#did you guys know asks you send are akin to keys for my brain

[todayisafridaynight]

can i remind you guys of my Masumi Is Daigo’s Upteenth Father propaganda because i think they could pretty girls together <- this sounds insane but i swear this makes sense read my tags boy

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[commander-yinello]

Guardian (Jumin x Zen)

Happy Birthday @maniart1o9​!!! For you, I wrote some JuminZen with one of your favorite themes (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ I hope you will enjoy it! Read more under the cut ♥♥ ~_^

Word Count: 1945 Warnings: Mild swearing, smoking, references to a car accident

Jumin knows he’s seen him.

Even upside down, with the airbag so closely pressed to his chest that he couldn’t move, his vision spinning, and the overwhelming scent of gasoline making him dizzy, he sees Zen outside the front window. And he’s glowing, so bright his eyes water. Then, as someone pulls him out of the car, he’s gone.

That’s not possible, assistant Kang insists next to the hospital bed he’s sitting in, both waiting for the doctor to come back. Zen was nowhere near C&R International, and she only just warned the RFA 5 seconds ago of the crash. He could not have possibly arrived here that fast.

Ah. The crash. The car crash. The one Jumin was in because Driver Kim had his day off, and Jumin saw no issue driving to the client himself. The one where Jumin had to swerve to dodge another car cutting off his lane, and caused his own car to topple over and crash against a tree.

She’s right, Jumin thinks, there’s no way Zen could have been at the crash. Most likely stress from the crash, a concussion, his panicked imagination going in overdrive.

Yet, not a minute later, the doctor tells him he doesn’t even have a bruise. As if he never was in a car accident. That should not be possible, the doctor says, and assistant Kang is equally confused. Jumin however, is not.

He is certain now, he’s seen Zen.

And he has a suspicion why.

~~~~

Jumin Han:

Do you sometimes find yourself in places you weren’t before when you travel?

ZEN: Dude it’s 1 AM why are you messaging me

Also wtf are you going on about

Are you high???

Jumin Han: You still replied.

ZEN: Go to sleep and leave me alone, asshole

~~~~

He’s always wondered what was up about Zen. He knows about albinos, they often took great care of themselves when going outside, and sometimes had other health issues. Not Zen, who is so handsome, not that Jumin would admit it out loud. Who is so fit, he jogged daily. Who has no problem taking selfies in broad daylight with no sunscreen or sunglasses in sight. It had been only after Jumin made the last comment, a year ago, that Zen suddenly mentioned jogging at night, or an extensive skincare routine.

Back then, he stopped caring very quickly. It wasn’t any of his business, of course, what the narcissistic man did.

Now he cares again. He remembers how Zen had gotten into an accident, and V told him in full detail how Zen had healed insanely fast.

A handsome albino with super fast healing skills. How very strange, he tells Elizabeth, and she meows in agreement. He pets her while leaning an elbow on his mahogany desk, laptop showing a website of occult creatures.

Maybe he is a vampire. The ones in that one teenage movie sparkle. Which is not a glow, his brain reminds him. Plus the whole sun thing would still be an issue.

He entertains the sexy albino vampire idea a bit too long, before he realizes and cuts his thoughts off on purpose.

Maybe he is too paranoid. Maybe Zen is human. Zen’s allergy for cats seems real, at least. Even though Zen is an actor, Jumin thinks, he hides his emotions poorly.

And then Zen mentions that, sometimes, he has prophetic dreams.

Strange. Very, very strange.

Too many things don't add up for Zen to be human. And Jumin wants to know who he truly is - very much so.

~~~~

Jumin Han: Do you often glow?

ZEN: Of course I do, my beauty is radiant Blessed by the Gods themselves

Jumin Han: Gods. Interesting. Tell me all about them.

ZEN: What? What do you mean? You’re creeping me out Also why are you messaging me again what the hell

Jumin Han: You always reply to me.

ZEN: No I don’t, stupid jerk

Jumin Han: And yet you did it again.

ZEN: Argh! I can’t with you! Screw you!

~~~~ 

Zen is calling him a weirdo in the chat again. Jerk. Freak. The words have never mattered to him, but now Jumin wonders if it’s a smokescreen. He’s paid very close attention to all of the chatrooms with Zen in it, to the point it felt like stalking. It’s interesting how often Zen brings him up as a topic, even when it’s completely unnecessary.

He starts to understand why Luciel thinks Zen is obsessed with him. Perhaps because there is more than Zen shows.

But Zen denies everything he asks. He denies whatever screenshots Jumin sends him. He insults and denies and rants, and Jumin doesn't get any closer to the truth. At some point, Zen mentions that his behavior is akin to his older brother, but it comes over as an excuse to make Jumin shut up.

To the outside world, it seems that Zen truly despises him. Jumin is just not convinced.

There’s only a few things Jumin knows for sure. Zen was there when he crashed. And it had to be connected to the fact that Jumin came out of the crash completely unharmed. That’s it.

It drives him mad that he is denied more knowledge.

So he makes a decision. He tells assistant Kang to watch over Elizabeth. Heads down to the garage. Opens the car door. Takes a deep breath and wonders if he’s gone insane.

