#doing 2017 for week 1 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chamisulgrape · 1 month ago

Text

watch me, watch me party on you 𖤐 [p.sh] pt.1

You and Sunghoon, the faces of two rival fashion brands, can’t stay apart after one night shared in the midst of New York Fashion Week.

☆ part one of party 4 u | part two [soon]

☆ pairing → sunghoon x afab reader

☆ word count → 6.8k

☆ tags → fashion industry setting, model au, nyfw, rivalry, lots of yearning and lust!, models falling in love during nyfw, confessions

☆ smut tags → porn with plot, barebacking (unprotected sex), blowjobs and foreplay, lots of spit/biting, squirting, use of petnames aka baby/darling, they're nasty and in love, minor dirty talk/degradation

☆ warnings → implied minor and subtle side relationship between sunoo and riki, who are the fashion designers in this au, please do not read if that upsets you in any way. you are not forced to read this in any way! hate comments and anything of the sort will be deleted and you will be blocked. not proofread

☆ a/n → hihi! this is a rewrite/revamp of another fic i have written previously on ao3, so if this seems familiar yes it is me! this is also my first time writing on tumblr since 2017-2018 when i wrote for bts, still learning my way around so pls be nice to me :3

minors pls dni.

♪ hope you walk in the party, cause i threw this party just for you.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

"Are you nervous?"

You raise your gaze from the tape on the floor with your name on it, to meet Sunoo's calculating eyes. You swallow, and shake your head. "No."

You've trained your whole life for this opportunity. This is the moment they've been working towards for years. Now that it's in their hands, you're not going to ruin it. You're confident in your abilities, definitely, but what you're most confident in is making Sunoo and Riki proud.

"Good," Sunoo says, curt. He nods his head, looking over your suit—a careful and beautiful handcrafted piece, a piece in their latest and most criticized collection that is meant to exceed the norms of gender and all that alike—before calling Riki over. "You're our star. So go out there and make us proud."

Riki rushes over in seconds to peer over Sunoo's shoulder. "Everything good?"

Sunoo nods, brushing your suit off before disappearing to look after the other models.

Riki gives you a once-over just as Sunoo did, before running off and returning with a palette and a small makeup brush. You let him apply a sticky substance over your matte lips, and part them carefully when you're told not to smack. Riki uses his thumb to dab the corner of your lips and smiles. "You're perfect."

"Of course," you huff. "It's your guys' production. I wouldn't expect anything less."

Riki laughs and shakes his head. "That's what we like to hear. Don't tell Sunoo that, though. We don't want his ego skyrocketing any higher than it already has."

A staff member rushes up to them and gives the two of you a thumbs up. "Up in two."

Riki lets out a nervous breath. "You got this. Remember, loose—"

"—but not too loose." You finish. Riki reaches out to squeeze your hand once.

"Don't forget the pockets. And unclench." Riki frets over you some more before running off to find Sunoo.

The nerves don't hit you until there's less than a minute left. You're nervous, as anyone would be, but you're more excited. You want to be out there, showing that this is their brand. This is their debut. This is it.

It's Fashion week, it's New York, and you're going to make XO proud.

You stand tall and straighten your posture when you hear the music play, remembering what Riki said about unclenching and you relax your jaw.

"Go."

You do what you know best: you walk.

It's exhilarating; you live for it.

All eyes are on you—assessing and scanning over your outfit—like they're looking right through you. You can hear the questions already: What is XO? What do they stand for? What do you represent? You answer in the only way you know how.

You prove it by walking.

Like Sunoo said, you're their star. You're the face of XO and the person they specifically chose and nurtured and worked alongside for years, from the bottom of their brand up. You represent XO, and more importantly, you represent Sunoo and RIki.

There were no other candidates or options. From the very beginnings of XO, made in Sunoo and Riki's small studio, you've been there with them. They’ve come so far, to be holding a show amongst famous and respectable brands, and you are more than appreciative to be here with them. There’s nowhere you’d rather be than with the two people you cherish the most, doing what you love the most.

Towards the end of your walk, you spot him.

Sunghoon Park, face of PARADOXXX, sitting in the very front row.

You're not surprised that Sunghoon is here, no, you're more surprised that Sunghoon is looking right at you. Sunghoon isn't trying to look through you, nor is he holding his phone out to record like others are doing. Instead, Sunghoon's gaze is focused solely on you, and you feel as if Sunghoon is capturing the moment with his eyes instead.

