” I said not believing the words coming out of my mouth.

I was supposed to be telling her I loved her, but here I was spewing venom towards her because another man was interested in her.

"I tell you what, I’d rather be his plaything than your so-called best friend?  Hell, maybe he can actually satisfy me better than you did, so fuck you! she yelled storming out of my room, slamming the door behind her.

"DAMN ITTTT!!" I yelled sinking into the couch as I realized the finality of my words.

I had lost my best friend and the woman I loved.

-----

"Aye, earth to Melo! I heard Darnell yell as I cringed. "Stop yelling, I heard you," I said trying to get myself together. " I saw ya'll talking is everything good now? he asked as I smiled.

" We're gonna get together before the weekend is over," I said honestly feeling a little about the weekend. "That’s good to hear, hopefully, ya’ll move past this,” he said as we went back to join the party.

I hoped so, I knew one thing was for certain tonight was the time to shoot my shot and I planned on making my intentions loud and clear.

I wanted Kayla and nothing was going to stop me from telling her this time, not even myself.

------

liked by darnellAlpha, AKAangelaLove, @Carmelo_wwe, and 1,000 others

KaylaAKA4Life: Enjoying this weekend and living life to the fullest with my Sorority sisters and fellow Alpha brothers. Let's Party Ya'll! #AKAsDoItBetter #FAMUHomecoming2023 #FAMUAlumni

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-----

PHIRSTPHAM ALUMNI BALL

Kayla's POV

“Angela thank you so much for helping me find a dress,” I said looking myself over in the mirror as she touched up her makeup.

The Emerald gold hue colored dress looked good on me. The dress being off the shoulder with the built in bra enhanced the beauty of it. Also, who could go wrong with showin' a little leg. Yea, I’m wearing the hell outta this dress right now if I may say so.

“Yea, I was gonna comment on your Instagram post, but you disabled your comments bitch,” she said as I shrugged my shoulders.

“Yes, I did because when Carmelo liked it I kind of panicked. I knew he was going to comment next, then his fans would see it and I ain’t with all that attention,”  I said as Angela nodded in agreement.

“Ah, I get it, I actually don’t blame you on that one,” she said as we made our way back into the dining hall. The night had been going well but I was getting ready to soon leave.

Two hours was enough for me and I hadn’t seen Carmelo yet so my nerves were a little on edge. I can’t believe how just a hug from him was breaking down the walls I had built up. But for now, I’m going to enjoy the rest of my weekend.

“Heeeyyy, the party jumpin’ now,” I said looking at the crowded dance floor. “Gril, here come Anthony, don’t look,” Angela said as I sighed truly not in the mood.

“Damn,I was hoping he wouldn’t see me,” I whispered. I knew he was going to ask me to dance. Now don’t get me wrong, “I’ll give all my love to you” by Keith Sweat is one of my favorite songs but I ain’t dancing with his ass.

After the blow up with Carmelo I pretty much stayed away from his frat house all together. That didn’t stop Anthony from spreading rumors that he and I had slept together. So, yea I had to rock his shit one good time too.

“You ladies look amazing,” he said sizing us up as Angela cleared her throat. “Thanks, Anthony” I said as he smiled brightly at me.

“Kayla, may I have this dance?” he asked as I felt someone grab my hand gently bringing it to their lips. I actually sighed in relief seeing it was Carmelo as he smiled at me.

“She’s with me Anthony, ain't nothin' changed Bruh. Let's go Kay, I owe you a dance,” Carmelo said smoothly steering me away as Angela smiled.

“Well ok then Melo, come through boo,” Angela said as I blushed. She always hyping him up in his bullshit.

“Thank you, I was about to have a flashback and was probably gon’ rock his ass again like I did you earlier,” I said as he laughed pulling me close on the dance floor as we danced.

Carmelo’s POV

Step one complete I had her in my arms again our foreheads touching as I caressed her waist swaying to the music. She felt so good, this was a dream it had to be.

I love you in the night

I wanna take it real real slow, my baby

I understand what you told me

And if I, I didn't know

I always wanted someone just like you

“Thank you for dancing with me,” I whispered as she pulled back slightly, those beautiful eyes stirring something deep in my soul.

“Thanks for saving the day like you always use to do,” she smiled as I felt all my troubles melt away. She just didn’t know but I would always protect her.

I really need to hold on, hold you

I'd give the world to you, oh my darlin'

You know I will

Yeah yeah you know i will

I surely will

“You are so beautiful; you know that right?” I asked, caressing her face as she looked away.

“Carmelo,” she started as I cut her off gently grasping her face making her look at me. The more I stared into her beautiful eyes, it seemed the more I got lost.

 “Just be in the moment with me,” I pleaded, gently kissed her forehead, as she relaxed in my arms.

I will never do anything to hurt you

I'll give all my love to you

(I'm gonna give you every bit of my love, my love)

And if you need me, baby, I'll come runnin' (yes I will)

Only to you (yes my baby yes I will)

I looked over and saw Trick dancing with Angela as he smiled at me giving me a thumbs up. Smiling, I closed my eyes just enjoying Kayla being in my arms again as she laid her head on my chest.

One of her hands resting on my back as the other caressed my arm and not just any arm but the one that contained the tattoo I had joked about getting four years earlier.

“You remember, don’t you? You know it’s your tattoo,” I whispered in her ear,unafraid of the answer as she nodded against me.

I no longer had anything to hide from her.

Girl I've been longing for you baby for a long long time

Let's make love tonight

I can make me feel real good baby

I can make feel real good baby

Sometimes, sometimes I get a little lonely, baby (so lonely baby)

“Why,” she whispered as I leaned down and gently placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I? I wanted to carry you with me always, you’re my best friend and I love you,” I whispered as I felt her still in my arms.

And I need a little love that I can call all mine (I need some lovin')

Girl, you are the one for me, babe

I know that you are the world for me, babe

“I can’t do this, I’m sorry,” Kayla whispered pulling away, walking off the dance floor.

Defeated, my eyes met Trick’s who pointed, silently telling me to go after her.

He was right, I couldn’t let the chance pass me by again. I rushed off the dance floor determined to catch her before she left.

Kayla’s POV

“Don't fall for it... He didn’t mean it Kayla, stop being weak,” I muttered to myself pacing. I felt in flight or fight mode as I saw Carmelo rushing towards me. “Look, I forgave you ok, so you don’t have to do this,” I cried trying to put some space between us as I tried to leave again.

“Kayla we can’t keep running from this baby,” Carmelo said blocking my path as I felt my anxiety rising.

This couldn’t be happening right now, he didn’t love me, he couldn’t.

“Why are you doin’ this!?” I cried as he caressed my face. “I’m doin’ It because I should have told you that night. I should have told you that I loved you,” Carmelo confessed as I felt the room closing in.

“No, no, you couldn’t have,” I whispered as I felt the air rushing out of my lungs.

“I’m sorry to just spring all this on you but, I don’t wanna make the same mistake twice. I can’t let you walk away from me again without telling you. I still love you Kayla and I know you love me too,” Carmelo declared without fear, claiming my lips in an eager kiss.

I will never do anything to hurt you

(I would never, never do one little thing to hurt you)

I'll give all my love to you

My mind was fuzzy as our kisses became more passionate, was this really happening right now.

“I’ma leave, and give you some time,” Carmelo whispered against my lips as I whimpered at the loss.

“I want you to come to me when you’re ready to admit you love me just as much as I love you, he said gently brushing his lips against mine before rushing off towards the elevators.

And if you need me, baby, I'll come runnin'

Only to you

Running towards the bathroom I locked myself in a stall trying to process what had happened. All this time he loved me, all this time lost.

Did I love him? Who am I kidding, I’ve always loved him and I thought I was over it until I saw him today, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.

His words continuing to echo in my head as I got myself together.  Finally building up the courage to come out of the bathroom I ran into what felt like a brick wall as a strong set of arms steadied me.

"Hey, I'm Carmelo's friend Trick. I was looking for him, have you seen him,” the gentleman said as I looked at Angela,who stood behind him.

“He left and went upstairs,” I said as Trick frowned. “So did ya’ll talk?” Angela asked as I nodded.  

“Kayla, did he tell you how he felt?” Trick asked as I nodded again.

"Uh, can you give us an answers and stop all that damn nodding," Angela said I sighed.

“He told me he loved me and that he always had,” I said overwhelmed as Angela squealed in delight. “I knew it! My eyes don’t fool me," she said as I wiped my tears.

“How do you feel about what Melo said?” Trick asked as I contemplated his words.

“I love him too;” I said feeling relieved to say it out loud as Angela hugged me.

 “Then go to him,” she whispered as I nodded in understanding. I guess this is what she mean the other day about me putting my big girl panties on.

I had to tell him he wasn’t wrong, I did love him.

 “Trick, Do you know what room he’s in?' I asked as he smiled. “Room 984,” he said without hesitation as I gave him a hug.

 "Thank you and it was nice meeting you," I whispered as he laughed returning my embrace.

“Nice metting you too Kayla, and I’m sure we will be hanging out soon. Especially if your friend Angela here gives me her number,” he said as I smiled at him before I took off towards the elevator.