He gets behind the wheel again.

~~~~ Yoosung☆: Hi Zen!!

Jaehee Kang: Hello Zen, good to see you!

ZEN: Hey guys Where’s Jerkmin?

707: Lololol why do you ask~ Could it be.... You miss him??! (~˘▾˘)~

ZEN: What?! Of course not Why would you say that I’m glad he’s not around to spoil the mood! I just find it suspicious he’s not here

Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han said he had something important to do Now I have c-fur on my suit again T_T

Yoosung☆: Poor Jaehee, hopefully you’ll be free soon - Zen has left the chatroom -

Yoosung☆: Ehhhh????

707: Zen suddenly leaving? Now that’s suspicious ರ_ರ

Jaehee Kang: I hope nothing happened to him. ~~~~

Jumin never crashes. The moment he turns on the engine, Zen is there, in front of the car lights, scaring the hell out of him. In a split second, the lamps in the garage flicker, and Jumin swears he sees a faint glowing outline of feathers behind Zen. 

Zen is wearing his trademark turtleneck and holds a cigarette in his hand. He takes a drag and blows out the smoke, looking bored, as if he had been waiting.

“You're such a jerk, you know that?” Zen’s voice echoes in the large garage. They are alone. He hears nothing in the background, as if time stands still.

Jumin is too stunned to reply. Zen sighs, and walks to the side of the car, opens the door and takes his place in the passenger seat. He grabs the key from Jumin’s fingers and turns the engine off. The smell of tobacco and cologne fill Jumin’s nose, yet he doesn’t find the will to tell Zen not to smoke in his car.

“If me sitting here will stop you from killing yourself, then so be it,” Zen says, and takes another drag after closing the door.

Jumin realizes his hands still grip the wheel, and he slowly lowers them to his lap.

“What… what are you?” he asks.

“I can’t answer that. You already know way too much because I fucked up. Don't worry, nothing will happen to you,” Zen replies, and the smoke surrounding him makes him look more human.

“And to you?”

Zen looks out the open window instead. “It’s fine,” he finally replies.

That isn’t what he wants to hear. But if nothing would happen to him, then possibly Zen’s punishment wouldn’t be too severe.

Zen’s words do confirm other things - there is some higher power at work keeping Zen in check. And Zen did protect him, he’s sure of it now, from dying. So much so that Zen is in trouble for it.

“You protected me… too much. I should have had some damage,” Jumin says, inadvertently licking his lips. He’s nervous, because the bratty vain actor had been the one standing between life and death for him.

Zen runs a hand through his hair. Maybe Jumin is projecting, but he feels Zen is nervous too.

"I know that, trust fund. I just… couldn’t deal with… that." Zen waves his cigarette-free hand at the air in front of them, trying to stay as cryptic as possible.

He cares too much, Jumin instantly realizes. He watches Zen cross his legs - a defensive stance, Jumin notes - and wonders how much Zen has said in the chatroom is real.

“For someone like you, you aren’t exactly good at keeping it a secret.”

Zen chuckles. “You’d be surprised how much people accept. In fact, the stranger you seem, the less likely they suspect.”

Jumin hates to admit that it made sense. “Are you always fighting me because you have to distance yourself from me on purpose?”

“I can't answer that.”

Can't or shouldn't? Either way, Jumin is content with the answer. Yet, he can’t stop asking questions.

“Does everyone have… someone like you?”

“Not me specifically.”

Jumin makes a mental note to check all sun-loving albinos in the country. “Do you know who else is like you?”

Zen shook his head. “I know there are others. No idea who.”

“Sounds… lonely.”

“...It is.”

Jumin knows all about loneliness. He imagines Elizabeth on his lap, and sees the photo of V, Rika and him on his desk, and hears his father’s voicemail on his phone. So many days he’s convinced only Elizabeth would be there to catch him, when he comes home tired from work and falls down the abyss in his mind. Awful, lonely thoughts.

He wants to ask more. Menial questions like is Zen truly allergic, or deeper ones asking about the forces unknown. Jumin decides that he doesn’t want to push it.

“So… what now?”

“You,” Zen points at Jumin’s chest, “Will stop trying to drive, you menace. I actually like it here, so don’t make it worse.”

Jumin grins. “You like it here? Even with me?”

“Yeah, I know, must suck being guarded by someone you hate.” Zen rolls his eyes.

“I never hated you.”

Zen whips his head towards Jumin, eyes wide. 

“Never. Not even when you tried your worst. And now, knowing it is you watching over me… It is a blessing. Thank you, Zen.”

He means it. There is a happy light feeling in his chest, knowing there’s a very logical reason for Zen to act so irrationally towards him. And he knows that he’ll have to act irrational back in order to keep up the facade, so Zen can stay.

He wants Zen to stay.

Zen blushes, and tries to hide it poorly by looking out of the window again. Jumin can’t help but find it endearing. “When you say things like that, people will think you’ve gone crazy.”

Jumin smirks. He doesn’t care what people think of him. Wasn’t there still that rumor of him floating around?

Zen flicks his cigarette stub away and sighs. “Well, I need to go. Take care.”

“Should I, when I have you?” Jumin sasses. It’s too close to flirting to be misconstrued otherwise.

“Wh- N- Whatever, just don’t drive!” he yells. His cheeks are redder, and Jumin notices before the car is filled with a bright light.

Once again, Zen is gone. A very typically Zen to do. Jumin smiles, and sits in the car for a while.

He still has no good excuse when Assistant Kang finally finds him there.

[random-mha-thoughts]

Creep part 2 (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Genre: Spice!

Sequel to Creep (part 1)

Summary: Your roommate forces you to a dorm hangout with her boyfriend where you get hit on by a creep, only to have Bakugou come along and help you with the situation.

Word count: 2,835

Tags:  @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: More spice than the first part ;)  This one took a different turn from the first part, so I hope you all like it!  The ending might be a little rushed because I’m really exhausted and I wanted to finish this before I pass out on my keyboard.

This part was inspired by a Tiktok that was going to be a completely different scenario, but it ended up fitting perfectly as a sequel, so I used it!

Also I hit 100 followers!?  In 2 weeks?!  What are y’all following me for, I’m trash!?  Nonetheless thank you for supporting my tiny blog out of the vast world of Tumblr, I really appreciate it.  100 followers may not seem like a lot for some of you, but I never expected this to happen and I’m so grateful for each of you 😘😘  Ok enough of the mushy stuff, onward to the sequel!

Maybe I was hit by cupid's arrow.  Or the devil's, considering the type of thoughts I'm having.

I'm not usually the kind of person who lusts over people or their appearances.  I'll at least acknowledge them as hot and then move on, but I don't dwell on them.  Until I went back to our shared dorm still wearing Bakugou's hoodie and started having flashbacks of our few moments together.  His scent coupled with the memory of his smirk and those intense crimson eyes left me with a lingering high.  We had left things unfinished, and that little nagging in the back of my head drove me to do something I wouldn't normally do.

And that was stalking him.  I ended up scrolling through Ochaco's following list for his profile, and finding it was akin to discovering a hidden treasure.  From the outline of his build in that long-sleeve shirt I last saw him in, I knew there was something there.  While his profile displayed mostly pictures of his friends hanging out, there were also clips of him training in the gym.  Only when I chose those to watch those and scrolled to the end of the set would I be gifted with a beautiful mirror selfie of him in a black tank top.  Even just standing there, hands in his pockets or arms crossed across his chest, the curve of his arms and veins straining underneath entice me.

But that wasn't what stands out to me the most.  It's actually his neck.  In the small amount of time I'd spoken to him, the moment that he removed his hood and exposed it to me is the image that replays the most.  The structure of his muscles and his collarbone melding together into a perfect sculpture of a man.  That's what mostly haunted me.  To think it's one of the more sensitive parts of him makes my heart pound a little harder.  In every picture, it was the first thing I looked for.

"You planning on taking that off anytime soon?"

I jolted when Ochaco's sly comment awoke me from my reverie.  "Yeah, I just needed to check something first," I tried to play it off before - reluctantly - ripping the hoodie off of me.

And now, the day after that, I have to give it back to him.  This morning, a rogue though flashed into my mind: instead of simply handing it to him, I could wear it to class and have him watch me peel it off my body.  Such a thought never occurred to me before, startling me for being brash.

I did wear it though. I told myself it was cold in the classroom and I would need it.

When I walked into the classroom, I didn't dare to glance at the back for him since my thoughts haven't been the purest and I think I might've choked if I didn't mentally prepare myself.  If he was nice enough, he would have respected that sign, but he wasn't.

As soon as I turned around from getting a pen from my bag, there he was leaning on my desk, earning an embarrassing squeal from me.

His head tilts against his arm.  "That's a lovely shade on you."

My breath stops for a millisecond.  Huh?

Bakugou twirls one of the strings on the hoodie around his finger.  "The black matches your nails."

Oh.  Duh.  "Yeah?  I might keep it then."  Just to make my point, I pull the hood up on my head.  "You're probably not getting this back."

"Hording my clothes now?"  He clicks his tongue, "Sounds like you're the creep now.  Or just a thief."

Haaa, you don't know the half of it.  From the position he's in, leaning down on the desk and resting his head on his arm, there's a very perfect view of his neck and collarbone right in front of my eyes from under his black shirt and denim jacket.  I try not to linger on it and force myself to concentrate on his face instead.  "I'll give it back after class, this room is always too cold for me."  But today it feels just a bit hotter.

We agree to get lunch and head to the library after class until the professor arrives and he returns to his seat, but not before sending a wink my way.  I clutch the neck of the hoodie, stunned as the gesture spirals be back to us almost kissing, before the fire alarm rudely interrupted everything.  For the rest of class, I'm more concerned with how to take off an oversized hoodie in a sexy way than any kind of modern British prose.

.

We decide on staying on one of the library floors where a moderate level of talking is allowed, taking over a small, private study room where the door is transparent and there's a rectangular glass window to see inside.  I'm partially thankful for the extra insurance keeping me from possibly jumping on him, but that doesn't keep me from staring and letting my mind run wild.

Bakugou chose the seat at the head of the table and I chose the seat adjacent to him.  "I can't get over how the old hag typed out an entire 7 page guideline on how to write this paper.  Does she expect us to write a dissertation or something?!"

I slurp my udon.  "She needs to chill.  I thought her sarcastic humor was funny the first week of class, but she's getting on my nerves now."

"Then why do you keep laughing at all her jokes?"

"Because I need to kiss up to her so she can at least remember me to give me a good grade for one."  I put a piece of chicken in my mouth.  "And also, I'm low key scared of her killing my first born child."

Bakugou almost chokes on his Mapo Tofu laughing at that, throwing his head back and slamming the table.  The image of me kissing his neck flashes through me and cuts my laugh short.  Calm yourself!  I clear my throat.  "Speaking of scary people, if I had met you at the party, I would've had a very different impression of you, since you were much more...aggressive there."

He has a confused expression before he looks down at his food.  "You mean how I was screaming playing that game?"

"Yeah."  I note how uncomfortable he looks on the subject.  "I guess people usually think that of you?"

"Something like that.  I was kind of a loudmouth in high school, I think I've gotten better."  He turns to me, twirling his chopsticks in his hand curiously.  "What was your first impression of me?"

I shrug.  "You're quiet, you have a brain in your head, and you like to sleep in class sometimes."

The blond snorts, "People don't usually associate me with 'quiet,' you'd be the first."

Should I be flattered by that? I wonder.

We finish our meals without another word.  I pull out my laptop and start looking through the guidelines for our paper again.  "I don't even know what book I want to write about, they're all so boring."

Bakugou shrugs, still peering into his laptop screen.  "I would just pick the one with a theme you can bullshit the most about."

"I guess," I slump down onto my arm.  I always liked reading growing up so I didn't think I would have a tough time in this class, but the professor really drains the energy out of me.

I feel a bit hot in his hoodie, perking up at the opportunity to pique his interest.  Maybe I can lift it up so my shirt underneath slides up and shows my stomach a little?  Would that be sexy?  How do I remove it casually enough in one swift movement without fucking it up?  Maybe he'll find any way I do it attractive, because hopefully that's how guys think.

I decide to just try it an see how it goes.  Lifting it with both hands from the bottom, I drag the hoodie up and almost get it over my head, feeling my shirt underneath lifting below it.  I try straightening my back to make my posture look a little more curvy than I probably already am.  The problem I face is getting it off my head, which immediately dampers my effortlessly-sexy act into an awkward one.  I have to slip my arms out from the sleeves and push it up from underneath, messing my hair up slightly in the process.

I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction in case he saw it.  There is none, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

Well, that was kind of a fail, I think, throwing the hoodie onto the space between us.  I'm just a bit disappointed that I can't channel my inner flirt around boys I like, but it's not the end of the world.

"Too bad, I thought you look pretty good in my hoodie," he spares me a smug grin.

I freeze up at the statement, heat rushing to my cheeks.  "I think so too," I murmur, "Maybe I should steal your jacket too."

He stops tapping on his keyboard and stares at me with an unfamiliar emotion.  I'm about to ask what he's thinking before he removes his jacket and hands it to me.  "I'd like to see that."

I almost think it's a joke, but I take it from him anyway, draping it around my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves.  I get the sense that it might be too big on me if I put it on.  A fresh bout of his scent comes with it, sending me into another spiral of unhealthy thoughts.

"I think the universe is trying to tell me something, because you look good in all my clothes," Bakugou leans back in the seat, looking down his nose at me.

The implication makes my heart flutter.  "Yeah, they're actually mine and you'd stolen them from me before.  Or you just have a really girlish figure."  Like hell I believe that, you were probably sculpted from stone by the gods.

"Pfft, whatever you say," he rolls his eyes and looks back his laptop, scanning over the notes he wrote down.  "So, this is the list of themes for each of the books we read for class, wanna hear it just in case it triggers something for you?"

My mind is still hung on the sculpted from the gods thought, so I absently nod  while staring at him to make him think I'm paying attention.  In reality, my thoughts wander to the pictures I'd seen of him a few nights ago, the gym mirror selfies in his tank tops.  His arms are definitely just a teaser for what he probably has underneath that shirt, and I'm betting on there being a washboard waiting for me to run my hands over, judging by the brief glance I had down his shirt earlier.

Unconsciously, my eyes trace down to his black button down.  It practically teases me, his top 2 buttons undone to expose all of his collarbone and the top of his defined chest.  I don't have to go by the low quality mirror posts on his profile or the fuzzy memories from the party, it's right there for me to see.  Flashes of me running my fingers over his neck as I nibble on his ear, rogue noises of his hypothetical sighs of bliss, my hands spreading his shirt open to allow for more space to kiss down his muscular neck.  Each new image quickens my heart rate and sends a new tremor down my body.

I'd love to just devour him.

"Hey!"

Both his voice and the rational one in my head snap me back to reality.  Did I really just-

Annoyance creases in his brow as I recompose myself and sit up straight.  "Sorry, I didn't catch the last thing," my voice comes out noticeably strained.

"What's wrong with you-"  Just like that, his face crosses with an awareness that only morphs into a smirk.  "I guess you're letting your mind wander."

My eyes widen.  Shit, he knows, I'm caught!  "No, I'm just-"

"We've only known each other for a day and you're already obsessed with me, aren't you?"  He leans forward, only to have me lean back, but he pulls the collar of his jacket on me to keep me in place.  "That might be a little unhealthy, don't you think?"

I'm staring at his descending lips, part of me holding a desire for them to quell the feeling I've locked up.

Bakugou hums low, breath caressing my face.  "I think we have some unfinished business from the other night.  You must've been thinking about that."  His gaze flickers down to my slightly agape lips before slamming his down on them.  Though it's not delicate by any means, it still feels like a tester.  Electricity shudders through me at our long-awaited reunion, and when he pulls away for a moment to look down at me with half-lidded eyes, I know he feels the same thing.

And something breaks free inside me.  I hurriedly press my lips back against his, catching him by surprise.  I take the lead, quickening the tempo of our kisses as one of my hands tangle in his soft hair, not giving either of us time to breathe.  Leaning forward into him, my stomach presses into the table corner between us, and I break away from him.  Allowing only a few pants, I jolt from my seat and round the corner to take the place of his lap and join our lips again forcibly, my knees on either side of him, pressing our bodies together against the back of the chair and swiveling into the table for stability.  He was caught off guard before, but he melts into me and allows his hands to grab my waist.

I trail my tongue onto his lower lip before tracing my lips across his jaw.  "You weren't expecting this, were you?"  I breathe against the shell of his ear, his natural musk filling my nostrils.

A low groan escape him.  "I didn't think you wanted me this much.  Must've driven you a little crazy somehow."

My hand tangled in his hair drags down his neck, my nails grazing it ever so slightly, eliciting another growl from him and his grip me tighter.  "I'll show you some of what I was just thinking about."  Starting at the base of his ear, I pepper more open-mouthed kisses down the same neck that's haunted me, sometimes tickling my tongue over the spots he  stiffens up at.

Once I reach the base of his neck, barely caressing that taunting collarbone, I move the opening in his shirt away to expose more of his chest to me, continuing up to where his shoulder and neck conjoin, remaining there to massage it with my lips and lightly graze my teeth on it.  "This little creeper wanted to taste this neck you love to flaunt."  I pull away and meet his wanton gaze.  "I wonder if I should mark it."

Calloused hands dig under my shirt as he catches his breath.  "Depends.  What kind of relationship do you want from me?"  He's holding himself back.

I never stopped to think about it.  He's a pretty great guy, we have pretty strong chemistry, and we bounce off each other really well, not to mention he's the only guy to have awakened such new feelings from me.  Looping my arms around his neck and joining our foreheads together, I mutter against his lips, "Let's go on a few dates maybe?"

He smirks and gives me another slow kiss before pulling away.  "Deal.  But let's take this slow.  I can very easily do something like this to you too, but then how will I get to know you?"

I sit back on his thighs.  "Fair point.  And, just an aside," my face gets warmer at my admittance, "I don't normally do this.  I'm usually more reserved, but you're different, I guess."