Your heart almost stops when you meet Sunghoon's eyes. You look forward, trying not to let your gaze stray, but you can't help the way you keep taking subtle glances back towards Sunghoon. Your eyes are attracted to him, and you can't bring yourself to look away for too long. When your eyes meet for the third time, Sunghoon raises a brow, tilting his head slightly. You can feel your ears get hot, and you curse yourself for being distracted by him, but you can't help it.

Although there are over a hundred eyes on you, you can't feel as though Sunghoon is the only one really looking.

The last time your eyes meet as you near the end of your walk, Sunghoon winks. You make it your mission not to collapse until you get backstage.

"You're perfect! Perfect." Riki pulls you into a hug as soon as you make the turn backstage and then takes your hand to lead you further back and into a makeup chair. Sunoo comes shortly after, resting his hands on your shoulders and squeezing them lightly.

"Amazing, as always." Sunoo says, proud, before turning to Riki. "Retouch his lips."

Riki nods and Sunoo leaves with a kiss on Riki's cheek.

Later, as you watch through the TV to monitor the rest of the show, you notice that Sunghoon doesn't look at the other models the same way he looked at you. Sunghoon doesn't trap them with the same gaze he did you, nor does he look at any of the following models with the same eyes he looked at you with.

You can't get Sunghoon's eyes out of your mind, or the way he looked at you with want. Not a want of lust or greed or sin, but curiosity. A need to know.

Sunoo and Riki host XO's after party at DUMBO house that same night.

You're dressed in another XO outfit, one that Sunoo and Riki designed specifically for this event. They ditch the suit for a loose open blouse and a flowy pair of dress pants, and Riki chooses to do your makeup himself.

They take loads of pictures and videos for XO's social media accounts, and another ton of photos at the DUMBO House photo station before going off to meet the crowd of celebrities and contributors of the show.

"Have fun," Sunoo says, and proceeds to push a glass of champagne into your hands. "You deserve it."

You laugh, before your face falls. "Why does this sound like you're about to run off again?"

Sunoo shares a look with Riki before taking ahold of his hand. "Because we are. Have fun! Mingle!"

Your sounds of protest get lost on your tongue as Sunoo drags Riki away. You sigh, cradling your glass of champagne against your chest before going off on your own as well. You're stopped by various people asking for pictures or to congratulate you on the show today. You spend a few minutes talking to other models of the show and even Jang Wonyoung of IVE, before making your way towards the terrace.

The view from the terrace is breathtaking. You can see the river and the skyline from here, and you opt for setting down your glass to pull out your phone and snap a view pictures of the bridge and night sky. You're going through the photos you took when you're interrupted by someone sidling up next to you.

"Nice view."

You turn to see Sunghoon, in the flesh.

You startle, taken aback by their close proximity. Sunghoon tilts his head again, tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip, and you can't seem to look elsewhere. Unlike earlier during the show, you don't have to force yourself to look away now.

"Yeah, nice." You say, clearing your throat when your voice comes out hoarse.

Sunghoon takes a moment to sip from his own glass of dark liquor before speaking again. "You guys did great today. As always."

Your cheeks warm, and you look away from Sunghoon to down the rest of your champagne.

"Are you coming to our show tomorrow?" Sunghoon asks, and you turn to meet his gaze again. Sunghoon's hand has somehow gravitated towards you, now resting on your lower back.

"And if I don't?" You reply, fingers tightening around your empty glass when Sunghoon's fingers trace the open back of your blouse.

You know you'll be there, there's no way Sunoo and RIki are letting you miss out on a PARADOXXX show. But that's the thing about the game that you two are playing: you're the face of XO and Sunghoon is the face of PARADOXXX, two rival brands.

At the end of the day, the public knows that behind the rivalry and competition they like to fuel, Sunoo, Riki, Heeseung, Jake, and Jay are as close as best friends can be. They've been friends since grade school, and shared the same dream and ideas of opening their own brand with each other. The competition is fun for them, and they use each other as a way to keep their motivation and creative juices running.

(Also because they're all competitive bastards. You think that somehow they get off on winning.)

Still, you want to indulge the game you and Sunghoon seem to be playing by yourselves.

"I'd be disappointed," Sunghoon smiles softly, his hand falling from your back to rest on your waist. "I'd have loved for you to be there."

