#To the probably zero of you that read this blog

[thewornoutandtired]

Time and Time Again

I didn’t believe in reincarnation until the second time I met you. When all the memories came flooding back to me, and the look in your eyes said you were having the same experience. From then on, I made it my mission to find you every single time I woke up to a new life. It was my purpose. You were my purpose.

We chased each other through time, treating it like a game. From the darkest days to the Renaissance, from the Hundred Years War to the Great War to the Cold War, from “Ancient History” to the current “Modern Day”, we’d find each other. We knew each other the moment our eyes met, and our love burned as fiercely as it had the first time we said it.

Our power dynamic changed over the years, from a princess and her knight to a noble and his servant to a duchess and her slave, but we always knew where we stood. We’d play our roles for the time being, but we both knew I was always going to protect and take care of you.

You always knew to look for me wherever violence was being had, and I knew to look for the most out of place people on my battlefields. My eyes were always open for a splash of clean skin in the middle of the dirt and grime that surrounded me, and you once jokingly claimed you just “followed the bodies” to wherever I was. Wherever we found each other, however we found each other, Whenever we found each other. Time and time again, I’d look for you.

[mostlyanything19]

Oh I see tumblr is going down completely for sure for good and forever and everyone is evacuating to other sites for at least the fifth time in the last five years? Yawn.

[cripplecharacters]

The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media

[large text: The Mask Trope, and Disfiguremisia in Media]

If you followed this blog for more than like a week, you're probably familiar with “the mask trope” or at least with me complaining about it over and over in perpetuity. But why is it bad and why can't this dude shut up about it?

Let's start with who this trope applies to: characters with facial differences. There is some overlap with blind characters as well; think of the blindfold that is forced on a blind character for no reason. Here is a great explanation of it in this context by blindbeta. It's an excellent post in general, even if your character isn't blind or low vision you should read at least the last few paragraphs.

Here's a good ol’ tired link to what a facial difference is, but to put it simply:

If you have a character, who is a burn survivor or has scars, who wears a mask, this is exactly this trope.

The concept applies to other facial differences as well, but scars and burns are 99% of the representation and “representation” we get, so I'll be using these somewhat interchangeably here.

The mask can be exactly what you think, but it refers to any facial covering that doesn't have a medical purpose. So for example, a CPAP mask doesn't count for this trope, but a Magic Porcelain Mask absolutely does. Bandages do as well. If it covers the part of the face that is “different”, it can be a mask in the context used here.

Eye patches are on thin ice because while they do serve a medical purpose in real life, in 99.9% of media they are used for the same purpose as a mask. It's purely aesthetic.

With that out of the way, let's get into why this trope sucks and find its roots. Because every trope is just a symptom of something, really.

Roughly in order of the least to most important reasons...

Why It Sucks 

[large text: Why It Sucks]

It's overdone. As in — boring. You made your character visibly different, and now they're no longer that. What is the point? Just don't give them the damn scar if you're going to hide it. 

Zero connection with reality. No one does this. I don't even know how to elaborate on this. This doesn't represent anyone because no one does this.

Disability erasure. For the majority of characters with facial differences, their scars or burns somehow don't disable them physically, so the only thing left is the visible part… aaand the mask takes care of it too. Again, what's the point? If you want to make your disabled character abled, then just have them be abled. What is the point of "curing" them other than to make it completely pointless?

Making your readers with facial differences feel straight up bad. I'm gonna be honest! This hurts to see when it's all you get, over and over. Imagine there's this thing that everyone bullied you about, everyone still stares at, that is with you 24/7. Imagine you wanted to see something where people like you aren't treated like a freakshow. Somewhat unrealistic, but imagine that. That kind of world would only exist in fiction, right? So let's look into fiction- oh, none of the positive (or at least not "child-murderer evil") characters look like me. I mean they do, but they don't. They're forced to hide the one thing that connects us. I don't want to hide myself. I don't want to be told over and over that this is what people like me should do. That this is what other people expect so much that it's basically the default way a person with a facial difference can exist. I don't want this.

Perpetuating disfiguremisia. 

"Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk

[large text: "Quick" Disfiguremisia Talk]

It's quick when compared to my average facial difference discussion post, bear with me please.

Disfiguremisia; portmanteau of disfigure from “disfigurement” and -misia, Greek for hatred. 

Also known as discrimination of those mythical horrifically deformed people.

It shows up in fiction all the time; in-universe and in-narrative. Mask trope is one of the most common* representations of it, and it's also a trope that is gaining traction more and more, both in visual art and writing. This is a trope I particularly hate, because it's a blatant symptom of disfiguremisia. It's not hidden and it doesn't try to be. It's a painful remainder that I do not want nor need.

*most common is easily “evil disfigured villain”, just look at any horror media. But that's for another post, if ever.

When you put your character in a mask, it sends a clear message: in your story, facial differences aren't welcome. The world is hostile. Other characters are hostile. The author is, quite possibly, hostile. Maybe consciously, but almost always not, they just don't think that disfiguremisia means anything because it's the default setting. No one wants to see you because your face makes you gross and unsightly. If you have a burn; good luck, but we think you're too ugly to have a face. Have a scar? Too bad, now you don't. Get hidden.

Everything here is a decision that was made by the author. You are the one who makes the world. You are the person who decides if being disabled is acceptable or not there. The story doesn't have a mind of its own, you chose to make it disfiguremisic. 

It doesn't have to be.

Questions to Ask Yourself

[large text: Questions to Ask Yourself]

Since I started talking about facial differences on this blog, I have noticed a very specific trend in how facial differences are treated when compared to other disabilities. A lot of writers and artists are interested in worldbuilding where accessibility is considered, where disabled people are accepted, where neurodivergence is seen as an important part of the human experience, not something “other”. This is amazing, genuinely.

Yet, absolutely no one seems to be interested in a world that is anything but cruel to facial differences. There's no escapist fantasies for us.

You see this over and over, at some point it feels like the same story with different names attached.

The only way a character with a facial difference can exist is to hide it. Otherwise, they are shamed by society. Seen as something gross. I noticed that it really doesn't matter who the character is, facial difference is this great equalizer. Both ancient deities and talking forest cats get treated as the same brand of disgusting thing as long as they're scarred, as long as they had something explode in their face, as long as they've been cursed. They can be accomplished, they can be a badass, they can be the leader of the world, they can kill a dragon, but they cannot, under any circumstances, be allowed to peacefully exist with a facial difference. They have to hide it in the literal sense, or be made to feel that they should. Constantly ashamed, embarrassed that they dare to have a face.

Question one to ask yourself: why is disfiguremisia a part of your story?

I'm part of a few minority groups. I'm an immigrant, I'm disabled, I'm queer. I get enough shit in real life for this so I like to take a break once in a while. I love stories where transphobia isn't a thing. Where xenophobia doesn't come up. But my whole life, I can't seem to find stories that don't spew out disfiguremisia in one way or the other at the first possible opportunity.

Why is disfiguremisia a default part of your worldbuilding? Why can't it be left out? Why in societies with scarred saviors and warriors is there such intense disgust for them? Why can't anyone even just question why this is the state of the world?

Why is disfiguremisia normal in your story?

Question two: do you know enough about disfiguremisia to write about it?

Ask yourself, really. Do you? Writers sometimes ask if or how to portray ableism when they themselves aren't disabled, but no one bothers to wonder if maybe they aren't knowledgeable enough to make half their story about their POV character experiencing disfiguremisia. How much do you know, and from where? Have you read Mikaela Moody or any other advocates’ work around disfiguremisia? Do you understand the way it intersects; with being a trans woman, with being Black? What is your education on this topic?

And for USAmericans... do you know what "Ugly Laws" are, and when they ended?

Question three: what does your story associate with facial difference — and why?

If I had to guess; “shame”, “embarrassment”, “violence”, "disgust", “intimidation”, “trauma”, “guilt”, “evil”, “curse”, “discomfort”, “fear”, or similar would show up. 

Why doesn't it associate it with positive concepts? Why not “hope” or “love” or “pride” or “community”? Why not “soft” or “delicate”? Dare I say, “beauty” or “innocence”? Why not “blessing”? “Acceptance”?

Why not “normal”?

Question four: why did you make the character the way they are? 

Have you considered that there are other things than “horrifically burned for some moral failing” or “most traumatic scenario put to paper”? Why is it always “a tough character with a history of violence” and never “a Disfigured princess”? Why not “a loving parent” or “a fashionable girl”, instead of “the most unkind person you ever met” and “total badass who doesn’t care about anything - other than how scary their facial difference is to these poor ableds”? Don’t endlessly associate us with brutality and suffering. We aren’t violent or manipulative or physically strong or brash or bloodthirsty by default. We can be soft, and frail and gentle and kind - and we can still be proud and unashamed.

Question five: why is your character just… fine with all this?

Can’t they make a community with other people with facial differences and do something about this? Demand the right to exist as disabled and not have to hide their literal face? Why are they cool with being dehumanized and treated with such hatred? Especially if they fall into the "not so soft and kind" category that I just talked about, it seems obvious to me that they would be incredibly and loudly pissed off about being discriminated against over and over... Why can't your character, who is a subject of disfiguremisia, realize that maybe it's disfiguremisia that's the problem, and try to fix it?

Question six: why is your character wearing a mask? 

Usually, there's no reason. Most of the time the author hasn't considered that there even should be one, the character just wears a mask because that's what people with facial differences do in their mind. Most writers aren't interested in this kind of research or even considering it as a thing they should do. The community is unimportant to them, it's not like we are real people who read books. They think they understand, because to them it's not complex, it's not nuanced. It's ugly = bad. Why would you need a reason?

For cases where the reason is stated, I promise, I have heard of every single one. To quote, "to spare others from looking at them". I have read, "content warning: he has burn scars under the mask, he absolutely hates taking it off!", emphasis not mine. Because "he hates the way his skin looks", because "they care for their appearance a lot" (facial differences make you ugly, remember?). My favorite: "only has scars and the mask when he's a villain, not as a hero", just to subtly drive the point home. This isn't the extreme end of the spectrum. Now, imagine being a reader with a facial difference. This is your representation, sitting next to Freddy Krueger and Voldemort.

How do you feel?

F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]

[large text: F.A.Q. [frequently asked questions]]

As in, answers and “answers” to common arguments or concerns. 

“Actually they want to hide their facial difference” - your character doesn’t have free will. You want them to hide it. Again; why.

“They are hiding it to be more inconspicuous!” - I get that there are elves in their world, but there’s no universe where wearing a mask with eye cutouts on the street is less noticeable than having a scar. Facial differences aren’t open wounds sprinkling with blood, in case that's not clear.

“It’s for other people's comfort” - why are other characters disfiguremisic to this extent? Are they forcing all minorities to stay hidden and out of sight too? That’s a horrible society to exist in.

“They are wearing it for Actual Practical Reason” - cool! I hope that this means you have other characters with facial differences that don’t wear it for any reason.

"It's the character's artistic expression" - I sure hope that there are abled characters with the same kind of expression then.

“They’re ashamed of their face” - and they never have any character development that would make that go away? That's just bad writing. Why are they ashamed in the first place? Why is shame the default stance to have about your own face in your story? I get that you think we should be ashamed and do these ridiculous things, but in real life we just live with it. 

"Now that you say that it is kinda messed up but I'm too far into the story please help" - here you go.

“[some variation of My Character is evil so it's fine/a killer so it fits/just too disgusting to show their disability” - this is the one of the only cases where I’m fine with disability erasure, actually. Please don’t make them have a facial difference. This is the type of harm that real life activists spend years and decades undoing. Disfiguremisia from horror movies released in the 70s is still relevant. It still affects people today.

"But [in-universe explanation why disfiguremisia is cool and fine actually]" - this changes nothing.

Closing Remarks

[large text: Closing Remarks]

I hope that this post explains my thoughts on facial difference representation better. It's a complicated topic, I get it. I'm also aware that this post might come off as harsh (?) but disfiguremisia shouldn't be treated lightly, it shouldn't be a prop. It's real world discrimination with a big chunk of its origins coming out of popular media.

With the asks that have been sent regarding facial differences, I realized that I probably haven't explained what the actual problems are well enough. It's not about some technical definition, or about weird in-universe explanations. It's about categorizing us as some apparently fundamentally different entity that can't possibly be kind and happy, about disfiguremisia so ingrained into our culture that it's apparently impossible to make a world without it; discrimination so deep that it can't be excised, only worked around. But you can get rid of it. You can just not have it there in the first place. Disfiguremisia isn't a fundamental part of how the world works; getting rid of it won't cause it to collapse. Don't portray discrimination as an integral, unquestionable part of the world that has to stay no matter what; whether it's ableism, transphobia, or Islamophobia or anything else. A world without discrimination can exist. If you can't imagine a world without disfiguremisia in fiction... that's bad. Sad, mostly. To me, at least.

Remember, that your readers aren't going to look at Character with a Scar #14673 and think "now I'm going to research how real life people with facial differences live." They won't, there's no inclination for them to do so. If you don't give them a reason, they won't magically start thinking critically about facial differences and disfiguremisia. People like their biases and they like to think that they understand.

And, even if you're explaining it over and over ;-) (winky face) there will still be people who are going to be actively resistant to giving a shit. To try and get the ones who are capable of caring about us, you, as the author, need to first understand disfiguremisia, study Face Equality, think of me as a human being with human emotions who doesn't want to see people like me treated like garbage in every piece of media I look at. There's a place and time for that media, and if you don't actually understand disfiguremisia, you will only perpetuate it; not "subvert" it, not "comment" on it.

I hope this helps :-) (smile emoji. for good measure)

Mod Sasza

[thebibliosphere]

Tell us about a childhood favorite you've never talked about on this blog?

Oh, that's a hard one, considering I've got zero filter, haha.

Hmm. Probably The Belgariad series by Leigh and David Eddings. It's dated now, in terms of racism and probably a few other isms, but it was one of the first fantasy series I read on my own after my dad finished reading LotR to me.

It's a classic hero's journey/coming-of-age story where an unlikely hero (a farmboy named Garion) winds up being the chosen one fated to restore goodness to the world. And he's going to kick and scream about it the entire way while surrounded by his very own D&D party of friends. (Understandable, if someone told me I needed to save the world, I would also do the very non-heroic equivalent of hitting the snooze button and asking for five more minutes before I need to get up and avert the apocalypse.)

It was easy to read, if a little waffly in places (as 80s fantasy often was), and I liked that it didn't shy away from being silly and humorous. Which was nice, for me, because all the fantasy/sci-fi was turning to grimdark when I was growing up. It was nice to have something that didn't take itself too seriously.

Also, the Rivan Codex is an excellent example of how to track your own world-building. It's by no means a "how to" (it's literally just a codex of everything in the world), but seeing it all mapped out like that makes you realize he had his world-building and lore locked in.

[choccy-milky]

tag nine people you want to get to know better!

ty for the tag @myokk and @theladyofshalott1989 !!💖💖

LAST SONG? - i deadass don't know💀i don't really listen to music i just always have streams/youtube vids on (I KNOW IM SORRY DONT @ ME) ....does the baroque noble party ambience i was listening to while working on my oneshot count??? shoutout to that video btw

FAVORITE COLOR? - yellow!!💛⭐

CURRENTLY WATCHING? - i also don't really watch shows💀....do 6 hour video essays on youtube count? in which case i love action button if you haven't watched his stuff (his boku no natsuyasumi video and his tokimeki memorial video are amazing, and his pacman video), and also super eyepatch wolf & hbomberguy (especially hbomb's 'pathologic is genius' video). also i listen to a podcast called '372 pages we'll never get back' that i highly recommend

LAST MOVIE? - 💀💀💀this is just a meme at this point💀💀💀I DONT EVEN REMEMBER....me and my roommate love watching crappy adam sandler movies so probably one of those??? or my neighbor totoro since i forced my niece to watch it 😍

SWEET/SPICY/SAVORY? - SAVORY BABY I LOVE SALT IM A SALT FIEND!!!🧂🧂🧂i put my grubby little hands straight into the olive jar and FEAST...also when i was in uni i used to keep a little ziploc bag of salt on me for when i ate out LMFAOOO and i always steal the salt shaker and bring it to my room and my roommate is always like DO YOU HAVE THE SALT AGAIN???......what can i say i love salt........(tho i still love sweets and spicy foods as well. and im addicted to coke zero btw. my body is comprised of 50% salt and 50% coke zero)

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? - almost 2 years in my poly relationship with seb and clora😍😍

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? - girl do u even have to ask........

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? - probably timezones for when im talking to mutuals LMAOO...i just like to know what hour it is there no pressure tags: @the-ozzie @sparxyv @ccelicaa @kaviary-blog @siboom777 @boxdstars @versailles-black @limonnitsa @dwightschrute11 @ethniee @celestinawarlock @moonstruckmoony @syaolaurant @bassicallymaestra @lilac-ravenclaw @vienguinn @noelles-legacy @4ever2000lover @lamieboo @magic-in-onyx (NO PRESSURE FR FR I HATE TAGGING PPL BC I FEEL LIKE IM BOTHERING YALL BUT I ALSO DONT WANT TO LEAVE PPL OUT AT THE SAME TIME...SO IF YOURE READING THIS U CAN CONSIDER YOURSELF TAGGED AS WELL🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️OR CONSIDER YOURSELF UN-TAGGED IF YOU DONT WANNA DO IT BAHAHA)

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐬

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: HOGWARTS(? IT’S MORE OF A COLLEGE THAN JUST HOW IT ORIGINALLY WAS. I JUST WANTED THE HOUSES)!AU, IDIOTS TO LOVERS, READER IS IN SLYTHERIN, HAND KINK, FINGERING, CLIT PLAY, PUBLIC SETTING, TEASING, UNPROTECTED SEX, BOOB PLAY, PULL OUT METHOD, PET NAMES (BABY) ☾ ━━━ WC: 4.2K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Han Jisung was annoying to Y/n. His personality, his little pranks around campus, how he challenged everything she said, and his good looks. The last part she hated the most. Since their year hit puberty, Jisung was one of the guys people from every house tried asking out or had a crush on. She, unfortunately, was no better. But she refused to let it fester.

     “If you keep staring at him, he’s gonna find out you like him,” Seungmin scared her out of her thoughts.

     “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” Y/n scolded him and punched his shoulder.

     “I’m just saying,” He chuckled and rubbed his shoulder, “You should stop reading all those enemies to love books in the library. It’s starting to influence your love life.”

     “You’re just trying to get hit today,” Y/n challenged him.

     Jisung watched the two’s interaction from across the courtyard. He had been listening to Minho and Chan talk till he caught a glimpse of Y/n over the yard. Now playfully arguing with her housemate.

     “Jisung!” Minho yelled at him.

     “Yeah?!” He answered, scared

     “What do you think?” His friend asked

     “No, yeah. Totally,” Jisung tried to sound like he was paying attention but Minho and Chan both knew better.

     “Alright. I’ll ask Y/n out after class then,” He deadpanned his friend

     “Huh?!”

     “He’s not asking Y/n out, relax,” Chan reassured him, “Just trying to get your attention for this weekend.”

     “What’s this weekend?” Jisung asked, eyes still on Y/n as he watched her and Seungmin walk away.

     “Hogsmeade…” Chan reminded him

     “What about it?”

     “If you weren’t busy daydreaming, you would know,” Minho retorted.

     “Ji, what do we do every Hogsmeade visit?”