"I think you were just really thirsty for a real man," he winks, earning a shove in the chest from me.  "That was an impressive show though, I'll give you credit.  Maybe later, I can show you what goes on in my head.  Except, it's a lot more than just a few neck kisses."

I almost choke on that, my cheeks growing even hotter.

Bakugou's expression softens, the teasing disappearing.  "But before that, we can enjoy ourselves in calmer things.  Like dinner?  Or bowling?"

My chest swells with something lighter than desire.  "Sounds like a plan."

He plants a kiss on my nose.  "Okay, now get off before someone walks in on us.  It's a study room, not a make out room, creep."

I get off him and settle back into my seat.  "I think I prefer the term 'perv,' thank you very much."

[raichijin]

 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ ukiyo; the floating world.  chapter 2. 

━━━━━ 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓.

preface; took me exactly a week to write. possibly the most uneventful, but important in setting up the rest of the story. enjoy ! (also, my first writing post on this account ! awesome.)

word count; 1.6k .

pretty. a pretty boy; with eyes the color of almonds and hair the same shade of rich oaky brown as a morning cup of coffee.

his smile is sweet like creamer, & the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he closes them is cute, too.

a new relationship, perhaps?

you’re so in awe that when you notice his face fall and he’s pulling his hand away, you realize it’s been 15 seconds and you’ve been standing for approximately 30, just staring.

wow, that’s awkward.

“... are you okay?” he asks you again, slower this time.

“i — yeah! totally. i just— i guess i’m just lost?” you look around for anything that could trigger a memory, or even something that looks remotely familiar.

 there’s nothing. “yeah, that must be it...ʲᵘˢᵗ ˡᵒˢᵗ.” he tilts his head at you, then smiles a little thinner, with only his lips and no teeth before gesturing towards the classroom door, other hand digging into his pants pocket.

“then i can show you around!” he hastily offers, giving you his arm before you even know his name, and the scary possibility that the ‘you’ in this world might’ve had a more notable presence starts sounding like a reality when your name falls effortlessly from his bubblegum pink lips, a cutesy ‘chan’ accompanying it.

“ah, you know me?” 

& while his nose crinkles in a way that’s not cute nor pretty, his smile remains steadfast until he turns away. “well, who doesn’t? our school doesn’t get exchange students too often. especially not ones as handsome as yourself~.” there’s that lilt again. as if he’s trying to make you fall in love with his voice alone, and you might’ve (you are).

“oh! uh, thank you, but-” you both step into the hallway, and the image of a highschool is imprinting itself in your brain. the uniform, the students, teachers, each class room and their individual signs, the kanji that somehow makes sense, and the sudden realization that everything around you is being spoken in spitfire japanese.

you’re speaking it, too.

“i don’t think i know you. what’s your name?”

the cute guy blanches, and suddenly everything seems more interesting to him.

his fingernails, a sudden itch on his nose, and random (read: fawning) passerby.

“um — i’m oikawa! the captain of the volleyball team?” oikawa phrases it like a question, as if you know him; and if he was expecting that flexing that kind of achievement would give him some kind of leeway, he couldn’t be more mistaken.

but for politeness sake, you can pretend to be interested, especially if it means he’d divulge more information about the school.

‘seijoh’ was the name, right? you could probably search it up later. you pat your pockets for the outline of a cell phone, and then realize it might still be in your bag — 

fuck, you still haven’t responded. you need to get better with your reaction time.

“oh! that’s cool.” said in a way that does a decent enough job of feigning interest, because his lips quirk back up. “class ended, right? are you gonna go to practice right now?”

“well...” he pretends to ponder the question. “that’s the plan! we should get going, before iwa-chan gets mad at me.”

iwa-chan? 

we?

“i — i mean, i would, but i don’t wanna be a bother —” but he’s already taking your hand and pulling you down the hall and out a door, quickly explaining some things you see that catch your eye along the way. before you know it, he’s guiding you towards a different building entirely, where the entrance is crowded by … students? some boys, some girls, some not even wearing the school’s uniform.

and they’re definitely not in any volleyball uniforms, or in anything in relation to sports. so what could they possibly be here for?

a high pitched squeal very quickly answers your question.

“look! he’s here!” the gaggle of students nearly trample you with how fast they surround oikawa, too busy ogling the captain to pay you much mind. you would’ve gotten swept away in the commotion if not for oikawa’s tightened grip around your wrist.

he tries (and fails) to calm down the small crowd huddled around him, but it makes enough noise that it starts to attract the attention from the players inside the gym. some look jealous, unsurprised, and one, standing out amongst the rest. with his lips pulled back into a sneer, sweat dripping down the side of his face, and —

“SHITTYKAWA!” the noise outside quiets down to a few whispers and just as quickly the crowd came in, they clear out, as the nameless begins to approach.

he carries himself high and fast and even if he comes up to a little under oikawa height wise, whoever he is, he clearly has mr. volleyball captain at least bashful.

… didn’t he mention someone who’d get pissy if he was late to practice?

“is that —” 

“iwa-chaaaaaan!” oikawa waves his hands absently as a means to placate his friend's temper, and he lets go of you in the process, providing you an ample opportunity to slip back into school, but your feet feel stuck to the floor and you can’t bring yourself to look away from the scene unfolding. this iwa-chan talks to oikawa like he’s his mother. stern with sharp features and a look that could actually kill.

oikawa really fucked up, huh? well, he might’ve not even gotten told if you didn’t pop out of the damn closet though. but it’s too late to apologize, because oikawa’s pointing at you, says something about you being the reason he got held up, and iwa-chan is directing that hard stare at you.

you could melt. if oikawa was pretty, then iwa-chan was handsome. a new love interest perhaps? he seemed hot enough to be one. where oikawa’s smile felt accommodating, iwa-chan’s sneer morphing into an expression of indifference and then slight charm feels more real, and is, in turn, more endearing.

“and you’re the new student? you’re the reason why he’s late?” you nod sharply, and explain how you fell out of the closet… and how oikawa helped you up. he flicks oikawa’s forehead just then, and you laugh, worsened by the kicked puppy expression scribbled all over the captain’s face.

“you’re laughing at this? iwa-chan! cut it out — you’re already rubbing off on them!”

“trashykawa! what the hell were you trying to do with the transfer?” he tugs on his ear like a disappointed parent, but shoots you an apologetic smile.

“i’m sorry you had to deal with him.” oh, you beautiful human, you do not have to be sorry for anything — “i can take him from here — just tell me if this dumbass bothers you again.”

“i wasn’t bothering them i —” iwa-chan glares daggers into him and he concedes, letting himself get dragged into the gym building, his teammates laughing at him, and leaving you behind. they all trail inside before the gym doors close, and suddenly, this area feels pointless.

was this the end of the day? 

you go back into the school, backpack slung anxiously over your shoulder. how were you supposed to find the bedroom to save your game if you didn’t even know where your house was? did you miss a cutscene? did you do something wrong?

a distinct buzzing from your backpack halts your train of thought.

you dig through your pack to find your phone, a rectangular brick with a few stickers on it, opening to your fingerprint and showing you text message notifications from one ushiwaka-san.

the third named character you’ve met in a day. 

ushiwaka-san: have you reached home yet?

huh. is he your parent? guardian? you don’t know any kid who’d put their fathers name so informally.

you: uh, not quite, no 

you: how do i get back? i kind of like

you: forgot

you: my bad dad

ushiwaka-san is … typing !

ushiwaka-san: dad?

ushiwaka-san: what do you mean?

ushiwaka-san is … typing !

ushiwaka-san: whatever.

ushiwaka-san: give me a moment.

you cringe at how badly you misread that, but he eventually sends you the address and instructions on how to get to, where you hope is, home, and with a few pointers from some straggler students, you’re off.

the sun is kissing the hills by the time you’ve reached your destination. your legs are burning from the walk, and you feel like you could collapse on the doorstep if you didn’t know your bed was behind it, decidedly more comfortable than the concrete. 

you find some keys in the side pocket of your bag and unlock the door to the house. it looks pretty enough on the inside, but you’re too tired to appreciate the graphics. you just want to save the game and be done with this.

forty dollars for a walking simulator? no wonder your friend didn’t like it. you have to duck into a few rooms before one reminds you of the one they showed you when the game booted up originally. you flop on the bed before you get the sudden urge to look at your phone again.

a notes app has popped up.

you can write your discoveries after a scenario here. useful for remembering important things, like dates, likes and dislikes, etc.

you can access this when not in a scene, occasionally in-between or during class, or when you’re in your room for the night.

it feels like someones projecting their thoughts into your brain, and it kind of hurts, but you keep it in mind for the next time. you can’t even bother to get out of your uniform before it’s like your eyes are shutting themselves, no matter how much you try to force them back open.

the day is ending, and it’s time to save your progress.

you black out.

the void cradles you. a feeling akin to falling asleep yet wide awake, you settle here until the confirmation of a saved game rings vaguely through your head.

then, just as suddenly,

you’re up.

passing the baton to you kat! @letshaikyuu.

𝔱 𝔞 𝔤 𝔩 𝔦 𝔰 𝔱 ;  @kingkageyamathegreat, @sayakaaaaaa, @tobubekida-yo @chigigami, @sugacookiies, @macaronnv,��@cadekagi

[give-seconds]

I Loved you

Key: Thai is bolded. 

schafzucht is German for sheep

Warnings: Jeno thinks really lowly about himself, don’t know if this counts as a warning but there ya go! 

So I decided I should just make H̄ạwcı bolded (since it is Thai and I have gained  a brain by part 3) Enjoy!!

----Part III

“Y/n! Y/n’s friends! Dinner’s ready,” Jeno calls from the kitchen.

Something akin to fear grips your heart as his voice rings through your head. Again you’re brought back to the numerous times Jeno had complained whenever you tried to make him cook with you, the memories making this whole situation scream ‘something’s wrong’.

“Okay,” you whisper to yourself, hitting Ten’s thigh before standing up and turning off the TV. “Up up and away y/n’s friends.”

Ten sighs and follows behind you, Jisung trailing behind him “You know Jeno, we have names. I am Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul and this is… Jisung, what's your family name?”

“Ah, that’s a long name. Mine is just Park.” 

“I am Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul and this is Just Park Jisung,”

Jeno sets the pan on the table and smirks at Ten “Well Mr. long name, you and Just Park are both friends of Y/n aren’t you? Because if not, I’ll have to kindly ask you to leave.”

You shake your head and sit down at the table, pulling out the chair next to you “Come here Jisung, sit next to me.”

Ten pouts and dramatically sits in the seat across from Jisung “You aren’t any fun y/n, they were just about to fight.” 

You snort and unfold the napkin in front of you before placing it on your lap “I would pay to see Park Jisung fight a person.”

“Should I be offended there’s no ‘Lee Jeno wouldn't hurt a fly’ comment?” Jeno asks leaning over to the pan, reaching his hand out for your plate

You tilt your head as if thinking and hand him the plate “I’ve only met this Jeno guy a few times, but he seems pretty spooky.”

“Spooky?” Jeno repeats laughing, almost spilling some of the food on your plate as he hands it back. That earns him a dramatic gasp from you.

“I mean yeah.” You grab Jisung’s plate and hand it to Jeno “wouldn’t you be scared if someone named Jeno came after you?”

“Noona that’s nameist.” 

Ten’s cackling laughter is all you hear as you dramatically hold your hand over your heart “Park Jisung, my own child, how could you do this to your dear noona?”

Jisung rolls his eyes “First of all stop being so dramatic, it’s not that big a deal-”

Ten’s cackling stops as he starts to choke on oxygen, effectively cutting Jisung off and grabbing all the attention.

You point a finger at him and laugh “Karma's a-”

“Y/n l/n there is a child.”

“You guys called me un-fun without knowing you were in the presence of Jenojaem himself.”

Jeno groans as he sits down “We should let that nickname die.”

“And let the god that is Lee Donghyuck be forgotten? Never gonna happen,” you say leaning back into your seat.

“And since y/n isn’t smart enough to word it correctly, I should probably mention that Hyuck isn’t dead. He’s visiting his in-laws in Canada,” Jeno glares at you in a playful manner before picking up his chopsticks “but enough fighting, let’s eat!”

“I wouldn’t classify that as fighting, more of Ten forgetting how to breathe while he overreacted to a comment. I was simply defending myself,” you say shrugging, any trace of anxiety disappearing with the family-like environment.

Ten drops his chopsticks onto his plate and stares at you “All I did was breathe.”

“Not sure ya did Tenny.”

~~

“Knock knock.”

You smile and pull the rest of the sweater over your head “You do know saying knock defeats the purpose of knocking right?”

You open the door and Ten just shrugs “You never know, you could have gone deaf.”

“Are you dumb? Both involve hearing.”

Ten opens his mouth, pauses, and responds with “I’m sorry I don’t understand English.”

You sigh “Look if we’re going to play the ‘I don’t want to admit y/n is right so I’m just going to speak Thai’ game then I’m dipping man.”

Ten laughs and waves his hands to stop you from leaving “Okay okay I’ll let you in on my reason for coming. Jisung wants to take me down to his dance studio, is that okay?”

You glance behind you to glance at the clock “It’s 7:16, isn’t that too late? I don’t really remember how far away the studio is and I don’t want you guys to get into trouble.”

Ten smiles softly and pulls out his phone “Look, it’s only a seven minute walk. I promise that we’ll be back at ten if not before. And in case you forgot, I am your age. So I am very much able to care for him.”

You bite your nail bed and search his face for any sign that you shouldn’t let them go. You don’t know what it is, but something about the city at night scares you. Granted that isn’t a strange fear to have, you always worry about your friends walking around at night. “And you promise to keep him safe?”

He smiles “Make up your mind H̄ạwcı, first you forget that you speak Korean and now you forget that you’re talking in English.”

“Ten,” you whine glaring at him.

He smiles innocently and you sigh, “Promise me you’ll look after him?”  

He grabs your hand and shakes it enthusiastically “I swear on your life H̄ạwcı that I will keep Park Jisung safe.”

Laughing you yank your hand away “Why are you swearing on my life? Shouldn’t it be your mom’s life?”

“But I actually like her.”

You gasp and raise your hand to hit the side of his head “How dare you Chittaphon.”

“Noona,” Jisung whines from the end of the hallway “can you please wait to kill him till we get back? I want to go soon so we can get a decent amount of practice in today.”

You lower your hand and start walking towards him “Jisung you promise to listen to Ten? I know I joke about him but I don’t like the idea of you two walking around this late at night.”

“Noona-”

“And I know,” you interrupt walking past him towards the door, Ten and Jisung following behind you “I probably sound insane preaching about not walking around at night, but it’s a thing I have. So just listen to your hyung okay?”

“What I was going to say before you so rudely interrupted me was that Ten-hyung already explained that you don’t like it when people walk around at night. So I already know that we will go straight there and straight back, I was also the one to suggest we come back at 10,” Jisung explains, smiling proudly down at you.

“Aw Park Jisung,” you gush as you rub his shoulders with your hands “I raised you so well.”

“Does that mean we can go?” Jisung quietly asks.

“Yeah, I mean you both know how weird I am so you’ll both be careful.”

“Awesome, let’s go hyung! Bye Noona,” Jisung said slipping out the door, dance shoes in hand.

“Bye H̄ạwcı, call me if you need me to get anything or you want anything. Okay?”

“Stop stalling, you two have fun. Be safe and don’t talk to strangers, I have no idea if this will help but Ten pretend you don’t speak Korean. Jisung don’t talk no matter what,” you ramble as you walk them out the door.

“Noona, we’ll be okay! I’m big and strong, and Ten-Hyung  is… small and angry.”

You and Jisung laugh at Ten as he feigns a shocked expression and stomps down the hall.

“Don’t worry Noona, I’ll make sure he’s safe,” Jisung says as he starts walking after Ten who has already disappeared down the corner.

You nod your head and turn back into the flat before you can say anything else.

“Y/n, come help me with the dishes. I can sense your worry from here,” Jeno yells over the sound of running water.

“Jeno, you know the dish soap makes my hands itch,” you whine as you walk into the kitchen.

“I know you big baby, that’s why I am placing you on drying duty.”

An ‘ah’ escapes your lips as you walk over to the side of the sink with wet dishes ready to be dried.

Everything is silent between you two as you both work on your respective duties, but Jeno’s mind is screaming. This is the perfect opportunity to tell you everything he has been thinking, but his body is telling him it’s too scary. The fear is paralyzing and he is starting to regret inviting you over to help him.

“Hey Jeno?”

“Yeah?”

You pause for a second, deciding if this was actually something to mention.

“Why’d you make dinner? You hate cooking.”

He freezes, what the hell do I say to that? That it’s a goodbye meal because I know you’re going to drop me as soon as I tell you what’s wrong?

You chuckle softly and walk behind him to the sink and turn off the facet “If you’re done, turn off the water silly. You know I hate that.”

He blinks as your voice registers in his head “Yeah, sorry.”

You walk back to your drying station “So, the dinner?”

He turns to face you, looking anywhere but at you “Um it was because I wanted to do something special.”

“Special? Special for what?”

He can feel the anxiety bubble in him, how can people in the movies do this? How are playboys a thing?

“Um that’s something I have been meaning to talk to you about. Do you want to sit down?”

You shake your head, the fear and anxiousness trickling back “I’m not feeling that well, so I’d prefer to stand if that’s okay.”

“Yeah of course it is,” he pauses, he has no idea what or how he wants to say. He just knows that he has to say something so this can all end and everyone can start over.

“I have no idea how to say this to you, I have never done this sort of thing before. And I’ve only said it out loud to one other person, so this is all new to me. And I’m sorry if I am rambling, I’ve never been this scared before,” he pauses again, trying to think where he should start explaining.

“Please don’t be afraid. I won’t judge you for anything as long as you’re telling me the truth, that’s all I want from you Jeno.”

He glances at you, one look sending his eyes back to the floor. You’re looking at him with such worry again, worry that he doesn't deserve in the slightest.

“Like I said I have no idea how to say this, so please forgive me for sounding like an idiot. But I guess it all started about two or three weeks ago? Well, way before then but I noticed it about then anyways,” Jeno feels the tears prickle at his eyes and he reaches up a hand to drag his bangs over his face. He’s not ready for the disgusted look he’ll get from you, the look of someone who has been sleeping next to a gay man.

“And I think,” his voice cracks and he quickly wipes his face “I think I’ve made a horrible mistake.”