“Get ya’ man and have some mind-blowing sex you deserve it!” Angela yelled as Trick laughed. "Trick you better keep your eyes on that one," I said getting on the elevator anxiously waiting for the doors to close.

I felt nervous, the elevator seemed to be going so slow. I almost changed my mind, but the loud dinging noise let me knew I had reached my destination as I walked in a daze to room 984.

Taking a deep breath, I lightly knocked hoping he wouldn’t hear me, and I could leave.

“Damn no such luck,” I muttered as I heard him fumbling around the room. Just do what you feel Kayla, you already know he feels the same. Speak your peace and leave it at that.

Last night I thought to back to when we made good love

Listenin' to some Marvin Gaye all night long

Now I want that old thing back

 It was like time stood still as he opened the door clad in only a towel and a surprised look on his face. Wasting no time and closing the distance between us, I leaped into his arms, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss.

 It’s power startling us both as we moaned in pleasure as our ever-present need for each other continued to grow more intense by the second as we got lost in each other.

 Reluctantly parting to catch our breath, Carmelo looked at me in wonder, caressing my hips.

Make these moments once again a fact

So won't ya, won't ya, uhhh, do it for us, babe

“So, you do love me?” he whispered in disbelief as I caressed his face his piercing gaze had me under his spell.

“I love you, Carmelo,” I whispered against his lips as he groaned reclaiming my lips, pulling me against his bare chest and into his room, slamming the door.

“I love you too, baby,” he moaned as his hands masterfully unzipped my dress causing it to fall at my feet as I shivered feeling exposed under his intense gaze.

“Are we really doin’ this?” I panted as his eyes continued to roam my body. “Yes, and your even more beautiful than I remembered,” he moaned, his breath now hot on my neck as he slowly grazed his lips across my neck, helping me out of my underwear.  

I couldn’t contain my moans of pleasure as Carmelo entangled his fingers in my hair, kissing and nibbling on my neck.

 Purring against him I felt myself losing control as his towel fell, a barrier no longer between us.

Good lovin, body rockin' knockin' boots all night long yeah

Makin' love until we tire to the break of dawn

But oh, come on, a-come on

“Melo, baby,” I moaned as he growled, his hands caressing my breasts as he teasingly sucked and nipped at them as my grip on his head tightened.

“I need to taste you, Peaches, I bet you taste so sweet,” he groaned using his tongue, licking a path from my stomach to my pelvis as he kneeled before me.

And turn the lights down, and let me get on it, yeah

‘Cause when I do, just me and you, it'll be so right

“Can I taste you, Peaches?” he moaned caressing my thighs wrapping them around his shoulders as I trembled with anticipation as he kissed my inner thigh trailing his tongue over my wet center.

Carmelo’s POV

“Yes! Please baby,” Kayla gasped, arching her hips against my tongue as I tasted her. Her hands gripping my face as I licked and sucked on her clit. “Mmm, you taste so sweet peaches. I knew you would baby,” I praised, her eyes rolling back in her head as I pleased her. 

Her moans urging me on as I swirled my flattened tongue around her swollen sensitive clit over and over as she whimpered underneath me.

A-give me some good love

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots)

A-give me some good love

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots) Somebody rockin', baby, ooh

“Carmelo! Oh, fuck!” Kayla moaned as I groaned savoring her taste. Gripping her ass and standing up while still lapping up her juices, I lifted her higher into the air.

 “What are you doing!” she gasped in shock and pleasure as my hungry eyes met hers. Her back planted firmly against the wall as she shivered against my mouth.

“I'm eating my dessert baby,” I moaned devouring her sweet wet center as her legs trembled around my neck.

I feel so good when I'm near you

That's why I always wanna be close to you

“Give me what I want Peaches,” I moaned against her as her gasps were coming in short spurts, I knew she was close.

 “I want it now Kayla,” I moaned swirling my tongue one last time around her clit before taking it in my mouth sucking it gently as she rode my face, her head thrown back in pleasure.

"Oh God! Melo, I...." She trailed off as her whole body began to shake as her orgasm hit her strong as I slid my tongue inside her making her scream and writhe against my mouth as her orgasm continued to overtake her.

I moaned loudly as her essence drenched my mouth as I welcomed it.

Enjoying watching the pleasure on her face, I gently unwrapping her thighs from around my neck.  Maintaining my grip, I slowly slid her down my body as she leaned forward kissing me with urgency.

“I need you,” I panted against her lips as she arched her back against the wall as I entered her swiftly, as a strangled moan escaped her beautiful lips.

I'm so addicted, I'm so addicted

To makin' love to you, baby

All night long, baby, all night long, long, long, long

Her moans mixed with the feel of her pulsing around me had me reelin’. “Fuck! Shit, I missed this Kay,” I confessed reclaiming her as she clawed at my back.

“I missed you too Carmelo,” she moaned as I bounced her with ease on my dick. Her arms around my neck and her knees locked on top of my arms as we rocked against each other.

“Yea, bounce on this dick… Bounce on it like a good girl. You like how this dick feels in this pussy don’t you?” I moaned.

“Carmelo, yes! Fuck me! Umph,” She groaned sucking on my neck, her wetness soaking my dick as it got louder with each thrust.

Kayla’s POV

“Yea, this that grown man shit, you like it don’t you? That pussy so wet for me Peaches, you takin’ it so good baby,” Carmelo praised as I whimpered against him. “Yes! I love it!” I screamed holding on for dear life.

He was right, we weren’t shy college kids anymore.  This truly was real grown folks shit and I loved it.  Clawing at his shoulders in disbelief and pleasure, I felt that familiar tingling starting to surge downward. Good lovin', body rockin' all night long, oh, oh

Makin' love until we tire to the break of dawn

“I feel you baby, don’t fight that shit,” Carmelo panted as I whined not wanting to cum just yet. “I got you, I’ma make you cum,” he groaned as I gasped, his thrusts becoming more powerful as he revealed his plan for the night.

“Tonight, you gon’ cum again…and again…and again…and again,” he groaned as I fell apart in his arms, his mouth swallowing my cries as he held me tight.

“Yea, that’s it, you so fuckin’ beautiful,” he whispered against my lips.

But oh, come on, come on and turn the lights down, and let me get on it, uh

‘Cause when I do, just me and you, it'll be so right, so right, so right

Each stroke masterfully takin’ my breath away. “I want you to cum baby,” I whispered wanting him to let himself go.

I wanted to see his face as he found his sweet release as he eased us onto the bed towering over me. “Spread them legs wide for me Peaches, we gon’ get this one together, baby,” he groaned, his mouth once again overpowering mine as his strokes became deeper and harder.

“Yes! Carmelo! Cum with me,” I gasped as the new position allowed him deeper inside me.

“Mmhm, I’m real deep in this pussy, it feels so good too baby,” he praised. Moving in sync with him I knew he was close. His muscles began to twitch under my touch.  

A-give me some good love

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots)

“Your mine,” I moaned as a low growl fell from his lips as I traced my tongue against his lips as he caught it between his lips gently sucking on it.

“You mine too, you always been mine,” he moaned as my pussy pulsed tightly around him again. Smirking, he placed two of his fingers inside my mouth as I gently sucked on them.

“Fuck yea, good girl Peaches,” he whispered taking his fingers and begins rubbing against my clit matching in tune with his strokes.

“Ahh! Baby I’m cumin!!” I exclaimed, his growls becoming louder as his body shook in ecstasy exploding inside me.

‘Cause I'm ready

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots) I'm so ready

I'm so ready, baby

“You felt so fuckin’ good. Shit, that was amazin’” he moaned gently kissing me as we came down from our trip of ecstasy.

 “You ain’t never lied. Can’t wait until we do it again,” I whispered as he groaned against my lips.

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots)

To give you everything that we've been waitin' on

(Somebody rockin' knockin' da boots)

“Best homecoming ever,” he panted collapsing beside me as I laughed.

“I have to agree, it’s definitely one for the books,” I said smiling.

“So does this mean you gon’ be my girl,” he whispered running his fingers through my hair as I laughed.

“Uh, I would hope so, you done gave me head in the air…The damn air Carmelo, that definitely was a first for me and the rest I can’t even talk about right now because the feeling in my legs ain’t back yet,” I said as he laughed.

“That was hot as fuck wasn’t it. It’s you, I ain’t never done no shit like that, you make me this way,” he whispered pulling me close as I kissed his tattoo.

“Well, tonight was definitely happy tears,” I said caressing his tattoo as he smiled.

“I promise as long as you my girl, it’s always going to be is happy tears, I promise you baby,” he declared as I snuggled further into his arms.

 “I love you,” I whispered as I felt his heart beating faster.

“I love you too Kayla,” he replied dropping a tender kiss on my forehead.

Where do we go from here, I didn’t know but I knew he was my man and it was going to stay that way.