     “Oh! Pub! Got it!” Jisung remembered, “I’ve got to get to class. Later.”

     Jisung bolted up and grabbed his things and quickly left the two.

     “His next one is with Y/n, isn’t it?” Chan asked

     “Yep.” Minho popped the ‘p’ and the two sighed. Opting to go to their classes.

     Jisung spent the majority of his class with Y/n stealing glances at her. Both of them sat in the back so he found it easy to look across the room and see her concentrating on the lesson. Not aware she was doing the same thing. 

     Every class, he tried to work up his courage to ask her out but she was always out the door before he could. Y/n had caught his glances a few times and did not want to find out what they were about at the end of the day so she’d left as quick as she could. Didn’t help they shared all their classes. So even though she wanted to see him, she didn’t at the same time. 

     Jisung just had to wait another time and would complain to his friends during the weekend. 

     “Why don’t you just send her a letter?” Hyunjin suggested when Jisung brought up his problem. 

     “Yeah. Then you don’t have to do it face-to-face,” Changbin agreed

     “Yes, get rejected over mail.” Jisung said, “Chan, you guys are in the same house.”

     “And I have zero clue about what she says about you,” Chan added

     Jisung laid his head on the table. Chan patted his back to reassure him it’d be okay. Minho eyes drifting towards the door. “Felix probably knows,” he said, seeing the blond walk in with the girl they were talking about and their two other friends— Seungmin and Jeongin.

     “Okay, but he’s always at quidditch practice so how am I—” Jisung had to stop midsentance when he lifted his head and saw the group. 

     “Well,” Minho instigated

     Jisung just slid down in their booth. Hoping not to be spotted, just for Changbin to kick his shin. “Owe!”

     “Sit up!” Changbin said

     “Don’t fight,” Chan reminded as they watched the group take a table on the side of the room.

     “Well,” Minho said

     “Someone cast an invisibility spell and go over there,” Jisung said

     “You need a charm for that,” Chan stated

     “Just rip the bandaid off and tell her you like her,” Hyunjin argued

     “It’s not that easy!” Jisung exclaimed

     “You haven’t tried,” Hyunjin argued

     “Min, where are you going?” Chan asked as the second oldest was getting up

     “Refill,” Minho said, holding up his empty glass.

     “Get me some more too,” Changbin said, holding his almost empty glass up.

     Minho rolled his eyes but agreed anyway. Walking up to the bar and ordering two more drinks. Not his full intention, but he needed an excuse. He felt the need to give his friend a push, even if it meant pissing him up a little bit. 

     Y/n had gotten up from her friend group and gone to the bathroom. Coming out and accidentally bumping into Minho. The male quickly grabbed her to stabilize her before she fell back, even if she wasn’t going to.

     “Sorry Minho. I wasn’t paying attention,” Y/n apologized as she took a step back.

     “It’s okay,” Minho smiled “Got a lot on your mind, you look out of it.”

     “Kind of,” Y/n shrugged

     “Wanna talk about it over a drink?” He offered

     “Maybe another time? I’m here with friends,” Y/n suggested

     “How about next weekend?” 

     Y/n blinked at him for a minute, “Sure,” she finally answered

     “It’s a date then,” Minho smiled as his drinks were handed to him and he walked away. 

     Y/n watched him walk back to his table, handing a drink to Changbin, and noticed the group. Chan, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung.

     Y/n didn’t know how to feel about the last staring at her as she just went back to her friend group.

     “That took a while,” Jeongin commented as she sat in their booth.

     “Accidently bumped into Minho,” she sighed, “He asked me on a date. I think?”

     “Huh?!” Felix exclaimed.

     “It can’t be a coincidence we were talking about your crush then his best friend asked you on a date,” Seungmin laughed

     “It might be,” Y/n defended, “They’re on the other side of the room, there’s no way they heard us.”

     “Either way, I still think you should stop avoiding Jisung and give him a chance,” Felix brought the conversation back to their previous one— her crush on Jisung that she refused to talk about.

     “Nope,” Y/n said

     “Y/n,” Felix sighed

     “You know he’s probably got a crush on you too,” Jeongin said

     “No way,” Y/n denied

     “Now that you mention it—” Felix started

     “No! Don’t mention it,” Y/n interrupted

     “I did notice him staring at you the other day in the courtyard,” Seungmin said.

     “This is not what I wanted to come here for,” Y/n groaned, hanging her head low and covering her ears.

     “The sooner you admit it the sooner it stops,” Jeongin said next to her, pulling a hand away from her ear.

     “Lix,” Y/n whined, looking at the Hufflepuff for support.

     “They have a point,” he shrugged

     “I hate you all,” Y/n groaned

     She absolutely hated how right the three were. She crashed onto her bed as soon as she and Seungmin made it back to the Slytherin dorms. The male followed her up to check in on her. 

     “Hey,” he said, sitting next to her, “We didn't mean to push you back there.”

     “I know, just doubt he returns my feelings,” Y/n groaned, “Feels like I'm just getting my hopes up.”

     “Maybe stop looking away from him when you think he's about to catch you staring and you’ll see what the rest of us see,” Seungmin patted her back before getting off the bed and leaving the dorm room. 

     “Min,” Jisung whined for the umpteenth time, trying to coax his friend into telling him what he had talked to his crush about 

     “We just caught up a bit after she bumped into me,” Minho answered. The same answer he had been giving Jisung since they got back to the Gryffindor dorms. 

     “She didn’t say anything about me?” Jisung questioned 

     “No. You didn’t come up in conversation,” yet.

     “Promise?” 

     “Yeah.” Minho agreed. Getting the boy off his back for now. 

     Didn’t stop him from asking the rest of the week. In between his staring at the girl in question. Getting caught a few times during their lectures by her which ended in a couple of odd staring contests till she rolled her pretty eyes and turned back to the lesson. 

     Jisung laid his head down in defeat and picked himself back up when they were dismissed. 

     “Where’s Min?” Jisung asked as the four out of five in their group slid into their normal booth. 

     “Said he had a date,” Hyunjin answered 

     The group shrugged and let it go. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Minho to go on a date. Their chatter continued as they caught up on classes and their other activities. Specifically the quidditch match at the end of next week. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. This meant Chan playing against Changbin and Minho, which the group always found fun to watch. 

     “No way,” Hyunjin said out of the blue, making the other three look where he was looking. 

     Seeing their friend walk in with Y/n before the two made their way to the opposite end of the room. 

     “I thought he was joking about asking her out,” Chan said in disbelief 

     “Since when has he ever joked about doing something like that?” Changbin asked, “I understand why he did. It is Y/n.”

     “Not helping,” Chan said, motioning to Jisung, still staring at the two. 

     “Stop staring,” Hyunjin said, turning the boy’s attention to the group. 

     “We’ll ask him what it was about later. Just relax for now,” Chan said

     The four did wait it out, not very long thankfully. It was an hour and a half of sneaking peeks at the table before the two got up and Y/n left the pub and Minho joined them.

     “How was your date?” Changbin smirked

     “Eh, not a date. Mostly gave her an ear to vent a problem too.” Minho shrugged and took a seat

     “Would you like to share with the class?” Hyunjin said, leaning forward.

     “She’s got a crush,” Minho said

     “Who?” Jisung asked

     “Didn’t say. Just talked about her issue with it and her friends trying to convince her to talk to him.     “What house?” Jisung asked

     “Didn’t say. He’s not in Slytherin.”

     “Are you gonna fight the guy?” Changbin asked

     “Yes,” Jisung said without hesitation.

     The four looked at each other before just letting it go, at least until Jisung left the table.

     “Are they two blind idiots in love with each other?” Changbin asked

     “A hundred percent,” Minho confirmed

     Jisung spent all week trying to figure out who he was going to fight. Anyone without the black and green robe was under his suspicion. The only ones he had ruled out were Felix and Jeongin. 

     “Are we not addressing Jisung just sticking way closer than usual?” Jeongin asked as the four sat in the courtyard

     “I ignore it,” Y/n shrugged

     “Until he’s not looking at you,” Felix remarked

     “Then she’s daydreaming,” Seungmin smirked, making a kissy face at her to tease her

     “Stop it,” Y/n said, almost hitting him with her divination textbook, the boy effectively dodging it.

     “At this point, it’s going to be Seungmin that exposes your crush,” Jeongin said

     “If she didn’t tell Minho on their date,” Seungmin retorted

     “Why would I tell him? They’re friends.”

     The clock tower rang, signaling the hour. The four got up to head to class and Jisung headed to his own class as well. Potions, one of the many he had with Y/n. Luck managed to be on his side today as their teacher paired everyone up— pairing him and Y/n up.

     Letting everyone get to their stations before further explaining the mixture of the day. Jisung barely paid attention, looking towards the professor but mostly looking at her.

     “Jisung,” Y/n snapped him out of his trance, snapping her fingers at him

     “Huh?” He asked

     “Were you paying attention?” She asked

     “Partially…?”

     Y/n rolled her eyes, “Can you go grab the ingredients?” She asked, showing him the list from her textbook

     “Yeah,” He nodded, grabbing his own and flipping to the page. Getting up to grab what they needed. 

     Y/n let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She should get an award for acting like catching him staring at her didn't affect her. Until Jeongin walked by her table. She forgot for a moment she had him in this class too. 

     The Ravenclaw said nothing. Just gave her a knowing look. Y/n glared at him before Jisung came back to their station. Basket of ingredients in hand. 

     Y/n regained her composure and the two got to work. At least she did. Jisung helped here and there but mostly watched her. Watching every little move; rolling up her sleeves, rereading a step before she did it to make sure she was doing it right to how she tucked her hair behind her ears. The tips of them slightly tinted

     “You feel okay?” he asked 

     “Huh?” she turned to look at him. Confused and cheeks tinted slightly as well. 

     “You feel okay? You look flushed.”

     ‘You would too if you could feel your crush staring at you as you work,’ she thought, “Fine. Just a little warm.”

     “Let me do some of the work. You can read off the instructions,” Jisung offered

     Y/n didn't have time to respond before he took over. Y/n cleared her throat and read him the instructions from the textbook. Trying not to look at him for too long. Even if she couldn't help herself side-eyeing him a bit— eyes lingering a little too long on his hands. 

     ‘I wonder how they would feel in—”

     “Y/n,” Jisung snapped her out of her thoughts. 

     “Sorry,” Y/n said, ignoring whatever he was going to say, and gave him the next instruction. 

     Y/n walked him through finishing the potion. Calling their professor over to check their work. Gladly passed the two of them and had them write a report before they were dismissed. Y/n all but booked her way out of the classroom before Jisung or god forbid Jeongin said anything. 

     Booking it down the hall to the library. Thankful she had a free period and could calm down a bit in the library, study for classes. Hiding as far as she could from thd door and diving into her textbooks, cautiously peering up at the door every so often. 

     Twenty minutes into her studying, she had barely any clue Jisung was a few tables away from her. Pretending to study. It wasn’t till she set her quill down to stretch that she locked eyes with the Gryffindor. 

     Both refused to look away until Jisung looked down, rubbing the back of his neck. Y/n looked back at her book and picked up her quill. Resting her forehead in her hand, her attempt at not looking at him. 

     Jisung originally did come to try and study but now was completely distracted. Keeping his eyes on Y/n as she worked. 

     ‘How can she be so hot while studying?’ Jisung thought. 

     He wasn’t getting any work done, that was for sure. He should pack up and leave but he didn’t feel like it. Rather he leaned back and mentally beat himself up. Maybe he should confess. Just get it off his chest, handle the rejection. Maybe not face to face though. His eyes landed on his textbook. Portal spell. 

     Y/n managed to lose herself in her studies again until she felt a poke on her thigh. She jumped a bit before looking under the table, moving her leg to the side. Looking at the small portal, a hand sticking out with a piece of paper. Jisung’s hand.

     Y/n looked up at him and he just smiled at her. Y/n glared at him before grabbing the folded paper from his hand. 

     ‘I’m sorry for staring in class and just now. I know you find me annoying but I’ve had the biggest crush on you for years now’

     Y/n looked up at him, finding the boy blushing. Judging by how warm her face was, she probably was too. She shifted in the chair a bit and accidentally brushed her thigh against his hand. His hand was warm and it made her shiver a bit. 

     Jisung looked up and watched her reaction. He ran his hand along her thigh again. Hearing a small moan come from the portal he had made under his table and watched her cover her mouth with a fist. 

     “Heard that,” he whispered and watched her eyes go wide, “Feel good?”

     Y/n nodded and tried composing here again. 

     “Can make you feel better. Just gotta spread those pretty legs.”

     “We're in the library, are you crazy?” Y/n whispered 

     “For you.”

     Y/n glared at him from her table. “It's your fault if we're caught.”

     Jisung smiled as he looked down and watched her thighs part. He was impressed with how he managed to open the portal in perfect view of her pussy.

     Y/n scooted her chair in a bit and slouched a bit, giving him a bit of better access as she tried to look like she was still working. Jisung moved his hand forward and ran two fingers up and down her clothed pussy. Not missing the building wet spot he felt, especially when he added a bit more pressure on her clit. 

     Y/n gripped her quill tighter, trying not to focus too much on Jisung playing with her pussy. But it was getting harder as he was moving her panties to the side. Y/n glanced around the area. No one else was in the back with them. She set her quill down, pulled the fabric down her legs and caught Jisung's wide eyes. She slipped the fabric off her feet and sat back. 

     “Let me hold them,” Jisung whispered 

     “What?!”

     “I’ll give the back. Or do you want someone to see you holding them?”

     Y/n handed him the fabric and watched his hand retract from the portal before reappearing. His hand disappeared under her skirt and she could feel the hands she’d been staring at last period. 

     Two of his fingers ran through her wet folds as his thumb slowly circled her clit. Jisung watched her cover up her moans and bury her nose in her textbook. Jisung pressed a little bit more on her clit and dipped the tips of his fingers into her hole. Watching as her head dipped down and she bit her lip. 

     “I’ve barely done anything to you and you look like you’re about to cum,” Jisung chuckled, curling his fingers up into her, “Saw you looking at my hands in class. Get turned on thinking about them inside you?”

     “Yes,” Y/n whined 

     “Can have ‘em whenever you want, baby. Just got to ask.”

     Y/n covered her mouth again and glanced between her book and him. Mind focused on his fingers and the damn near primal look in his eyes. ‘Fuck that’s hot’ 

     Her walls clenched around his fingers. Thumb picked up its pace and brought her closer to her release. Slowly grinding against him as best she could. 

     “‘M close,” Y/n whined 

     “Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers?” Jisung teased

     “Mhmm.”

     Jisung brought her closer and closer before he pulled away from her. Y/n quickly looked up at him, catching his smirk before he looked down.

     “Look at that pretty pussy,” Jisung’s voice came through the portal. Watching her twitch in her seat. 

     “Jisung,” Y/n whined, suddenly feeling a bit shy under his gaze

     “Can’t wait to taste it.” Jisung’s fingers were in her again and picked up right where he left off— same pace and all. 

     She didn’t know how long Jisung sat and edged her. Every time she was about to cum he would take it away from her. The torture only stopped when the library door opened. Jisung pulled his fingers out of her and closed the small portal. 

     Eyes didn’t leave hers as he licked his fingers clean. Y/n sat up and quickly packed her things before making her way over to his table. Jisung watched her walk over and slowly packed his things. “Come on,” Y/n said. 

     “Where?” Jisung smirked as he stood and grabbed his bag

     “Please, just follow me.” Y/n grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the door 

     “Wait,” Jisung said as he tugged her into him

     “What?”

     “Be my girlfriend?”

     “After you just fingered me through a portal for how long?” Y/n smiled, grabbing his tie and pulling his lips to hers. Enjoying the way he moaned helplessly against her lips in contrast to the confidence he had moments ago. 

     Jisung pulled her closer before she pulled away, “That’s a yes, right?” He confirmed

     “Yes, idiot. I’ve had a crush on you for a while too,” Y/n said

     “Really?!” he said a bit too loud 

     Y/n shushed him before dragging him out of the library.

     “I was who you liked?” He asked as they got into the hallway.

     “Were you trying to figure out who I liked?” Y/n asked him, almost dragging him down the halls

     “Maybe…”

     “Why?”

     “Wasn’t going to fight them to impress you.”

     “Guess you’re fighting yourself,” Y/n smiled

     “I’ll win,” Jisung smiled as they made their way down the hallways, down to the basement.

     “I know Chan’s brought me into the Slytherin house before but I don’t think it’s going to go well if you bring me into your dorm,” Jisung said

     “It’s why we’re not going to my dorm,” Y/n smirked as she dragged him further into the dungeons.

     Jisung— confused— followed till she pulled him into an old cell, setting her bag down and pulling him back into a kiss. Jisung dropped his bag and happily returned it with the same intense vigor she had as he pushed her toward the closet wall. Y/n moaned as he pressed her flush against the wall. His hands slipped under her skirt and held her hips.

     “Think we should skip the quidditch match this weekend,” Jisung mumbled against her lips as she pushed his house robe off his shoulders.

     “Yeah? And do what?” Y/n asked as he moved his lips onto her neck

     “Have our own match, in bed,” Jisung smirked, moving one hand to loosen her ties and unbutton her shirt a bit 

     “You better start round one right now,” Y/n told him

     “Don’t want me to edge you again?” 

     “Please Ji,” Y/n whined as his hands gripped her ass

     “Fuck you sound so good.”

     Jisung took his hands off her ass and unbuckled his belt and pants. Y/n smiled as his dick was free from the confines of the uniform. He lifted one of her legs and lined himself with her wet hole, all thanks to his teasing in the library. He was glad he hadn’t given her her underwear back either.

     Slowly he pushed into her, listening to her moans right next to his ear as her walls parted for him. He pushed her top and vest up over her chest. Y/n shuddered as the  cold air of the dungeon hit her skin. Quickly warmed up by Jisung’s lips while he bottomed out. 

     “Fuck, feel so good wrapped around me,” Jisung groaned, taking a moment to collect himself before he came to early. He was painfully hard from the library too. 

     Y/n tangled her fingers in his hair as he busied himself kissing her boobs. Moving the fabric of her bra down to get more of her. Y/n whined, getting impatient with him staying still inside her as he wrapped his lips around her nipple. “Move Ji.”

     Jisung groaned in response and slowly pulled out and thrusted back into her. Y/n gripped his roots and bit her lip, trying to stop her moans from echoing off the walls. 

     “Fuck,” Y/n whined 

     “Still sensitive from the library?” Jisung teased, one hand moving between them so his thumb could rub her abused clit again. 

     “Yes,” Y/n moaned and clenched around him. 

     “Shit,” Jisung whined. Circling her clit faster just to feel her clench around him again. 

     Y/n tilted her head back against the brick wall. Feeling her high coming on quickly. Stomach tightening with each thrust and circle on her clit. Walls clamped around him till she finally got her long awaited release. Walls pulsing around him as she shook from her high. 

     Jisung followed not too far behind. The pulsing of her walls sent him over the edge. Quickly pulling out once he felt himself about to cum, pumping himself a few times till his load shot onto the wall behind them. Resting his head in her neck as they caught their breath, coming down from their highs.

     “Were you really going to fight someone for me?” Y/n asked

     “Yeah,” Jisung said, lifting his head

     “Don’t think I could of been in love with anyone else, especially after hearing that,” Y/n smiled and pulled him back to her lips.