Your lips part at the sight of Sunghoon's smile. You knew that Sunghoon was pretty, handsome, and everything alike. Hell, you've known since high school, but Sunghoon has only gotten more attractive since, and you crave to know just how beautiful he is on the inside as well.

"Don't be too disappointed, Sunoo and Riki have already planned my outfit for tomorrow. You'll see me there." You grin, and you have to look away once Sunghoon smirks back. Damn you, for always being weak for pretty boys.

"Good," Sunghoon whispers.

"Good." You echo in reply.

They take a moment to bask in the scenery and view and each other, before Sunghoon breaks the silence again.

"Are we done with the small talk?"

Sunghoon squeezes your hand, and you wonder how you missed the fact that Sunghoon started holding your hand in the first place.

"What do you mean?" You tilt your head, feigning nonchalance. "We've only spoken a few words."

"I think a few words is enough, don't you think?"

"What do you really think?" You shoot back, and you know you're dangerously toeing the line between what you should be allowed to do, but it's exhilarating; the same way you feel when you're on the runway, you feel the longer you're in Sunghoon's presence.

"I think, Sunghoon starts, before using his grip on your hand to tug you closer until your chests are almost touching. He looks down at you, "That you should get to know me better."

"And you? Don't you want to know me better as well?" You ask, your glass of champange long forgotten as you hook a finger in one of Sunghoon's belt loops.

"I do, but I rather it be in the privacy of my hotel room." Sunghoon still has that wide, sharp grin on his face, and you find that you want to kiss it off of him, feeling the sharp edges of his fangs against your tongue.

Instead, you snort. "Wouldn't that be a headline? I can see it now. Us, faces of rival brands XO and PARADOXXX, seen eloping and spending a night together."

The smile you receive in return is blinding; melting and dripping warmth and love, and your heart threatens to pound out of your chest and into Sunghoon's hands. "Shouldn't we give them something new to write about?"

"Why should we?" You inch closer. You can almost feel Sunghoon's breath on your lips.

"I want you, and you want me. It's that simple." Sunghoon leans in, the tip of his nose barely grazing your own.

You reel back an inch, reveling in the way Sunghoon chases after you with a soft sigh. "Who said I want you?"

Sunghoon snorts this time, shaking his head lightly. "You've never been that subtle."

"And what about the others? I don't think they'll appreciate us leaving early, nonetheless being seen entering a hotel together."

"I don't think they'll mind that much, darling."

It's all you need to close the distance between you two, stealing the last syllable of Sunghoon's reply right off his lips in a chaste kiss.

The drive to Sunghoon's hotel is silent, and it takes everything in you to not jump Sunghoon right there in the back of the car.

You bite your tongue to hold back the small whimpers that threaten to come out as Sunghoon keeps his hand steady on your thigh, massaging the flesh there every so often and teasing over your crotch. Your eyes almost well up in frustration, and you have to dig your fingernails into your palm to keep you sane.

It feels like hours before you arrive at Sunghoon's hotel, coincidentally being your hotel as well.

"We don't have to take this to your room, mine is here too." You say once you're both in the elevator.

Sunghoon gives him a look of amusement. "Would you rather I do the walk of shame tomorrow morning? I have no shame in doing so."

You scoff, cheeks heating. "Shut up, you have. show tomorrow, it's fine. We'll do this in your room."

"You sound as if this is a job." Sunghoon crosses the elevator to take your hands into his, tugging him flush against his chest. "Am I not entertaining you?"

“You—” you huff. “You’re plenty entertaining. Entertaining and insufferable.”

Sunghoon hums, before surging forward to press his lips to yours. He bites down on your bottom lip softly before pulling away, laughing softly at the whimper you let out. “You don’t sound like you hate it.”

“I don’t.” You push Sunghoon off of you when the elevator dings, announcing their arrival to Sunghoon’s floor.

Sunghoon trails after you, catching up to you to wrap an arm loosely around your waist and steering them down the floor and in the direction of his room. When you arrive to his room, he pulls out his keycard to unlock the door. “Last chance to back out. Take one step in here and I’m not letting you go.”

You snort, pushing past him to enter the room yourself. “You’re so insufferable. Hurry up and give me what I came here for.”

“You’re so mean, darling. Here I am trying to sweep you off your feet, and you’re telling me you only want me for sex?” You hears Sunghoon whine as the door closes behind them. “Truly so mean.”

“Sunghoon. Come here and kiss me before I walk right back out that door.” You say, already having made yourself comfortable on the edge of Sunghoon’s bed.