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[kindheart525]

“What’s this? A letter from Eau de Rose?” River Morganite looked over the envelope in her claws with surprise. She was used to the occasional correspondence from her alma mater, like an alumni newsletter or an invitation to donate funds to some new building. “Whatever could this be for?” She couldn’t put her claw on it, but this felt different than the usual junk mail. The timing was too unexpected; she swore she got the monthly newsletter only a week or so ago. Perhaps it was a follow-up to her presentation at Alumni Weekend? That had to be routine, yes? It was the most likely option she could think of. But once she laid eyes on the letter, she found news that was far worse than anything she could have imagined. “NO!” The dragony crumpled to the floor in an instant, her whole family rushing to her side just as quickly. “River, darling! What is it?” Rarity was the first to inquire. “They…they took my degree!” She gripped the paper shakily within her claws, reading over it again through the tears of hurt and indignation in her eyes. “Revoked! Stripped of my qualifications! Bloody disgraced!” “A university can only do that if there is a serious academic violation,” Maud offered her own insight. “What reason was given?” “For…for inciting revolt…defaming the administration…unfairly tainting the Academy’s good name!” She let out a whimper as if she had been stabbed. “How!? I’ve done nothing of the sort!” “Oh Ardor, that is so illegal,” Ember gritted her teeth in frustration. “It absolutely must be! They can’t do this! They can’t do this to me!” As their mothers gathered around to rub her back, her brother gently took the letter from her to read it for himself. “It seems that there was a protest. Clearly your name must have been invoked if they have resorted to this, but it states here that other students have also received so-called ‘appropriate consequences,’ ranging from course failures to expulsion.” “Oh my heavens, I take a rest from the news for a few days,” River choked out bitterly. “By Ardor, there were more?” Her eyes widened in horror. “What have I caused?” “I promise you, darling, you’ve done not a single thing wrong!” Rarity assured her daughter as she collapsed into Ember’s arms. “You’ve made a far more positive impact than most fashion designers ever have.” “We can sue the Academy. Get your degree back no problem. This is extremely wrong.” River knew all this intellectually. She knew the Academy was in the wrong and would easily lose in a legal fight. It was all a stunt; the headmare of that wretched institution was probably sitting in her office right now, smugly waiting for a challenge. River knew she had done nothing to deserve this, and she knew she was doing important work regardless of everything coming her way. But for now, she was inconsolable. “Not again! Oh Ardor, this can’t keep happening to me! I just wanted to do the right thing! I just wanted to create! I didn’t ask for any of this!” She sobbed into her family’s embrace in anger, heartbreak, and so many other painful feelings. But most of all, her cries reeked of pure and total exhaustion. “Please! I just want a break!” ~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Fighting Spirit Next: Gift Horse

[rosemariiaa]

here we go!

Colorado Sprinds, 2019

This is the game where Azzi tears her ACL

wow okayyy so lowkey traumatic.

She could stop this. She should stop this.

oh my gosh i’m already stressed.

The pop is sickening.

wow so the imagery is there. i can’t like PAIGE what didn’t you stop it??!!

…She could’ve stopped it. But she froze. And now the damage is done.

gosh dammit!!! she really had to witness that again😣

He had cried for four days . He had nearly gotten sick when he called back.

awww omg timmmm🥺, he loves his baby girl so bad

..staring at another blank wall while Azzi fought to keep from breaking in front of everyone.

please protect the princess at all cost!!

Azzi swallows hard. When she finally looks at Paige, her eyes are glassy, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”

oh my heart 😢

“No.” Paige shakes her head, firm. “You’re still the hardest worker I know. You’re still Azzi.”

Azzi’s jaw clenches. “You say that like it’s enough.”

Paige meets her gaze. “It is enough, I promise”

well that promise was broken wasn’t it paige madison??!!!

Few weeks later (2019)

I, on the other hand, am suffering. Because Azzi is ignoring me. And I can’t let that slide.

here comes yapper bueckers

The point is, I don’t like being ignored.

of course you don’t 🙄

I scoot closer. “Azziii.”

needy and clingy what a combo

please paige, let the girl recover in peace!

She groans, sinking deeper into the couch like she can escape me. She can’t.

now you know damn well—

who the hell is jake?!!!

dude just cannot take the hint huh?

Yeah cus you know.

exactly let him know paige. stand on business

He pauses, glancing between the two of us, and then his smirk turns downright evil. “Just… try not to get too cozy down here, alright?” He wags his eyebrows. “I know how you two get.”

not jose clocking their tea?! lmaoo jose is a menace too huh??? must run in the family

“I’m just saying! If it were me, I wouldn’t trust myself alone in a basement with someone I—”

just nosy and instigating

Her smirk grows. “You sure? You look kinda—”

azzi wasted no time flustering paige

I barely register whatever drama’s happening on screen because I’m too busy staring at her.

oh she’s down bad your honor. guilty of falling in love with her bsf

“Paigey,” she murmurs, her lips quirking up as she glances down at me. “You want me to pause the show? Seems like you’re real focused on something else.”

let her know azzi

I roll my eyes, playing it cool. “Please. I wasn’t even lookin at you.

she really expects azzi not notice her bright ass irises directed towards her???

“You wanna tell me what you were looking at, then?”

oh HERE WE GO

“I was trying to watch, but someone keeps distracting me.”

i see that accountability isn’t part of her vocab yet

Close enough that I can feel her breath ghost across my lips, close enough that I could close the space between us in one second if I wanted to— And I do.

but full send is.. there ya go paige

It’s not rushed, not something we’ll pretend didn’t happen in the morning. We didn’t, we woke up that morning doing the same thing for 15 minutes, I counted.

according to evidence 1722727. i rest my case, guilty of being down bad. counting the amount and duration of the make out sesh is crazy

…And as much as I love sleeping next to Azzi like this every night, I desperately wish I was home now.

wish you were home??.. to an empty house paige??! remember why you’re reliving these past events

sorry this was a long reaction. but i loved it!! as always. but now that you’ve given us fluff, i fear the next one might shred my heart🫣

-🗑️ anon (mentioned alumni weekend and said they were gonna react to it later)

yayyy my favorite time!!

- paige stronger than me i couldn’t go through that TWICE is insane (the clock is out to get blondie)

-all paige does is break promises, that’s why azzi-

- azzi has sooo much patience for paige and i could t because i would get overstimulated so fast, duct tape on her mouth next chapter because me and azzi have had enough!!

-LMFAO SHE TAKES ACCOUNTABILITY FOR NOTHING

-she needs to go home she got shit to fix (her dumb self) if she don’t Azzi gon get her i fear 😓

can’t wait till post next chapter for ur live react!!

[noxtms]

❝   WE STAND HERE ON THE ELEVENTH ANNIVERSARY of our defeat of he who must not be named and we remember all who fought valiantly in that final battle and selflessly gave their lives for a future that they didn't get to see. we honor fallen friends and family for the sacrifice they made to ensure that we could stand here, today, and we repay them by ensuring that their stories are told and most of all, remembered. it is important that we never forget them, and it is equally so that we use the lives that we gained that day to do good in their name, in this world, for as long as we have them.    ❞

WHO, WHAT, WHEN, WHERE :  

the annual memorial for the battle of hogwarts is typically held on the grounds of hogwarts school over a four day period at the start of may. while the rest of the magical community honor those that fought with survivor discounts and temporary remembrance walls arranged at the heart of wixen towns, the hogwarts memorial is an expertly planned event run to an unimaginable standard. at one point in time, the ministry of magic - led back then by the somewhat disgraced kingsley shacklebolt - almost entirely funded it, as well as took care of private security with a team of specially selected aurors. over the past few years, minister antonin karkaroff has really put in the work to justify lowering both the budget and the number of aurors present, until finally, last year, he succeeded in eradicating both. headmistress mcgonagall has long been making up the difference out of her own pocket, but with support for minister karkaroff at an all time high amongst the civilian community - and with many feeling ten times safer with him in attendance than they ever did with just the dedicated auror team after he singlehandedly took down fenrir greyback - there aren't many people willing to complain about that aloud.

the war heroes that fought during the battle always receive handwritten invitations weeks in advance, with the same care and expense given to the ones sent to the surviving family of those that lost their lives. the opening remembrance ceremony will be held on castle grounds early on may 2nd, with recognisable public figures - most notably the minister of magic himself, as well as the surviving memebrs of dumbledore's army - set to give speeches to the gathered crowd, this year. this is followed by a feast in the great hall with the house tables and colors abandoned in favor of a more intimate set up, all to encourage the mingling of all of the crowds. the white candles usually suspended in the air overhead are changed out for black, and they remain lit through to the very end of the weekend. usually, groups splinter off after dinner, with many heading towards hogsmeade for a stiff drink.

the last quidditch match of the hogwarts season ( gryffindor versus hufflepuff ) falls on saturday, may 3rd, and guests at the castle are welcome to watch. the rest of this day is considered a day of quiet reflection, during which wix are permitted to wander the school and grounds, taking time to reflect. the goodbye ceremony - a gathering in the courtyard where wands are raised to the sky and orbs of multicolored light are sent upwards like muggle fire lanterns - will go ahead as normal on the 5th.

wix travelling in for the event are welcome to avail of either the hogwarts guest quarters or the many inns available to them in both hogsmeade and the surrounding muggle villages. hogwarts alumni can take beds in the guest rooms of their old common rooms if they would prefer, and non hogwarts alumni can claim spaces in the guest quarters located beneath professor lodgings. both have been freshened up by well paid elves during the past few weeks, and both will be well tended by those same elves over the weekend.