     Jisung let her leg down as he wrapped his arms around her, returning the kiss. “Skip the match with me then?” He asked

     “Don’t want to watch your house lose to mine?” Y/n joked

     “Think it’s the other way around baby.”

     “Guess we’ll just have to skip and fight about it on our own.”

     “Yeah we will.”

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST    TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

© 2024 MINNIESMUTT. DO NOT COPY, REPUBLISH OR TRANSLATE MY WORK ANYWHERE

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

[theoceansluvr]

Llyod Garmadon x Reader

warnings; daddy issues and trauma.. it's llyod what do you expect? author's notes; by popular demand, aka one of my favorite ppl told me i should do it, my ninjago obsession !!! was gonna keep this to myself bc this is the nerdiest thing i will ever write on this blog but <9 kind of a mix of relationship hcs and regular old hcs

oooo he's so sweet i can't even describe it

doesn't really know how to do typical couple things i fear

mainly because he's scared that your either with him due to some ulterior motive or you'll get scared of him considering his past and father-

please please reassure this poor boy he's on the brink of a collapse from overthinking it

onto the normal, non sad headcanons !

biggest pillow fort building fan

most of you dates consist of sitting in one and watching really bad horror movies

oh and carmel popcorn !

if we're using the idea of him not being a lil Lego guy, he'd be one of those dudes with the BIGGEST Lego collection

(do i talk about Legos too much in my headcanons ???)

he will actually sit down and tell you about how long each of them took in full detail it's adorable

makes you a playlist every other day fr

i know that's more of a Cole thing but i like to think music is one of his ways to relax so he has some crazy good music taste

you guys have those frog build a bears or just any build a bear honestly

but he reminds me of the frog

you know those cute little Lego hearts ? you guys would have those

his is your favorite color and yours is green

he would totally walk you to class but would absolutely be nervous because he's not exactly the class favorite..

but you don't mind !

really creative when it comes to gifts and whatnot

like handmade cards and stuff like that

sort of went over dates already BUT

COMIC STORE DATES !!!

i will argue with nobody over this one either

probably a Marvel fan

would ironically like green latern though

doesn't really mind pda but absolutely isn't used to it

but in private he's the biggest cuddler

really, really likes when you play with his hair

i have zero explanation for this except for because i said so

based on art from one of my favorite artists on insta he would unironically wear those middle school boy minecraft fits

i love him dearly but the gods know he does

dyed his hair with koolaid once and it absolutely made him want to ACTUALLY dye it

likes when you read to him

it could be the most boring book on the planet and he'd know lay there and listen to you

knows how to play drums ???

definitely would teach you too

likes taking naps with you because he's chronically sleep deprived

fighting your dad and his henchmen doesn't come cheap im afraid

i could write about him for hours and hours but im sure people would get bored of that !!

all in all he's one of my favorite childhood crushes and i missed him so hard

[wellsbering]

i've been going through prismatic-bell's blog to try to piece together exactly what happened to make xir think that reporting someone to the FBI for terrorism with zero evidence was a logical course of action, and i came across something i felt like i just had to pick apart here. i thought about responding to the post directly, but i don't want my notifications to get overrun by zionists (i mean, that'll probably happen anyways, but...fingers crossed)

if you don't wanna read this whole long thing where i explain why this specific gofundme is indeed trustworthy, at least share & donate to muhammad's campaign here

first, what kind of fucking racist brain worms do you have to have to see an arab man asking for help and think that it's "threatening"?

what, exactly, is threatening about this screenshot? saying the honest truth, that being unable to afford medical care for a serious injury could make an amputation necessary??? asking someone to share a link on other social media to increase reach??? using ALL CAPS, LIKE A LOT OF PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET DO FOR EMPHASIS?? please explain it to me.

and then, of course, we have Zionist of the Year prismatic-bell's response.

most of these grammatical inconsistencies that prismatic-bell seems to think of as damning proof (mixing up 1st & 3rd-person pronouns, mixing up "hand" and "arm") are probably not things that someone who doesn't speak english would catch. tell me, tumblr: which of these do you think are "he" and "his", and which do you think are "i" and "me"?

if you're unfamiliar with the arabic writing system, you have zero clues to go on, right?

some of the people sending these asks are copying & pasting english text they see other people using to ask for donations (this is what led to that other scam controversy with bassel). learning a new language is fucking hard. trying to proofread their own messages in not just a foreign language, but a foreign ALPHABET, is not a good use of their time when they're in a warzone and desperately trying to ask anyone they can for help. also to elaborate on the hand/arm thing, it's not that fucking hard to find his gofundme, which contains photos of his actual x-rays.

you can see the shrapnel in his arm. reverse image search only brings up 5 results, 4 of which are tumblr posts linking to this gofundme, and one of which is the gofundme itself.

the bullet is in his arm. as you may imagine, having a bullet strike and break your arm is going to impact your ability to use your fucking hand. muhammad has nerve damage as a result of this injury. so yes, surgery is necessary. you can't really fix nerve damage with a simple round of antibiotics.

"ALSO also also: has nobody in Gaza heard of antibiotics? Why are we going straight for surgery?" is so fucking patronizing. yes, everyone in gaza has heard of antibiotics. unfortunately, antibiotics don't randomly spawn in hospitals like a fucking video game, they need to be TRANSPORTED there, which impossible to do when israel is blocking nearly all humanitarian aid from entering the gaza strip. this is why there are so many amputations being performed in gaza right now. they are running out - or in some locations, have already completely run out - of basic medical supplies.

also, by reading the gofundme description, the "rebuild" vs "evacuate" bit becomes clear: his family needs to rebuild their home, and he has to leave gaza to get adequate medical care. in other words, he has to leave a dangerous place that is being bombed to get to somewhere safe where he can receive medical treatment. if only there was a word for that. perhaps one that starts in evac- and ends in -uate. if only!

regarding the emojis: personally, i don't use a ton of emojis in my writing. but again, considering the aforementioned language barrier, is it surprising to see a lot of emojis? those are at least something that make sense in every language. they also serve to break up a big wall of text that people might otherwise scroll by. i have adhd, so sometimes if a long post is broken up with an occasional ❗ then my eyes will be drawn to that, and i will actually read that sentence and get put back on track.

i don't think i need to get into the "outed as a scammer" bit, since that's been thoroughly debunked. even blogs dedicated to identifying scams on tumblr, like kyra45, consider el-shab-hussein and 90-ghost's vetting process to be reliable and share their lists of vetted fundraisers.

and finally: "People can be bought. Accounts can be hacked. Maybe they used to be honest. They’re not now." this wording seems to imply that all blogs dedicated to palestinian gofundmes are dishonest? it's just as ridiculous to say "every single ask you get is a scam" as it is to say "every single ask you receive is legitimate". a blanket statement like this only serves to continue to undermine the legitimacy of the many REAL GAZANS who are asking for help to rebuild their lives.

i hope this clears some things up if anyone was confused about the legitimacy of some of these asks. the long and short of it is, it's not that hard to just look up a person's blog and see if a trusted person, who actually knows what they're doing (unlike prismatic-bell), has verified the legitimacy of their campagin or not. to be honest, i think that automatically assuming every ask related to gaza is a scam says something about the way you view palestinians. and it's not pretty.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Part 3 – You Know You're On My Mind

⛸️ Summary: Would you rather A) represent Seoul at the Spring Championship, B) find the answer as to why Mingi was ignoring you or C) stay in your shared flat for the winter holidays? How smart of you to go with option D) none of the above.

⛸️ Genres/Tropes: College AU, non-idol AU, rivals to lovers but it's more like one-sided resentment, hockey AU, figure skating AU, angst!!!

⛸️ Warnings/Tags: Female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, brief alcohol consumption, petnames (princess, beans), a lot of tears and crying, probably incorrect use of hockey terms, fist fight, blood, verbal fight, Mingi is really mean but also aware he's being a douche, Dasom is a good friend, more side characters!!!

⛸️ Wordcount: 16.6K

⛸️ Author's note: I freaking love angst 😈 Hence why I've looked forward to the third part of Cold Hands, Warm Hearts! A warning, I have absolutely ZERO knowledge about hockey so the things you'll read concerning the hockey game may or may not be wrong idk. I've tried watching a lot of hockey games on YouTube, but they move so fucking fast I can barely wrap my head around what's happening lmaooo.

I also wanted to write my own comments for the chapter (something I should have done since the first part tbh), but I've been home with a fever for some days now and I honestly can barely sit up, let alone write extra stuff so I'm sadly skipping out on that. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy this part and don't be shy to tell me your thoughts 🩷

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Click on me!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes, not just sexual content but descriptions of both physical and verbal fights,  as well as adult language. Minors and ageless blogs, please, refrain from reading or interacting with this work or my blog!!!

December 9th, 2024. 

The day was marked in Mingi’s little red calendar he kept away in his backpack — not that he needed the reminder, the day was practically burned into his mind — and the fanciest suit he owned was ironed three nights prior with the help of his best friend and roommate, Jeong Yunho. One would think it was an important day — as to explain why he woke up at a presentable hour with enough time to spare for a few errands and a brunch with his roommate — an exam determining his final grade or something to do with his hockey, but no it was just the day of your competition. 

Currently sitting in a sandwich shop, thumbs twirling and eyes set on the flower shop across the street, Mingi contemplated whether bringing a bouquet  — maybe roses or those tulips, they were quite popular nowadays — would be too much or not at all. The two parts of his brain clashed and before he could make a decision Yunho came back with their orders, a teriyaki chicken sandwich for Mingi while he ordered something nasty looking with a really fancy and long name that Mingi couldn’t bother remembering. 

“There you go.” Yunho settled in the seat across Mingi and dove right into his food, letting out a moan of approval. “Best sandwich in town, no kidding.”

“Do girls like flowers?”

Caught mid bite, cheeks coated with crumbs and mayonnaise, Yunho looked up at Mingi who already had his eyes set on him with a seriousness that rarely outshone his happy and goofy exterior. 

“Uhm, I suppose. I mean the girls I’ve given flowers to liked the gesture. Why? You looking to impress someone, Mings?” A teasing smile quirked at the edge of his lips. “Is it a quick fuck?”

“Dude?!” Mingi hissed and quickly threw a glance around the room making sure no one overheard their convo and labeled them as creeps.

“Oh, come on, we’ve talked about worse things than some sex deets.”

“It was a simple question, Yunho-ya. Do flowers equal happy girls? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, cool.”

Sensing this wasn’t a topic Mingi was all too keen to talk about, Yunho gave him some space and took another bite of his sandwich. Then he remembered their conversation three days ago and how Mingi begged him to help him iron his suit and teach him how to properly handle a tie, and if that wasn’t enough of a reason then he could always use the we’ve-been-friends-since-diapers card and pry whatever information he wanted out of him.

“Is this about that figure skating girl?”

“Absolutely not… Do you think she’d like roses or tulips?”

Mouth full of bacon, tomato, lettuce and bread, Yunho mumbled out a barely audible answer. “Roses. Definitely roses.”

“I’m just saying if Hyunjin brings you roses I’ll jump in front of the ice resurfacer!” 

Keeho laid flat on your bed, legs dangling in the air and chin propped on both palms as his eyes burned holes on your back. While rummaging through your closet you threw a random shirt over your shoulder, purposely aiming it at him and you knew it was a success as he let out a surprised ‘ack’.

“That’s what you get for being noisy,” Dasom chirped and rolled over him, her feet hitting your pillow and arms reaching the end of your bed.

“You guys promised to help me pack! I’m so going to be late.” 

An empty duffel bag sat on your bed beside the entanglement of limbs that were your friends. Despite waking up a whole twelve hours before your planned departure, you were running late or would be if you didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes.

“Fine, but I’m just helping because I know you’ll make it big one day and I can use it to be a multimillionaire influencer. Yoon Keeho, best friend of the South Korean Olympic figure skater. It has a nice ring to it, no?”

Another shirt hit him in the face, this one coming straight out of the dirtied piles of clothes in the corner.

“No more throwing shirts!”

“Up we go, Kyo.” 

Dasom repositioned to sit criss-crossed in front of your bag and began neatly placing necessary things inside; towel, spare change of clothes, bobby pins, hairspray, your skates. 

“Where’s your suit?” She asked while zipping the bag.

“My coach still has it. Something about seeing it before the comp would bring bad luck or whatever. Like it’s a competition not a wedding and Keeho, get out I need to change.”

“I bet a round of lamb skewers Hyunjin is proposing after the comp– I’m leaving, I’m leaving, put that down!”

As the door closed you quickly stripped and threw on a sweatsuit bearing the logo of Tiny University printed on the front and back. Knowing you were practically working on autopilot while your nerves skyrocketed, Dasom didn’t want to step out of bounds and send you into a potential spiral of panic and stress but she was also very curious, and her greed won over her morals. With a soft call of your name she asked the million dollar question. 

“Did you only invite Hyunjin?”

You froze with your hands in your hair, a bobby pin between your fingers and an extra in your mouth as your gaze fell on her. Flashing you a derpy yet reassuring smile that warmed you up like the sun on a summer afternoon filled with sugary strawberries and pink lemonade. 

“No… Not just Hyunjin, I actually invited Mingi too, but I… don’t know why.” 

You plopped down beside her and played with your fingers. It all felt so silly and you didn’t even have the time to think about him or Hyunjin or anything boy related overall. Not that it was a bad thing, in fact it was great, but that meant your mind was completely occupied of nailing your choreo, imaging everything that could go wrong and to not let anything go fucking wrong. 

“Maybe it just felt right,” she whispered, as if the words were made of steel and you were of twigs that would break at the slightest contact.

Sighing, you nodded and fell back on your bed with Dasom in tow. There wasn’t much left to say. You couldn’t remember what drunk-you thought when inviting Mingi nor did you want to know. All you knew was that your heart did that little leap thing before violently kicking at your rib cage when he said he’d be there and that was concerning but not more so than your competition taking place in a few hours. 

If Mingi showed up, great.

If he didn’t then that was great too, is what you forced yourself into believing.

Mingi stood before a body-length mirror and kept running his hand through his neatly made hair. Yunho placed a palm over Mingi’s shoulder and the shifting motion immediately subdued only to proceed as the hand withdrew. 

“Stop moving around dude, you’re making me nervous!” 

Taking a step back, Yunho quietly assessed Mingi, searching for creases in his black suit or stray hairs standing up funny. There were no faults, his tall friend — that was still slightly shorter than himself — looked perfect appearance wise. It was the slight twitch of his finger and sweat collecting at the nape of his neck that gave him away.

“Why are you so nervous, Mingi-ya? It’s just a figure skating competition, nothing more nothing less.”

Taking a hold of the perfectly wrapped bouquet of heart-colored roses he paid a good penny for, Mingi pouted and shrugged his shoulders as if a toddler being put on the spot for doing something bad.

 “I don’t know.”

“You want me to come with?”

Yunho, dressed in an old tattered shirt and bright red basketball shorts with his naturally dark hair growing at the roots and taking on the look of pudding, was ready to drop everything and jump in his brand new suit planned for their graduation if that’s what Mingi needed.

“No, no. I’ll be fine, it’s just… Don’t you think it’s too much? Flowers, a suit? It’s a figure skating competition not a wedding.”

“Does it matter? Personally, if it were me, I’d rather see the girl I invited put in the effort even if it means wearing nice clothes over something raggedy. This shows you care.”

“I guess…”

Mingi jumped as Yunho reassuringly landed his hands on his shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze and smiling so his cheeks puffed up. “Come on, let’s get that tie fixed and then I’ll give you a lift.”

“Ah, the privileges of not having a driver’s license.”

“You mean the privileges of being a passenger princess?”

“Yah, Yunho-ya!” Came the whine as Mingi followed his friend like a kicked puppy on a rainy Monday morning. 

The arena was packed and while it wasn’t an unusual sight for Mingi — always being a witness of how the bleachers slowly filled up during his warm ups —  it was weird seeing it from an outside perspective. Everything seemed so much smaller and compact compared to when he was on the ice squinting past the blinding headlights to barely even catch a glimpse of the audience. Other than practice and hockey game, Mingi had no reason to visit the arena. There was no other sport that piqued his interest enough to stand in line, pay an overpriced entry fee and freeze his ass off on a plastic chair. He’d usually just enter through the changing rooms and skip all that yet there he was, all glammed up and standing behind a family wearing shirts with the name of some random chick printed in big bold letters. 

Thinking about it, Mingi couldn’t actually give less of a fuck about figure skating and months ago he didn’t care who represented Seoul or if they were even capabale to compete with the other cities. 

“All my friends are going to be there.”

“Nice friends you have.”

“We are friends,” you said matter-of-factly, your ‘S’ coming out with a lisp. “Alllll my friends are going.”

“You want me to come to your competition princess?”

“You’ll come?!”

You slinked your arm through his and squished it against your chest, cheek pressed to his bicep as you looked at him. One would believe Mingi hung up each and every single star individually in your name for you to look at him that way.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “I’ll be there.”

It was your stupid yet endearing eyes that did it all. The little shining glint that completely vexed him and before he knew it, the promise slipped off his tongue and was spoken into existence. Mingi didn’t get to indulge more in the memory of the beauty that was your face as the lights dimmed and an enthusiastic voice boomed through the speakers, welcoming everyone and announcing the start of the preliminary that would determine the female representative of Seoul at the annual Spring Championship. 

Honestly, Mingi didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know a lot of things; how long this would be, what time your performance would start, was he supposed to find you after or before they announced the winner? It also didn’t help that he was sweating through his dress shirt despite the freezing temperature inside. 

Performance after performance passed and he was yet to catch sight of you. Honestly speaking, Mingi was growing impatient. The numbers weren’t anything extraordinary — he had seen you do much better even when ending on your rear — and he wasn’t here to watch some mediocre ladies flip around to classical music. The weight of his phone burned in his suit pocket and he was itching to reach for it. He was three taps away from dialing Yunho and making the taller man pick him up again. Oblivious to the curious and soft eyes peering at the bouquet in his lap, Mingi stared at the ice rink with a far away look on his face and bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

“Those are beautiful,” a voice came from his left. It was comforting and full of kindness. 

Snapping his head towards the person, Mingi faced a woman looking old enough to be his mom. The compliment pulled at the corners of his lips and soon a full blown boxy smile took over his face as his eyes creased into crescent moons. 

“Thank you.”

Mingi contemplated whether to hand her the darned flowers and leave while you still hadn’t caught sight of him, that way his money wouldn’t go to waste and the flowers wouldn’t end up in the bin outside the venue.

“I’m Chaeryeong’s mom.”

“Song Mingi,” he curtly answered with a little bow of his head.

“Are those for your girlfriend?”

As kind as this woman looked she sure was twice the amount noisy.

“No, they are for a… friend. She’s competing today.”

“Oh, when is she up?”

At the sight of his uncertainty, she handed Mingi a pamphlet with several numbers followed by first- and last names of the competitors. Quickly scanning the sheet of paper he landed on your name in last place and with the twenty-ninth performer taking her starting pose right as Mingi looked back up again. The urge to squish his face against the pamphlet was immense. 

“She’s last.”

“Oh! That’s Hoseok’s kid. She’s amazing and if it weren’t for my Chaeryeongie I’d root for her.”

Pride swelled in his chest and heat nipped at his cheeks. He tried suppressing the fond smile forcing its way out but failed.

“It’s actually my first time watching her perform but yeah, she’s pretty… p-pretty cool!”