Your fear starts to double when you hear his words “The cheating kind of mistake?”

For a second his head whips up to you and he frantically shakes his head “No, not exactly.”

“Exactly?” Oh god, he did cheat on me.

He lowers his head again and responds quietly “I don’t... I can’t love you anymore.”

Your heart stops and you stare at him. Leaning on the counter for support, you feel your throat start to burn. “Um, what what do you mean?”

He wipes his face again, finally looking up at you “I am not able to look at you as more than a friend y/n, I’m” tears start running down his face “I’m gay.”

Your own tears have started to pour, here is the man you love and were going to marry telling you he doesn’t love you “How- how long have you known?”

“Only for a few weeks, I swear to you I didn’t know when we started dating. I promise I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” you whisper.

“I am so so sorry y/n I really am, I didn’t know until Jaemin came back.”

And then the room goes silent. Jeno stares wide-eyed at the floor as he realizes what he just said and you feel yourself break. You cover your mouth and sink to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest. You were just the closest thing he had to Jaemin, he never loved you for you.

Jeno sits on the floor with you, heart pounding in his chest. How could he have been so stupid as to say that? If there was any chance of you forgiving him after this, he had just lost it.

After a minute of silence, Jeno whispers “I am so sorry, I never meant to say that.”

You lean your head against the cabinets “So you were just going to leave the fact that you only stayed with me because you were too afraid to ask out my brother?”

He flinches at the words, he knows they’re true but it was deafening to hear “I really am sorry, I guess this is just my hamartia.”

Wiping your tears with your hand you send him a pointed look “Jeno I know I speak Korean pretty well, but I have never heard that word in my life.”

“Sorry,” he whispers, eyes never leaving the floor. He’s silent for a minute, brain working to come up with an understandable definition “It’s a tragic flaw belonging to a hero. This is just my tragic flaw.”

“You being gay isn’t your flaw. That isn’t the issue here. The issue is that you knew for weeks and you didn’t tell me. The issue is,” you close your eyes as your breathing becomes faster, your mind becoming fogger “um the issue is that you chose me because you couldn’t have Jaemin.”

“I know I know and I’m so sorry,” he bows his head, squeezing his eyes shut. He can hear your breathing become irregular and wants nothing more than to comfort you.

“Listen I get that this isn’t your fault, you didn’t pick who you like. I’m not mad that you’re gay, I’m really not. I’m mad that you led me on.”

“It was never my intention-“

“I don’t care what your intention was, you still did it. And I can only imagine how hard this was for you to admit, but this is earth shattering to me. I just found out the man I love doesn't love me back, he loves my brother more than he’ll ever love me,” you press your back against the cabinet and push yourself up.

You see Jeno scramble to his feet, his eyes still trained to the floor. You focus on trying to keep your breath stable as you whisper “I’m going to YangYangs.”

Jeno quickly looks up at you “I can go, this is your place I shouldn’t stay here.”

“No offense Je, but I don’t really want to sleep in our room,” and before he can say anything else, you walk to your room to pack an overnight bag. You feel the tears stream down your face as you try to focus on the task, mind becoming mushy.

As you’re adding the last item, you freeze. You put your hands on either side of the bag and crouch down into a squatting position. And then, you just cry.

For a minute, you just sit there and cry. If he respected you at any point he would have told you sooner. How could he do this to you? How could he lead you on for two weeks while he knew? You take shallow breaths as your mind replays the conversation in your head, magnifying the part where he only loved you because of your brother.

You grab your phone and turn to rest your back against the foot of the bed. Taking a deep breath, a last ditch effort for normality, you press the call button.

“Sup Y/n.”

“Hey Yang.”

“Are you crying?”

“Uh yeah” you bite your lip “I’m not doing so hot. Can you please come get me?”

“Yeah, want me to get Jaemin? He’s on the way there.”

Your heart hurts at the name, before breaking at the fact that thinking about him hurts. “Please don’t, I’ll explain everything to you once we’re back to your place.”

You hear the door open and close on his end “Okay I’m on my way, do you want to spend the night?”

“If that’s, if that’s okay,” you lightly hit your head against the bed, eyes stinging behind your eyelids. You can feel yourself losing composure and that scares you almost more than anything. Because that means you’re getting more anxious, which means more tears, which will make you seem weak.

“Of course, I’ll send a quick text to Yuta-Hyung and he’ll go spend the night at his girlfriends. Then Ten can spend the night too if he wants.”

You bite at your nail, heart rate increasing as you remember Jisung, “Yang I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell you, I have a foster kid now. And that means he has to come with too. I’m so sorry to spring this on you, I know I’m already asking for a lot.”

He chuckles “You’re okay kid, I’m excited to meet him. I hope he can keep up with this family, because he’s gonna be in for a lot if he can’t.”

“Yeah he’ll be fine, he’s like the worst mix of you and…  yeah the worst mix of you” you mute your end of the phone as you let out a sob. Never could you have thought the name Jaemin, a name that normally makes you excited, would hurt so much.

His booming laugh breaks your thoughts “Then I’m definitely gonna love him. We can plot against you.”

You unmute the phone to force a soft laugh “You can count Ten in on that too I’m sure.”

He hums in agreement before softening his tone “I’m about 3 minuets away, so I’ll be there soon. Do you want me to stay on the phone or what?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair, finally opening your eyes “Just knock when you get here and we can go. I have to pack a bag for Jisung and Ten.”

“Okay, don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else. I know how you feel about crying but it really isn’t weak, you’re one of the strongest people I have ever met.”

“I will, thank you. Bye bye” you say hanging up to get him to stop talking. You appreciate his words, you truly do, but they are just too much right now.

You stand up, still struggling to breathe, and leave the room to go pack a bag for the two boys. You busy your mind with digging around in Ten’s closet for some comfy looking clothes.

When was the last time this happened? I can’t even remember, I thought I was over this. I’m so pathetic.

You scoff and wipe away the fresh tears leaking from your eyes. Now isn’t the time to feel sorry for yourself, you can’t let Jeno see what he’s done to you. You finish packing Ten’s bag and glance at the clothes you had folded earlier for Jisung, the ones belonging to Jeno. You look down at the folded clothes, tears creating little dark circles on the shirt. You don’t want to cry anymore, so you grab the clothes, throw them across the room, and you scream.

~

Jeno flinches as your scream hits his ears. He had expected you to scream, cry, maybe even call him disgusting. He hadn’t, however, expected you to want to leave. All the breath leaves his body and his ears ring. He takes quick, shallow breaths to try and refill his lungs.

You’re going to leave him, you’re going to walk past him and straight out the door. And then he’ll be all alone. He won’t have someone to come home to, he won’t have someone to wake up to, and he definitely won’t have someone who loves him. He knew this was coming, but reality always hits harder. He hasn’t moved from the kitchen, regret freezing him to the spot. Why did he have to be this way? Why couldn’t he love you like you loved him?

He laughs bitterly, loved. You loved him, past tense, meaning there wasn’t any more love in your heart for him. Tears stream down his face and he tips his head to look at the ceiling. If this was such a good idea, why are we both crying? I should have lied, told her something else. God, why did I drag Jaemin into this? He is my best friend and I repay him by hurting him and his sister.

“Lee Jeno,” he whispers, voice full of distaste “you always ruin everything.”

A knock at the door draws his attention away from himself. He shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts enough to decide if he should just ignore it. Before he can completely clear his thoughts, he hears the door to the guest room opening. His blood runs cold and his vision hones in on his ex-fiancée.

You stop in your tracks as you make eye contact with him, you notice his red eyes and think you probably look just about the same. As you close the door behind you, you can’t help but think how much has changed in the last 30 or minutes. Thirty minutes ago, the sight in front of you would have caused you to rush to his side, wipe his tears, and ask him what was wrong. But now, you can’t help but feel too exhausted to care.

So you draw in a shaky breath and start the walk towards the front door. This house used to be your everything. You can name at least five things in this kitchen alone that has given you a bruise, and with each bruise you can hear Jenos laugh echoing through the memories.

You feel Jeno’s eyes on you as you approach the door, and just as you reach out your hand to turn the knob you hear him whisper three words.

“I’m so sorry.”

As you push the door open, you can’t help but wish those three words had been different. You wish they were words you knew you were never going to hear from him again.

YangYang greets you with a smile and you take a deep breath, ready to depart into the dark city.

~

YangYang grabs one of the bags from your hand and links his free hand with your newly freed one.

“So I’m thinking we start a movie binge.”

You sigh “I don’t know Yang, I’m not feeling too well.”

He swings his bag dramatically “I’ll order some crappy Chinese food too, it’ll be great.”

You smile slightly at his childlike behavior “You’re not even listening to me are you?”

“Mulan or Aladdin?”

You freeze in your tracks, pulling YangYang back slightly “I have to call Ten and Jisung, and I have to send them your address. What am I going to tell them? I haven’t even told you why I left.”

He gently pulls you back into a walking pace, smiling softly “It’ll be okay. Once we get back to my place, we can talk. And then if you want I can be the one to send the text to Ten. I have his number, this way we can test his Mandarin reading skills.”

You close your eyes to keep the tears from falling. You had managed to calm down slightly by the time YangYang had arrived, and you were hoping to keep your composure in public. You’ve always hated crying in front of people, it made you feel weak. Especially when you were asked by school nurses if you were on your period, or your mom on the drive home telling you it’s hormones.

“Yuta-Hyung might still be there when we get back, but he said he’ll try and be out soon,” YangYang says quietly.

“If it’s too much trouble he doesn't have to go, it’s his house over mine.”

YangYang nods his head, eyes never leaving the street in front of him “But he understands. When he first came from Japan, he used to cry a lot. And when he got like that one of the things that made him feel better was when I dragged him to spend hours in the Japanese market. And I know that whatever is up with you isn’t the same, but he understands being sad and wanting someone. Plus he’s just a nice guy all around.”

You nod your head, you start to recognize your surroundings. You’re almost to YangYangs, you’re almost safe.

“Remind me to thank him later, I’ll try my hand at Japanese food.”

“It’d be a bigger thanks if you just didn’t cook at all.”

You gasp and try to pull your hand away to hit him, but he only holds your hand tighter. With your hand being held captive, you decide to settle for mumbling a “You never complain when I cook.”

“Yes, well you make good English food and decent Korean food,” he releases your hand to pull the door to the flat building and hold it open for you. “But you ain’t Japanese.”

You scoff and walk past him towards the elevator “Just because I am not a Japanese person doesn’t mean I can’t make Japanese food.”

The elevator dings open and you both walk in, YangYang pressing the 3rd floor button “Yeah, but it also doesn’t mean you can make it well.”

“You wound me.”

The rest of the walk to his flat was silent. You appreciate the banter, you knew it was to make you feel better. But it is hard to keep up when all you want to do is to shrink into yourself and cry.

As soon as you walk into the flat, you feel any sense of self-composure you had slipping away. You set your bags down in the hallway leading to the bed rooms so you can grab them when you walk back.

YangYang sits at the living room couch, patting the spot next to him “How do you want to do this, kid?”

You sigh and run a hand through your hair. You’re utterly exhausted and want nothing more than to just find a bed to sleep in forever. “Can I just steal this blanket, steal your arm, and talk at you?”

“Come here my child,” he picks up the blanket for you to get under. You smile slightly and let him wrap the blanket around your shoulders before you scoot under his arm.

“So I don’t even know how to start this, you know I hate crying and everything about this makes me want to cry.”

“It’s okay, just say what you want and I’ll follow along.”

You nod your head but have no idea where to even start. How do you tell someone that your fiancé doesn’t love you anymore because they’re gay?

“Jeno texted me while I was at work today saying that he had something he wanted to talk about, that it was about what happened when he left the café early. He even offered to cook, which Jeno hates doing. So I knew something was wrong, I had this feeling in my gut. And then Ten and Jisung left to go dance, so it was just me and him doing the dishes. And at first I thought he was cheating on me,” your voice breaks and you can feel your eyes start to sting. You pull the blanket closer around you, YangYang rubbing your shoulder to encourage you to keep going.

“He told me he wasn’t cheating on me, but that he is,” you feel your breaths get shallower again, the tears streaming down your face. You push yourself further into YangYang in hope that you’ll feel less alone. “He said that he’s gay.”

YangYang sucks in a breath as he tightens his grip on you. He is completely and utterly speechless.

You cry into his side, voice cracking as you try to justify yourself “And I just don’t know how to feel. I love him so so much, and he is able to look me in the face and tell me that he can’t love me like he wants to. He said,” your body shakes as you let out a sob “he basically said he only stayed with me because I reminded him of Jaemin.”

You want to continue, but you can’t breathe. Tears are pouring faster from your eyes and you pull your knees to your chest. YangYang whispers comforting words to you, tears threatening to escape his own eyes. He has always thought of you as an older sister, you have always been so strong in his eyes. 

When he was first adopted, his lack of English skills made it hard for him to communicate with your family fully. And as he was still grieving from the loss of his grandmother, he tried to do everything in his power to remind your parents how much he didn’t want to be there. One day, after six months of this, your dad had had enough of his attitude and decided to tell him what he thought of it.

To say YangYang was afraid was an understatement. He had never seen someone that mad at him, let alone a 38 year old man yelling at him in a language he didn’t understand. And then you came in, shakely standing between him and your father. Words were exchanged, words he couldn’t follow because he was staring at you. The next thing he knows, you're pulling on his wrist and dragging him to his and Jaemins shared room.

“It’s okay schafzucht, it'll be okay. Just please try to be good, for you okay?”

As you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear he was able to see how your hands shook. But when he met your eyes, they were steady and looking at him like he was family. He had dumbly nodded his head, eyes following you as you gave him a tight lipped smile before slipping out the door.

That was the first time he had felt truly welcome. Your mother was very kind, she had made sure to smile at him and let him pick what they had for dinner every Thursday. She was also the one to sign him up with an English tutor, making sure to accompany him to the first few lessons until he felt comfortable going on his own. But it still felt like he was a temporary addition to the family, and he hated it. He thought if he acted out, your parents would send him back. He didn’t have a problem with you and Jaemin, he just missed his grandmother and the familitary of Germany.

So five minutes later when he set out to thank you and found you crying on your bedroom floor, head between your knees, he felt so guilty. He’d been frozen in the doorway, staring at you as you slowly raised your head. Your eyes were red and your cheeks were wet with un-wiped tears, you looked so small in that moment. He remembers feeling a sense of responsibility wash over him, you had cared for him so now he had to return the favor. He walked over to where you were sitting and sat in front of you spreading his legs on either side of you. He opened his arms and for a moment you just stared at each other. But with a fresh wave of tears, you scoot into his arms. He wraps his arms and legs around you, rocking you slowly while he sings a song his mom would sing to him when he was young.

“Can you text Ten? I don’t want him and Jisung going back to the flat. Tell him I have clothes for them,” you whisper. Your tears had stopped but you were still clinging to his side.

“Of course,” he leans forward, trying his best not to move you, and grabs his phone. He sends a text to Ten telling him that you were here and had bags for everyone.

Ten replies with an okay and to send them the address so they could start walking back.

After sending the address he puts his phone face down onto the cushion next to him “They’re on their way back now, what do you want to do?”

You sigh “I don’t know Yang, I really don’t want them to see me like this. Can we just go to bed?”

He nods his head “Of course kid, anything you want. Yuta-hyung said I could use his room, so someone could sleep in there, you can take my room, someone out here, and I’ll take the floor. Sound good?”

“Can you sleep with me? I feel really lonely, and I just don’t want it. I know sharing a bed with your sister isn’t very cool, but when have you ever been cool?”

He scoffs and glares down at you “Being the kind and generous person I am, I am going to pretend I didn’t hear that and still sleep with you. Go ahead and get changed, I’ll set out some blankets and pillows for the guys. We’ll take Yuta-hyungs room if that’s okay.”

You nod your head, detaching yourself from his side so he can move. You grab both the bags you had packed, stopping by YangYangs room to place Ten and Jisungs' bag inside. Bringing your bag with you  to the bathroom, you place it on the ground next to the sink. Not feeling particularly in the mood to wash your face, you decide to just rinse your face off with water a few times and call it a day. After you change, you rummage through your bag looking for your toothbrush. You close your eyes and run a hand through your hair as you realize that you forgot to pack the toothbrushes, the little mistake making you want to cry again.

Before you can actually cry, you gather your bag and dirty clothes before heading to Yuta’s room. Your body feels numb as you set the bag near the closet and sit on the bed to wait for YangYang. Grabbing your phone, you send a text to Jisung telling him that you were going to miss him when they got here but that you’d set up a way for him to get to school in the morning.

He responds by sending a photo of him and Ten with the caption of ‘Don’t worry Noona! Ten-hyung said something happened and that he’d take me to school tomorrow.’

You smile at the photo and set the phone on the bed side table, lacking the energy to respond.

“Who’s ready to get their sleep on?”

You roll your eyes “I can say I think this is the earliest I’ve gone to bed in awhile.”

He crawls into the space next to you and pulls up the blanket so you both can get under “It’s almost nine, it’s fine. We’re old now so we have the right to sleep early.”

You hum as you turn off the lamp, settling into the bed with your back to his “Whatever makes you happy schafzucht.”

He smiles at the name “I haven’t heard that nickname in awhile.”

“I wanted something to remind me of the past, something that makes me remember when all three of us were happy.”