OUT OF CHARACTER:

last year we had a fairly huge in character milestone, and this year, it feels like the milestone that matters most is out of character ! this is our fifth boh memorial written in real time, and what a wild time it has sometimes been ! eleven years ago, dumbledore's army brought an end to lord voldemort - our first major plot divergence ! five years ago, sybill trelawney delivered our very first original prophecy while the dark mark hung over the sky. four years ago, we had a death we don't really talk about anymore, but that clementine weasley is going to be feeling extra sensitive about. as with last year, the professors of hogwarts are the only people putting forward additional protective enchantments and making up the private guard keeping watch over the school, this year. it's the professional opinion of our dear minister that three years without incident is enough to say we won't see any more drama on a memorial weekend, and we all know that what he says goes. hopefully, he's right !

this event starts on friday the 2nd of may at 6pm gmt - click here to see what that translates to for your timezone ! the plan is for it to run for two weeks and end on the 16th, and in character, this covers the 2nd, 3rd and 5th !

this is a discord / dash hybrid event, and while it isn't a requirement for you to pause your current threads, please make sure that you differentiate between old threads and new in some way !

most characters would be expected to attend at least one of the memorial days, though of course the choice ultimately comes down to you. just keep in mind that regardless of whether they fought or not, most people at the very least know someone who was caught up in the war and this is the biggest event honouring those whose lives have been lost. it seens a message if they're not present, hence why involvement is important to consider !

starters can be tagged with nox.event047, and you have the wide range of location choice that comes with an event set at hogwarts and the surrounding hogsmeade area !

if you have any questions or concerns, please message the main ! once you've read this post, give a little riperoni to a character we lost in the comments !

[tamagosandesu]

Title: Meet Cute Author's Notes: So, I was grocery shopping with my mom and realized that fridges was technically storage freezers on the inside. I suddenly thought that wouldn't it be fun if somebody had a meet-cute at the moment? Then I thought, why not sasusaku?

The last part wasn't really planned, I just randomly thought about it and decided to add it. It's up to you to imagine what happened at the dinner ;)

Enjoy! .

.

. Sasuke yawns as he feels the prick of tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His eyebrows furrow as the sun suddenly shines too brightly on his face, heat and light passing through the windshield of his car.

It was too early. Being a university student, Sasuke did not have much time in his hands, and between wanting to graduate and being well rested, Sasuke chose to invest in the long-term effects that studying has to bring rather than laying in bed and slacking off.

He thinks it's normal for many college students to have the same situation; all nighters over sleep, requirements over nap. Taking up Political Science wasn't really much of an exaggerated struggle, but being the high-achiever that he is, Sasuke thinks he can't risk any moment to fail.

Although, between weeks of practically facing university without an ounce of sleep, there are still days that Sasuke is given a reprieve of hunching over his laptop or finishing reports after reports. Every Saturday, he gets half the day free and the whole Sunday to himself. Mondays to Fridays are jam-packed, either with being a student or through juggling his commitments to his part-time job.

Usually, he just spends his weekend free times inside his dorm room near the university; Konoha State University is one of the best schools he could ever get into and is infamously known to produce achievers after achievers that top exams and creates a name for themselves. People whom Sasuke admires are mostly alumni of KSU, so it's only right that he also enters the college.

The only problem with it was that it was a good 2 hours away from their home, an hour and a half if there weren't as many commuters. Sasuke, at first, challenged his chances and tried to face the tribulation of commuting from their house to KSC for his first semester. He had to wake up in the dead of early morning where the sun is nowhere to be seen and the moon is still high up. Sasuke likes a good challenge, and so went his college life.

To say that it was tiring was an understatement. The first week was okay—adrenaline was still powering his body and the fact that he was in KSU oh my god was motivation enough to keep him sane through barely 4 hours of sleep. However, when his family saw his state of practically being a zombie, and he saw his mom shake his head with a pointing look similar to a mother hen to her chicks, he knew he had to move out and find a place near the university.

It was short-lived. However, since Sasuke is able to constantly get 5 hours of sleep, or 6 if he's extremely lucky, he thinks it's quite alright.

Sasuke yawns once again at the thought.

"Stop yawning."

Sasuke Uchiha scowls at his Mother who looks like a trophy-housewife and an elegant mother in the passenger seat, wearing an equally annoyed scowl on her pretty face.

Mikoto Uchiha was the image of elegance—long, ebony hair, styled and fixed neatly that it flows down carefully, her blouse pearly white and neatly pressed without any wrinkles whatsoever, her shoes the latest fashion from her favorite luxury shoe brand, and her face devoid and any imperfections. All this just for merely getting groceries.

Meanwhile, Sasuke looks casual—not too casual, but perfectly casual that still looked presentable. He thinks he looks fine, fine enough for the occasion of becoming Mikoto Uchiha's assistant in her grocery shopping. It wasn't bad, but when you put Sasuke beside his mom, there's no doubt that he would look like he'd come out straight out of bed.

"It's not my fault you woke me up so early," Sasuke retorts, earning a glare from his mom.

"Is that how you speak to your mother, Sasuke Uchiha?"

Sasuke shivers. It's the full name.

Sasuke feels like a little kid again, getting scolded by his mom as if he sped up with his bike way too fast and accidentally tumbled and scraped his knee.

The reverie is gone in an instant, however, when Mikoto suddenly smiles, as if reminiscing.

"Besides, it's not everyday that you get to spend time with the family all together again."

Sasuke sighs and smartly keeps his mouth shut. Anything further and Mikoto goes all sentimental again until Sasuke has to practically tear his ear off to hear none of it.

It was those rare weekends that everyone in the family was free. Well technically, forced to be free. Sasuke decided it was time to come back home after he's had enough of his mother nagging him and painfully reminding him how he and his brother has left her all alone, then proceeding to silently imply as if they don't love her anymore.

Sasuke was mama's boy through and through. So even if he has a mountain of tasks to accomplish and deadlines to reach, he packs his bags for a weekend stay and comes home to his family. Even if Mikoto Uchiha wakes him up early in the morning just to drive her to the grocery store and eventually carry bags of groceries, Sasuke still complies albeit grumbling.

Sasuke yawns once again.

Mikoto tsks and scolds him again. "Stop yawning."

Sasuke only rolls his eyes as he roams the parking lot to find a spot. .

.

. Sasuke rocks the cart back and forth, bored out of his mind as he waits for his mother to finish her chattering with her high school friends that they coincidentally bumped into. Sasuke was an introvert, like an introverted introvert. Not an extroverted introvert, or an at-least-i-can-socialize introvert, but a please-leave-me-alone-i-beg-of-you introvert.

He's suddenly lost half of his almost non-existent social battery when Mikoto dragged him to meet one of her friends and fussed over how her little boy was all grown-up. If Sasuke's uncomfort wasn't obvious enough, judging by his smile that almost looks constipated, Mikoto further forced him to talk and socialize with people he has no idea who are, much to his chagrin.

After Mikoto lost even an ounce of attention on him, he made sure to go as far away from her as possible.

So now, he absentmindedly stares at the variety of chips in front of him while still looking out for his mom if she finally decided to bid farewell to her friends.

"Sasuke?"

Said man tenses as his blood runs cold at the voice. It can't be…

Slowly, he turns his head to confirm.

"Sasuke!" Suddenly, he found himself in a tight hug by none other than his self-proclaimed best friend, Naruto Uzumaki.

Damn.

Sasuke curses under his breath when Naruto finally releases him, smiling ear-to-ear, barely aware of the dark aura and menacing glare that Sasuke is sending his way.

If his social battery was at least still half earlier, Sasuke was sure he lost a quarter more just by being engulfed by the blonde's hug. Naruto is a loudmouth—so loud that it's deafening and extremely vexatious to Sasuke. They were buddies ever since high-school. Well, maybe not-really-buddies since Naruto just rubbed him the wrong way which ended up in a brawl and a notice from the principal, a suspension, a black-eye for Naruto and a broken nose for Sasuke.

After that, Naruto went ahead and apologized which Sasuke did not accept which led to more taunting and shouting before Naruto said he'll just treat him to a bowl of ramen at the very least if Sasuke did not want an apology. One grumble of the raven's stomach and a grin from the blonde was all it took before they suddenly became friends.

At those moments, Sasuke suddenly thought that perhaps, one of the very few foundations of friendships starts at exchanging fists and sustaining damage.

"What are you doing here?" Naruto happily asks the grumpy Sasuke.

"Nothing," Sasuke answers, stealing a glance at his mom who still has yet to finish their conversation.

"Who are you looking at?" Naruto follows his line of sight and spots Mikoto. Face lightening up, Naruto abruptly drags Sasuke out back to his mother with him almost stumbling and leaving the cart in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing?" Sasuke hissed. He was sure he knew what the blonde was doing, but still he asked.

"I'm gonna say hi to Aunt Mikoto!" grinning like a child, Naruto arrives in front of a surprised Mikoto before saying hi in a voice so loud that onlookers started to watch.

"Naruto! How nice to see you!" Mikoto exclaims after recovering from her earlier surprise.