“Really? Well, it’s better late than never.”

Why Mingi was getting flustered was beyond him. Not wanting to think about it and eventually fall down a rabbit hole he always did when thinking of you, he nodded and took the praise with the lady leaving a pat on his shoulder.

“Mmm, you’re smiling! Are you sure she’s just a friend?”

Mingi lowered his chin and avoided the teasing eyes of Chaeryeong’s mom. No way was he talking about girl problems with a random lady at a figure skating competition. 

“Would you spare my seat? I just need to go to the restroom.”

“Of course, son.”

With one last bow he ran up the stairs leading to the main hall and straight for the male restroom which  — to his delight  — was empty. Mingi released a breath of unease and stopped by the sink hoping to wash away the sweat collected on his hands. Looking at his reflection in the oblong mirror, he pursed his lips and splashed cold water on his face before lightly slapping his cheeks.

“It’s easy. We hand her the flowers, tell her she did great and then we leave.”

Mingi couldn’t remember the last time he was this nervous over talking to a girl. Thinking about it, he talked to you all the time. Yes, most of it was hidden behind jokes and teasing remarks, but it still counted as talking.

“Welcoming our last performer of the night…”

The booming voice of the announcer echoed through the whole building and with a quick ‘shit’ falling from his lips, Mingi dried his hands off his expensive pants and ran back into the arena receiving weird stares from other people, but he wasn’t about to miss the start of your performance after waiting for over two hours. In sync with you gliding out on the ice he flew past the double doored entrance and caught himself on the metal railing. Mingi realized there was no need to go back to his previous spot, not when he had a great view of the whole ice rink from where he stood and a great look of you posing in the middle, one arm elegantly thrown over your head and the other following the length of your figure and stopping midthigh.

Stunning, gorgeous, beautiful, angelic, breathtaking, enchanting, marvelous and other adjectives wouldn’t do the justice to describe how truly captivating you looked. 

The first thing that caught his attention was your costume. It was a long sleeved dress transitioning from dark to light blue with sparkly beads going down your chest, across your abdomen and arms in a tilted motion as if the foam of multiple waves. Your costume had a tiny skirt which Mingi was sure would swirl prettily when pirouetting and twirling in the air. The upper part of your dress took on the shape of a heart and went down your back in a v-form leaving your collars, shoulders and back completely exposed. Your hair was styled in a sturdy updo matching the elegance of your suit and while Mingi couldn’t see your make-up, he assumed it would reflect the colors of your dress and accentuate your facial features in just the right way.

The starting notes of your chosen song erupted from the speakers and Mingi’s breath got caught in his throat as you glided across the ice, his heart beating in rhythm to your every landed jump. You moved with grace and for once the teasing nickname he reserved just for you had no malice objective behind it. You surrendered yourself to the music and allowed it to guide you, your body resembled the elements of nature and became an entity that was no longer your own. Moving like the ripples of a wind, flowing and rising as though you were water yet curving fiercely as a controlled fire and flourishing like a sunflower yearning for light.

It was beautiful. You were beautiful. 

Mingi would rather have spent two hours watching you skate than those other amateurs and he was slightly bitter your number only lasted for four minutes. 240 seconds of no breathing or thinking, just existing to admire you as if you were a painting exhibited in the most famous art museum in the world.

As you were entering the last moments of your performance, the music picked up and you mentally prepared yourself to do the main stunt. There was no turning back now and with confidence pumping in your veins, you inhaled and propelled yourself off the ice. Time slowed down and magically you could somehow hear the amazed gasps of the audience. Your body spun, and spun and spun and you felt the start of gravity doing its work. As if caught in a sense of Déjà Vu, the sharp point of your skates chipped the ice and threw your landing off course, and before you knew it, you landed on the outer side of your thigh. The crowd gasped again, the tone much more horrible than a few seconds ago, and all you wanted to do was continue to lay on the cold surface, but the show was yet to be over. In hopes of saving your score, you recovered with a double-axel which wasn’t nearly as appealing as the one you failed, but at least you landed it.

The performance ended with you posing in the middle — much like you practiced — and waiting for the last piano notes to run out. Despite your big fail the arena erupted in chaos of applause and whistles. Thanking the spectators with three respectful bows — each facing a different side — you skated off the ice with shaky legs and a heart hammering in your ears falling right in the arms of your coach. Mingi didn’t move until you rounded the corner towards the locker rooms and disappeared from his sight. 

A short static echoed in the hall as the AUX was rather harshly unplugged from your phone, making you lose your footing and fall on your ass.

The ice beneath was hard and cold, and it numbed your whole left leg except for the burning pain that flared up in your backside. You had to physically hold back tears as you stood back up on shaky legs.

“Majestic as always, princess, but I’ll have to deduct ten points for that eye captivating fall.” 

A chorus of laughter and gloves pounding against the plexiglas averted your attention for a split second, and the picture of an audience watching wasn’t much of an imagination as the whole hockey team stood by the entrance of the rink. 

Mingi sighed at the memory and stalked back to his seat where the kind family and bouquet of roses waited on him. 

“You missed her performance!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed and handed him the flowers.

Mingi smiled shyly, then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah no, I watched from up there.” He turned and pointed at the spot he was standing in not even thirty seconds ago. “It was a better view so yeah…”

Chaeryeong’s mom smiled tenderly with a knowing gleam in her eyes. “What a relief! You got me worried for a minute but I should’ve known you wouldn’t miss it.”

“She was amazing,” Mingi stated and received a smug look from the woman.

“Mmm, I told you so. It’s a shame she fell. Well, we’re going out for a breather but we’ll be back so please save our seats for us.”

You sat in one of the locker rooms, head in your hands and feet tapping on the floor. The performance couldn’t have been more perfect, all for it to go to shit in the end.

All the hours, sweat and energy put into practice was a waste and you didn’t have to wait for the winner to be announced to know whether it was true or not. It was ironic really, despite being in a competitive sport, you hated the concept of competitions. The idea that there could only be one winner always got to your head like a parasite planting eggs of anxiety. Your number was great, but your fall made the other girls as good if not better and that really got you spiraling. 

Not to mention neither of your parents could make it, the timing clashing with their working schedules besides driving back and forth from your hometown was too exhausting for one day. Keeho and Dasom weren’t there either, occupied with work or school projects making it unreasonable for you to be angry with them. You also didn’t spot Hyunjin or Mingi in the audience which wasn’t that much of a surprise as you could barely make out the people in the front row, but nonetheless, the lack of support was weighing on you. That’s why in these situations, you were so grateful for Mr. Jung. Not only being your coach, but for stepping up as a ten man army of supporters.

A series of knocks snapped you out of your thoughts followed by Mr. Jung’s voice on the other side.

“You ready, star? They are announcing the winner.”

“Oh, look! I think they are announcing the winner!” Chaeryeong’s mom exclaimed as she sat back down in her seat.

The competing figure skaters went back out on the ice in a neat row, all dressed in various shimmering suits creating a palette of multiple colors. The whole crowd quieted down as the announcer asked for silence and simultaneously caught everyone’s attention. Not Mingi’s though, no his eyes were set on you who — together with the other girls — lined up behind the host. 

Hands trembling and breath caught in your throat, you didn’t allow yourself to think of anything. You felt like your head was underwater. It wasn’t scary or suffocating, but not a great feeling either as you couldn’t hear anything clearly thanks to the blood pumping in your ears. Somehow you could make out the distant voice of the man holding the mic, but no words were being registered. Focusing on the white translucent puffs of your short inhales and exhales, you didn’t hear the thick voice announcing the winner. It all happened incredibly fast. One second everyone was at the edge of their seats — you imagined them to be nibbling their nails like in the cartoons — and the next thing you know, the whole arena exploded in cheers. You were so out of it you hadn’t even heard the announcement of the winner. Although it didn’t matter, because a second later the call for a girl who wasn’t you sounded through the speakers as she was welcomed up on the podium. 

“Everyone! A round of applause for Seoul's representative of the Spring Championship 2025!”

You felt yourself sink deeper and deeper into the ocean as a booming wave of applause and whistles scattered around, shaking you to the core. Tears sprung to your eyes and you silently thanked the makeup artist for using waterproof cosmetics, the last thing you needed was for everyone to notice your emotional breakdown. The winner skated up to the host and he rewarded her with a bouquet of various flowers and a sash reading ‘Seoul Representative 2025’ in gold letters. You imagined him to be wishing her good luck and words of encouragement before letting her shine in the light of attention and praise.

After bowing to the girls, judges and audience you skated out of the rink and threw yourself in Mr. Jung’s embrace who patiently waited by the open board door. His heart smile didn’t hold quite reach its natural form and came out more pained than what he’d like to and his creased eyes mirrored your own sad expression. The flashes of a dozen cameras quickly annoyed you as well as the sound of the gadgets going off and you tried your best ignoring them, but each flicker was like a stab to your heart.

You were supposed to be the winner. The camera was supposed to be on you, not on that girl.

“It’s alright, starshine. Winning is not always guaranteed,” he whispered and hugged you tighter as you started crying harder, hot tears soaking his shirt. 

He stayed with you a while inside the locker room. The silence and your occasional sniffles were the only sources of sound, besides the light chattering noise outside. 

“I’m still proud of you.”

The simple sentence brought another fresh set of tears to your eyes and you hung your head in defeat, and slight embarrassment. 

“I know you think it’s not fair and that you should be the winner of tonight's event, but that would have been too easy and that’s just not something life is… We’ll break down and start again.”

Mr. Jung had always been exceptional at shifting between being a serious and humorous coach, but the current words spoken came from someone who had experienced failure before. From one loser to another, his little words of wisdom helped you get on your feet even if you felt like you were at the lowest point of your adult life. It would still take days to get over your disappointing performance, but you’d be alright. With a pat to your head, he ushered you to wash the blue feelings off. 

While you did that, Mingi found himself once again in the bathroom, wet hands combing through strands of hair in an attempt to look less disheveled and more like he had his shit together (he did in fact not have his shit together). He sniffed the collar of his suit jacket and then his armpits, and as he didn’t detect the smell of sweat, but the aroma of his favorite cologne — that smelled of bergamot and lavender — he straightened the jacket and went out to accomplish his mission or rather plan B. 

Instead of congratulating you, like he initially planned to, he’d do something else — and what that was, he had yet to figure out — but from his own experience, he’d known better than to give you praise, especially after losing by a few points. 

Skipping two steps down the stairs, he stopped by the see-through doors instead of continuing down the hallway with several changing rooms. Mingi didn’t know what room you were assigned to and even if he did, he wasn’t planning on barging in while you were possibly getting dressed or showering. The vision of a soapy you sent heat rushing to his head, both of them, but were quickly discarded as you came out. 

You looked different from the girl twirling on the ice minutes ago. Wet hair and dressed in comfy clothes, no fancy make up or extravagant details, but a solemn expression and puffy eyes. It didn’t matter though because you were still beautiful, he thought and fixed his tie out of sheer anxiety, and opened the door. Your name swayed at the tip of his tongue and was just in need of a small push to reach your ears. Eyes entirely focused on you, Mingi missed the boy walking towards him and slinking through the opening created by the taller man.

“Thanks, bud.” Hyunjin didn’t spare Mingi another glance as he headed straight for you. 

At a loss for words and frozen in place, Mingi just watched you fall comfortably in Hyunjin’s arms and as if a masochist he stood rooted and felt his heart squeeze painfully as you melted in his hold, your sobs filling the bleak silence taking residue in Mingi’s head. 

One, two, three and four seconds later, Mingi headed home, hands stuffed in his pockets and roses left in the trashcan by the smoking area outside. Thinking back to it, he should’ve given them to Chaeyeon’s mom — or whatever her name was — at least then they’d be rotting away on someone’s kitchen table and not in a random bin on the streets of Seoul.

Entering the shared apartment with Yunho nowhere in sight — something Mingi was grateful for — he stripped out of the expensive clothes and pushed them to the back of his closet, saving his future-self from a painful reminder of what did and didn’t happen. Somewhere in the rational part of his mind, he knew not to be angry with you, but the other part, the selfish and angry one, put the entire blame on you. If there was one thing hated more than losing, it was to be made into a fool.

“I can’t believe I lost,” you said and downed a shot of soju. 

Hyunjin quickly snatched the soju bottle from beside you before you could pour yourself another shot, your sixth one to be exact.

You frowned and placed your palms against your heated cheeks. “I’m never figure skating again.”

After the little meet up with Hyunjin, he requested (more like demanded) on treating you to food, and while you insisted he admitted he’d do it either way if you lost or won. That was how you ended up in a meat house, sitting around a table for two as Hyunjin grilled the food. 

“Don’t be silly. If you give up now you’ll never win.”

You rolled your eyes and the frown turned even deeper. Gazing down at the sizzling meat, your mouth watered and stomach rumbled impatiently. You could already taste the savory flavors just by looking at it. 

“I can’t believe you dragged me here looking like this.” 

Hyunjin raised a brow, genuinely not understanding what you meant. To him you looked just fine in a pair of leggings and hoodie, and it didn’t matter that your hair was still wet or your face bare of makeup because you were perfect.

“What’s wrong with the way you look? I think you’re cute.”

A fire lightened in your core and rose up to your cheeks, ears and neck, and the air in the restaurant changed too, suddenly feeling as if you were a chicken sitting in an oven. As your heart didn’t do its usual badum-badum-badum, you realized the effect Hyunjin had on you didn’t appear. You were surprisingly calm. Unbothered even and instead of buzzing with joy you were counting down the seconds until it was time to leave. 

Not to get you wrong, you loved his company. You’d been dreaming of days like these since the first time you laid eyes on him and now that you had it, all you wanted was nothing more than to jump in bed and just go into hibernation, and forget about the world.

Something was telling you though, that even if you were eating meat and celebrating your win, you still wouldn’t feel the spirit of a winner. Deep inside, you knew the root of it. The reason as to why a gray cloud hovered over you — besides losing — and it all led back to the absence of a certain hockey player.

“Here, try this.” Hyunjin gently hand fed you a piece of beef and other fillings wrapped in lettuce. “It’s good, huh?”

“You good there, princess?”

You reeled back, momentarily stunned by the unexpected presence. Mingi grinned at your reaction and sat back. Very satisfied with his work. As he readied his own computer, you took in his appearance and found yourself growing more irritated. There was no denying that he was attractive. Thick pink lips, a straight and sharp nose and a very prominent jaw. His brown eyes were surprisingly relaxed and didn’t resemble those of a fox. The boy was even blessed with not one, but two moles. His knitted sweater was an ugly shade of moss green but it looked good on him, much to your dismay. 

You sighed and sucked through your teeth, “Why are you here?”

Why wasn’t he there?

It was as if the universe was out to get you. 

First, you lost a spot at the Spring Championship. Then you failed an assignment that took a month of your life to get done, and if that wasn’t enough, the representative face of Seoul at next year’s championship was plastered all over town. She was even on the newspaper thrown in your mailbox, which you hadn’t subscribed to! If it weren’t for your personal duo of Chip and Dale, you’d skip school just to avoid it all. 

To say, you were feeling down right shit would be an understatement, and everyone around you could feel it. That was probably why Mr. Jung canceled a whole week’s worth of practice and you couldn’t have been more relieved.

Figure skating was the last thing you needed right now.

Besides your friends and coach giving you space or peppering you with love, there was another person to be added in that equation. Hyunjin made sure to spend more time with you, always asking to go out for lunch or a stroll in the park that usually ended up with window shopping and eating ice cream. 

“Felix and Changbin have been dying to meet you, you know,” Hyunjin stated as he scooped a spoon of chocolate ice cream.

“Really?” 

You remembered Changbin solely by his Halloween party and you pushed aside the other memories that came along with that night. The other boy, Felix, you knew a little next to nothing about. 

“Yeah, they haven’t stopped pestering me about it, especially Changbin.”

“Mmm, have you been talking about me, Hyunjin-ah?” 

The black haired boy grew red at the teasing and nearly choked on the plastic spoon. 

“Wh-what!” 

It was the first time you’d ever seen him flustered and it sure was a different sight from his usual composed self. Your chuckle filtered between the giggles and chatter of multiple friend groups. It was a surprise to see so many people outside in the snow. Hyunjin eventually calmed down and returned to his natural skin color, and he proceeded with caution at his next question, slightly afraid to walk straight into another teasing trap.

“They are going to watch that hockey game… if you want, it would be a great time to meet them.”

Truth to be told, you had completely forgotten about that sport and it had everything to do with Mingi, the only connection you had to the hockey team of your university. The last time you saw him was a few days before your performance and you hadn’t seen him since, at one moment you thought he disappeared to another country, but Keeho’s confirmation of seeing him on campus debunked that theory. It wasn’t that weird though, considering you hadn’t stepped foot in the ice rink and didn’t share any classes with him, courtesy of majoring in two completely different studies.

You wouldn’t say it to anyone, not even Dasom, but the less you saw of him, the more bored you got. Obviously, you didn’t miss his irksome comments or that stupid pet name he’d use at any given moment, yet the days seemed to go slower without the pain in the ass of a man. Going to that hockey game would maybe change that, and what better excuse than to go with Hyunjin?

“Of course! I mean,” you cleared your throat. “Of course, I’ll check if I’m free and then I’ll let ya know.”

“Great. It’s next Friday and, unluckily, I pulled the short straw so I’ll be driving… So if you can and want, there's space in my car.”

Parting your mouth to answer, the left side of your brain suddenly halted all your speech function as you caught sight of a familiar figure. 

In the many places of Seoul, he just had to be in the same park as you. Wearing a blue tracksuit with the slogan of a wolf on the front and running sneakers adorning his feet, told you he was out on a late night run. It was quite unfair how even with his hair sticking to his nape and sweat trickling down the sides of his face, Mingi still looked great.

You and Mingi had never been friends — that much you knew — but for him to just run past you without as much as a nod of acknowledgement had you questioning if something was wrong. His exhausted eyes morphed into a nasty glare as they landed on you, which served as a nail in the coffin to your theories.

“Was that Song Mingi?” Hyunjin asked from beside you.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“What’s wrong, bean?”

Laying upside down on your bed with feet tucked beneath your pillow and your head a few inches from the edge apparently wasn’t a normal thing to do if Dasom assumed something was going on.

“Nothing, everything is perfectly fine.” 

Everything was perfectly fine if you ignored the fact that Mingi was angry with you and was intentionally avoiding you like the plague.

“Mmmm.” 

Dasom fell back and mimicked your position, arms thrown out and eyes locked on the ceiling. Some days were like that, spent doing absolutely nothing. Wrapped in big fuzzy blankets laying in either her or your bed, getting lost in space or scrolling endlessly through tiktok until the clock struck the early hours of the morning.

“You still going to that game?”

You huffed, “Yeah. I promised Hyunjin I’d go and he wants to introduce me to some of his friends in return. Is Hongjoong still coming over?”

“He hasn’t rain checked on me yet, so I think so.” She drummed her fingers against her shorts-clad thighs. “Isn’t the game at eight?”

“Yup.”

“Cool. Cool.”

You slid down to the floor, brows furrowed and lips titled. “What time is it?”

“Now?”

“Yes, Dasom. Now.”

“Hmmm, it’s currently seven-thirty.”

“It’s seven-thirty!?”