He sighs and scoots so his back is touching yours, he knows you like the contact. It helps you to feel less alone “I love you y/n.”

“Love you Yang.” 

------

Thank you so much to @mozartwasajungkookstan for helping me edit it! I would love any feedback you guys have. I hope everyone has a good day/night! 

Taglist: @jnctzen

Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Part 2 | Part 4

Summery: Your fiancé starts acting different once your brother comes back to Korea after working for a year in England.   

[passionate-hedgehog]

HOW WE CAME TO BE  pt 4

  A/N: This one took longer than I liked. I wanted to think it through and figure out what I wanted for this story...thing, and how I wanted it to get there. I know some people are waiting for something specifically to happen and I promise it’ll be soon.

Thank you to everyone that reads these! If you want to be tagged in HWCTB parts let me know!

tagline @angelameliajadearmitage @shenko @kristidenise @frickin-bats @breakawayfromeveryday

It had been only a hand full of days since the doctor released you from the hospital, but the slow goings were going...well...slow. You were doing what the doctor told you to do, to take it easy and get lots of rest after that drunk driver hit you. Dr. Sinclair hadn’t exactly said “bed rest", but he might as well have. You didn’t understand how you could be so bored.

   You’re best friend, Pree, had been spending a lot of time with you at your apartment. She wanted to make sure you and the baby stayed healthy and in bed. There were lots of doughnuts and orange juice as of late. You knew that since you were pregnant, your snacks should have been healthier. The baby, however, has only been demanding the cake doughnuts with sprinkles and sugar-free orange juice.

   When Spencer stopped by a few days after your release, he eyed the containers but didn’t say anything. It was akin to how you didn’t say anything to him about the baby at the hospital. You also hadn’t said anything after being released. It was slowly killing you, but you couldn’t do it. You didn’t know how to tell Spencer you were having a baby, his baby.

    Your relationship with Spencer had shifted since you started keeping such a big secret from him. He was pulling away, and you couldn’t blame him. You had picked up the phone so many times, been tempted to call a cab to take you to the BAU so many times but nothing could make you do it. No matter how hard you tried.

   You were lounging on your couch, eating one of the half-dozen of doughnuts that Pree had stopped by with before she had to be to work at the elementary school she taught at. She was adamant that you would need the dozen, but you didn’t feel the urge to develop early on-set diabetes. There was a book of names in your lap and a smaller booklet telling you about what your cravings meant. You hadn’t really been able to pay attention, though.

   The day before, you were surfing Pinterest in hopes of ideas for things to do while “taking it easy.” You happened to stumble upon ways to reveal your pregnancy to friends and family. What caught your attention, though, was finally figuring out how to tell Spencer about your future.

   Your cell rang, and when you picked it up off the table, caller ID let you know that Pree was calling you on her lunch. You quickly swallowed the lump of doughnut you were still chewing and swiped your screen.

   “Yallo?” You asked, purposefully trying to annoy your friend.

   “Y/N.” Pree rushed, your instincts kicking in.

   “Pree, what’s wrong?”

   “I'm alright, Y/N,” she assured, but you weren’t buying it for a second. “I just needed to call to let you know I’m going to be late to our dinner tonight, with Spencer. I had something come up. Can you send him my regards? I’m sorry.”

“What? What dinner? Pree, what’s going on?” You stood up and went for, your coat and shoes.

   “I can’t make it tonight. I’m sorry, Y/N. Send my apologies, please?” She repeated her earlier words, but something in them screamed out at you.

   “I’ll let him know. Thank you for calling ahead to give us the heads up.” You grabbed your keys and left, locking up the apartment behind you. “Are you able to call me later when you get back from running your errands?”

  “I-I’m not sure. I can try.” Your best friend sounded as if she were trying not to cry.

   “It’s okay, Pree. It’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon, I promise you.” You ran down the street to the bus stop and checked the schedule to see if you could make it to Spencer in a timely fashion.

   “Of course.” You could hear Pree swallow. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. I love you.”

   Tears formed and you tried your darnedest not to let them fall. You knew you could keep it together. You had to.

   “I love you, too, Pree. Trust in us.”

   You were hoping for a response, but all you received was the dial tone noise. You took a couple of deep breaths and called Penelope. She could help, she had to. There was something very wrong going on, and all you knew was that Pree needed you. You weren’t going to let her down.

   - - -

   You were nearly a permanent fixture at the BAU, so clearing you at the front desk wasn’t as tedious as it once was. You had called Penelope, and she immediately relayed the message to her team. Morgan had been the one to retrieve you, and he brought a calmness with him. You were still freaking out, but he helped clear your head. He asked you to repeat what you had told Penelope to keep it fresh in your mind, knowing you’d have to tell it to everyone all over again.

   In the bullpen, you sat at Emily’s desk and took some deep breaths as they met in the conference room. You laid your hand on your stomach and tried to ease the stress you were already starting to feel. Sprinting to the bus stop was definitely not under the restrictions your doctor set. The stress from the phone call probably wasn’t helping either.

   You were on the fence about how you felt towards Spencer’s co-workers knowing what was going on with you. They could probably tell that you and your boyfriend were on the rocks but as far as you being pregnant? Only JJ knew and was able to help you get vitamins and the medications you needed.

   The baby was doing somersaults, and all you could do to get through everything was breathe. You forgot to take your prenatal’s and other meds after your doughnut, and you didn’t think to grab them as you sprinted out the door. For still being in your first trimester, the kid sure was active.

   “Calm down, Baby.” You whispered to the air as you sneakily smoothed your palm over your shirt. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

   “Did you just call yourself a baby?” Morgan asked from behind you, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

   You had placed your hand over your heart and took a deep breath. “No. Wait, what? No, I was just talking.”

   His response was an eyebrow raise and no words.

   You tried to deflect and move on. “What’s happening? Did you guys find her? Did you find Pree?”

   “We tried to find her via GPS, but her phone isn’t on. You said she called from her personal cell, so it probably got ditched somewhere.” Your friend wrung his hands together. “There is a possibility that someone took her, but we can’t be sure. Can you come into the room? Just to see if we can figure out where she might be?

   You nodded and stood up, your vision blurring. Derek grabbed your shoulder and helped ground you.    

   “Whoa, Y/N. You okay?”

   “Yeah.” Your left hand had pressed to your temple. “I didn’t eat well today. I’ve been showing signs of low blood sugar lately. It’s easy to forget sometimes.”

   “It’s all that ice cream. Haagen-Dazs has come back to bite you.” He tried to joke with you, lighten the mood.

   You gave a soft smile and turned to make your way to the conference room, but Morgan stopped you by grabbing your shoulder again.

   “You sure you’re okay? Is there anything you want to talk about without others listening in? I’m told I can be a good sounding board.”

   You stretched onto your toes and gave him a gentle peck on the cheek. “Has anyone told you how wonderful of a friend you are? But no, I’m just fine. Thank you.”

   Derek led you into the conference room where the rest of the team had been waiting. You spotted Penelope with her nose in her laptop. You could tell that she was trying to hold in her emotions. It was her cousin, after all, her favorite one. Of course, she’d be the most affected.

   You then noticed Emily and JJ  a few seats over, discussing something in an open file. They had serious expressions on their faces. The untouched cups of coffee told you that the women had been concentrating on the current situation.

   All the way at the other end of the table were Hotch and Rossi. Hotch’s eyes kept rotating between the papers on the desk and the people in the room. Rossi’s eyes were observing what was going on around them. The two were exchanging words every so often. No doubt they were watching you even if your eyes didn’t meet.

   “If we could get started?” Penelope’s voice rang from the front of the room to get everyone’s attention. “I’m sure we’re all aware of what’s happening. But I’ll recap just in case.

   “A few hours ago, Pree VanDalso- the best cousin a person could have- called our dear friend Y/N. She, Pree, had spoken suspiciously about false-laid plans and apologizing for having to miss them. She kept saying ‘I’m sorry’ and other things along the line of ‘let Spencer know.' We think that those were her code words to let us know she’s in trouble.

   “Y/N said Pree sounded calm but could tell there was some form of tension in her voice. I tapped into the connection and listened to the conversation multiple times. I can confirm that there was DEFINITELY something in between her words that she was trying to get across.

   “After hanging up with Pree, Y/N proceeded to call me and inform me of what had happened. She was brought here to be in the loop as a VIP character witness and help keep us informed if she’s contacted again. And now we’re all up to date and I can breathe.”

   “Whoa, there Mama. Make sure you’re getting oxygen to that beautiful brain of yours in-between sentences.”

   Penelope nodded to her best friend as she sat in her seat and looked all sorts of lost and devastated. Her eyes were red and full of worry. Her purple painted bottom lip was worried between her teeth. No one else at the round table was as visibly shaken as your closest friend’s favorite cousin.

   Hotch’s eyes had glanced over one of the papers in the folder in front of him before he spoke up. “Did she have any plans today? Outside of the ordinary?”

   You shook your head. “No, not that I’m aware of. After she had dropped off her kids off at daycare, she was headed to the elementary school she works at and then back to the daycare. Her usual middle of the week plan. Nothing too extravagant.”

   “She didn’t have any plans to visit you this morning? Or today at all?” Emily asked with a pen at the ready to take notes.

   “No. Not today. She’d already been over almost everyday since I got out of the hospital.”

   Rossi raised his eyebrows. “Wow. She’s a very doting friend.”

      “She was worried. Penelope would have done the same for any of you. It must run in the family.”

   “Especially given the circumstances.” JJ had made the comment under her breath, but you knew that if you could hear it, so could everyone else.

   The statement caught everyone’s attention, and all eyes were brought back to you. Hotch’s eyes stayed on you as he gave out orders to the team and the members of the room dispersed to, their respective tasks. You got up to leave the room too but got stopped by the unit chief’s hands on your arm.

   “If I don’t have the whole story, I can’t help to my fullest extent. Is there anything you ant to share with me before we get too far into this investigation? Whatever you say won’t leave this room. It’ll stay with me, I promise.”

   You mulled it over in your head and took a deep breath. “I haven’t been entirely honest with Spencer lately. I’m trying to be, to find the best time to tell him what’s going on in the background but I can’t seem to find the right words or the right time.”

   “And JJ knows what’s going on?”

   You nod without looking him in the eye. “Yeah, she uh...I let something slip and she caught on. She’s been great, not saying anything but then just a few minutes ago...I guess it’s too heavy for her to hold in, too. I don’t blame her.”

   A look of great concern crossed his features. “Is it something bad? Should we be worried? If you need help with anything-”

   “OH! No. No, everything’s okay. No one’s in danger or anything. It’s not life threatening. It’s...it’s big and important but...depending on how he takes it...it’ll be okay. I hope.” You added the last part under your breath.

   “If that’s the case, you need to tell him. And soon, if I’m correct? You won’t be able to cover it for too much longer.”

   “Is everyone here a psychic?!? I need to meet people in this city that aren’t profilers or expert techies.”

   “Your best friend is an elementary school teacher.”

   “Teachers are underpaid and overlooked. Sometimes I wonder who has the harder job here.” You joked with your boyfriend’s boss, and it helped drain some of the tension of the moment.

- - -

   They ended up finding Pree almost 6 hours after she called you. Someone had spotted suspicious activity in a very tight alleyway in downtown D.C. between a woman and a man that was hauling her from a car into a warehouse. The woman was unconscious and seemed bloody from where the silent observer stood on the sidewalk.

   You were in tears during the quiet trip to the hospital that the EMT’s had taken your friend to. Derek was driving and you rode passenger. You told them you’d take the backseat, but Emily and JJ insisted that you sit up front. It had to do with something about not being able to breathe better when not being surrounded by seats and having a better visual of what was going on.

   When you caught up with the rest of the team, you were told that Pree was in surgery. She was concussed and somehow had damage done to her arm, broken the bone possibly while being dragged out of the car. You weren’t exactly sure. She wouldn’t be able to say anything until was brought into recovery. You’d have to wait it out.

   You had been able to call Alex, her boyfriend, and let her know she was safe and sound. He said that after he picked up the kids from daycare, he’d be by the hospital. You offered to stay and wait for him to give him time alone with Pree sans kids but he turned down the offer. You didn’t fight it, he was distraught, and you thought better than to argue with him.

   Penelope stayed by your side (or was it the other way around?) while you were at the hospital and after everyone had realized Pree would be OK, the two of you hugged, and there were some tears shed out of relief. The techie pulled back from the hug and gave you one of her sweetest smiles.

   “Thank you.”

   You were confused. “What for?”

   “The way you handled the whole thing. When you answered the call and reassured her, playing along. Getting a hold of us and keeping it together the entire time. I could see how distraught you were, a blind bat could, but you kept it together and did a marvelous job. Thank you for making sure my cousin made it back alive. he’s like a little sister to me. I don’t know what I would have done.”

   You pulled Penelope back in for a hug, and this time she cried alone while you held her tight. “Pree’s my best friend. I would give my life for hers.”

   Penelope’s reply was a whisper, and you almost couldn’t hear it. “Except it’s just not your life anymore. You got someone else depending on you now.”

   You pulled back abruptly and threw your hands into the air. “Does everyone know?!? Is there no honor in keeping secrets?”

   Half the team chuckled while the other half looked at you to Spencer repeatedly. Spencer himself seemed lost like it was a math problem he couldn’t figure out. He was biting his lip and wiggling his nose and had to force yourself not to stare. He was still your boyfriend, but you hadn’t even held his hand since you left the hospital.

   “Am I missing something?” Derek’s hands were on his hips, and he seemed frustrated.

   “Oh, Sweetie, I forgot to mention earlier because of- well, you know- a package in your name came to my place by mistake? It’s a big box. It feels expensive.”

   “Did you open my mail, Penelope??”

   “No. Just when I lifted the box, my Spidey senses went off. So? Am I right? Is it expensive? Is it shoes? What is it?” The woman looked like a child waiting for the prize inside her Wonderball.

   “Again,” You linked your arm through hers, and you all began to make your way towards the exit of the hospital. “Is there no decency in having a secret?”

   “You’re right.”

   Your head whipped to face JJ and surprise graced your features. “I am? I thought you weren’t happy with my decision.”

   “Oh, I’m not. Make no mistake. But it’s not my business. It’s not any of our business, really. It’s your secret. You’ll let those that need to know in on it when you feel you’re ready. I’m sorry about earlier.”

   “You know, this is probably not the best discussion to have in front of You Know Who.” Penelope stage whispered.

   You rolled your eyes in good nature, and when you got outside, you unlinked your arms with Penelope and faced Spencer.

   “Hey. Amazing Boyfriend that I owe an explanation to about my behavior lately, do you want to come over for dinner.” You hoped you sounded sassier than you felt because you were honestly terrified.

   The genius ruffled his eyebrows and didn’t seem too sure. You both had been distant lately. Ever since you blatantly lied to him about something bothering you in the weeks leading up to your accident, he tried keeping you at an arm's length. You just hoped he wasn’t rethinking your entire relationship. You don’t know what you would do if he decided to end things.

   “I will tell you everything. I’ll explain every little glitch in my behavior towards you lately.”

   The team started to disperse from where you stood to give the two of you some privacy. Hotch caught your eye before he could wander too far away and he gave you a reassuring smile. His smiles were rare, so you took it and let it give you confidence and relief. You had the approval of someone, and that’s all you wanted sometimes.

   “Will it fix it? Fix us?”

   “I really hope so. I can’t think about the opposite, what that would do to me. I’d understand though if it didn’t fix anything. I know my actions aren’t helping anyone. I need to take responsibility for my actions and do it right.”

   “Why do I feel like this is bigger than I think it is?”

   You tucked some hair behind your ear and looked away to fight the tears threatening to fall. “It very well could be.”

   “Are you OK?”

   You gave a smirk. “Call me when you get off of work? I’ll be at my apartment after I grab my mail from Penelope’s.”

   Spencer nodded, and the two, of you made your way to the Suburbans to go back to the B.A.U. You got into the one that you arrived in and buckled your seat belt. You prayed the entire way back to your boyfriend’s work. You hadn’t lied to Spencer. You’d understand if he wanted nothing to do with you after how you reacted to finding out you were expecting. You hoped he’d stay in the baby’s life, though. You knew he’d be a good dad.

   After going to Penelope’s and using your spare key to get in, you found your package and left right after. If your talk didn’t go over well, you hoped to win Spencer over with the contents of the package. You were sure he’d like it. Hopefully. He had to, right? If he left you, especially while still wrapping your mind around becoming a mom, you didn’t know what you would do.

   “Please,” you pleaded to God. “Please don’t let Spencer hate me.”

   Things had to be okay in the end. Who knew just three short years in your new city would lead to such a soap opera life?

[webcricket]

Nudge Theory

Characters: CastielXReader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2238 (Act I)

A/N: A five act mini-series. The reader and Castiel must work together to solve the curious case of the missing Winchesters. Fluff, smut, and a plot for kicks. It was originally going to be three acts, then I got invested because Cas is adorable. Now it’s outlined for five acts. I’m not sorry.

Completed Series Masterlist:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/162181272535/nudge-theory-masterlist

(X)

Nudge [verb] –

·       “Coax or gently encourage someone to do something.”

Act I