"You too, aunt Mikoto!" The blonde replies all too enthusiastically.

Like a domino, it seems as if Mikoto and her friend's conversation started all over again as she introduces Naruto and chatters away. Only this time around, compared to Sasuke who looked like he was constipated and ended the conversation as fast as possible, Naruto appears to be enjoying the talk and replies happily, asking questions after questions.

Sasuke sighs.

This is gonna be long. .

.

. Finally, after almost an eternity, Mikoto finally bid goodbye to her friend and continued with their initial shopping, only this time there was Naruto to tag along.

Sasuke thinks he might've gone deaf from all the blonde's talking. Can't he speak quietly? Why must he always shout?

When they arrive at the counter to finally line up, Sasuke feels like he's already had a long day. And it was only just morning.

"What are you up to today Naruto?" Mikoto sweetly inquires.

"Nothing much auntie, probably just sleeping at home," the blonde casually replies.

Sasuke feels like he has a good hunch about where the conversation is going.

Please don't invite Naruto to lunch and dinner.

"Do you want to spend the day with us? Sasuke's all alone since his dad is still at work and Itachi and his wife's not gonna be home until dinner. Wouldn't it be fun if he had company?" Mikoto asks.

"I'll be fine mom," Sasuke said, hissed, probably putting too much emphasis on 'fine'.

"Nonsense," Mikoto waves his son off. "The more the merrier, right?"

Naruto nodded enthusiastically like a dog to his owner, while Sasuke profusely scowled.

"I'd be delighted, auntie!"

There goes my peaceful weekend. .

.

. "Shoot."

Sasuke hears his mom mutter under her breath while the cashier nears scanning the end of the goods they've bought. He's suddenly alert, spine straight and eyes to his mom since it's wasn't common to hear Mikoto Uchiha swear.

"Sasuke dear, can you please get some alcohol?" Mikoto looks at his son with pleading eyes.

Sasuke, without missing a beat, nods and walks away, He briskly strides towards the wine section and swiftly grabs three different bottles. Champagne, red wine, and whiskey. He'e sure Mikoto will reprimand him for the whiskey, but still he takes one just for him and his brother to drink in the night after their dinner.

Sasuke had half a mind to buy a can of his favorite drink when he spied the refrigerator section, almost about to ignore it altogether, until he saw that they had a new flavor. Quickly, he decides in a split second and walks from the wine aisle, passing by the frozen foods' fridge to the drinks that were at the very end.

In his peripheral, he notices someone inside the fridge walking. Probably a staff. When he finally stops to open the fridge and take a drink, he sees a mop of pink and a lithe frame checking the boxes behind the shelves of the fridge. Curiously, he watches her back until she slowly turns to give her his profile.

A cute nose, long lashes, and pursed lips were what he saw as she tapped the pen in her lips and looked in wonder. As if sensing his staring, she side-eyes Sasuke before finally facing him and catching his gaze.

He felt like his breath was taken away.

A beautiful woman looked straight at him, wearing a cap and a uniform while she held onto a clipboard. Definitely a staff. Sasuke studies her pink hair, cut short into a bob that framed her pretty round face. Up front, her lips looked plump and pink, dusted with a light red lipstick. When he looked up and saw her eyes, Sasuke saw the prettiest shade of viridian, staring wide at him and sparkling as if she saw something fascinating. Her lashes and eyebrows were light, and for a moment all Sasuke could do was stare like a dumb kid.

He's probably not painting a pretty picture in front of this gorgeous woman, but still Sasuke looks as if it was the first time he's seen a girl ever in his life.

He tries to say something—she probably thinks he's weird for staring at her for so long—but all he could do was open his mouth and close it, hesitating and most likely looking like a fish.

"Sasuke!" he hears somewhere. Turning his head, he sees Naruto with a frown, urging him to hurry up.

He takes a look back at the fridge and sees the woman still there. She smiles sweetly and says hello before Sasuke snaps out and blushes, nodding his head in acknowledgement and sneaking a glance at her name tag.

Sakura Haruno.

How cliche, he thinks as he walks off and turns his lips in the slightest, the closest he can give to a smile. Pink hair and green eyes—colors he usually thought were loud and obnoxious, and definitely not his type, felt right with her.

With Sakura, he felt like he's never seen anything more beautiful and appealing than a mixture of pink and green.

When he returns back to the counter, he sees his mom glaring at him, probably for taking too long, and Naruto conversing with the cashier, probably to buy them time. He also notices the queue that he's most likely produced, all looking annoyed and impatient.

Usually, he would've felt chagrined at his fault, but after remembering the cause of it, he can't find it in himself to care.

In his mind, on that day, Sasuke feels like he's experienced one of the most unexpected things he would have felt. With all the sudden awareness and sensibility that he possessed in that moment about his feelings, Sasuke Uchiha therefore concluded:

I think I'm in love. .

.

. Itachi Uchiha is a busy man.

Being the CEO of their family company, Itachi barely has time to spare to attend trivial things, like dinners, for example, unless it's part of business.

Or, unless it was arranged by their dear, overbearing mother.

So, Itachi rushes to fix his things and hurries to pick up his wife from her work.

When he gets out of the car and meets Izumi, he sees a certain someone come out.

"Sakura," Itachi greets with a soft smile after kissing his wife on the cheek.

"Itachi-san," Sakura nods and returns his smile.

Izumi Uchiha was the daughter of the owner of the biggest mall-chain in Konoha, and Sakura Haruno was a 4th year university student that works part-time in one of the branches. The pink-haired girl was a sweet little thing that was able to befriend Izumi through a few exchanges of words. Izumi was also sweet, and liked especially sweet things and people. Sakura and Izumi getting along was almost inevitable, if Itachi says so himself. Put two girls together with things in common and you get a pair of bestfriends.

Although Sakura still maintains professionalism knowing that Izumi is practically the daughter of her boss's boss's boss, which Itachi respects. She was a clever girl from Konoha State University studying medicine, but still excels in many fields.

It was a waste to not know her as well.

"Dear, Sakura here was just telling me how she had a 'meet-cute' moment with someone," Izumi tells her husband as she wiggles her eyebrows at Sakura, who profusely blushed.

"Izumi-san!" Sakura tries to chastise.

Itachi, feeling as devilish as his wife, also decides to tease. "And what did he look like?"

Sakura, if possible, darkened further to a shade of red. Being the diligent girl that she is, she still answers the question.

"He was handsome," she admits in a shy voice. And then, in typical Sakura fashion, she proceeds to ramble. "He oddly looked like you, Itachi-san, same eyes and your face structure, but his hair was like all over the place,"

Now that piqued Itachi's interest.

"Did you know his name?" Itachi asked.

"It was…" Sakura trailed off to think. "Sasuke, I think."

Itachi and Izumi both shared a look. Surely, there wouldn't be anyone who looked like him and was named Sasuke right?

Itachi suddenly had an idea.

"Sakura, would you like to have dinner with our family?"

Sakura was confused, with their family? Isn't that supposed to be just intimately between them?

She became even more confused when she noticed both Izumi and Itachi grinning as they awaited her answer, faces as encouraging as ever.

I have a bad feeling about this…

"Sure...I guess...?"

[ishiganto]

Before I Let Go

Thank you for making every family reunion, picnic, block party, homecoming, and alumni weekend real.

[eretzyisrael]

by Aaron Subarium and Jessica Costescu

The deans at the center of the Columbia University texting scandal scoffed that Jewish students concerned about the eruption of anti-Semitism on campus are "coming from a place of privilege" and suggested those students have more institutional support than their peers because of their supposed wealth, according to new messages reviewed by the Washington Free Beacon.

The messages, obtained by the House Committee on Education and the Workforce and released on Tuesday, show that three of the deans—Susan Chang-Kim, Matthew Patashnick, and Cristen Kromm—engaged in a more extensive pattern of disparagement than has been previously reported and shed new light on how Columbia officials reacted in real-time to a panel on anti-Semitism held during the university’s alumni weekend.

"I’m going to throw up," Chang-Kim, Columbia’s vice dean and chief administrative officer, wrote to her colleagues roughly an hour into the panel. The text's timing aligns with remarks from an audience member and daughter of a Holocaust survivor, Orly Mishan, who described how her own daughter, a Columbia sophomore, "was hiding in plain sight" on campus after the Oct. 7 attacks.

"Amazing what $$$$ can do," replied Kromm, the dean of undergraduate student life.

The new messages suggest that the administrators, who were placed on leave pending a university investigation after a Free Beacon report revealed snippets of their text exchanges, see concerns about anti-Semitism as manifestations of entitlement.

"They will have their own dorm soon," Patashnick, the associate dean for student and family support, said of Jewish students, after the head of Columbia Hillel, Brian Cohen, said that many Jews felt more comfortable spending time at the Kraft Center he runs than in their own dormitories following the Oct. 7 attacks.

"Comes from such a place of privilege," Chang-Kim wrote two minutes later. "Trying to be open minded to understand but the doors are closing."

The deans also ridiculed Cohen’s efforts to provide support services, including psychological counseling, to Jewish and Israeli students following Oct. 7, implying that they were receiving special treatment denied to other groups.