The blood rushed up to your head at your abrupt movement and the whole room spun as black spots clouded your vision. Left with no choice you laid back down and clutched your skull as you tried taking control of your own body again, all while assessing the situation. The game started at eight and you had approximately thirty minutes to get changed and figure out a way to get there before then. The messages Hyunjin sent you earlier today flashed in your mind and you were starting to regret turning down his offer to pick you up, at least then you wouldn’t risk being late and embarrassing yourself in front of his friends.

“Okay, I’m jumping in the shower real quick while you put together an outfit for me that doesn’t scream ‘I spent five minutes on this’ as I walk through the doors.”

Jumping to her feet with an imaginary tail wagging left and right, she saluted. A determined yet excited look on her face. Besides writing poetry in the dim light of your fridge at three AM, Dasom had a big passion for fashion and would always play dress up with you during your childhood days. 

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!”

A trail of water followed from the bathroom to the bedroom and stopped below your feet. You stood with a towel wrapped around your bare body as you watched Dasom finalizing your outfit. The clothes on your bed were a baggy gray sweatshirt with bold letters spelling out ‘TORONTO’ — borrowed from Keeho and never returned — and a pair of blue jeans. It didn’t give too much, but was still appropriate for where you were going.

“Okay, go put it on. Have you figured out a way to get there?”

Shimmying on the clothes you heaved out a breath. “Nope.”

“Want me to call Kyo?”

“It’s a Friday so I’m sure he’s pre-gaming with Jiung and the others.”

“That’s true… I mean I could always give you a ride on my bike?”

You laughed at that. The bike in question was bright purple, almost lilac-ish with shimmering tinsel handels and star shaped wheel clips. It was cute, but embarrassing at the same time. Plus it would be a shit-show, you sitting on the carrier holding on for dear life while Dasom would do her best not to run people over. She was not the most trusted driver, hence the lack of a driver’s license (that she’s tried for five times and failed every single one).

“As much as I love you, I’d rather be late than arrive on that oddity and risk a broken arm or leg.”

“Hmpf, well if you don’t appreciate Melody then you can walk there!” She crossed her arms and pouted, her lower lip jutting in a show of feigned hurt.

“I don’t really mean it, Dae-Dae, I love youuuuu! I’ll come back with something nice to make up for it.”

The sour golden retriever-looking girl immediately brightened at the mention of a treat and wrapped her arms around you, her chin digging above your sternum. 

“Can you buy those shrimp chips that I like?” 

“Deal! I seriously gotta go now, I’ll text you when I get there. Kisses and hugs and all that bullshit!”

For once you were grateful not having a car as the parking lot was packed with them and other vehicles. It must have been a big deal if some people just blatantly abandoned their cars on the sidewalk, yellow tickets flapping on their windshields. The match was in full swing and it was everything you could expect of a hockey game. Red and blue blurs of jerseys zoomed past you, the sound of blades against ice, the livid roar of the crowd, cutting blows of a whistle, sticks cracking against the puck sounding like thunder and the thump as an opponent was checked against the boards. Seeing the bleachers full of people wasn’t something you expected when you crossed the entrance. The sides were divided into two parts — red and blue — and while you weren’t about to backstab your own university by sitting with the ‘enemy’ you found no empty seats between the Blue Wolf supporters. The other side wasn’t anything better except for the few vacant seats here and there, and more nude chests and faces covered in paint. 

This was everything but your scenery. 

Staring through the plexiglas you tried spotting the familiar mop of black and white hair you hadn’t seen since God knows when. You gave up as you quickly realized the gear covered almost the entirety of their faces and body proportions, making everyone look identical to one another, the only thing differentiating them being the numbers and colors of their jerseys that did little to help as you didn’t even know his. A pair of hands suddenly grabbed your shoulders and you jumped at the unexpected touch, hastily turning to see who the culprit was and coming face to face with a grinning Hyunjin.

“Boo!”

“Don’t do that!”

His beautiful laugh reached your ears and emitted a chuckle of your own. He coaxed you into his body and enfolded you in a warm embrace that you reciprocated, chin on his shoulder and arms going around his waist. It was first when the hug broke that you could finally take in his full appearance. His whole attire — suit pants, a tucked in turtleneck and leather boots — were completely black except for the long and expensive-looking jean coat and red beanie showing support for the opposing team.

“Let’s go, I have to introduce you to some of my friends.”

Without missing a beat he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers as he gently maneuvered you through the crowd. Every few seconds you flinched as the people jumped up from their seats, cheering or groaning at what was happening down below.

From across the rink in the bench area adjacent to the ice, the red and blue players filled the booths closest to their goalkeepers. The game was in full swing with both teams scoring a point each and neither willing to let up on their explosive paces. The substitute players were all buzzing from excitement or nerves — probably a combination of both — as they shouted encouraging words to the starting lineup. Like the remaining defencemen of the blue team, Mingi sat in the middle with his hockey stick high up in the air and shoulders squishing against his fellow position players, but his eyes weren’t trained on the puck flying from one player to another. No, they were set on the pair of figure skaters on the other side of the rink. More precisely, he was focused on their interlocked hands and the subtle exchange of smiles.

A red light and the loud blaring of the goal horn went off in the arena as the opposing team managed to hurl the puck behind the blue goalkeeper and Mingi could argue it was how he felt on the inside seeing you together. The big crowd jumped from their seats, waving their red merch and screaming words Mingi couldn’t hear over the angry voice of his coach.

“Matthew, what the hell are you doing?!”

“Wow… This is really annoying. We’re only ten minutes into the first period and we’ve already received two points,” Jungkook fumed.

It was weird that neither Mingi or Jungkook were a part of the starting lineup, considering they were up against one of the better teams of the season. Trusting that their coach was making the right decision of keeping them off the ice, Mingi didn’t try persuading him to be put in. There were still two and a half periods left of the game, leaving plenty of time for Mingi to change the course of the match if needed to. It also gave him more time to keep an eye on you and simmer in his own rage, if he just hadn’t lost you in the three seconds he looked away. Frantically searching the bleachers for a girl with a blue scarf wrapped around her neck, you were nowhere to be seen.

“Song!”

The abrupt call of his name snapped him out of his search and he was met with the beetroot red face of his coach. 

“Are you deaf?!”

“Nu-uh. No, sir!”

“Then get off your ass, you’re going in.” As Mingi stood up, his coach threw an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in closer. “Remember what we talked about. There are scouts watching and they’ve heard great things about this Song Mingi, so show them you’re not all talk, yeah?”

Mingi pushed in his mouth guard and nodded determinedly.

Coach patted him encouragingly and gave one last pat on his helmet for luck.

“Good, get in there and put a stop to their number three.”  

Everything turned to background noise as Mingi leaped over the board and his blades slashed against the cool surface. There was only him and his defending zone, and the fact that you were somewhere in the crowd, probably watching him or getting cozy with that stupid figure skater. The grip around his hockey stick tightened at the image and he hated the effect you still had on him. He should’ve been worrying about being on top of his game and impressing the scouts, and not what you were up to.

Mingi and Matthew held the blue line and passed the puck between each other as the remaining blue players skated around in the offensive zone, searching for an opening to get the puck handed to them. As Mingi slid the puck to Matthew, the bigger defender quickly hurled it to the next player only for the pass to be cut off. 

Going backwards, Mingi immediately retreated home while putting pressure on the puck carrier and simultaneously keeping him from having a clear view of the net. He skillfully managed to push the opposing player (without physical contact) to the side in the defensive zone. He quickly realized that he was closed off and sent the puck diagonally backwards to another red player who moved with such speed, Mingi knew he wouldn't be able to stop the additional player in time. Protests erupted from the bench as all fourteen substitute players had a hunch of what was going to happen.

To his aid came Matthew and the two defensemen managed to shut down a possible counterattack. As the remaining players entered the defending zone, the puck was still in the possession of the red team. It landed in the hold of their number three, who was a few diagonal meters from Mingi. The winger locked gazes with the blue defender and sent him a smug smirk, tauntingly saying ‘watch this’ as he winded his hockey stick up to his shoulder and readied himself for a slapshot.

Losing all control of his body, Mingi changed the trajectory of his movements and skated almost backwards while getting in number three’s sight of line. Mingi waited for the perfect timing and when the red player rushed forward to skate past him, Mingi jutted out his hip, flipping the opponent over him and stealing the puck in the process. Cheers erupted in the arena and Mingi soared at the jumbled praises and roars of encouragement.

“This is Felix and that’s Changbin, they attend TOP University. Lix-ie, Bin-ie, this is the friend I’ve been telling you about,” Hyunjin introduced you as the crowd calmed down.

The two guys weren’t dressed in anything over the top, basic hoodies and joggers or a pair of jeans with small accessories showing their support for the Red Tigers which made you feel out of place with Keeho’s blue scarf wrapped around your neck. You recognized one of them as the guy who hosted that halloween party; buffy build, a triangle shaped head, but kind features.  

“Hey.” 

The deep voice that greeted you didn’t match the sunshine-face of the other boy beside Changbin. A sprinkle of freckles covered his nose and cheeks, his eyes crinkling as he offered you a sun-like smile that matched the color of his hair.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” you gently said and sat in the spot beside the sunshine-boy.

“It’s great to finally see the girl this one’s been obsessing about,” Changbin butted in with a teasing grin and earned himself a slap on the thigh by Felix.

“Just ignore him, he loves to tease.”

“Ah, that’s okay. I know banter when I hear it,” you smiled reassuringly and looked at the game below. 

One would think that because ice was your dome, you’d easily understand other winter sports, but you were truly having trouble keeping up with whatever was going on in the newly polished rink. The puck was traveling a hundred miles an hour and the skaters were freakishly fast, you could barely keep up with who was attacking and who was defending. It seemed like the moment one team scored, the other was immediately taking back a point. On top of all, you had zero knowledge about the rules. To say you were surprised when a — what looked to be dangerous and illegal — tackle occurred, would be an understatement. You expected at least someone to jump out of sheer anger, but no one batted an eye. They just kept watching and the players resumed as if it were the most normal thing of the day.

“Do you want to die?” Chan growled as he bumped shoulders with Mingi, getting all up in the defenseman’s face.

The chants of the Blue Wolves’ fans sent another surge of adrenaline through Mingi’s veins, not that he needed it, but gave him an ego boost to return the cockiness to the max.

“I should be asking you that. Don’t think you can get past us just like that. I’ll shut you down, Chan-hyung.”

In any other circumstance and in a conversation with quite literally anyone else, the use of honorific wouldn’t have been out of place, but hearing it come from Mingi wasn’t an indication of respect. It was a ploy to humiliate him and a way to set the tone of the game. In other words, telling him not to expect an easy win. Chan didn’t think anything less.

“I’d like to see you try.”

Mingi scoffed, a smirk of triumph playing across his lips. “I already did and guess what, hyung. I’ll do it again and again, and again. You will not get past me. I’ll knock you down until your ass makes a dent on the ice.”

Returning the ever-so-kind favor of butting shoulders, Mingi pushed past him and stopped right behind his center, ready to receive the puck or defend if the odds played out in the red team’s favor.

“I’m sorry about what happened at the preliminaries,” Felix smiled empathically and placed a hand on your shoulder for support. “If it makes you feel better, I thought you were perfect and deserved to win.” 

You forced a smile at the reminder of the event. The wound was still fresh and even though Felix didn’t have any ill intentions with bringing it up, it still didn’t spare you from the bitter taste of winning — if it could even be considered a victory — second place.

“Thank you, but the jury is rarely ever wrong.”

“Tell me about it,” he started and focused momentarily on the game again. “It still doesn’t change my opinion on who should’ve won though.”

Before you could thank him again and express your gratitude to his kindness, Hyunjin joined the conversation. “Oh, I see you’ve found yourself a new figure skating partner.” 

Glancing from Felix to Hyunjin and back to Felix again, you pointed at the freckled boy. “You’re a figure skater too?”

“Yup, I've been training with Jin-ie since elementary school. A tick would be easier to shake off than him.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, everyone practically begged you to sit beside them but no, little Lixie the new student decided it would be best to annoy Hyunjin-ie in the back.” 

With a witty remark waiting on the tip of his tongue, Felix parted his lips, but was interrupted by Changbin abruptly standing up, hands clasped around his mouth and shouting, “Come on Chan! Don’t let him get away with that!”

Glancing down at the rink, you noticed number three in the red team was pushed against the border with a blue guy towering over him. Both guys seemed to be communicating through their eyes and if it weren’t for their teammates getting in between, you were sure a full on fist fight would’ve taken place in front of everyone.

“You’d think Chan was his boyfriend and not mine,” Felix said to you — more so screamed over the loud cheers and hollers of distress — and watched an agitated Changbin slump back down in his seat, eyes following the flying puck kissing the net of the red goalkeeper.

“Boyfriend?” 

“Ah, right, of course Hyunjin wouldn’t talk about his friends. Anyways I’m dating number three in the red team, maybe you’ve heard of him. Bang Chan or Christopher, whatever seems fitting.”

Your mouth turned into an ‘o’ as the puzzle pieces clasped together. Felix never stopped smiling and even chuckled at your reaction. He found you endearing and understood why Hyunjin wouldn’t stop talking about you during their study sessions. 

“I take it, you know him?”

“Mmmm, I wouldn’t say I know him but we had a brief encounter at a halloween party.”

“Ah, that’s cool. The world is really small, isn’t it?”

The buzzer beat you to an answer, indicating that the twenty minutes of the second period were out. 

“Oh, and that’s halftime,” Felix said and stood up to stretch. 

Changbin shot him a deadly stare, as if the figure skater cursed out his entire family. “You know it’s not called that. It’s an intermission!”

“Eh, we don’t keep up with all that in Australia. Halftime is halftime in whatever sport you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were Australian,” you admitted.

“What, really?” He said in English and then switched back to Korean. “All the people I meet point out I speak with an accent so I’m surprised you didn’t notice.”

“Yeah, now that you’ve said it I can actually hear like the faintest accent. Oh, that’s embarrassing of me.” You sheepishly smiled and scratched the back of your head.

“Nah, not really. Anyway, Bin-ie and I are gonna get some snacks, you guys want anything?”

“I’m alright, thank you though.”

Felix threw you a thumbs up and looked at Hyunjin for his reply.

“Yeah, surprise me with something good.”

“Gotcha! We’ll be back like a lil’ before they start if we don’t get held up by the bathrooms. Changbin sure does love to take his time there.”

As the duo followed the crowd out, you and Hyunjin fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the chatter of the people around you. For being your first time at a hockey game, you weren’t bored at all, despite being oblivious to the set of rules. Keeho did say something about fights being legal and you sincerely hoped to avoid that. The sport on ice you were aware of was so less violent, flashy and fast paced. It was so different from your figure skating which was more or less art or a story being conveyed by body language. 

Nonetheless, you were still having a good time, even though much of it was spent getting acquainted with Hyunjin’s friends.

“So… what do you think of the game so far?”

Snapping from the ice taken over by a bunch of kids chasing each other and falling on their rears, you hummed and looked back at Hyunjin who already had his eyes on you.

“It’s interesting. I mean, it’s nothing like figure skating, obviously, but it’s cool… Do you guys always do this? Watch hockey?”

“Mmm, not always, but whenever Chan has a game we try to show our support just like he does whenever Lix or I have anything going on with our figure skating.”

“That’s sweet of you. That’s actually really cute,” you gushed and the thought reminded you of your own friend group. How Keeho and Dasom showed up at your competitions or the many times you and Keeho attended Dasom’s poetry slam.

Hyunjin leaned closer to you, a playful smile across his features. “I don’t like being called cute, but considering it’s coming from you I’ll let it slide.”

Taken back by the almost flirtatious side of Hyunjin, you bashfully looked away and cheekily covered your mouth, hiding the way your smile expanded at his comment. Hyunjin, attentive as always, took notice of the action and chuckled.

“How, uhm…” 

You leaned back in your seat and braided your fingers together as the change of topic went from cheerful to sullen.

“I didn’t want to ask in front of those two, but yeah… How you holding up?”

Still trying to hold up your happy expression, you faced him and tilted your head, and Hyunjin had to physically hold back from planting a kiss on your cute nose. 

“I’ve been alright. There’s not much I can do to be honest and I don’t want to dwell on it more than necessary, you know?”

“That’s understandable. Why think about the things that make you feel bad?”

“Exactly. I’ve decided to focus on the more happier things in life.” You grimaced as a hockey player tripped and smacked head first into the plastic glass. “Even if that is watching people get concussions for just 13.000 won.”

Hyunjin burst out laughing, elegantly covering his mouth with the back of his hand and tipping his head backwards. A laugh of your own lingered with his and the multiple cheers in the air. 

“Three for three, Jeon Jungkook does it again! The nimble winger of the Blue Wolves can’t be stopped!” 

The announcement sounded through the arena a few seconds after the red lights flashed behind the Tiger’s goal and buzzer erupted, nearly rupturing your eardrums. Jungkook was really on a blast tonight, you thought as you followed his retreating figure, making a mental note of remembering his jersey number. Although you had yet to find Mingi, you felt proud for at least figuring out Jungkook and Chan, completely dismissing the fact that you barely knew a handful of players on the ice.

“You’re doing great out there, Kookie.” Mingi dunked him on the back as they retreated to the neutral zone. “Make that into five out of five and I’ll treat you to some lamb skewers.”

The smirk stretched across Jungkook’s face could only be described as menacingly and with  him in his element, Mingi knew they weren’t going to go down without a fight. 

“Add steamed dumplings into the mix and I’ll double it.”

As the referee held the puck in the air between the red and blue centers, the rest of the players prepared themselves for another brawl over who put the puck behind the opposing net. Mingi was warm all over, and the extra weight of pads and equipment was taking a toll on his body, as well as defending his home base, but each time a player was stopped, the pride was enough to resurrect his energy. Glancing slightly to the side, everything moved in slow motion as he briefly made eye contact with the supporters of both teams. Some were screaming at him out of happiness and others with harmless distaste, angry at his ability to shut down the reds’ plays and advances. Moving further up the rows, it was like a headlight lit up a spot in the crowd, and suddenly, amongst the hundreds of people, he could make you out like a tulip in the middle of a meadow.

The hold around his stick tightened seeing you squished between pretty boy and an unrecognizable face, and Mingi promised he didn’t care. He didn’t care as pretty boy whispered something in your ear and he definitely didn’t care as you flung your head backward, and let out what probably was the most angelic laughter known to heaven. Smoke erupted from his nostrils and the moment the puck was in possession of the red team, the vibrant colored jerseys irked him like a matador irritatnig a bull. As the puck was in play, all sound ceased to exist and Mingi zeroed in on the players advancing forward. 

Mingi would describe it as being underwater with all the noise distant and his movement sluggish no matter how hard he tried to lift his limbs, and if  he wasn’t so aware of his surroundings, Mingi would certainly think he was losing one of his five senses. 

See, although ice hockey was a sport all about seeing and physical contact, hearing was an important part too and if Mingi wasn’t revolted by your presence, he wouldn’t have missed the referee signaling an offside, and he wouldn’t have skated into the first player daring to cross the blue line that separated the defending and neutral zone.

The referee immediately blew his whistle and fully extended his right arm, fist clenched and eyes set on the defenseman, and time turned back to normal as a pop-like sound burst in Mingi’s ears. He barely managed to realize what happened when another body collide against his, pushing him straight into the boards. Chaous ensued as multiple players got involved trying to easen the situation, but the damage was already done and Mingi was sent to the penalty box — purposely avoiding the heavy gazes of the blue bench — along with whichever guy flew into him.