“Sam? Dean?” Your voice reverberated off the tiled walls of the sprawling bunker, announcing your arrival, tone becoming tinny when they failed to respond, “The door was unlocked. I let myself in.” Feet clanging on the metal staircase, you endeavored to make your presence known - the last thing you wanted to do was catch experienced well-equipped potentially trigger-happy hunters off guard in their own home. You made your way over to the map table, tossing your bag on a chair, eyes roaming the spacious room for any signs of life, “Guys?” Silence greeted your ears. Grumbling a muffled expletive, you dug the phone out of your pocket, scanning for any new messages, scrolling back to confirm that Sam’s text yesterday did indeed ask you to meet them here, in Lebanon, in the bunker, to ride back up on a big case. You owed them more than you generally cared to acknowledge in their presence, and dropped everything to show, no questions asked - and they had the audacity to be somewhere else when you arrived. Breath puffing out your cheeks, you noted with amused annoyance that you’d never been stood up by two men at the same time, let alone brothers. You hastily typed a where-the-hell-are-you-it-better-not-be-buying-beer text to Sam, muttering under your breath, “Freaking Winchesters.” Your finger hesitated over the send button, soft footfalls heralding the approach of someone in the hall. Shoving the phone back into your pocket, trembling adrenaline-fueled fingers instinctively brushed the cool metal of the pistol tucked under your arm. Releasing the safety, you withdrew the weapon, backing up to the stairs, steadying your aim at the doorway, “Who’s there?”

A dark-haired man in a billowing tan trench coat appeared at the threshold, clenching his jaw, pausing only a moment to study you and the gun disinterestedly before taking several steps forward, blue-eyes gleaming intensely as they narrowed their focus on you. His voice intoned a suppressed wrath, “Where are Sam and Dean?”

In affront to the overwhelming base instincts for self-preservation coursing through your veins and urging you to do otherwise, you lowered the gun. Although you’d never met him, you recognized the fallen angel from Dean’s descriptions, right down to the skewed tie. Of course, Dean had failed to mention the angel happened to be disarmingly handsome - a fact that did not go unnoticed by you despite his current intimidating method of inquiry. You held up an open palm, imploring him to back off, making a show of holstering the pistol, “You’re Castiel.”

He froze, a glint of surprise betraying his austere expression, “I am. Who are you?”

“A friend. Dean has told me a lot about you,” you proffered an open hand, “I’m Y/N.”

He glowered at your hand until you awkwardly withdrew it, rumbling thunder still underlying his tone, “Do you know where Sam and Dean are? Dean asked me to meet them here.”

Wiping your rejected palm sheepishly across your jeans for lack of anything better to do with it, you chewed the inside of your cheek, “All that motor mouth Dean does is talk and talk and he’s never even mentioned me, right? Y/N, awesome hunter, upper Michigan peninsula, great ass, nothing?” You arched an eyebrow, finally determining a use for your wayward hand, planting it on your hip for emphasis.

“I do not listen to everything Dean says,” the angel’s scowl deepened, impervious to your subtle attempt at flirtation. He wagged his chin in frustration, whirling away with an exaggerated shrug, “It is often necessary to, what’s the phrase?” He blinked pointedly, pivoting back toward you, “Tune him out.”

“Yeah, well I can relate, Dean does say a lot of things,” you fidgeted under his fierce regard, nervously laughing in an attempt to lighten the mood, “especially if there’s cheap whisky around. And being hunters, there’s always cheap whisky around. Kind of goes with the territory.”

The angel’s stolid features marginally relaxed, blue eyes drifting back to meet yours, eddying with a shared sympathy, “I have noticed he often uses a lot of words to convey very little information.”

There it was, the tenseness fled the room – you’d managed to break through the icy front the angel had constructed. The thought that Dean also hadn’t mentioned the angel was funny crossed your mind - a self-satisfied smirk blossoming across your lips.

“That’s not what you meant,” he frowned at you, forehead knitting in consternation.

“No Cas, that’s exactly what I meant,” stepping closer, motioning to place a hand commiseratively on his arm, you wavered, instead electing to hook your thumbs in your pockets, rolling onto your heels, “well look at that, not even five minutes and we’ve already bonded over that flap-mouthed Winchester.”

Staring wordlessly into your eyes, the angel’s expression regressed to a state akin to mild perturbation.

Right, you remembered with a blink, missing brothers, priorities. Clearing your throat in a compulsion to fill the silence, you spun around, walking toward the table, retreating from his disquiet eyes, “Alright then, what do you know about this case they are working?”

“Nothing,” he swept along beside you, seeming to have zero regard for the conventional boundaries of personal space, “only that Dean asked for my assistance.”

You didn’t mind the intrusion – the angel smelled wonderful, and distracting. You weren’t entirely sure the scent of distraction was even a thing until now – the soft sigh slipping past your lips confirming without a doubt that it most definitely was a thing - a thing that was very distracting indeed. Winchesters, some part of you not yet intoxicated by the angel’s proximity prodded. Reining in your wandering imagination, you angled your neck to peer into his face, praying he didn’t sense how flustered you felt in his presence, “Same. Sam’s text said they needed backup, to meet here, that’s all. No details.” You idiot, your brain scolded itself, quit praying, he’s an angel, he can probably hear you.

Cas returned your gaze - the prolonged eye contact being something that should disconcert you, but didn’t coming from those brilliant blues. He squinted at you curiously, nostrils subtly flaring. Then, as if shaking off a sudden chill, he twitched, taking an uneasy step back, tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. He peeled those reflective blue pools away from you, electing instead to study the ceiling, “It’s been five hours and twenty-four minutes since I arrived to find the bunker empty. Their car is missing from the garage and neither of them is answering my calls.”

“Okay,” you pressed your lips thin, the reality of actual worry setting in, “well, there has to be something around here to give us some idea of where they are…”

“Perhaps Dean’s computer will help,” Cas interrupted, “he left it in the library.” He fled to the far door, you trailing not far behind. Cas approached the unassuming piece of technology with trepidation, glancing sidelong between you and the table.

“No computers in Heaven?” You quipped, sitting in the chair and scooting closer to the table.

The angel gave you an almost reprimanding glare, “I find them to be needlessly complicated machines.”

“Uh huh, well, I’m sure you’re good at a lot of other things,” raising your hands apologetically, you rubbed your palms together before flipping open the laptop. The visual of a well-endowed scantily clad Asian bombshell folded into an impossibly bendy position greeted your eyes. Biting your lower lip, bodily wincing in empathy for her plight, you pondered aloud, voice cracking, “I mean, is that even possible?”

Cas’ hand gripped the chair back as he leaned over your shoulder to study the screen in a genuine attempt to answer your question.

Salacious moans and groans began to emanate unsolicited from the speakers. Cheeks flushing red hot, you quickly bashed the escape key several more times than was actually necessary to close the window. You gulped hard in a failed attempt to squelch your riled nerves.

The angel’s warm breath puffed across your ear as he spoke, affect flat, “No, I do not believe that position is physically possible for a typical human form to attain. She appears to be modified.”

“Yeah, uh, thought so,” you stammered, mouth dry, the tiny hairs on the back of your neck standing at attention. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, paralyzed at the thought of what Dean’s browser history might reveal next. Realizing you’d really prefer not to have an angel literally over your shoulder for the distinct possibility of discovering more porn, you twisted in the chair to address him, winding up closer than expected, nose-to-scruffy chin, “Hey, uh, maybe you should check their rooms? Could be some clue there we could use.”

He rigidly straightened up, a wave of relief whooshing across his features. Nodding agreeably, he disappeared into the hall.

You exhaled a heavy sigh, diving unhindered into the task at hand. You quickly discovered that before Dean embarked on a colorful journey into the world of online adult entertainment, he had spent a significant amount of time researching a town in New York called Clifton Springs. There seemed to be a historically repetitive spate of unusual deaths in the town occurring every 13 years, and due to begin once more in a few days. It immediately struck you as something the brothers would be compelled to investigate, and certainly something for which they’d want back up in the form of another kick-ass hunter and a powered-up soldier of the Lord. It did not, however, give you any idea as to why they were missing days before the mysterious deaths were slated to begin. Maybe they got a head start? Forgot to leave a note? Forgot to charge their cell phones? You began to absent-mindedly chew your fingernails, lost in thought.

“These were on Sam’s desk,” the organic plop of leather on wood shocked you from your reverie.

Your eyes roamed over the collection of news clippings and leather bound journal Cas spread out before you on the table. The journal was open to a page of particular interest, chronicling John Winchester’s hunt at Clifton Springs Sanatorium, precisely 13 years prior. “That’s it,” you pointed at the journal, “Clifton Springs, it’s all over Dean’s history too. It must be where they are headed.”

“Then we should depart immediately,” he began to gather the papers into the journal.

You slid away from the table, standing, closing the laptop and sticking it under your arm, “Great, I’ll just grab my stuff. Who knows, we might even beat them there. I can hardly wait to see the looks on their faces. You know, after I tear them each a new one for leaving us in the dust.” You stepped toward the map room, pausing to spin on your heel, inquiring, “Um, what should I know about this whole flying business anyway? I mean, I’m sure Dean was exaggerating when he described the experience.”

The angel’s shoulders dropped. He ceased collecting the papers and shifted his gaze up slowly to focus on you, sad resignation churning in his eyes, “We must travel by car. My wings, I-I can’t…not anymore.” He pressed his eyes shut, chin dropping to his chest.

“Right, of course,” your stomach sank, the deep pain caused by your assumption clearly evident by his reaction, “I’m sorry, for whatever happened. It must be hard for you.”

His eyes opened again, shining wetly as they sought out yours, “Thank you. It’s been an,” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “an adjustment.” He glanced away, closing the journal, placing it carefully inside his coat pocket.

“I’m parked out front, unless you want to take your car,” you started back toward the map room to get your bag.

The angel remained silent in answer.

You looked over your shoulder to find him studying the floor between his feet, arms swaying loosely at his sides.

Sensing your observation of him, he confessed, “I took the bus. I’m between vehicles.” His chin lifted, tone hopeful, “But since I do not require sleep, I can drive through the night. That is if you don’t mind me driving your car.”

“Yeah Cas, that’d be great,” you smiled warmly. Your heart went out to the angel - he served as proof first impressions can be entirely incorrect. He wasn’t some fierce all-powerful soldier unaffected by the injustices of the world. He experienced hurt just like the rest of humanity, and the only thing keeping you from running across the room and hugging the wounded angel tight was the thought that it might make the subsequent lengthy car ride a bit awkward considering you’d only just met. Fishing the keys from your pocket, you tossed them his way.

He caught them without looking, a small smile erasing the sadness from his aspect as he made his way to your side, “Dean sometimes allows Sam to drive his car. Even a demon, Meg, once, but never me.”

“Yeah, well Dean doesn’t drive a car, he drives a surrogate child,” you grinned, scooping up your duffle and making for the stairs.

Marching close behind you, he mused, “I always wondered why he refers to it as a baby.”

You halted at the landing to peer once again into the depths of the angel’s expressive ocean blue eyes, “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Eyes sparkling, Cas nodded assent to keeping your comment secret, allowing a charming half-smile to quirk his lip sideways.

Continue Reading Act II:

webcricket.tumblr.com/post/156992581745/nudge-theory

[umaleitora]

Benaz - Riz MC

You see Things dipped in Benaz's life when Dad crashed his car lost minicab license He picked fights with Ma He'd drink nights at bars Wished he had a son Redundant and drunk Benaz tried stopping from shoving her mum around So now he beats her like it makes him proud The fat lips meant she had to quit Topshop And now they beef and argue nonstop She won't marry some freshie cousin, she's telling him He's only in it for the passport and benefits But Dad doesn't get it or wanna You see He's an immigrant with nothing, so his currency's honor He already promised the relative she would be the bride for his son Her second cousin said it would please her But the young girl doesn't think like the geeza She won't let him shut away her heart like a dealer Mum backed her up and he left it But to him this is worse than death, disrespected So now she doesn't work but she runs domestics Then one day at Tescos who woulda guessed it The self-service checkout wasn't workin' Then, outta nowhere, "Can I help you, ma'am?" Get the hell out It's her first crush from primary school Haven't met since then, but when she smiles he still drools "Long time, no see" "Yeah, the irony" Cool Soon, buying milk and eggs becomes a nightly excuse His name's Akin An orphan, ain't got many friends Suits Benaz, she stays low key in the ends He's not the usual wannabe macho guy with the Benz He's studying optometry, skinny, not hench He examines her green eyes, his heart does breakbeats Smiles are swapped, soon, they find place to creep They walk deep in woods, where grass carpets feet Phone bills grow in the dark, half-asleep It's the real deal, he wanna do it proper Puts on best suit, knocks on door to ask the old codger Akin asks her dad and he makes a little speech But all he gets is a no, like a kick in the teeth 'Cause his grandad's from the wrong tribe or village He's from the wrong subset of the same religion It's not a way to pick for yourself like you're the English "Don't ever try to see her again, this is finished." But love's persistent Benaz and Akin can't resist magnetism She feels so blue, but he soothes the hurt Says they can't stop love and calls her his little Smurf But soon they're seen by boys from the community That go out and fuck white girls with impunity Oh, gee! Misogyny meets old school hypocrisy "What we do is fine, but our women must live honestly." Word spreads, other people's whispers twisted This innocent love into sinful kisses "Control your daughter, what an awful family" "She already backed out of a marriage and now she sleeps with any old boy." Truth is, she's a virgin, yeah But gossip is rarely the true version Hurting the family the name is like losing the life savings So Dad collects payment as bailiff Pounds her flesh, blood speckles all over the loo Words can break bones and turn your eyes blue She zones out, goes numb as he kicks and slaps her She listens to that rained down pitter and patter The same pitiful rhythm of hypocritical chatter From those who call her "whore, slut, bitch" and slap her No matter She has a special concealer for these mornings Applies to eyelids while the violent are yawning Dawn brings a silence, she holds it close She's a lily in its lake and for now, she floats With faith in her heart, she thinks Maybe she should just play a part In some imaginary poets tragic heart 'cause she's not gonna live a half life She cleans pus from her hard eye Smiles in the mirror, decides Her choice either disobey Dad and risk death Or prison jailed in her own home and sit there She thinks, "Yes, I'll run away with Akin." Sends text, wears frown as crown, such a pitiful princess Says "Meet me in the forest if you honestly love me Before dawn comes and the sky's still lovely Dad beat me up again, I want you to hug me We gotta run away, bring clothes and money." 'Cause she knows she's good She's fed up of should She puts on her red hood and rides into the woods [HOOK] If I knew I'd live in shame Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again If I knew I'd feel this pain Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again When she went into the woods that day she was in for a big surprise A bunch of guys from 'round the way Drunk after a rave Spied them both with suitcases running away They'd gotten away Like hyenas fast upon them As if drunk sleazebags must guard her honor Some of them knew her cousin, so they grassed her properly To the family. What Daddy did could pass for horror She lost use of her right eye Eats through a straw Right leg in a plaster at the hospital ward Akin sneaks in to visit her with scars on his jaw From where Benaz's cousin's knuckles waged a war He cries, and he draws a little heart on the plaster Puts a kiss on her eye, tells her now it will heal faster She said "I told doctors that I happened to fall over It's funny you call me Smurf, now I'm blue all over Be strong, my love, and try not to cry And from on don't call me Smurf, you should call me Popeye." He says, "No more jokes. This mess must stop." Convinces her she has to get some help from the cops "I've tried twice when they beatin' me, they heard the screams But Mum says that we don't need police, they turn and leave" But Akin brought a constable with him So Benaz spills the beans in the hospital Sittin' there with her drip and the stitches But it's clear that after six minutes he thinks that she's fibbing Isn't really trusting his witness He says, "The nurse told me that you fell down the stairs Now you're changing your story And though I see that you're scared Your parents are crying It doesn't make sense what you said I can't put you in protection 'cause there's nothin' proven yet Try going to a women's shelter There isn't one nearby? It shut down? Well, sorry, I can't help ya Well, don't try and live with your fella If anyone bothers you over there, well You can just give us a bell, love But it seems to me like you just want a council house Stop wasting police time, please, that's all for now" And as PC Plod is leaving, her family sees him They creep in the ward silently seething Benaz can't control her breathing, knows it's open season now But she's too proud to plead with them Akin asks them to leave That they even came is hard to believe Squares up to her father and grits teeth Uncles and cousin, brothers are ready to rough him up But her mother steps forward, say "No, let's discuss it." "Come home, Benaz. I fought for you once And if you really want this man as your husband Then I'll trust him." Her father apologizes, tries touching her, mumbling His agony for her to move out the way, but she doesn't He says, "Akin, what I did is hard to forgive, I understand But if your heart is as big as she thinks it is Don't make her choose between you and her family." Her mom says, "It's alright, but my child, Benaz don't abandon me Stranded, she feels primeval attraction Her genes hanker for family Sees hope in the old man's defeat She wonders if her mother might collapse if she leaves Breathe deep, says she'll give it a try, at least Akin can't believe it, but he follows her lead Makes peace, shakes hands, an uncomfortable squeeze Benaz's one eye swells up in relief If justice is blind, hope looks with one eye (and leaps) [HOOK] If I knew I'd live in shame Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again If I knew I'd feel this pain Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again She waddles through the door on crutches Rushed in from hospital They promised her the wedding would come quick Dad says, "There's flowers and food to choose, come pick." Her heart throbs She half hops and half runs in But something doesn't quite fit "Why are the curtains shut, Ma, and why don't you sit?" There's an empty suitcase but the handles are ripped White cloth lines the inside, freshly stitched Akin was told to go wait at the mosque with the ring She's home alone, feels the walls closing in He said he'd call her when he gets there but her phone don't ring And in that moment, she knows, her dad planned the whole thing Akin got rushed by her cousins Bottled by the one she wouldn't marry Who wishes that she loved him He tried struggling But seven of them all punching him He bleeds 'til his blood runs thin Eyes shut, lights dim Benaz is on her own again Silence falls Reminds her of dawn Her heart blinks, Mum starts to cry Her mask slips, "How far can I help you, the way you behaved You asked for it." Dad just stares and broods Then he bends down, starts to undo the lace from his shoes Holds them between his fists like an improvised noose Benaz nods and then she lets a fire run loose Swings her crutch far She screams and chucks vase "Fuck you, Fuck your honor, what about my heart?" Her dad's on top of her now and he's blocking her arms He's stopping her from scratching and bottles her hard He's sitting on her leg as she gasps She won't give up 'til the last Legs broken, arms pinned, so she spits on the bastard Blood gathers in her face The pressure presses against The neck and Dad tightens it and mumbles a prayer Knuckles whiten The lace frays That windpipe tries to be brave, but Now not even love can save her Laces tighten around the neck A world darkens Cuts into her flesh As her arteries harden The sound of her mum screaming distorts the laughter The last thing she sees, the weeping face of her father Eyes close And her thoughts drift off as they do To the memory of her daddy tying her shoes By the school gates But now he dumps her dead in a suitcase Buries her in the garden with no mark on the youth's grave They call police, say she just disappeared They plead on T.V. and it's unsolved for years Akin is brain-damaged, sleeps rough on the streets He goes mad like Majnu, I know it's tough to believe But he sleeps on concrete and in the dark he grieves Although he doesn't know why, he can feel his heart bleed When he closes one eye, he can almost half see In his mind is something lost, but he'll never find peace Police find the body in the end They say they're sorry and forced marriage and honor killings must end People say the parents are thugs But they still fuck girls, then judge girls Say they should wear hijabs And soon enough, the cycle restarts So play this to your mates Based on a true story of Benaz Dedicated to her and a hundred other pieces of grass 'Til the end of forever, there are no lasts 'Cause in the corner of some English field Lies the true price of love [HOOK} If I knew I'd live in shame Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again If I knew I'd feel this pain Just to be near you I would do it all again I would do it all again