"Not all heroes wear capes," Patashnick texted sarcastically. "If only every identity community had these resources and support," Kromm replied.

In 2024, Columbia hosted separate graduation events for black, Asian, Native American, LGBT, and "Latinx" students. Jews were one of the only minority groups not to host a ceremony of their own.

The release of the texts comes as Columbia faces renewed pressure to take action over the ordeal. A petition put forth on Tuesday by Columbia alumni, students, and community members calls on the Ivy League institution to remove Sorett, Chang-Kim, Patashnick, and Kromm "from their positions immediately."

"All four of the deans implicated must be held accountable and terminated. This incident exposes a profound issue at Columbia that cannot be dismissed," the petition reads. "Failure to address this quickly can only be interpreted as a lack of seriousness and urgency in dealing with campus antisemitism within Columbia’s administration. Columbia University must deliver an immediate and unambiguous message that antisemitism will not be tolerated."

Sorett, Chang-Kim, Kromm, and Patashnick did not respond to requests for comment. A Columbia spokeswoman pointed the Free Beacon to a June 12 statement saying the school is "committed to combatting antisemitism and taking sustained, concrete action to ensure Columbia is a campus where Jewish students and everyone in our community feels safe, valued, and able to thrive."

Other text messages obtained by the Free Beacon from the same panel show the four deans dismissing claims of anti-Semitism.

At one point during the panel, Chang-Kim texted Sorett to say the panel "is difficult to listen to but I’m trying to keep an open mind to learn about this point of view." Sorett responded, "Yup."

Kromm, meanwhile, used vomit emojis—"🤢🤮"—to reference an op-ed from Columbia campus rabbi Yonah Hain that raised concerns about the "normalization of Hamas" on campus.

After the release of those messages, Sorett issued a private apology to Columbia's Board of Visitors, saying the texts did not "indicate the views of any individual or the team." He later informed his colleagues that Chang-Kim, Patashnick, and Kromm had been placed on leave. Sorett was not included in the disciplinary move, and a Columbia spokesman declined to say why.

Shortly thereafter, on June 21, the Free Beacon obtained a photo of another text sent during the panel that showed Sorett sneering at Cohen. After Chang-Kim sent Sorett a sarcastic text calling Cohen "our hero," Sorett responded, "LMAO."

On the same day, Sorett broke his silence on his involvement in the scandal in an email to the Board of Visitors. "I deeply regret my role in these text exchanges and the impact they have had on our community," he wrote. "I am cooperating fully with the University's investigation of these matters. I am committed to learning from this situation and to the work of confronting antisemitism, discrimination, and hate at Columbia."

Sorett sent that message after calling the cops on a Free Beacon reporter who knocked on his apartment door to ask him about his involvement in the texts. While Sorett never came to the door or asked the Free Beacon to leave, when the Free Beacon left the building, several New York City police and campus security officers were outside. A Columbia security official said Sorett "raised a whole big issue."

The new texts obtained by the committee, meanwhile, show Kromm and Chang echoed an assessment from Patashnick that Cohen took "full advantage of this moment" for its "huge fundraising potential."

Those texts were sent around the time Cohen cited a visit to Columbia's campus from prominent Israeli politician and human rights activist Natan Sharansky.

"Who was the speaker he mentioned?" Kromm asked. "Natan Sharansky," Patshnick responded before sending a link to Sharansky's Wikipedia page.

[puckandgossip]

You know how sometimes athletes have to work after retiring because they don’t always make enough money to maintain their whole family without working the rest of their lives

What do you see some of the guys as? Like what if Adam Fantilli retires and has to go into like.. accounting lmfaooo or Auston matthews as a real estate agent like what do you think they’d be??

hahahah i fear we need to start a “if **** wasn’t a hockey player , he would be a ****** “

let me start , jack hughes would 1000000% be a finance bro that still visits his frat from college on alumni weekend

[apteryxparvus]

L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R — pov: you’re my therapist

Group chat — pov: you’re my therapist

masterlist • next

Y/N L/N Occupation: first-year bachelor of Civil Engineering at Sumeru Akademiya. Bartender at Lambad's Tavern and library assistant at House of Daena.

Living situation: currently crashing at Alhaitam’s place, enjoying alcohol and horror movie marathons with her second roommate Kaveh.

Due to her mother's job, she grew up used to frequent relocations.

After her parents divorced, she moved with her father to Sumeru.

Youngest member of her friend group at Sumeru Akademiya.

Closest to Alhaitam, often pretending to simp over him to make Kaveh annoyed (= jealous).

Kaveh Occupation: third-year bachelor student of Architectural Science, with a minor in Fine Arts at Sumeru Akademiya. Works as a freelance architect and a TA for small tutorial groups for the course Linear algebra; occasionally opens commission slots online.

Living situation: Alhaitam’s roommate since the start of the academic year. Both of his roommates have to endure his late-night tinkering sessions.

Both parents are renowned Sumeru Akademiya alumni.

After his father's passing, his mother moved to Fontaine and remarried.

In his late teens, he was forced to sell the family home.

Proud owner of an orange tabby cat called Mehrak.

Living with Alhaitam is tough, but despite their frequent arguments and debates, Kaveh recognizes that his friend holds a significant presence in his life.

Alhaitam Occupation: second-year bachelor student double majoring in Linguistics and Semiotics; works part-time as a junior library administrator and assistant at the House of Daena.

Living situation: owns an apartment close to the main campus of Sumeru Akademiya, sharing it with his roommates Kaveh and Y/N.

Lost both is parents at a young age; raised by his grandmother.

His passion for literature and science led him to graduating a year before his peers.

While he takes pleasures in engaging in debates his Kaveh, he feels genuine concern for his friend's well-being. 

Cyno Occupation: third-year bachelor student of Laws, interning as an Academic Misconduct Officer at Sumeru Akademiya. He’s an internationally known Genius Invocation TCG champion.

Living situation: resides in a small, cozy house with his long-term boyfriend Tighnari and their adopted sister Collei.

Born in the Great Red Sand desert, he defied the odds and got accepted at Sumeru Akademiya to study law.

Stoic and emotionless, often intimidating others, but his friends know his true character.

Regular customer at the board game café in near the Akademiya, always challenging the other patrons to a duel.

Tighnari Occupation: second-year bachelor student of Environmental Science at Sumeru Akademiya; weekend help at a nursery garden and renowned plant vlogger with a devoted following.

Living situation: lives in a small rented house with his boyfriend and their adopted sibling, hoping to buy their own place after graduation.

Grew up in Gandharva Ville and witnessed the devastating effects of pollution and deforestation.

Has a YouTube channel where he shares insights about the flora and fauna of Teyvat.

Frequently complains to his online followers about having to take care of hikers who consume psychedelic mushrooms from the Avidya Forest National Park.

Author's note: hoping to post the rest of the profiles sometime over the weekend, if work doesn't mentally destroy me that is 🤷‍♀️

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Yascha Mounk

Published: Oct 16, 2023

On October 7th, the world witnessed the worst slaughter of Jews since the Holocaust. Hundreds of attendees at a music festival were murdered in cold blood. Families hiding in their homes were burned alive. Jewish mothers and fathers were, in an eerie echo of the 1940s, imploring their children to stay quiet lest their would-be murderers should detect their whereabouts. Nearly two hundred people remain in the clutches of a terrorist organization that announced its genocidal intentions in its founding charter.

Many people, of all faiths and convictions, have recognized the enormity of these crimes. Numerous world leaders denounced the terrorist attacks in clear language. Private citizens shared their grief on social media. Millions mourned. But despite the outpouring of support, there has also been a large contingent of people and organizations who stayed uncharacteristically silent—or went so far as to celebrate the carnage.

Even as British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak found clear words about Hamas, for example, the BBC have steadfastly refused to call the Hamas fighters who killed over 1200 people by the name rightfully reserved for those who deliberately target innocent civilians for political ends: terrorists. Meanwhile, many schools and universities, nonprofit organizations and corporations that have over the past years gotten into the business of condemning and commemorating all kinds of tragedies, both small and large, fell uncharacteristically silent.

Some of the most famous universities in the world—including Princeton, Yale and Stanford—only released statements after they came under intense pressure on social media. At Harvard University, it took pressure from alumni and an outraged thread on X by Larry Summers, a former president of the institution, to prompt his successor into belated action.

Worse still were the people and organizations who actively celebrated the pogroms. Multiple chapters of the Democratic Socialists of America, which continues to count Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez among its ranks, encouraged their followers to attend rallies that glorified Hamas’ terror as a righteous form of resistance. As its San Francisco chapter wrote on X, the “weekend’s events” should be seen as part and parcel of Palestinians’ “right to resist.” The Chicago chapter of the Black Lives Matter movement even glorified the terrorists who murdered scores of people at a rave in southern Israel, pairing a now-deleted image of a paraglider with the caption: “I stand with Palestine.”

Meanwhile, academics from leading universities were busy defending these terrorist attacks as a form of anti-colonial struggle. “Postcolonial, anticolonial, and decolonial are not just words you heard in your EDI workshop,” a professor in the school of social work at McMaster University, in Canada, wrote on X. “Settlers are not civilians,” a Yale professor who has written for mainstream outlets including The Washington Post and The New York Times, maintained.