He cursed out loud as he slumped down on the bench. This was embarrassing on so many levels. It was one thing to ram into someone as payback, but lashing out for no apparent reason and after the whistle was (almost) unacceptable. He wanted to laugh at his stupidity; so much for not caring. 

“What happened?” You asked no one in particular, surprised at the sudden turn of events.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Ah, that Song Mingi, always up to no good,” Changbin grumbled, more so to himself than you. 

You snapped your eyes to the plastic enclosure the blue player was sent off to and sunk your teeth into your bottom lip. Through the year you had known Mingi, you’d never guess he could really use his size and strength to quite literally floor another person. Hockey was a rough sport, that wasn’t news to you, and considering Mingi could use his strength to his advantage, it was probably why he was so sought after. You couldn’t shake away this feeling of awareness. Just now realizing how… big Mingi actually was and you didn't know whether it was relief or pride, knowing that of all the times you pushed him over the edge, never once did he raise a finger at you out of anger or spite. 

Mingi may have been an asshole with 70% height and muscle, but he wasn’t a bad guy. 

“That’s called roughing,” Felix started explaining. “It’s like… I wouldn’t say it’s an illegal move, but if done out of motive or in a way to really hurt the other player, it could lead to a minor penalty — a timeout — or game misconduct. But it all depends on how bad the situation is.”

“So he won’t play until the end of the game?”

“Nah, he’ll probably be out in like a few minutes,” Hyunjin answered for you and clapped as the red team scored, evening out the score board to five-five.

“Then the blue team will be a player short up until then?.”

“Pretty much,” Felix confirmed and popped a chip in his mouth.

You didn’t see how that could be fair, but then again, ice hockey wasn’t your forthe and as no one in the crowd was making a fuss over Mingi’s penalty — except for pointing out his poor judgment — you didn’t say much else, but hum in agreement. For twelve minutes, you didn’t pay attention to what was happening on the ice, only applauding when the crowd did and slumped back in your seat as the supporters groaned in disappointment. Your full attention was set on the lone player in the plastic box. 

Worry, confusion and pity circled your mind and you wondered if this was how everyone felt seeing the placement of your figure skating competition. As soon as the thought made home in your head, you shooed it away, reminding yourself to focus on the happy things and not everything that was blue. 

Forcing your eyes from Mingi, the most blue thing in the arena (both clothing and emotion wise) you zoned out and the players blurred into small vivid spots twirling on the ice like flies above a bowl of fruit. You didn’t understand where the worry came from or why it decided to take shelter in your stomach. It probably wasn’t Mingi’s first rodeo in the penalty box and wouldn’t be the last on either, and you recognized his sudden outburst as the one you saw a glimpse of at the party, right before you left him with that blonde police officer. 

Mingi never lashed out in anger and if he did, you were never on the receiving end of it despite giving him back a tenfold of insults he greeted you with. Seeing him quite literally floor a guy his size, made your guts twist in discomfort. It was an emotion that didn’t look good on him at all. 

The game was growing more intense with each minute passing and the atmosphere amongst the audience was also getting rowdier as the teams were practically neck and neck, neither willing to let up. The second Mingi stepped foot on the ice again, the whole arena blew up with cheers. It was like the almost extinguished torch of hope re-awakened into a bright and lively fire, and you too held onto the light of hope that the Blue Wolves would take it home, definitely because of your loyalty to Tiny University and not the growing affection for a certain defender in said school. 

The puck was flying from one side of the rink to the other in just a matter of seconds with all players, excluding the goalkeepers, circling around and cashing the rubber like stone. 

“Here, wanna help me hold this up?”

You didn’t know how you missed the big sign leaning against Felix’s legs, but you did. With a nod of agreement, you both took hold of each side of the white cardboard cutout and quickly looked at the glittery blue writing on it. 

I am Chan’s #1 fan. 

“Don’t judge, I made it like last second.” A blush kissed his cheeks and his eyes squeezed into crescent moons as you read the corny line.

“No, no! I think it’s cute.”

With ten seconds left of the game everyone in the arena stood up which made you and Felix raise the sign even higher. When everyone thought the game would end in a tie, a player from the defending line of the blue team somehow managed to steal the puck from two red players and sent it hurling across the rink, right in the sanctuary of his teammate’s stick who calculatedly launched it towards the red goal and past its keeper. The buzzer went off and chaos ensued. From what you could see all the Blue Wolves players crowded the scorer and dunked the defender who sent the winning assist, while the fans raised the volume through the roof. Whistling, cheers, laughter, even some old fashion booing circulated the arena.

Not all that upset with the outcome of the game, Felix applauded and turned to his friend who seemed to be quite butthurt. “Song really is crazy good, isn’t he Bin-ie?”

“Whatever, he’s lucky Jake sprained his ankle and couldn’t play today or he’d have them all eating ice. Ha! Get it, cause they’re playing on i–”

The rest of the conversation was tuned out as you focused on the celebrating team, trying to catch sight of eighty-nine. Your eyes traveled from one bulky player to another and then, as if your prayers were answered, the player came right into view. 

Mingi walked beside a shorter guy clad in blue and you assumed it was Chan by the sole way he pointed up at you and the other guys. Your suspicion was confirmed as the helmet was removed and Chan’s face was illuminated by the strong lights. You could just make out the faint movement of his mouth, saying something to the giant beside him. 

“Good to know your girl is cheering for the right team, Mings.”

Mingi followed the invisible line leading to where you stood and scanned the group of friends. He immediately recognized Hyunjin and the buff one, and he didn’t even manage to take a proper look at the third boy as his eyes found yours. Beautiful as ever, he thought and admired as much of you as possible. Your face, clothes, make-up and everything about you was perfect, and the passive aggressive comment was almost brushed to the side until he zeroed in on the paper in your hands. It was in that moment that the rose-tinted glasses slipped down his nose, jealousy quick to seep into every corner of his existence and he remembered why he’d been avoiding you for weeks.

Before he could send you a sharp (and unjustified) glare, he redirected his anger to the guy beside him. 

“Oh, don’t be like that. She was the one to look at me first.

Mingi wasn’t a violent person, he really wasn’t, but there was no acceptable excuse for why he did what he did. 

As if born ready for this day, Mingi used his teeth to tear off his gloves and pounced on Chan. One hand grabbed around the collar of his red jersey as the other was colliding with his cheek. He managed to get in two more punches — the first successfully collided with Chan’s jaw and the second just barely missed the bone of his nose — before Chan used his own limbs to defend himself. The red winger grabbed hold of Mingi’s helmet and snatched it off his head, and seized the chance to send a fist flying in his face, returning the punches he received from the blue defender. Red bruises quickly littered across their knuckles and warm blood covered their skin, the thick liquid pouring from both Chan’s nose and Mingi’s lip.

The crowd was going wild, the whistles of the referees were being ignored and it didn’t take long before the remaining players of each team were trying to separate the two brutes. 

“Oh my God!” 

Felix and Changbin flinched at your gasp. 

“He’s fucking crazy. Hey! What the hell?!” Changbin jumped between the seats and rocketed down towards the ice with the rest of you hot on his heels.

The silence was deafening. Everyone was curious as to what was going on and why a fight ensued now that the game was over, usually the nose breaking happened on ice and not off. Whispers and rumors spread like a wildfire, some claimed it was the aftermath of adrenaline while others thought of something more extreme like hard drugs taking over. Nonetheless, the crowd riled them on, clearly finding joy in the brawl. You weren’t anywhere near when the referees and teammates broke them up, Mingi being forcefully sent towards the locker room as Chan stayed laying on the ground, crimson face and teeth no longer pearly white.

“What the hell, Mingi,” you muttered under your breath and slipped through the mass of people, running to where you assumed he’d be. 

Your head was working a hundred miles an hour with the images of Mingi hunched over Chan, fists violently beating the blonde and a lot of blood covering his face. You were sure you’d never get them out of your head and you shuddered at the amount of red that ran down Chan’s nose. For the sake of the giant asshole you grew attached to, you hoped it wouldn’t put a stop to his career, both school- and sportwise. It would by far be his dumbest decision yet. For what even?

A group of reporters stood outside a door you assumed was reserved for the Blue Wolves and if that wasn’t enough of a give away then it was the loud cheers and victory singing echoing out to the hallway. In reality you wanted nothing more than to barge inside and interrupt their celebration — how they could celebrate after that bloodbath was still something you couldn’t wrap your head around — but you did no such thing. The moment the door opened you pushed the reporters aside and flew in with your head first, paying no mind to the perverse wolf whistles and cheers of the adrenaline drunken boys. You didn’t even bother with them as your eyes scanned the room that smelled of sweat and axe deodorant for him. Jungkook, seemingly the most normal one there (which spoke volumes), quickly understood why you were there and approached you with no teasing glint or malice in his gaze.

“Try looking by the abandoned gym on the ground floor. There’s a vending machine there we usually go to so I assume if he’s taken off somewhere it should be there.” 

You wasted no time in turning on your heel and practically sprinting down the route you repeated like a mantra. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine. First floor. Abandoned gym. Vending machine.

Lo and behold, he was right there and if it weren’t for the worry growing in your belly you’d go back upstairs and reward the playboy with a big smooch to his rosy lips. 

Mingi sat down on the floor, legs up to his chest and forearms folded on his knees. His sweaty forehead was leaning against the skin of his arm and an anxious rhythm of his heart beat in his chest. It was hard to miss the red on his knuckles. Inhaling a shaky breath as if it would steady your own heart, your feet stopped before him falling right in his line of sight. Surprised at the unexpected company, Mingi looked up and got a first row ticket of the concern swimming in your eyes. You didn’t know what to expect going after him, but the annoyed — almost disgusted — scoff he let out cut through you like a knife and twisted as he looked back down. Despite the act of annoyance aimed at you, Mingi wasn’t actually that annoyed with you but rather with himself because after everything he still had the urge to reach for your touch and he hated it. His jaw clenched at the circumstance and his nails dug in the palms of his hands. You weren’t even supposed to be here, it made everything ten times harder than it should’ve been.

Having had enough of his pity party Mingi and the weight of your gaze judging him, he pushed up from his position and walked right past you. No hello, no second glances, just walking as if you were a ghost he couldn’t see let alone feel. His movements halted when you latched onto one of his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to get away he’d shake you off like a ragdoll and be on his merry way. Although he was with his back facing you, the fact that he stood  rooted to the ground was the approval you seeked to continue with your winged attempt at getting him to speak.

“Mingi, what the hell was that?” 

The two of you weren’t heavy on the use of honorifics, but hearing you spit his name out like that surely sent a shiver down his spine. You weren’t pissed off, he noticed, you were actually worried and it was quite amusing. The nerve you had of showing up after that fiasco to interrogate him about his actions. Who the hell did you think you were?

“Huh? Why did you do that?” Shaking his arm, you tried again. “Can you please say something? I’m worried for you and your silence isn’t helping, please just say something.”

Mingi didn’t budge and you were starting to lose it. The avoidance wasn't enough, now he was blatantly ignoring your attempt at helping too.

“What is your problem?! I’m trying to help you, something’s obviously happened so why won’t you tell me!”

Ripping his wrist out of your hold, he turned around and it took every particle in you not to cower at his sharp eyes staring you down. 

“You want to know what my problem is?” His loud voice bounced off the walls and punched you right in the gut. 

There was so much anger in his gaze, his tone and his body. Everything screamed of anger and you didn’t even know why you were on the receiving end of his emotions. You were just trying to help.

“You! You are my fucking problem!”

“What?”

“As if you don’t know what you’re doing. Acting all nice and cutesy like we are friends, like you’re interested in ever befriending me which now that I think about is so stupid because you and I? What a joke. We’re a fucking joke!”

“What are you even talking about?!”

Mingi scoffed again. He looked to the side, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. There were so many thoughts going through his head and all he could think about was what words to use to hurt you the most. To make you feel the hurt he did.

“First, you invite me to your stupid competition and then you come to my game sitting with him! Was this all a game, huh? To get back at me for all the dumb shit I did to you because if it is then wow, you’ve really proven yourself to be more shallow and boneless than I ever thought. I mean, you’re really going out of your way to get under my skin and act like a fucking–”

Mingi closed his eyes and clamped his mouth shut, the veins on his neck were more prominent than ever and his face was almost identical to the red color of Dasom’s hair. He really needed to calm down before he said something he’d regret. Not that it mattered, the damage was already done and he knew the aftermath was already biting him in the ass. Shit, the look of your glossy eyes was quick to make his inside burn with remorse.

Each insult was a poisoned arrow aimed at your heart. The words physically hurt you more than ever before and you weren’t aware just how mean Mingi could be. Your previous bickering never stooped on a level this low before and it brought tears to your eyes but even that wasn't enough to stop his rant. Not wanting to be caught vulnerable in front of the guy who was practically stepping on you with his shoes, you quickly wiped away the tears that managed to escape.

Mingi knew he was taking his frustration out on you and he knew it wasn’t fair because you hadn’t done anything wrong. It all kept piling on his shoulders. All the instances he saw you two together; the joint practices, your embarrassed giggles any time Hyunjin breathed, watching him console you in the hallways like a poor reenactment of a romcom, sitting so close together at his game, shoulders touching a little too close for Mingi’s liking… If that stupid piece of cardboard was a bomb waiting to be activated, then Chan was the flame that set everything off. 

“Oh, great. This is really great now you’re fucking crying too. You think some tears are going to make me feel bad? They won’t, I don’t care anymore okay? I’m done with you and your fucking shit. So go back to your prince fucking charming and don’t even bother looking for me, you hear? I’m fucking done!” 

You shrunk back at his unwavering and stern voice. Having nothing more to say Mingi stormed away, blood boiling and hands shaking as the final words set in. The last you saw of him before gut-wrenching sobs wrecked your body was the door slamming up against the wall and back the doorframe so hard the walls vibrated. And later that same night when Mingi got home, he wouldn’t even be surprised if you decided to never look at him again, let alone speak with him. 

Different emotions tore you apart and it was hard to make sense of anything that happened in the past ten minutes. The questions — what, why, how — were endless and you wanted to go home, preferably dig a hole in your bed and not come out until better days, whenever that would be you didn’t know. Tears burned your cheeks like lava and snot tickled your nose, dropping off your chin and onto your shirt. With the already wet sleeve of your sweater you wiped everything off your face, not in the right mind to care about what Keeho would say about his precious shirt. Like a baby cub seeking its momma bear for comfort, you retreated home yearning for the closest touch of a mother you could find.

“You have reached the voicemail of Choi Dasom. Please leave a message after the beep.”

After the fifth attempted call, you gave up and continued trudging home. Dark clouds hovered over Seoul and the light pelts of rain quickly became a downpour. Being picked up on Dasom’s bike didn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.

Unlocking the front door of your shared apartment you were greeted with Hongjoong and Dasom sitting awfully close on the couch. They jumped apart as you harshly dropped the keys in the fruit bowl and froze at the sight of you; bawling, wet and shivering. Skipping the formalities you wasted no time diving in the shower and by the time you ventured back out, Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen as if the boy was never there to begin with and you couldn’t have been more relieved. You’ve had enough boys for the next ten years of your life.

“Beans?” 

It was probably the dumbest thing to cry about, but your lips still quivered and the tears you just managed to stop surfaced at the nickname. The girl caught you in her arms and you buried your head in her shoulder as your cries got louder. Dasom offered you solace with gentle rubs to your back and patiently waited until your labored breathing became even. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” she whispered and slowly guided you to your bedroom. 

Attentive as always she helped you get under the covers and shuffled in beside you to which you immediately buried your face in her bosom, her hand slank under your neck and connected with the other at the back of your head. You lay there in each other’s presence and listened to the coexisting beat of your hearts. Dasom didn’t try coaxing the troubles out of you and you heaved out a big breath. A wave of exhaustion washed over you at the constant tears and after waking up from passing out of exhaustion, you knew you’d be a victim of an unbearable headache and heavy feet. The whisper of your name was loud in the silent room and you hummed in reply, letting the other girl know you were in fact awake.

“You wanna talk about it?”

The most obvious thing would be to talk about it; talk about why you burst through the door, face wet and not entirely because of the rain. Your mom always told you to never sleep with an empty stomach, a busy mind or a heavy heart and while you didn’t appreciate the advice at the minute, future-you would (hopefully) think back to this moment and thank you for your courage. Dasom followed in tow as you sat up criss-crossed, taking your hands in hers and giving them comforting squeezes every once in a while. By the time she was pulled through the story of your evening — meeting Changbin and Felix, having a good time with Hyunjin, to seeing Mingi beat the living shit out of Chan and then him lashing out on you — the clock struck somewhere between two and three in the morning, courtesy of a few short crying breaks in between. Glancing up at your friend who was still digesting the events, you felt lighter at the thought of having your very own sun sharing warmth and hope wherever she went.

“He likes you,” she eventually said, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You sniffled and wiped at your nose again, hands falling to play with the bedsheet. 

“He doesn’t.”

“How do you know who I’m talking about?”

You thought you ran out of tears hours ago but were proven wrong as a new batch stung your eyes and eventually trickled down your sore cheeks. Dasom pulled you in another soul crushing hug and held the back of your head, nails gently massaging your scalp.

“Why are you crying, bean?”

Through tears and her thick cardigan you replied. “Because we aren’t talking about Hyunjin, are we? He’s the one we should be talking about.”

“But we aren’t and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

It felt wrong crying over someone who held no significance in your life just a few months ago. The same guy who riled you up like it was his daily dose of sunshine and who set it as his life mission to have you curse him out. The guy who called you stupidly cute nicknames and walked you home at night, offering up his jacket to keep you warm and safe from colds. The guy who didn't turn up to your competition and then lived in your head like an annoying song playing on repeat refusing to disappear. The same guy who shook you to your core with his angry words and fiery gaze.

“Why am I like this?”

“Like what?” 

Dasom wasn’t foolish. She knew what you were going through and could only hope you’d come to terms with the unknown feelings rather than to be the one revealing the reason behind your heartbreak. 

“Drawn to a guy who’s mean and an asshole when I have the perfect one right there, waiting and catering to my every need.”

“I know I’m supposed to hate him for the things he’s said to you and I do, I really do bean…. so if you think I won’t at least glare him down in the hallways then I’m revoking your position as my best friend… But I’m going to be completely honest with you, bean because that’s what you deserve. I think something else must have triggered him to lash out, it couldn’t just have been because you were simply sitting beside Hyunjin.”

She gently played with your hair as the words sank in.

“He really hurt me.”

“I know, bubs and I’m so sorry. Know that nothing excuses that behavior.”

“Then why do I still think of him even when he’s shit. Why won’t my brain let me be happy with Hyunjin?” You broke from the huge and fell back on the bed, hands gripping the sheets as if they held all the answers to your questions. 

“Hyunjin is safe. We all like the safe and predictable, right?” 

Your nod of agreement spurred her on. 

“But Mingi, oh Mingi, is exciting. He drives you crazy, keeps you on your toes and throws you off course yet you can’t ever really get enough of him no matter how much it annoys you. I see it and I’ve been seeing it for months now and I promise this is the most objective version of me speaking right now.”

“But I like Hyunjin,” you whined, refusing to accept your own feelings.

“And you like me and Kyo too,” Dasom whispered softly, like a breeze passing through a field. “But we don’t fall in Mingi’s category.”