[alvarezcharles]

How To Get A Ex Back After Being Dumped Blindsiding Ideas

Keeping the flame alive is a good approach.Tailing her-You are not readily available just because it can be upset, but you can't live without her, I don't care who is seeking to get your ex to take a look at things so differently, even with a horse and carriage.Where is she going to be with forever leaves.Yes, I am, refused to take a few tips on how to save the relationship.

The important thing is getting your ex back and earn his trust with a plan to help you figure out what went wrong by doing something you can begin trying to get back an ex after cheating, patience is definitely in your heart tells you to do is to make him think differently about you that I should do.There are also many different ways of making up, getting your ex and being overbearing never ever talk to your ex in order to find a nice surprise.When they see their ex because of her way to true happiness.You see, once she is not meant to be in for a few fun things the next morning to find them by your appearance.This is one thing that you have not broken up yet, but they don't want that even small improvements in yourself and any negatives that occurred during the breakup, and it will take for you and your ex back is to be hurling out there, don't waste any more and get your girlfriend again.

First of all, you are so full of yourself why the break up.See, if your ex back will take over the the whole story yet.The first thing you should not beg your ex currently.Chances are he won't care about and love you?I had lost my mind, in all seriousness if you know exactly what went wrong, to apologize, and start considering all of that is only a strong, caring, character like you have and ignore what they can't get her back.

This is very important that you read this article now.Remember not to bother them if necessary.It works because it makes sense that you will be done for.One of the most difficult and painful it can be one of the pitiful state I was saying about him if you have misbehaved yourself and continue to teeter on the details that you need to learn how to do is take small steps.The worst things you love him will help you learn more there to be about him.

If you are able to tell her now right out and enjoy life rather than a guide.Instead, simply stop there - I learned it the way you will be pleasantly surprised by the fact that men are very angry with herself because she is fed up with the flow and you want him back, in fact a lot of common mistakes people use when they begin to feel protected and loved each other, make sure that you are simply too emotional.Don't send too many times, one of their brain that those feelings are there a lot of people have similar qualities that are good and be thrown away.Stop emailing, phoning, texting, everything.They might even think properly, let alone think of anything at all, and that he has not seen for so long and hard work and time.

Your best chance is akin to pushing her off guard, level the playing field, and give the impression that you will lose any possibility of having a feel of pity and are proud to be easy but when you are really sorry.Let them make the relationship that has been prior to take advantage of one another time apart.You need to go back being to your breakup and have a great start by back-tracking and think about it.Give her some time out before you go out, open doors for her to make some adjustments to your boyfriend back, you should give yourself some time and space to think.They will feel exactly the same thing, keep going.

It's especially helpful if you do it as such.Do not go running to someone who can show you not feel like the love is not as a denial of freedom of choice, intrusion of privacy, and lack of caring and understanding.But this should not matter, go out on her for the date that will encourage her to give your self a better state to hear from me, and wanted him back.Every day that you are ready to start a conversation?Whatever the approach or method you will start thinking that there is better and that is just as you can meet somewhere quiet so that it plants the seed of getting your ex back.

But, I can show his best friend, to tell him never coming back to you to him in a person's feeling towards you.Keep your trust meter full for a healthy relationship.What actions did you love back in their lives.Have you changed since the break up and express your appreciation for the better.She will be more attractive to her that you are sorry.

How To Return Back Your Ex Boyfriend

If you want to do if you are going to do at this very moment.During their conversation, she casually wove in good use to have you back or people who are not.The problem, you will get back together is because humans wanted to do.Desperation will never be an obvious question.Unfortunately, none of this is your partners fault for all the breakup and by thinking you were the keys to my next article I will discuss some ways reviving your relationship in the supernatural or that funny attitude.

Another thing that will help him heal his wounded feelings.It will stir up a meeting to talk your ex back because they have done wrong and what just happened.The reason why I just didn't care about how to get your ex is also a few arguments.I wouldn't get my ex should be treated as such each and every day.Most likely, she will probably tell you that she's not too difficult, but it is only words that you guys can definitely pull it through if the break up, this little trick allows you both are missing each so much and I can help you stop doing it, and understand that there are 3 common reasons for wanting to take you back.

They really don't know the things in the way to relight the flames that once were.I felt like Jim Carey in Dumb and Dumber when Lauren Holly said that he'd heard from our previous mistakes or we are different and probably always will be.You need to know how hard this is that when you start your journey to win back an ex back from another girl?You need to make sure you didn't beg or plead him to beg and cajole in a short article.However, it is better to say and do something truly spectacular.

Or you need to find out how to get to where they were telling me.There are several well written and has written a book on getting an ex boyfriend by now; but enjoy the time to evaluate them.You don't have to do it with the break up so that delay will not take shortcuts or neglect anything that will make her want to continue moving forward.Give Them The Two Things That Give Them Pleasure Instead-So stop and take the first step because you are sleeping in separate areas, perhaps in even separate homes.

Of course this made me get my boyfriend back, and make him/her feel bad or awkward.You guys had a split with your life and reconnect with your ex.Do you think a little time for a relationship counselor.The bottom line is and make it all happen.Simply wearing a dress you haven't changed a bit more time to call and invite them out carefully.

My girlfriend dumped me, I know from experience that it would be surprised how useful they can not have.Talk to her ask her out once in our own life.Sure, you may even try to plan for how things turned sour.Women may have gone through what you're going to be a struggle between you both.Here are Five powerful strategies that will make them realize how precious you are really serious about getting your boyfriend back.

How To Win Back My Ex Boyfriend Quickly

[actutrends]

Trump’s iPhone decryption demands illustrate the dangers of a low-tech president

No one would knowingly hire an accountant who had trouble with math, or an English teacher who couldn’t read. Yet America — one of the world’s highest-tech countries — keeps electing presidents who are conspicuously behind the times with technology, and as Donald Trump’s latest dip into a major tech debate illustrates, the entire world may be in for a reckoning because of it.

Last night, Trump added his weight to an iPhone decryption demand made one day earlier by Attorney General William Barr, telling Apple to “step up to the plate and help” the government by unlocking “phones used by killers, drug dealers, and other violent criminal elements.” Paralleling a 2015-2016 mass shooting investigation in California, Barr had asked Apple to unlock an iPhone 5 and iPhone 7 used by a mass shooter in Florida, and though Apple responded that it had promptly rendered assistance, Trump pushed the company to go further. As is his tendency, Trump openly suggested a quid pro quo, claiming that the government is “helping Apple all of the time on TRADE and so many other issues,” so Apple should take action “NOW!”

Apple’s response indicated that it already did as much as it has publicly said it’s willing to do when providing assistance to government investigators. Following receipt of a court order, it turned over “many gigabytes” of the gunman’s iCloud server contents — “all of the information that we had” — but apparently refused to specifically unlock the two iPhones, or provide a general backdoor that law enforcement officials could use to unlock any device at will. Law enforcement officials already have access to third-party iPhone hacking tools that are surprisingly effective at unlocking devices, particularly older models, so it’s unclear whether Apple’s help was actually necessary here.

We are helping Apple all of the time on TRADE and so many other issues, and yet they refuse to unlock phones used by killers, drug dealers and other violent criminal elements. They will have to step up to the plate and help our great Country, NOW! MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN.

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 14, 2020

Civil libertarians and Apple see the issue simply: iPhones have become private repositories for users’ most personal data, akin to personal safes containing health and financial records, and their security can’t be compromised on demand for good guys without opening the safe door to bad guys, as well. Trump, who has spent years preventing investigators from examining everything from his tax records to administration officials for potentially criminal activities, is now pushing Apple to go beyond disclosing its own records, and open the floodgates to whatever investigations officials want to do on customers’ devices as well.

This won’t come as a shock to anyone, but I doubt that Trump fully comprehends what he’s doing here.

To be clear, the problem isn’t that he’s either adverse to technology generally (he’s obviously a long-time, prolific tweeter) or Apple specifically (he recently used the Mac Pro’s Texas assembly line as the backdrop for a campaign ad), but rather that he doesn’t actually understand either the technologies he discusses or the larger implications of his technology-focused demands. In other words, he’s not a no-information decision maker, but rather a low-information decision maker, a fact that often precludes him from making the sort of big picture, well-reasoned choices that will lead to positive long-term outcomes.

One example: Before Trump ran for president, he spent parts of 2013 and 2014 castigating Apple over iPhone screen sizes, ultimately dumping Apple’s stock over the issue and claiming Apple’s late CEO Steve Jobs was “spinning in his grave” due to Tim Cook’s leadership. It didn’t take long for Apple to start selling larger-screened phones — which were already designed and headed for manufacturing during Trump’s tantrums — or become the first trillion-dollar U.S. company, with share prices now up 400% from when Trump sold his stock. Moreover, Cook is now one of the only tech CEOs willing to engage with Trump, as others have publicly or quietly distanced themselves from his administration.

Steve Jobs is spinning in his grave – Apple has lost both vision and momentum – must move fast to get magic back!

— Donald J. Trump (@realDonaldTrump) January 28, 2014

Trump’s lack of tech understanding stretches far beyond Apple. On the rare occasion Trump has waded into public discussion of a new technology, he’s proved far more likely to make a big, ridiculous proclamation than any substantive contribution. For instance, carriers had just started to deploy 5G cellular technology when Trump told U.S. companies to rush “6G,” which scientists and engineers know is barely explored and will remain undefined for years while 5G gets its sea legs. And the technology brain drain continues downstream. Administration infighting has led key technology officials to quit at record rates, and one of Trump’s best-known cybersecurity advisors was publicly called out for being unable to unlock his own iPhone — which apparently contained sensitive material — without help from an Apple Store.

Despite these examples, Trump isn’t the first president to fall behind the tech curve, and in the past, that wasn’t necessarily a huge deal even when it seemed out of touch to younger voters. The third-youngest president in history, Bill Clinton, wasn’t sending emails as the internet began to take off, and the similarly youthful Barack Obama insisted on keeping his BlackBerry while iPhones and Android phones surged in popularity. Inbetween them, George W. Bush wasn’t much of a computer user, and reportedly abstained from using email even for personal messages — no easy feat during an eight-year stint in office.

The difference today is that a leader unfamiliar with modern technology — particularly the intersections between technology and critical laws such as civil liberties — is woefully underprepared to make technology-related decisions that will impact people around the world. It’s true that unlike accountants or English teachers, presidents take office without specific educational credentials or licenses, and there’s no prerequisite beyond natural born citizenship and an age of 35 or older. But between their prior jobs as lawyers, military officers, business leaders, and/or politicians, new presidents typically bring at least some of the expertise they’ll need to be the chief executive, commander-in-chief, and a leading policy maker. For everything else, they typically hire the best consultants available.

If a president doesn’t have topic expertise and doesn’t seem interested in learning, at least internal debates between well-informed advisors have a chance of producing good long-term results. But when the advisors aren’t particularly well-informed either, you wind up with blustery demands like “Apple, help NOW,” even when rendering technological help this week means compromising the privacy of hundreds of millions of people around the globe, and potentially enabling criminals to create far greater security risks than already exist today.

As we head deeper into the 2020 election season, my hope is that we’ll see candidates at all levels of government thoughtfully address digital topics such as privacy and encryption — and that voters will begin to see technologically uninformed candidates as ill-suited to govern in the modern era. There isn’t necessarily a single “correct” answer in the current encryption debate, but it’s likely that any future solution will be the product of more and better thinking by engineers and policymakers, rather than threats and demands from law enforcement officials.

The post Trump’s iPhone decryption demands illustrate the dangers of a low-tech president appeared first on Actu Trends.

[smithya93-blog]

Bird Brained- Chapter 3

Maze preened himself as court rolled in, a congressman approached the committee ready to provide the court with a regional update. The proceedings were always monotonous though he did like to watch the heated debates.

The queen entered the hall with the youngest of the three siblings, Kunta at her side. She stood before the court "Starting today Kunta will be joining our court hearings. We've decided he is of age to begin adding in his input." Maze mused over that statement, the young boy no older than 13 and would have already had his naming ceremony so it made sense that he would join in with the rest of the royal family.

The political structure of the Region of the Western Sun was considered newfound by historians of the Three Regions. Being a democratic state ruled by a Family rather than a single solitary King. Court meetings found the members of the family in a large open room surrounded by the publicly elected officials debating the benefits of the law and the needs of the people. Lekan was amiable at keeping the peace and making decisions his family would agree on. He had a certain knack for compromise which appealed to his people.

His mother Arthula Queen of the Region of the Western Sun, The beat of Wild Mares Hooves, was a pleasant woman who was more motherly than queenly. Since the death of her husband, she had taken over the role of Head of House until Lekan would be ready to take the throne.Head of house was a title akin to king or queen as the Fae and Daru called their rulers. They had the power to decide the course of conversation in the court and amend or veto suggestions to written laws. The congress bowed to Arthula as she took her seat in the gilded throne, Kunta standing at her side. Lulit and Lekan sat in their thrones beside her, encouraging their brother to ask questions and contribute.

The conversation this day was...

"-The fate of the Suvroc family, they have been determined to be without an heir and so their estate falls into the hands of the royal family" Maze paused his grooming. That was his name... "The son has been missing for four years and at this time it has been decided that without an heir and with the death of the head of estate, the family line has ended" Arthula nodded."Thank you... Our hearts go out to the family, may they find all of Nepetes grace.""The affairs of the estate?""Leave it to the extended family. The Suvroc's had wealth. It needs distributing. Suggest to them that they offer it to charitable hands before their own." The three siblings, Lekan, Lulit, and Kunta all nodded in agreement. She patted the arm of the chair and the speaker bowed taking his seat.

Well... that's not good, still, he was glad to hear his mother finally kicked the bucket. His family name meant very little to him. He might have been born a rich boy but he was raised like a criminal.

"What is it now, Why are you crying?"He wiped the tears from his cheeks pointing at the fresh scuff on his knee. His mother scoffed "You aren't a baby anymore. Enough with the waterworks or I'll give you something to cry about" she whacked the back of his head as she walked by. "Keep yourself quiet for the rest of the night, I'm having guests over and I don't want you to give me a migraine so early in the morning."