All of this raises a simple question: How could such a notable portion of the left side with terrorists who openly announce their genocidal intentions? Why have key institutions proven so reluctant to denounce one of the worst terrorist attacks in living memory? What, to them, renders the victims of these attacks so much less worthy of solidarity than those of the many other atrocities they have full-throatedly condemned?

The ideological roots of the great obfuscation

In the past days, people have offered many possible explanations for this selective silence. Some focus on outright antisemitism. Others emphasize that an understandable concern over the immoral actions that Israeli governments have taken in the past have blinded many activists to the suffering of innocent Israeli civilians. Others still point out that institutional leaders want to avoid eliciting angry reactions from activists, preferring to stay silent on a sensitive issue out of simple fear for their jobs.

Each of these explanations contains a grain of truth. Some people in the world really are consumed by one of the world’s most ancient hatreds. Others are indeed hyper-focused on everything that Israel has done wrong, a stance that is easier to understand in the case of Palestinians whose ancestors have been displaced than it is in the case of leftist activists who have for many decades found the missteps of the one state that happens to be Jewish worthy of much greater condemnation than similar, or greater, missteps perpetrated by any other. Finally, it is indeed true that many university presidents, nonprofit leaders and corporate CEOs have, among the institutional meltdowns of the past years, come to believe that they must avoid controversy at all costs if they are to keep drawing their generous paychecks.

But the double-standard that has in the past days become so obvious on parts of the left also has a more profound source, one that is ideological rather than practical or atavistic. Over the past decades, a new set of ideas about the role that identity does— and should—play in the world have transformed the very nature of what it means to be on the left, displacing an older set of universalist aspirations in the process.

This novel ideology, which I call the “identity synthesis,” insists that we must see the whole world through the prism of identity categories like race. It maintains that the key to understanding any political conflict is to conceive of it in terms of the power relations between different identity groups. It analyzes the nature of those power relations through a simplistic schema that, based on the North American experience, pits so-called whites against so-called “people of color.” Finally, it imposes that schema—in a fashion that might, in the academic jargon of the day, ironically be called “neo-colonial”—on complex conflicts in faraway lands.

The trouble with structural racism

Many advocates of the identity synthesis rightly point out that an account of racism which focuses purely on individual beliefs or motivations runs the danger of concealing important forms of injustice. Even if everyone has the best of intentions, the after effects of historical injustices can ensure that many immigrant students attend underfunded public schools or that many members of ethnic minorities suffer disadvantages in the housing market. It therefore makes sense, they argue, to add a new concept to our vocabulary: structural racism.

As the Cambridge Dictionary explains, structural racism consists of “laws, rules, or official policies in a society that result in and support a continued unfair advantage to some people and unfair or harmful treatment of others based on race.” By pointing out that some forms of racism are “structural” in this way, we are better able to capture—and hopefully remedy—circumstances in which members of some racial groups suffer significant disadvantages for reasons other than individual bias.

This is plausible insofar as it goes. To understand contemporary America, it is indeed helpful to add the notion of structural racism to our conceptual toolbox. But in recent years, many advocates of the identity synthesis have gone one step further: they have begun to claim that this more recent concept of structural racism should altogether supplant the older concept of individual racism.

Rather than acknowledging that there are two different conceptions of racism, each of which helps to elucidate real injustices in its own way, parts of the left have come to conceptualize racism in an exclusively structural form. “Racism,” one online guide puts the growing consensus, “is different from racial prejudice, hatred, or discrimination” because it must involve “one group having the power to carry out systematic discrimination through the institutional policies and practices of the society and by shaping the cultural beliefs and values that support those racist policies and practices.”

In its most radical form, this claim entails that it is impossible for a member of a historically marginalized group to be racist toward a member of a historically dominant group. Because racism does not have anything to do with individual beliefs or attributes, and members of groups that are comparatively powerless are incapable of carrying out “systematic discrimination” against members of groups that are comparatively powerful, even the vilest forms of hatred need not count as racist. As an article in Vice put it, “It’s literally impossible to be racist to a white person.”

The result has, again and again, been a form of selective blindness when members of minority groups have expressed bigoted attitudes toward supposedly more privileged groups, including those that are themselves minorities. This inability to recognize the importance of the more traditional conception of racism makes it impossible to name what is happening when members of one minority group are the victims of hate crimes committed by members of another minority group that is now considered to suffer from greater disadvantages. In December 2019, for example, two terrorists killed a police detective and then murdered three people at a kosher grocery store in Jersey City, close to New York. They had a long trail of posting antisemitic content on social media; one assailant was a follower of the Black Hebrew Israelites, a movement which holds overtly antisemitic beliefs. But because the assailants were black, and the victims perceived as white, many news outlets failed to categorize the shooting as racist, or to treat it as a hate crime, for an astoundingly long period of time.

The trouble with white privilege

The idea that all racism is structural is deeply damaging because it makes it hard for institutions to open their eyes to forms of discrimination towards members of groups that are supposedly dominant. In practice, it is made even worse by the fact that many people on the left have now embraced a very simplistic notion of who is dominant and who is marginalized—one that imposes American conceptions of race onto situations in which they distort rather than illuminate underlying realities.

In North America, the most salient—though by no means the only—racial divide has for centuries been that between whites and blacks. In assessing which group is supposedly privileged in a foreign conflict, many Americans therefore think it is enough to figure out who is “white” and who is a “person of color.” This makes it impossible for them to understand conflicts in which the relevant political cleavage does not neatly pit whites against blacks (or, more broadly, “whites” against “people of color”).

Whoopi Goldberg, for example, has repeatedly insisted that the Holocaust was “not about race.” Since, from an American point of view, both Jewish and non-Jewish Germans are white, she found it impossible to get her head around an ideology that centers around racial distinctions between them. “You could not tell a Jew on a street,” she wrongly claimed. “You could find me. You couldn’t find them.”

In the case of Israel, this has led most observers to assume that there is a clear division in racial roles between Israelis and Palestinians: In their mind, Israelis are white, Palestinians “people of color.” And since white people have historically held power over non-white people, this reinforces the impression that it is impossible for Israelis to be victims of racial hatred.

But this perspective once again turns out to be so simplistic as to verge on the delusional. Ms. Goldberg was wrong to believe that Nazis were unable to spot Jews; though some Jews did manage to survive by passing themselves off as “Aryan,” many Nazis—and their collaborators in Central Europe—were highly effective at spotting people whom they suspected of being Jewish.

More importantly, the assumption that most of the victims of last Saturday’s terrorist attacks were “white” Jews with roots in Europe is simply wrong. It’s not just that there are black Israeli Jews whose ancestors immigrated from Ethiopia, or that Hamas’ victims included many migrants from Thailand and Nepal; it’s also that Israel as a whole is now home to more Mizrahi Jews, who hail from the Middle East, than Ashkenazi Jews, whose ancestors long lived in Europe.

I will leave it up to others to speculate on whether the visual differences between Jewish and non-Jewish Germans are more or less stark than those between Arabs and Mizrahi Jews. But the prominence of Mizrahi Jews also betrays yet another way in which attempts to fit the Israel-Palestine conflict into a simplistic conceptual scheme go badly wrong.

The trouble with Decolonialism

The actual demographic composition of the country makes claims that Israeli civilians should be seen as settlers who are fair game for terrorist attacks doubly cynical. They are cynical because no political cause, however righteous, justifies the deliberate targeting of babies and grandmothers—neither on the Israeli nor on the Palestinian side. And they are also cynical because the great majority of Mizrahi Jews have, since the end of the Second World War, been violently displaced from the Middle Eastern countries in which their ancestors had lived for hundreds of years, with no country other than the world’s only Jewish state willing to offer them a safe harbor.

Postcolonial apologists for terrorist organizations like Hamas and Hezbollah love to invoke Frantz Fanon’s glorification of violence. The problem is not just that their tendentious reading of his work overlooks the ways in which violence can be morally corrosive and politically destructive; it’s also that the implied analogy between the so-called pied noirs (white settlers in Algeria who could safely return to the French metropolis if they chose to do so) and Mizrahi Jews (who would be neither welcome nor safe if they were to return to Iran or Iraq, to Morocco or Algeria) is so misleading as to be perverse.

And yet, this misleading analogy governs how many on the left ascribe the role of victim and perpetrator, explaining why dozens of student groups at Harvard could claim that Israel is somehow “entirely responsible” for Hamas’ decision to murder more than 1,000 civilians. At a deeper level, they even help to explain how left-wing activists and academics can contrive to perceive a deeply authoritarian and overtly theocratic regime that is explicitly hostile to sexual minorities as a progressive movement.

According to many progressives, what determines whether a movement should count as left-wing or right-wing is based on whether it claims to be fighting on behalf of those they believe to be marginalized. Since Hamas is an organization of underprivileged “people of color” fighting against “privileged” “white” Jews, it must be seen as part of a global struggle against oppression. Even though its program—which incidentally includes the violent suppression of sexual minorities within the Gaza strip—is reminiscent of some of the world’s most brutal far-right regimes, those marching in support of Hamas consider them to be part of the global struggle for progressive values. As Judith Butler, a central figure in this intellectual tradition, said in 2006, it is “very important” to classify both Hamas and Hezbollah as “social movements that are progressive, that are on the Left, that are part of a global Left.”