The days leading up to the holidays were spent within the four walls of your room waiting for the time to pass until you’d take your suitcase and haul ass across the country, definitely not because you were afraid to stumble across the very person you were avoiding. After the not so pleasant discovery you didn’t know what to make of yourself or your feelings. You couldn’t just phone him and proclaim your undying love because last time you checked, he explicitly made it clear he wanted nothing to do with you. You from a few months ago would throw a party big enough to think it was for a quinceanera or a sweet sixteen celebration with this information, but the present-you acted like Bella Swan during the disappearance of Edward Cullen just a tad bit less depressing.

Dasom was the first to leave. Her parents surprised her with a vacation to Jeju-island and her flight left the first morning of winter break. Keeho was still in the city but with college out of the way, he took on more working hours than usual. His immediate family lived in Canada and the plane ticket would be more expensive than the salary he’d get over the next two weeks. With your two friends unavailable you passed time thinking about the one who shall not be named and realized how unfortunate the whole situation was. You also realized you probably wouldn’t act upon your feelings as you didn’t with Hyunjin and would just let them flow until evaporating into thin air. 

Speaking of Hyunjin, you and him still texted back and forth albeit the conversations were slow and not nearly as exciting as you once found them to be. Your sudden disappearance at the hockey game was covered with a quick lie of ‘not feeling well’, which he immediately believed because, why wouldn’t he? Christmas wasn't anything special. It started with an early message of Hyunjin wishing you a Merry Christmas attached with a selfie of him in a Santa hat and fake beard, and the rest of the day was spent inside with your family watching movies and drinking hot cocoa. 

The new year was welcomed on the couch where a bump would sooner or later be formed and that alone was enough to explain the excitement level in the household. You all went to sleep a little after midnight and as you laid in your childhood bedroom, feet almost sticking out of the small bed, you mindlessly scrolled down the explore section of Instagram. A pang of sadness struck you at the picture staring back at you through the screen. It was a post of Mingi and his friend — the golden retriever looking one — posing on a snowy mountain both clad in skiing gear. The taller of the two had an arm slung over Mingi’s shoulder who, in return, sported a boyish grin and held up a peace sign. The split lip had healed perfectly and the only indicator of him being in a fight was the slight plum colored mark under his eye (courtesy of a nice punch delivered to his nose). At least someone was happy with you out of their lives. 

Angry, sad and just tired, you exited the app and shoved your phone under the pillow drowning out your scream. You didn’t even know why his post landed on your feed. Wasn’t the explore page supposed to show videos of millennials doing cringy trends and not the most recent activity of the dude that shit all over you.

This continued on for days. While you were decomposing in your room he was updating his Instagram account as if a celebrity. Pictures and videos of him clubbing until the early hours of the morning, pretty girls and tables full of alcohol captured in short stories and then a complete 180; sharing clips of him flying down snowy mountains, doing stunts and whatnot.

If he was so upset with you, why were you the one wasting days self wallowing? It wasn’t like you could party away the worry. Your hometown was the size of a nut meaning A) you knew everyone and their mother, and B) every person in a ten mile radius was well-over the age of forty and the closest thing that came as a party would be the retirement home down the street. Then again, playing bingo with the grannies was better than binge watching gut-wrenching dramas. At least you’d be clearing your ‘to watch-list’.

The weeks passed in a blur and, before you knew it, you were back in the comfort of your apartment with two days to spare until classes started rolling again. Dasom would be home the day after and Keeho was either passed out in his apartment or working his second shift of the day, leaving you to unpack the chaos sealed inside your suitcase. Swirls of snow beat violently against the windows, turning the outside world into a winter wonderland. The heavy weather picked up on your journey home and as you traveled halfway back to Seoul, the ground was slowly being covered in white flakes. You only got so far with your unpacking when a series of knocks rattled against the front door. 

“What’s uuuuup?!” Keeho screeched as you opened the door and an equally excited Dasom rolled in with her red large suitcase. 

“What are you doing here?!” 

They pulled you into a hug. Keeho’s loudness and Dasom’s giggles warmed up the place in no time and you immediately felt better.

“Surprise!”

“I hate you guys!” You exclaimed and squeezed their waists, head resting on Keeho’s shoulder with Dasom’s nose buried against your chest.

“Don’t lie, we know you love us. Now let’s get this bitch started!”

Scurrying to the kitchen Keeho brought back three animated cups; one with Naruto, Totoro and–

“You’re not drinking beer from the cup plastered with a picture of my dead cat!”

“Of course not, that one’s yours. Mine’s the Naruto one and Dasom gets Totoro, for obvious reasons.”

Said girl skipped quickly to the pantry and pulled out multiple bags of snacks. The huge smile on her face got you all curious.

“What’s got you all happy?”

“Nothing, I've just missed you guys! Jeju was fun but it would’ve been better with you there,” she pouted and poured the snacks into separate bowls.

“Pfft, don’t listen to her. She’s been texting that Cruella de Vil boy all winter break.”

Her smile grew and grew until it was a full blown grin and you squealed in delight, genuinely happy for your friend despite the green monster gnawing at the back of your head. 

“Tell me everything, c’mon!”

“Ah, ah, ah!” The fun and what would be the start of a girls’ night was interrupted by Keeho. “I should be the one asking you that, little miss I’m in love with my greatest enemy.”

Gasping, you turned to Dasom. “You told him?!”

“So it’s true?!” 

He leaned towards you and nearly snickered as your hands covered your mouth — if it weren’t for the serious circumstance — and stared at him with wide eyes. You walked right into his trap and as you told him everything that happened — the good and the bad — Dasom threw her hand out, palm facing upward..

“Pay up, pretty boy!”

“They aren’t even together!”

Dasom, a feral little chihuahua, jumped on him and a wrestling match took place in the middle of the living room. You couldn’t find it in you to be mad or upset. Leaning back against your arms, you watched them with a smile tugging at your lips. This is what you missed back in your childhood home. As much as you loved your family, the one you built in the heart of Seoul was very dear to you.

The ding of your phone snapped you out of your love-struck daze.

Hyunjin [07:16 PM] you back home yet?

You [07:16 PM] yeah, arrived a few hours ago

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] im glad

Hyunjin  [07:16 PM] how was it?

You [07:17 PM] Good to see the family again but God did I miss my bed

You [07:17 PM] What were you up to?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] yeah no kiddin ik exactly what u mean

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] Nothing much, did a lot of practice on the choreo w Iseul

You [07:17 PM] Ohhhh how’s that coming along?

Hyunjin [07:17 PM] it’s good but nowhere near perfect

You scoffed at the reply.

You [07:17 PM] I’m sure you’ll get it down in no time

Keeho harshly grabbed your shoulders, peering down at the screen but not comprehending any of the words.

“And who are you texting?” 

“Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin!” Dasom sang, already tipsy from the soju she downed while you were busy typing away.

“And what does Mr. Popular want?"

Hyunjin [07:19 PM] wanna help me practice? 

Author's note pt.2: There's one thing I'd like to say regarding this chapter. When it comes to significant others, situation ships, partners, etc do not ever let anyone speak to you in a condescending matter. It doesn't matter how upset they are or what you've done for them to explode, you should never, and I really mean NEVER let anyone talk down to you. The only reason I didn't make MC obliterate Mingi is for the sake of the story, otherwise I'd have her drag him along the streets of Seoul like a dog, lmao. Anyway, if anyone speaks to you like Mingi did to MC in their fighting scene, please either leave/break up or put them in their place. You deserve to be treated with respect and love as much as anyone else.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[wildemaven]

saturdays with javier : tied together | javier peña

-> pairing: javier peña x f!reader

-> word count: 3489

-> content warning: 18+ blog; talk of food, feelings of nervousness, alluding to spicy time but I decided to give them some privacy, she likes the tie so it stays, established relationship, reader has zero descriptive features, post Colombia life, if I missed anything please let me know and I’ll add it

-> notes: it has taken me so long to finish this, but I’m glad it’s done! I’ve been in such a writing slump and words haven’t been working well for me. I think my lack of sleep is my main reason so I’ve been working on that— it definitely helped me yesterday. Big thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for being a cheerleader and beta reading this for me!!

series masterlist / main masterlist

“Shit!”

His focus is scattered as he watches his hands work together to secure the tie around his neck, a task he hadn’t done in what felt like years, his nerves not aiding in the dexterous process. 

“Cariño, what time do your parents get in again?” He shouts down the hall to you where you’re busy about the kitchen, before refocusing on his reflection in the mirror. 

“Their flight lands at 1 pm, and you’re picking them up at Gate 15— Javier, what’s with the tie??” You appear in the doorway, leaning into the frame, your arms crossed watching the nervousness permeate off Javier as he finally settles a knot at the base of his sculpted neck. 

“What’s wrong with my tie?” Brows knitted together in question, looking at you then back to his reflection. 

“Nothing, it looks good— it’s fine. I just haven’t seen you wear one in, well awhile.” You push off the door frame, maneuvering between Javier and the bathroom counter, your fingers toy with the ends of his tie as you try your best to ease his mind. “It’s just my parents, no need to worry too much. And they love you, with or without a tie.”

“I know, I just—“ He takes in a deep breath, his lungs filling with the calmness you always bring to him, resting his forehead against yours, his hands running the length of your arms. “You’re right. I just get in my head, always thinkin’ they’re gonna find something and decide I’m not enough for you.” 

“You’re always enough, Javi— with or without their approval.” Your voice is tentative and soft, dripping in assurance. 

His hands find their way under the hem of your skirt, pressing his body ardently into yours. Fingers dancing delicately up your thighs, settling at the curve of your hips. There’s deliberate restraint in his grip on you, wanting nothing more than to haul you onto the counter and slowly pull you apart. 

“Javi—“ Breathless and floating. Pulling back just enough to witness the growing want igniting in his eyes. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in his crisp shirt, securing the knot of his tie firmly at the base of his neck. “Hmm. You should probably get going. You don’t want to keep my parents waiting. But we can always revisit this later.” 

“Tell me again why you’re not coming with me to pick them up.” His lips desperately chase after yours. 

Javi is your weakness. Giving in to him is an effortless choice. Minutes tick by, floating around the two of you. The kiss meanders through a vast range of intensity. Fluid and velvety, as it edges the border of a sensual climb that you both constantly crave. Realization hitting you first has you halting the flow before things progress past the point of no return. 

Javi catches on to your stunted movement. His efforts to subconsciously sway you into calling off your parents so he can stay lost in this moment with you were valiant. He removes his hands from under your skirt, allowing the flowy fabric to fall back into place. Taking a step back, boots clicking on the tiled bathroom floor, his hands resting at his waist, while his labored breathing slowly returns to a comfortable steady rhythm. 

“Because— I can’t be in two places at once. I need to get dinner prepped and started, so it’s ready when you get back here with them.” You fix the few of his stray hairs that have fallen out of place. Your fingers tracing down the sides of his handsome face, soothing over the tightness of his clenching jaw. 

“We could just order something, then you can just ride with me. Your parents love that little Italian place over on San Dario.” He suggests. Reaching for one of your wrists, your hands are still cradling his face, thumb smoothing over your pulse point as he turns and places a kiss to your palm. 

The bathroom fills with your boisterous laugh, your body vibrating as your head falls against his chest. 

“What? What’s so funny?” You settle yourself back against the counter, pausing your laughter to wipe the tears from your lashes with the backs of your hands. 

“The little Italian place? You mean Olive Garden? Javi, you’re going to be fine, I promise. Listen to some music, enjoy the drive and you’ll be home before you know it.” You grab his arm, twisting his watch face in your direction. “Okay, no more stalling Peña. It’s a two hour drive there, plus the wait— you need to get on the road.”

He releases a heavy sigh into the small space. Palm scrubbing down his face, mentally preparing himself for the long drive and your parents. He watches as you head for the kitchen, stopping at the door and resting your head and hand on the wooden frame as you look back at him. 

“You’re enough Javi, always will be.”

*

The drive is easy enough. 165 miles straight up Interstate 35 will drop him into the heart of San Antonio, according to the directions you wrote out for him on the back of the electric bill envelope. A drive he’s taken many times over his life and has no trouble recalling the exact route as your car travels across the Texas countryside. But he likes— loves —that you care enough to make sure he has every exit and turn written in your pristine all-caps writing, keeping them visible and ready just in case there’s a chance he needs them. 

An FM classic rock station and bag of peppered sunflower seeds keep him company most of the 2 and a half hour drive. Yet, even with a string of 80’s ballads crooning through the speakers, Javier still finds little pockets of time to get lost in his thoughts. 

Blips of his time in Colombia trickle in from the depths of his mind. A wavering feeling of relief that all of it is behind him meshes with the doubt of whether he did enough or not enough, at the same time. 

His grip on the steering wheel tightens. Anger and frustration resurfacing. A nagging turmoil bleeds through him slowly. His teeth gnaw anxiously at his bottom lip. He’s eyed several gas stations in the last 2 miles that he knows are fully stocked with enough nicotine to burn out every bit of anxiousness nagging at him. 

Somehow, while you’re busy making dinner hundreds of miles away, you manage to save him from spiraling. 

He thinks of you often, how can he not, but especially in moments when his thoughts start to get heavy and dark. Your smile pops into his head and instantly soothes away any oppressive feelings. 

The overwhelming airport traffic takes over his train of thought. Maneuvering your little blue Volvo in and around parked cars, taxis and shuttles is an easy task. He glances down to the envelope, checking he’s in the right lane. The gate numbers boldly displayed above the terminal doors as he drives in the direction of the one you have written down, Gate 15. 

He’s grateful there’s an open space to park along the curb when he arrives. Glancing at his watch, it’s a little after the 1 pm arrival time, which means your parents should be headed to pick up their bags and on the lookout for Javier to pick them up. 

Javier contemplates whether he should wait by the car or snake his way through the crowd of airport goers to greet your parents, grabbing any bags or luggage to help them to the car. 

It’s a quick decision, your father’s stone expression the main deciding factor. Another once over of the gate and time to double check he’s in the right spot, then he’s locking the car and venturing in the direction of where your parents will be arriving from. 

He runs through a series of greetings as he waits. 

Hello, it's good to see you both. Feels too informal for in-laws.

Oh, I’ve missed you both so much, here let me take your bags. Way too enthusiastic, especially for him. 

Hello Sir, I love your daughter very much. I plan to spend the rest of my days loving her and showing her how much she means to me. Over the top? Your dad already gave him the approval before he married you— maybe just in case. 

Hug? Handshake? A wave of Hello?

He takes a deep breath. Pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. He’s overthinking it. He knows your dad likes him. Your dad’s never been crass or rude towards him ever. The complete opposite actually. He’s treated Javier like family since the day you introduced them. Welcoming him into their home with a hand shake, then pulling into a warm hug. Pushing away the doubt and the fear of not being enough in your fathers eyes. 

Your words washing over him— You’re enough Javi, always will be —he believes you. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t Javier Peña, in the flesh!” 

An all too familiar voice catches him off guard, pulling him from his thoughts of your parents and greeting scenarios. 

“Steve?” Steve Murphy. Standing in front of him, shouldering a worn leather duffle bag and a carryon at his feet. He looks like a day hasn’t passed since they had last seen each other years ago. The wedding?

“Thought we did away with the ties and suits, buddy. Ya heading to some kind of meetin’?” Steve, dressed in a polo shirt and blue jeans, flicks at the navy tie you had bought him a few years back. 

“No, I’m picking up my in-laws. They should be here any minute.” He nods in the direction of the baggage claim, then looking down as his hands smooth down the tie in a presentable position. 

“Is that the story she went with?” Steve says with a hearty laugh, readjusting his bag strap. 

“What do you mean? What story?” There’s a flash of confusion in Javier’s eyes. Head tilting and forehead creased as he tries to make sense of what Steve has said. 

“You aren’t pickin’ up your in-laws. You’re pickin’ up me— Surprise!” Steve seems thrilled at how stunned Javier must look at the realization of what is happening. “I’ve got some business to do here in Texas for a bit. Connie mentioned it when they were havin’ their weekly phone call. I had a few free days, so she planned for you to pick me up so we can catch up.” 

“She didn’t say anything about you coming.” Javier thinks back over the last few weeks, trying to remember if you had and he just forgot. 

“No shit. That’s the whole point of a surprise, Javi. Good to see ya partner.” He throws an arm around Javier’s shoulders, giving his back a few good pats. Steve steps back a bit, his hand resting on Javier’s shoulder. “We gonna just stand here and catch up or can we go get somethin’ to eat. The plane food sucks and I’m fuckin’ starvin’.” 

Steve pulls the handle up on his wheeled carryon and begins walking towards the exit. Javier turns on his heels, a bit of relief settling in. Smiling at how you were able to not only pull this off, but had him convinced your parents were coming and let him worry about it for weeks. 

“Yeah, the cars parked right outside.” He calls out to Steve, shuffling through the bodies that put a little distance between the two of them. 

Javier finds Steve leaning against the trunk of your car, having recognized it was yours from the few times he and Connie havevisited over the years.

“How’s Connie and Olivia? We got the pictures— she’s gotten big since we last saw her.” Javier asks as he pops the truck, grabbing Steve’s bags off the sidewalk, moving things around so they’re secure among the other things you store back there.

“They’re good. Connie wants to plan for us all to come out for a visit sometime. Maybe after the holidays or somethin’, when work slows down. Maybe we can go duck hunting? Like old times.” He says watching Javier over his shoulder play Tetris with his bags and the trunk contents.

“I’m not going fuckin’ duck hunting, you goddamn Hillbilly.” Shutting the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat. Steve, amused with himself follows, suit on the other side of the car. 

It takes a few minutes to weave the car through the growing traffic and out of the airport madness. 

“You gonna wine and dine me all dressed up like that, Peña?” Steve asks comfortably from the passenger seat. 

“Yeah, there’s a little Italian place on the way.” Javier chuckles, looking over to Steve who’s wearing a shit-eating grin. He shakes his head, not realizing how much he missed his old friend. 

“Oh! Authentic?” Excitement sparks in Steve’s voice. 

“No— Olive Garden.” 

“Asshole.”

*

It’s a few hours later when Javier drops Steve off at his hotel across town. Plans to meet up in the morning for breakfast at the little cafe with the best coffee in town. Javier promises to not show up before 9 am, so Steve can sleep in a few extra hours to shake off the jet lag. Javier pockets his sarcastic comment about how old Steve is getting until tomorrow when they’re deep into their breakfast burritos and a few cups of coffees in. 

Things look quiet in the house when he parks your car in the driveway. The night sky now prominent and bold, a stark contrast from the harsh sun when he left earlier in the day. The soft glow coming from the bedroom windows must mean you’ve already begun to settle in for the evening, waiting for Javier’s return home. 

Javier immediately rids himself of his stuffy suit jack the moment he’s inside, laying it over the back of the couch, a problem for tomorrow morning while he’s killing time waiting to meet up with Steve. He runs through his usual evening routine as he makes his way into the house. Front doors locked, window curtains closed and keys hung on the little hook by the door. The kitchen is clean and quiet, no sign of any cooking you had been talking about anywhere in sight. He fingers through the stack of mail that must have come while he was out, mostly bills he can deal with at a later time in the week. 

The soft brilliance radiating from your bedroom pours out into the hallway, guiding the way for Javier. A beacon of light after a long day of driving. You are his final resting place. 