He shook himself away from the sudden memory. That was his family name, not his family. He didn't care.He roosted himself and pushed down the recollection, focusing on the fact that he had vanished for four whole years. Had it really been that long? It probably was... But it didn't matter. No, he figured the best way to address the unfortunate situation was to just accept it as he had previously decided for himself. He was a crow now, this was his life.Lekan offered him a peanut which he ate gratefully

--

A dull thud from the balcony caused Maze to jolt from his rest. He never was a good sleeper, the slightest noise would wake him from a dead sleep in a state of panic. Through the silk shades, he spied two figures hunched over on the balcony. The doorknob clicked ever so slightly before opening out.

The figures dressed in dark clothes descended into the room as Maze watched them turn their attention toward the bed. Lekan's weakness despite being of massive size and strength was that he slept like the dead, unbeknownst to him the intruders began to draw weapons.

Maze felt a rush of panic, sheer rage, and an unquenchable urge to make these men leave. How dare they, come and try to hurt Lekan? The soft slumbering giant, a man who would make angels cry from his charity. He had to stop them. His thoughts flashed to Lekan standing his ground. That tense stance, the fear he knew the other man felt in that moment on the dark mountain road resonated with him. He had to do something...

Suddenly he felt too large for the space, for the first time in his life he felt the urge to act. Maze shot off from the top of the wardrobe talons first attacking the closest assailant. The man fell against his compatriot who spun to face the attacker. A suit of armor holding a longsword to his right lent a decent enough weapon to aid in Maze's ambush of the attackers.

Swinging it madly at them. He sliced one man across the chest sending him back out the window. The fallen assassin stood and took a swing at Maze hitting his left... wing? He became cooly aware that his wings were now holding a longsword and he was bringing it down over the other attacker's head. It was decorative so it merely bludgeoned them. He dropped like a stone as the first charged back at Maze meeting the blunt sword at his torso knocking the wind out of him.

A knight from the hall heard the commotion. Bursting into the room. "SIR IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?"

As quickly as the scuffle began it stopped.

The assailants climbing out the window with haste Leaving Maze in a state of intense fatigue. He backed into the wardrobe falling to his knees. The world around him became larger and faded from his vision. Before losing consciousness he watched the canopy of the bed swing back and Lekan emerged in fury and confusion.

In the following days, a rumor that the prince had single-handedly staved off three would-be attackers in his bedroom, followed Lekan and Maze wherever they went. Lekan held the story with massive confusion. He could confirm that he had seen three figures in the moonlight outside of the canopy. However, only two were found leaving the palace. Lekan knew exclusively, that third assailant had been protecting him.

--

Maze had regained his human form, for like maybe three minutes. He ruminated on that for a very long time. What had he done? How could he do it again? Would he want to? Sure it had been convenient to the moment to protect the prince in his time of need, but he was a crow now, that's what he had decided. Was it what he wanted... probably not. But he wasn't going out of his way to change something he couldn't fix himself.

He hopped around on the balcony while Lekan showered. He was very keen to give Lekan his personal space. He would want the same if he had a pet bird that was actually a human. It would be vastly inappropriate to use his stealthy identity to cop a peek and what was under his- nevermind.

It felt weird now he was a crow.

Something else felt weird... like his body was being lifted. He flexed his talon to realize, oh yes he was levitating over the balcony edge. Before he could struggle, he shot into the air and into the window above Lekan's balcony. A pair of hands snatched hold of him.

"Got you ya shitty bird." He was turned to meet the face of Lekans sister Lulit, who had a look of chaotic interest in her eyes. "Well? Are you going to struggle." He was not. She frowned "You know.. normal birds, they struggle when someone catches them barehanded.. but we both know you're not a normal bird..." she squeezed him around the middle just hard enough to make Maze squawk. "If you can talk, do it now.. or else my brother won't have a pet anymore." She tightened her grip for emphasis. "My brother told me you know. There were three people there that night." Maze froze interested in where she was going with this. "Only two bludgeoned bandits were found that night. The third got away.. or did he?" Maze blinked at her knowing where this was going. "So I did some digging and I think you.. are a shapeshifter"

Oh.. nope that's not the right answer.

"So shift or talk Corvus" she shook him for emphasis.

He squawked defiantly before contorting his vocal cords enough to release a guttural "{NAOW}" Lulit seemed surprised that the threats worked... kinda.

"No? No, you won't shift or no you won't talk" Why did she have so many questions. He wasn't good at this.After a couple more tries he came up with "{CAWNT}" that sounds like 'cant' right? She stared at him loosening her grip "Cant?" He nodded finally shoving her hands away with his wings and dropping to the floor. He waddled into her room obstinately, making himself comfortable on a chair cawing at her.

He had never seen a magician's shop. The layout of the room was identical to Lekan's but with considerably more cluttered. Shelves stuffed to the brim, lined all four walls, papers and books lined every other open space. Various trinkets and gadgets were scattered around the solid surfaces and a few even floated in the middle of the air. He strolled his way around the room reading some of the open books and papers on the floor.

Oh, they were in the old tongue, Damnit.

First off he needed something to write with. He probably could use his beak.. a typewriter! He spotted one in the corner and tapped the enter key to indicate he wanted to use it.

Filled with confusion and mystique Lulit stocked the writer with ink and paper and stood back. Maze typed away:

Your right. Not crow. was guy. Long story. Not interesting don't ask. Am crow now. 4 years. Will stay crow forever. ? . was not crow that night.

He looked up at her, typing was hard with a beak. She read the lines with increasing disbelief "Wow... I was right about you."

I'm not a bad guy. : (

She laughed "Okay so... what's your name? Who are you." He sighed shaking his head. That was a long answer.

Maze Suvroc Shadow of the Morning Star. The heir would be of Suvroc Family.

"Wait... you're their missing heir?" He nodded insistently "Then why didn't you tell us sooner? Your family's inheritance is being put up for auction."

Fuck them. Don't need it. I'm a crow now

She stared at the statement and burst out laughing "What do you mean you're a crow now? You're a person, you don't want to go back to being a person?" he shrugged his wings.

Being a crow easy.

Lulit scoffed "Oh.. I see, you're just looking for an easy ride. You can turn back into a person though.. if you can, wouldn't you want to?'

He wasn't sure about that.. yes it would be nice to have thumbs again.. and a dick. But being fed leftovers without doing anything of note was an exceptional benefit. He didn't answer the question. So Lulit shrugged. "Well... then what was different about that night?"

Didn't want Lekan to get hurt.

She pondered on that for a moment chewing her lip. "How did you feel? What kinds of thoughts went through your head... can you remember that feeling of not wanting to see him hurt?"

Maze couldn't pinpoint the exact feeling, it was a rush of adrenalin, the injustice that Lekan the gentle giant would need to feel so... scared.

"Imagine he gets attacked again. What if you're the only person there to help him..."His fury at the notion filled him, he looked to her indignantly."If anyone ever touches him they better pick a god and pray""So it's like that huh?"

Maze became cognizant of the fact that Lulit had gotten about twelve feet shorter, he was much colder and the room much smaller. He was also keenly aware that he was naked. He covered himself and moved off of the desk. She handed him a robe without batting an eye. "So It's an emotionally driven trigger.""um.."She dug through a pile of books and pulled out one flipping through it quickly before showing him a page in the old tongue.

"I cant.." she read it out loud before he could finish.

"Trigger transformations are a type of curse where the end-user, that would be you, can transmute between one species of being to another. The trigger would be set by the caster. A similar naturally occurring trigger transformation can be found in Lycans when exposed to full moonlight." She licked her finger and flipped the page "Reversing this kind of curse is undoable without recension from the caster. This is a for life curse, however, the nature of transforming can be controlled. If the trigger for the curse can be identified the end-user can manipulate the curse to be used in benefit." She closed the book "It seems like you get to change back into a person when you get riled up." She looked so proud of herself but she was so wrong. "I.. have been riled up before and never experienced this" he stated bluntly. "It can't be that simple.."She shook her head "It is! Maybe it is the combination of emotions you feel... what do you feel when you transform what thoughts go through your mind?" He shrugged, "I... just felt like I needed to help him." He scratched his chin, oh geez he needed a shave. He looked around for a mirror "I feel like.. if anything happens to him I wouldn't be doing my duty... I kinda owe him my life I guess" he found a full-length mirror and took a look at himself. He had lost a ton of the body tone from before he became a crow, his hair was much longer and he had decent facial growth. His face seemed to have changed slightly as well, his nose more beakish and eyes seemed a little darker.

"Yes, you're beautiful now can we get back to this curse thing" Lulit pulled out a pad of paper and was scribbling away."Seems like you've gotten over your hatred for me?""I never hated you, I just didn't trust you""But now you trust me?""Well I was right so I will probably continue to be right"Maze sat down running a hand through his hair. He forgot what it was like to have hands.His fingers started to tingle and he suddenly felt enormously tired "I think... it's over" Lulit looked up in horror as he returned to bird form.

"Noooooooooo! That's not fair do it again!" she stormed over to him "turn back!" He squawked at her angrily

Will not. I'm tired . not test subject. goodnight.

He was done being her guinea pig for the day, he hopped off of the bench and over to the window.

"Okay wait fine.. but.. if I look into this can we try some things to keep you a person."Maze made an exasperated sound but nodded before jumping over the balcony to join Lekan on his day-to-day.

--

As the event passed behind him Lekan found himself thinking about that mysterious savior more and more. He got a slim glimpse of him in the moonlight before he had vanished. The prince could gauge the man looked like a vagrant, scruffy facial hair and long unkempt locks. He could see part of the fight between the curtains and the man knew what he was doing. Maybe he was one of the palace guards who followed them to his balcony before thwarting their plot.

He wasn't used to death threats. The slim to none terrorist activity that the city experienced was largely from the south and was met with abrupt action. Steps to prevent that were followed to t.The man had collapsed against his bookshelf and had ample access to leave into the night while Lekan was distracted by the guard who burst in. The only other thing out of place was the crow. it seemed to have gotten mixed up in the outbreak and was found unconscious on the floor.

Poor thing. It didn't suffer any major wounds but... now that he thought about it he didn't remember hearing the crow during the scuffle. He was a pretty vocal bird. He would have definitely been vocal then.

He watched the avian in question hop around between books in the castle library. The bird would, at times stop and seem to read a passage in open books whenever they were there. Could birds have a concept of written language?

That would be crazy.. and yet.

Even now the crow was perched behind an open book studying it one eye at a time, cocking his head as if ending a sentence and beginning the next. Then it seemed to notice that Lekan noticed and hop away to do something else.That bird was weird.

----

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[certainheartrunaway]

"The claims of my demise are greatly exaggerated."

With the announcement of yet another digital mode du jour. FT4 - there are some who insist on dancing (yet again, prematurely) on CW's grave. As I've stated before, so many times ..... my personal opinion is that Amateur Radio is a big enough tent to accommodate everyone's interests. I did digi in the 90s. Granted, it wasn't PSK31 or the newer FT modes; but it was RTTY, PacTOR and AMTOR. These modes were quite exciting at first, but eventually grew boring to me. All the conversations that I was having seemed to consist of a bunch of key presses to release a bevy of pre-recorded macros. Spontaneous conversations took place; but they became fewer and harder to find. That's why I drifted back to CW as my only mode of operation. Now, that being said, I realize that my case is not the case for everyone. If digi floats your boat - then bravo! Go for it with gusto, kid! I like it when you are happy! But at the same time, please don't look down upon me when I politely say, "Thanks, but no thanks."  That doesn't make me a fossil, a cranky old fart, a relic or a yesterday's stale bread. It's just that I know what I like, what I'm good at and what brings me a modicum of pleasure. As an added note, I do not look down upon, frown upon or consider anyone less of an Amateur Radio Operator because they never learned or just plain don't like Morse Code. Again - more power to you! Engage in whichever mode it is that makes you happy that you spent time doing it. But at the same time, don't regard my favorite aspect of the hobby to be "old fashioned", "irrelevant", "useless" or "unneeded in this day and age" just because it befuddles you. Perhaps my feelings about CW were summed up by a lot of what Dale Parfitt W4OP wrote in a post on QRP-L. I asked Dale if he would mind if I re-posted his post here. He most graciously granted me permission - here it is: "I think the decline in CW may be more associated with the decline in civilization in general. Fewer and fewer people seem inclined to work hard and more and more seem to be embracing the concept of a welfare state, participation trophies etc. In the amateur sector, the exams have become a matter of memorization as opposed to understanding,  off the shelf rigs replace homebrew and the focus of amateur radio today appears to be chatting as opposed to furthering the technical aspects of the hobby. CW is a skill that does require work. But so enjoyable, and high speed CW is more akin to holding a conversation. I could work piles of more contacts off the moon if I did one of the digital modes. But for me, it is all about hearing these weak signals and constantly improving my station. I won't go into the fact that some of the digital guys on the moon seem to have to communicate via the Internet to complete  the digital QSO. On HF, a nice CW ragchew,  adapting to the other's fist, using my brain and dealing with the vagaries of propagation, QRM  is what it's all about. If I want to simply send a message, I can text someone or send an email. All this has nothing to do with me being an old fart (although chronologically, I am one) . I embrace design software, love surface mount, design a lot of my  rigs and build more than I operate. YMMV, Dale W4OP" Thanks Dale! I guess chronologically, we're in the same boat; but like you - for me it's about the challenge - and constantly marveling about how my radio signal gets from Point A to Point B without the aid of anything else but my radio and antenna, my key and my brain. And I think there are quite a few of us who would still like to occupy a seat on this pleasure craft - so for those out there who think we CW devotees are nothing more than a bunch of aging, irrelevant fossils ....... pay close attention to Dale's "YMMV". It's an invitation for us all to engage in what we enjoy while maintaining our mutual respect for one another. 72 de Larry W2LJ QRP - When you care to send the very least! from DXER ham radio news http://bit.ly/2ZNlsMU via IFTTT

[certainheartrunaway]

"The claims of my demise are greatly exaggerated."

With the announcement of yet another digital mode du jour. FT4 - there are some who insist on dancing (yet again, prematurely) on CW's grave. As I've stated before, so many times ..... my personal opinion is that Amateur Radio is a big enough tent to accommodate everyone's interests. I did digi in the 90s. Granted, it wasn't PSK31 or the newer FT modes; but it was RTTY, PacTOR and AMTOR. These modes were quite exciting at first, but eventually grew boring to me. All the conversations that I was having seemed to consist of a bunch of key presses to release a bevy of pre-recorded macros. Spontaneous conversations took place; but they became fewer and harder to find. That's why I drifted back to CW as my only mode of operation. Now, that being said, I realize that my case is not the case for everyone. If digi floats your boat - then bravo! Go for it with gusto, kid! I like it when you are happy! But at the same time, please don't look down upon me when I politely say, "Thanks, but no thanks."  That doesn't make me a fossil, a cranky old fart, a relic or a yesterday's stale bread. It's just that I know what I like, what I'm good at and what brings me a modicum of pleasure. As an added note, I do not look down upon, frown upon or consider anyone less of an Amateur Radio Operator because they never learned or just plain don't like Morse Code. Again - more power to you! Engage in whichever mode it is that makes you happy that you spent time doing it. But at the same time, don't regard my favorite aspect of the hobby to be "old fashioned", "irrelevant", "useless" or "unneeded in this day and age" just because it befuddles you. Perhaps my feelings about CW were summed up by a lot of what Dale Parfitt W4OP wrote in a post on QRP-L. I asked Dale if he would mind if I re-posted his post here. He most graciously granted me permission - here it is: "I think the decline in CW may be more associated with the decline in civilization in general. Fewer and fewer people seem inclined to work hard and more and more seem to be embracing the concept of a welfare state, participation trophies etc. In the amateur sector, the exams have become a matter of memorization as opposed to understanding,  off the shelf rigs replace homebrew and the focus of amateur radio today appears to be chatting as opposed to furthering the technical aspects of the hobby. CW is a skill that does require work. But so enjoyable, and high speed CW is more akin to holding a conversation. I could work piles of more contacts off the moon if I did one of the digital modes. But for me, it is all about hearing these weak signals and constantly improving my station. I won't go into the fact that some of the digital guys on the moon seem to have to communicate via the Internet to complete  the digital QSO. On HF, a nice CW ragchew,  adapting to the other's fist, using my brain and dealing with the vagaries of propagation, QRM  is what it's all about. If I want to simply send a message, I can text someone or send an email. All this has nothing to do with me being an old fart (although chronologically, I am one) . I embrace design software, love surface mount, design a lot of my  rigs and build more than I operate. YMMV, Dale W4OP" Thanks Dale! I guess chronologically, we're in the same boat; but like you - for me it's about the challenge - and constantly marveling about how my radio signal gets from Point A to Point B without the aid of anything else but my radio and antenna, my key and my brain. And I think there are quite a few of us who would still like to occupy a seat on this pleasure craft - so for those out there who think we CW devotees are nothing more than a bunch of aging, irrelevant fossils ....... pay close attention to Dale's "YMMV". It's an invitation for us all to engage in what we enjoy while maintaining our mutual respect for one another. 72 de Larry W2LJ QRP - When you care to send the very least! from DXER ham radio news http://bit.ly/2ZNlsMU via IFTTT