It’s time for a reckoning with bad ideas on the left

Over the past few days, some observers have started to recognize how badly parts of the left have gone astray. Many leftist academics were genuinely horrified to see their friends and colleagues celebrate the murder of babies. There has been widespread outrage at the decision of influential movements like Black Lives Matter to idolize terrorists. Shri Thanedar, a U.S. Congressman, has publicly renounced his membership in the DSA.

This is a good start. In a free country, anyone must be free to express their support of extremist organizations, however vile; the move by many European governments to suppress pro-Hamas protests or to jail those who glorify the terrorist attacks is a betrayal of the liberal principles on which our opposition to that execrable organization should be based. But mainstream institutions can and absolutely should stop uncritically embracing organizations, like BLM, that openly glorify terrorists. And citizens should demand that moderate political parties, like the Democrats, cease to tolerate in their midst members of organizations, like the DSA, that equivocate about the moral permissibility of mass murder.

Black lives matter, greatly. Colonialism remains one of the greatest historical injustices. Even before this week, though, it should have become clear that the recognition of these important facts is fully compatible with serious concerns about the organizations that now speak on behalf of the Black Lives Matter movement, and about a postcolonial discourse that all too often glorifies violent resistance to anybody who, however simplistically, is judged to be an “oppressor.”

Many advocates of the identity synthesis are genuinely motivated by good intentions. But key parts of this ideology now provide cover for forms of racism and dehumanization of vulnerable groups that should be anathema to anybody who genuinely cares about the historical values of the left. It is time for the many reasonable people who have bit their tongue as these ideas took on enormous power in mainstream institutions to raise their voice against them.

The suffering to come

Any humane outlook on the world must recognize that civilians never deserve to suffer due to the group into which they were born or because of actions committed by those who claim to speak on their behalf. I feel as much empathy for the Palestinian children who are dying in bombardments of Gaza as I do for the Jewish children who were killed in Hamas’ attack on Israel. Insinuations of collective responsibility are vile, even when voiced in response to a disgusting terrorist attack. Each civilian death is a tragedy on the same moral order.

While every civilian victim is in equal measure undeserving of their tragic fate, moral philosophers have for centuries recognized a key distinction governing the conduct of war. Military action that is directed against military targets may be legitimate; while some civilian deaths are foreseeable as a consequence of such attacks, soldiers must undertake to minimize them as far as possible. By contrast, military action is always illegitimate when the killing of innocents is the goal, not an unintended side effect.

This set of standards helps to explain how spectacularly Hamas, the organization that started the current war with a long-planned surprise attack that killed over a 1,000 men and women, toddlers and grandmothers, Ashkenazim and Mizrahim, Jews and non-Jews, Israelis and Thais and Americans and Canadians and Germans and Chinese, failed to obey the most basic moral rules. Now, it should also guide our assessment of Israel’s unfolding actions in Gaza.

This is a war Israel did not choose, and it has every right to defend itself. No democracy would tolerate on its borders the presence of a terrorist organization that has just demonstrated its willingness to engage in the indiscriminate slaughter of its civilian population; it would be the height of hypocrisy for people living in the safety of Berlin or Paris, of London or New York, to expect Israelis to do so.

But the military offensive against Hamas is extremely difficult because the terrorist organization has deliberately based so much of its military infrastructure in the midst of civilian settlements; because it is now doing what it can to stop its own people from moving away from military targets; and because Egypt, worried about the potential for Hamas fighters to destabilize the government or even perpetrate terrorist attacks within its own borders, has refused safe passage for most Gazans. All of this explains why it is so hard for Israel to accomplish its legitimate goals without causing numerous civilian casualties. But it does not constitute permission for Israel to adopt the logic of collective punishment by cutting off access to food and drinking water ahead of a full-scale invasion, or absolve the country’s armed forces from doing what they can to minimize the number of civilian casualties. As and when Israel fails to do so, full-throated criticism of its government is fully justified.

The left has the potential to speak powerfully to this moment. To do so, it needs to jettison the ideological jargon that has made so many supposed idealists fall for the ever-present temptation to contrive reasons why the suffering of one side is outrageous while the suffering of the other side is glorious. To retain our moral composure in the ugly days and weeks now on the horizon, we must recover a moral universalism that, even in the darkest hour, reminds us of our shared humanity—and unhesitatingly laments the death of innocents, irrespective of the group to which they belong.

Yascha Mounk is the founder and editor-in-chief of Persuasion. His latest book is The Identity Trap: A Story of Ideas And Power In Our Time.

[jules-has-notes]

2017 VoicePlay winter activities — ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

With a new year came new projects and collaborators, as well as several personal milestones for the guys.

.

Auld Lang Syne

VoicePlay started the year on someting of a bittersweet note, finally making the offical announcement of Tony's retirement from the group. Fans had been remarking on his increasing absences from VoicePlay's content and concerts over the preceding year, so the formal confirmation that he had left was sad, but certainly less upsetting in knowing that it was an amicable decision.

Five years of frequent, extended travel had taken their toll. Tony wanted to spend more time at home with his family, and refocus his creative energies on new projects through PattyCake Productions, the studio he and Layne had been building over the previous year.

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On a happier note, Eli and Ashley entered the home stretch in preparing for their wedding.

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Hot and cold

As they said in the audition video, the remaining guys didn't let a vacancy disrupt their other plans. They continued to alternate between Erik Winger and J.None as their stand-in baritones as they hit the road almost immediately.

First they picked up Winger and headed south for a stylish wedding in the Florida Keys.

Then they scooped up J.None and returned to snowy NYC for the annual APAP conference after skipping it the year before.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by J.None 🧈🎶 🎙📝🎬🎹🎸📽🤣 (@itsjnone)

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Once they got home, it was time for some more rehearsals before they performed at a couple local private events and filmed their next video.

This song wasn't fast enough already, guys? Yeesh!

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Jacobson nuptials

And of course everyone gathered to celebrate at Eli and Ashley's wedding.

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From the road to the air

Toward the end of the month, Layne and Tony gathered up a few family members and friends and headed to southern Florida for their next PattyCake project.

When they got home, VoicePlay snagged J.None again and flew out west to "crash Eli's honeymoon" and headline the annual Napa Valley A Cappella Extravaganza.

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Part of the extended family

During their week at home between road dates, Earl got to meet Jodi Benson, voice of the animated Ariel, during a Nemo post-show meet and greet session.

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Round and round

The next weekend, the guys and Winger headed up to New Jersey for a show in Rahway with opening act Garden State Sound Quartet. The concert received some preliminary hype in the local press, and a very nice recap.

photos by Love Imagery, via New Jersey Stage ; and by Garden State Sound Quartet

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Then they popped home long enough to pick up J.None and Max Herskovitz for a five day trip to the Bahamas aboard the Disney Dream. While the other guys were at sea, Layne got into some tech geekery for an interview with Lens Depot as part of their customer spotlight series.

Once they disembarked, they bade farewell to Max and scooped up Layne for a quick jaunt to Maryland.

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Making a name

After a few quiet days at home, they met up with Winger again to sing the national anthem as the opening to Full Sail University's annual alumni Hall of Fame induction ceremony.

During a shopping trip the next day, Layne found a hat with surprisingly accurate embroidery. He joked that it "should have a question mark at the end", and his sister noted that a needle and thread could easily amend it. I'd argue that, like a lot of performing artists, they're more "situationally famous".

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Frozen treats

The weekend took VoicePlay (again with Winger) north to St. Joseph, MN for a show attended by several longtime fans and local gent Chris Rupp.

sleepy Layne, Paul, and Erik heading north very early in the morning

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Home time

Over next week, Layne, Tony, and Earl were busy filming PattyCake's next project, "Beauty and the Bieber", at several locations around Orlando. Meanwhile, Geoff and Kathy took advantage of the slight lull in their schedules and had a babymoon date night at a Take 6 / Manhattan Transfer concert.

But, of course, the VoicePlay momentum picked up again at their weekly planning meeting.

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Ahoy-hoy

The week after that, they gathered up J.None and Max again for another loop around the Caribbean on the Disney Dream.

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When they got home, they headed over to a local art school to perform at a fundraiser for their theater program. The lineup for the evening also included Brian Fortuna from Dancing with the Stars and Orshi Horvath, and a newly formed local boy band called the Beatline Boys.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Cyndi Ansley Stein (@cyndiansleystein)

VoicePlay accompany Brian and Orshi for a dance

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Family time

The next few days were spent doing their own thing and marking some big milestones. Geoff and Kathy had their baby shower. Earl and Nick bought a new home.

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Back to work

The final weekend of the season was bookended by video shoots with new collaborators. Friday saw them team up with theme park pal Matthew Darren for a club jam mashup, while Monday brought a peppy breakup song with Broadway performer John Pinto, Jr.

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Once those were in the can, it was time to hit the road again, but that's a story for a another time.