Hands settled into his pockets, he shoulders himself quietly against the door frame. Movements still as he watches you, not wanting to announce his arrival right away. You’re bathed in the glow of the table lamp, propped up by the pillows and wrapped in your favorite robe, bare legs crossed over the plush comforter. It looks like you have made a decent dent in the book you had mentioned wanting to read when you found a chance— he can’t wait to hear you tell him your thoughts on it when you finish it. 

“How’d it go, Javi.” You’ve already sensed his presence without a glance in his direction. Turning the page, a devilish smirk slides over your face. 

“Funny thing about that, Amor. I got to the airport and I ran into an old friend. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” He asks as he makes his way to the dresser, discarding his watch and wallet into the small tray, where they are kept for the night. 

“Hmmm. Would this old friend resemble someone who is actually a dear friend and answers to Steve?” You fold the corner of the current page you’re on. Closing the book and placing it on your nightstand. You watch Javier loosen the knot of his tie with two fingers, freeing the top button that you know irritates him fiercely. “Were you surprised?”

“Very. A little relieved, too.” You shift your legs over allowing him room to sit. His hand wraps around your ankle before you can move them too far out of his reach. His palm is warm against your cool skin. 

“Good. It was hard to keep it a secret. I made Connie and Steve promise me they wouldn’t tip you off. And your dad knows you’ll be busy the next few days while Steve is here, I told him about it when he came over for dinner earlier.” 

“It was a great surprise. But you didn’t need to keep it a secret. I’m sure Steve would have loved to have you come along, too.” His hand glides softly up and down the length of your leg, finally settling where your robe stops mid-thigh. 

“Well, you work too hard, Javi. I think the last time you took an actual vacation was our honeymoon and that was years ago. I think some time alone with your friend was needed, even if it took me doing a little scheming behind the scenes to make it happen.” 

He knows you’re right. It has been a while since he had let himself take some time for himself. He likes staying busy. The weekends are reserved mostly for time with you. Weekdays he’s pushing through the tiredness and running on coffee while he helps his Pop as he transitions into taking over operations of the ranch and cattle— Chucho no longer able to do it himself as he gets older. 

Maybe he should take more time off like this. Even in the short time from when he picked Steve up at the airport to dropping him off at the hotel, he enjoyed himself more than he thought he would. 

“I can hear you debating with yourself on this. You deserve it, Javier. It’s just a few days, let yourself enjoy them completely. The ranch will be waiting for you when you’re done.” You tell him, all sincere and honest. You shift yourself forward next to where Javier is sitting. Your legs folded under you, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Okay. I’ll enjoy it.” He releases a heavy sigh into the air.

“I have another surprise for you…” Your lips curl inward, trying to hold back your bubbling laugh as you watch Javier’s eyes roll playfully. 

“Querida, I don’t think I can handle any more surprises today.” He groans, pulling you over to him so you're now straddling his lap. His forehead rests on your collarbone, your fingernails running lightly over his scalp. 

“My parents are coming at the end of the month. They’re staying for a week. My dad said he wants to take you golfing— something about showing you how good his swing is.” You murmur against the top of his head. 

“Baby, I don’t know how to golf. I’m going to have to bullshit my way through it, and I don’t know how convincing it will look.” He pouted. He moans at the sensation of your nails scratching at his scalp a little harder.

“Javi, I’m just kidding.” 

“Thank god.” Relieved he doesn’t have to bullshit his way through 18 holes and several hours stuck on a golf course. 

“Only about the golfing part— they’re still visiting.” 

“That’s enough out of you, Amor.” Grabbing your hips, he’s flipping you both so you're lying beneath him on your bed. Your legs wrap around his narrow waist, drawing him down closer to you, his lips finding yours instantly. 

“Let me get these clothes off real quick.” He stands to his full height, beginning to work at the knot of his tie. 

“Leave the tie.” You purr as your foot rises up to his chest and presses against his hands, halting his movements. You pull at the belt of your robe, revealing your naked self to him, barely catching the way his breath hitches at the sight of you bared to him. “I get casual Javi every night, seeing you in this tie today was a fun change. I think I want Agent Peña tonight though.”

He’s on you in an instant. Hands roaming over your body, soft and riddled with goosebumps. Hips settling firmly against yours, an experimental thrust has you gasping and tingling with anticipation. The lightest nips to your jaw. His breath is hot across your face as he finds your lips again. Deepening the kiss in a desperate manner. Your whimpers and the way you chant his name like your favorite song nearly takes him out. His grip on your thigh is delicate but demanding in the most intimate way. Your back arching into his touch, craving more. You always crave more.

“Baby, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He whispers into the kiss. And he will give you everything. 

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

A more detailed response is under the cut if you're interested/want to know what prompted this random ass post:

Just wanted to make a few things clear after I received this anon:

And that anon won't see this post unless they access my page from a different account because - you guessed it! - I blocked them. I have zero issues blocking people, but I don't do it without reason. (This is also assuming your blog doesn't look like a straight up bot, which I automatically block.) If you don't want to run the risk of being blocked by me, it's actually pretty simple:

Don't have shitty takes - like equating kinks to p3d0philia. If I had to guess, I'd say about 90% of my block list is people who have supported or run rampant with some bullshit kink=pedo narrative. This in particular is something I take issue with on a very deep level and will almost always block people over.

Don't steal people's work and/or pass it off as your own (this also includes "transforming" someone's original work without their express permission).

Don't engage with AI chatbots; I think they're weird, inherently devalue the work of human creators, and create a "content farm" mentality to fandom that fucking blows chunks. There have also been SO MANY instances of some asshole feeding a fic into a chatbot without permission that I don't think anyone can really engage with them without the probability that it involves to some degree a stolen work. If using chatbots is more important than avoiding something that has many times over negatively impacted a fic writer, then I don't think you deserve to read fic tbh.

Don't go around being a disingenuous, opportunistic asshole aka I have seen your username pop up several times piling onto whatever the drama of the week is. It's giving parasite. It's giving acting in bad faith. It's giving I need attention on the internet. It's giving clout chaser and trying to gain followers by riding the coattails of drama.

If any of those reasons/explanations seem extreme or over the top to you, you might want to reevaluate how you interact with creators on here. There's a reason why so many have been leaving the space entirely. Some have taken their works to AO3 because of the plagiarism issues or morality police brigading their page and asks (almost always on anon ofc). Some have decided to take down their blogs altogether because it's not worth it anymore.

There's a give and a take with fandom, and so many have lost the fucking plot. I'm not going to spend time, energy, and thought towards my fics just so some random asshole on the internet can try to dictate how and when my work should be used/enjoyed. I'm also not going to let someone who either is a bad person or acts like a bad person would have access to my shit. If you want to be a shitty person, you don't get the luxury of engaging with my blog or my works. Plain and simple. Tbh more people need to call out the bullshit or actively block accounts that do these things because it has created a really tiresome, hostile space.

I owe you nothing, anon, and I make zero apologies for curating my space and experience on this site. If I blocked you, it was for a reason.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

[sgiandubh]

Machiavelli took a day off

... when the Telegraph article was written in great haste, by someone blatantly given a last minute task, who had no fucking idea to whom she was talking and what exactly meant the PR vetted or even prompted questions.

Instead of a line-by-line analysis, we'll take things differently, on this page, using the '5 W rule of journalism' (or even non-fiction writing, in general, if you ask me):

Who? SRH, EP of the OL series and one of the two male leads of the TCND series, which will be shortly broadcast by Channel 4, in the UK and IE only (and Movistar in ES). The rest of the world is not concerned.

What? A promotional article, focused on the actor's personality, CV and projects.

When? At a particular moment in time, just after the SAG-AFTRA strike and before shooting OL's eighth and last season.

Where? Crucial to place it in LHR (to imply he is 'just visiting') and God forbid it would be in GLA, which (for some curious reasons) seems to be off-limits.

Why? An actor with solid credentials hopes to keep agents and employers interested, after above OL project is done, which is rather sooner than later. Also addressing (as per the actor's PR agent specific requirements) three particular issues: the Palestine letter, the Bond project and his 'private life'.

Onwards to the three issues at stake, which probably prompted the article. In chronological order, this time. And no, I am not going to address the Scottish independence mention, because this is a sincere, well-known position of his and this page never bitches about people's convictions - also because I educated myself on it and I agree with S.

Palestine:

It was important, for obvious reasons, to push damage control a tad further. Also, strictly from a hypothetical POV, I would be very curious to read your compare and discuss thoughts with regard to this particular post on this page:

A sort of answer came in the Telegraph paper, too. Not only to me (I am less than nobody), but to all the people (of which we were many) who thought he should not get involved in this type of debate:

This is not the first time he uses this specific talking point. Last time known to me was on the day the Queen died, on X (I looked for that post, but can't find it, because I am just a filthy lurker, like that: but it is there).

The really interesting question, therefore, is: does he/somebody monitor what is being said on Tumblr? The answer is, I think, yes, and it shows. Will it stop me talking in here? Nope, as I trust my discerning abilities, for the moment. Other than that, his damage control op does not bring anything new to the table.

Bond:

What can I say, Sir? While there's life, there's apparently hope. But that doesn't translate well, given the context of your interview. That spells desperate and it's not a great picture. Also, let us keep a pious moment of silence in fond memory of a 25 year old who had a dream and the dream went to Daniel Craig (who I detested as Bond, because every girl has her Bond and mine is Pierce Brosnan, amen).

I know people still speculate about it. I have very high reservations and I cannot, for the life of me, seriously consider even thinking about the possibility. He could do it with flying colors, no doubt. Does he stand a chance? I prefer to have zero expectations on it and be floored if it happens. If he naively still yearns/pushes for it, this interview could very well be as abysmal as C's VF tantrum.

'Private life':

Ugh. Slippery when wet. I have already touched the subject in a reactive re-blog of @samheughanswife's post about it and I will not get back to what I said even without reading the article.

Some more extraordinary wording, in here: 'there might even be space for a personal life' - begs the question 'when?' In general? (in general, all men are created equal, too - it's practice that kills the theory) Now? (it is my staunch belief the answer is yes). After OL? (then and now and after Hiroshima, too). Can you program these things? (nope, stars simply aligned) Heh. Enough said. Also, 'might' spells cheap insinuation to me. But that's just me, a blonde voice in the audience.

Now, onwards to the daughter thing. I believe this specifically addresses the cheap, abundant clickbait content on You Tube, hence the vague 'online' reference (not Tumblr, not fans, not blogs - he is not C, he kept it clean). Such as this very recent one (last 'clip' on the topic was five days ago):

The two I chose to share here, which are very conspicuous FAKES, are originating from the same 'source', an account that seems obsessed with S&C and has no problem changing its narrative three times a week, if needed. My opinion? PR induced shite, to prod numbers/interest and see what sticks.

No newborn daughter? I hear no lies.

As for OL leaving 'no time for relationships', ahem. *urv will be thrilled to read that, I bet the farm. As will Flukenzie Floozy, at least her - damn, she was persistent! Also, hello, back to 2014-2016 playbook, aren't we?

No new relationships? Whatever for, when IYKYK? I hear no lies.

'I want a cat' ('because she's great', says my shipper brain on autopilot), 'but I am too scared even for that'. Humph. A very poor lie. But admitting you wanted and got a Ca(i)t scares the bejesus out of you, since 2016. I hear no lies. Yes, I am being tongue in cheek and damn the consequences.

Morality of it?

The easiest solution is never to take personal questions in interviews or panels. Why These Two still do it completely mystifies me.

[cutielights]

Hello! I just found your blog and I’m IMMEDIATELY in love with it!! I was wondering if you could do a Donnie x transmasc reader please? /nf. If you do ty!!

-🥤

ABSOLUTELY WELCOME ABOARD 🥤ANON <333 (I’m assuming you mean rise?)

Donnie is the most requested boy so far, right next to Mikey

The reason this took a while is bc whilst I use a binder, I know next to nothing about transitioning so I spent a few days watching people talking abt their experiences bc I can’t read anything for prolonged periods of time and panicking that I wouldn’t be able to make this

Tw: brief mention of family/friends being unaccepting (it’s for comfort reasons I swear there’s zero angst here)

Rise! Donnie X transmasc reader

I feel like Donnie doesn’t care about gender to be honest

I mean they’re turtles living in the sewers, I feel like they have other worries

Helps you out with HRT injections (or the spray) man I really hope HRT is the correct one

Probably pulls out a really high tech binder out of nowhere

Better than like GC2B ones or wherever you buy binders from

It’s really durable too

Like REALLY durable

And fire proof

And bullet proof

And- okay yes thank you Donatello we understand

You don’t want a binder? That’s cool too those things can rlly hurt

Helps you out with your wardrobe

Have you seen these turtles dress?

That’s a cool wardrobe

Helps you tie a tie

It’s important for all those fancy events you’re not going to

Comfort if family/friends aren’t accepting or using your pronouns

“Don’t worry, I’ll just post their IP address!”

“Donnie, that would be lovely, but no.”

“You JUST said it would be lovely!”

Probably like steals a bunch of money to fund any surgery you may want

“Here, for feeling better in your fleshy sweaty meat suit.”

“Where’d you get this?”

If you wear like those little pronoun badges, he’d also wear one

100% supportive

When you first met, if he used the wrong pronouns once he’d correct himself and then never use the wrong ones again

If you’re like post top-op and insecure abt chest scars, he will go out of his way to tell you how cool you look

I was gonna schedule this but I couldn’t wait! <33

[waterloggedsoliloquy]

Your name is-- WOAH WOAH WOAH.

You make sure to NEVER give out your REAL NAME when browsing the CHITTERNET. Or any PERSONAL INFORMATION for that matter. CHITTERNET SAFETY is important in order to have fun SURFING THE INFORMATION SUPERHIGHWAY.

Only in the REAL WORLD and only AMONG FRIENDS are you known by the name your lusus gave you: WURLWI WEBBEL. Not that you have many REAL LIFE FRIENDS, on account of your ALIENATING REJECTION OF CHROMATIC DECENCY. You've been told that your committment will only lead to a life MORE PAINFUL THAN NECESSARY, and they're probably right. You spend your alone time BUILDING AND MAINTAINING YOUR HEMOCITIES SITE, reading BLOGS, scouring FORUMS, and drawing in FREEWARE ART PROGRAMS. You try to maintain a ZERO TOLERANCE POLICY for anything that might get you DOOMSCROLLING, but you don't know if you're very successful. You just want your wanton nights of EPIC FLAME WARS to be put behind you.

Your talents are not only within the digital sphere, though. You've gained a reputation of COMMISSERATING ON HARDSHIPS for NEGLIGIBLE COMPENSATION or RECIPROCATION, which you hope your friends appreciate. At the very least, sometimes you can persuade them to join in on a friendly game of FIELD DIAMOND ASSAULT AND BATTERY.

Your trollTag is anonymousGuest and you make sure to always remind your friends that practicing healthy habits on the chitternet is rad and totally cool!

Crayola Color: green.com

Pronouns: they/them Sign: Cancom, Sign of the Connected, Derse Sway, Doombound Lusus: Mouse Ancestor: The USERNAME EXPUNGED Strife: Batkind Theme Song: Millenium Anthem (2000 New Years Eve) by Jay Tholen

[silly-lil-scribbles]

Introduction post!!

free

status: oh so eepy sleepy

current chance of a response if you dm me*: 0%

* does not apply to mousie cuz its my emotional support friend

- My name is Finn! You can also call me scribbles, soup, or really any dumb nickname will do. it/he <3

woah look at that.. its me.. on another website!! slight flash warning for spacehey btw ^^

if you havent read this in a while, i would suggest reading again cuz i update it a lot <3

- im oriented aroace! and graysexual (i think? idk man i just work here.)

- im boyflux but also im just a creechur

- I MADE A JAIL ACCOUNT SO IF IM JAILED I MIGHT BE OVER THERE ‼️ @soup-has-been-imprisoned-noooooo

- I post about the magnus archives/protocol and my chem frequently, though I also just reblog a ton of random shit. may be nsfw but never anything explicit. Also I forget to tag for spoilers a lot so just know that there are magpod spoilers in general on my blog.

- Music artists I like: Cavetown, MCR, Mother Mother, Lemon Demon, Will Wood, Dazey and the Scouts, FOB, Nova Twins, p!atd, Noahfinnce, qbomb, Gum Disease, Sparkbird, Mischief Brew, Poppy, Be Your Own Pet, Pierce the Veil, Chloe moriondo, Faetooth, IDKHOW, the mechs, rabbitology, madalyn mei, scene queen, MARINA, she/her/hers, femtanyl, leathermouth, baby queen, pansy division, the spook school, specimen, egg, the crane wives, and of monsters and men

- Shows/Podcasts/Other Media that I like! DANGER DAYSS, Malevolent, The Magnus Archives, Stranger Things, Welcome to Nightvale (though I haven’t finished it yet), the Osemanverse, Nimona, Adventure Time, Gravity Falls, ATLA, LOK, It, Hilda, Camp Here and There, Radio Rental, warrior cats,,,, there’s probably more but my memory is shit

- my blog is super messy so all of my art is under the tag #scribbles draws a thing and my original text posts (not the short personal ones typically, just the one i actually want people to see) are under #scribbles says shit.

- my body hates me very much (probably fibromyalgia but like doctors suck so undiagnosed)

- surprise, my brain also hates me very much! And yes also undiagnosed!

- tone tags are appreciated <3

boundaries n stuff:

- not ok with sexual or romantic comments

- platonic flirting is ok if we’re moots

- sex averse, feelings on romance fluctuate a lot but usually indifferent

continued:

- my feeling are really fucking wonky so 80% of the time i dont/barely feel emotions. please be patient and if i sound like i dont mean what im saying, i promise you that i do. but since i know how i would feel if i could, but i still cant feel anything, im trying my best to react accordingly so it may seem like its not genuine but it is. like. imagine youre writing. youre writing your characters reactions to everything, despite not actually being able to feel it. but since you know your character, you can judge hiw they feel in the situation you make them react accordingly even though you arent actually experiencing it yourself. now replace the character with you, thats kinda how i feel. sorry i know that probably didnt make sense but trying my best here lol

- i have a tmagp fic i just starting writing! If you wanna know more, posts related to that are under #electric desires have unraveled all my wires :(

- I have 4 cats and a dog, also a gecko

- i have a queerplatonic partner!! hes awesome and swaggy and writes so much. so. much writing. wow. not saying wow in a bad way im just genuinely impressed. chou if ur reading this i love you <3

- i also have a lovely best friend named zero whos super fun and cool and pathetic /vpos. my favorite excitable soggy cardboard box ilysm <3

- coyotekin therian !!

- My favorite colors are purple, cyan, neon green, and red

- I love interacting with mutuals and getting asks! plspls send me random shit in asks im begging

- I’m creating an animated series called Catlantis (still in progress)

- I have a love hate relationship with writing but i do it anyways so oh well

- Frogs.

other tags i use a lot are:

#soup poorly draws gay people out of obligation; my series of promised dyhard drawings.

#soup gets pathetic abouut friendship; me when im a sappy bitch about my friends or partner

#objectives list; save file for when i say im gonna do something so i dont forget about it

#catlantis save; hoarding info for catlantis

#insomnia induced rambles; i cant sleep and im making it your problem

#our lady of sorrows; not the song, my mcr inspired goddess i made up for my dnd character to worship

#scribbles asks; asks

#info save; good to know

#scribbles liveblogging tmagp; exactly what it sounds like

#art save; resources for doing art

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