Sunghoon throws his head back with a laugh, before shrugging off his blazer and throwing it elsewhere. He makes his way towards you stopping once he’s kneeling in between your legs, hands running up your thighs before stopping at your waist. “Didn’t know you were this impatient.”

“And I didn’t know you were this annoying.” You huff, frustrated, before grabbing onto Sunghoon’s blouse and crashing your lips together.

It’s more tongue and teeth than lips, but Sunghoon takes it in stride, matching your pace. Sunghoon’s hands stay on your hips, and you whine into the kiss in frustration.

“Sunghoon, when are you going to touch me?” You whine, leaning in to kiss Sunghoon again while reaching down to grab onto one of Sunghoon’s hands. You pout when Sunghoon pulls back, hands leaving you completely.

“Where do you want me to touch you?” Sunghoon says softly, before leaning in to nose at your neck. He licks along your collarbone, leaving small kisses as he trails down further.

“Everywhere.” You deadpan, and the laugh Sunghoon lets out in response tickles your skin.

“I’m trying to romance you,” Sunghoon leaves another kiss in the middle of your chest, and for once you're thankful that the blouse Sunoo and Riki put you in is wide open. “Yet you’re complaining.”

“You can romance me another day, Sunghoon. If you don’t get your dick inside me now, I’m going to wither away. Fast.” You sigh when Sunghoon untucks your blouse, and finally presses his palm against your skin. “I’m aging, Sunghoon.”

You can feel Sunghoon smiling against your skin, which frustrates you further. Sunghoon is so slow. You are this close to losing it, when Sunghoon finally stands. “You’ll let me sweep you off your feet another day?”

You groan and roll your eyes. “Yes! I’ll let you romance me whenever you’d like! Whatever it takes to get you to—” You pull at Sunghoon’s belt loop, tugging him closer so you can fumble with Sunghoon’s zipper. “—fucking take off your pants already.”

You hear Sunghoon laugh above you, then feel Sunghoon's hand come to rest on your head, before he runs his fingers down the side of your face. Sunghoon’s touch leaves your skin burning, and you forgets all about wanting to take his pants off when Sunghoon tilts your head up by the chin to run his thumb along your bottom lip.

Sunghoon presses down on your lip softly, the touch so soft, so intimate that your breath gets caught in your throat. Sunghoon is looking down at you with eyes so soft and filled with so much care and affection that your mind fills with static.

“You’re so pretty,” Sunghoon sighs. “So pretty.”

You flush, letting out a flustered scoff. You wrap your lips around Sunghoon's thumb and suck lightly. “Can I suck you off?” You mumble around Sunghoon’s finger, and the way Sunghoon brings his thumb down to press against your tongue almost has you gagging.

“Five seconds ago you were just telling me that if I didn’t get my dick inside of you you’d die. And now you’re asking to suck me off?” Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head fondly.

“I changed my mind.” You pull your head back, making sure to keep your lips wrapped tightly around Sunghoon’s thumb, and pull off with a pop.

Sunghoon hums, wiping the spit you've left coating his finger on your cheek, and you scowl. You get a laugh in return, and immediately sit up straighter in anticipation when Sunghoon starts to unzip his slacks. Your mouth waters, saliva pooling under your tongue when Sunghoon finally pushes his pants down to his thighs. Your fingers tremble with the urge to reach out and grab onto any part of Sunghoon you can touch—his thighs, stomach, back, ass—but you restrain yourself by fisting your hands into the sheets.

Sunghoon clicks his tongue. “Baby,” Oh. You shiver, body tingling from your toes to the very top of your head at the pet name. Sunghoon reaches out to hold onto your wrists, bringing them to his thighs and exhaling through his nose when you run your hands up his skin. “Nobody said you couldn’t touch.”

You shudder in anticipation and excitement as you finally grope at Sunghoon’s legs freely, feeling the static in your mind spread to your fingertips as you run your hands anywhere you can get your hands on. Sunghoon is standing silently as he lets you touch his skin as you please, and it makes you whimper.

You swallow the saliva that keeps flooding your mouth at the thought of how good and nice Sunghoon is and how you want nothing more than to be good for him, too.

You hook your fingers under the waistband of Sunghoon’s boxers, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you pull lightly. “Please?”

You see Sunghoon swallow and tongue at his cheek, and your toes curl at the sight of Sunghoon twitching in his boxers. God, you want him so bad your body aches, craving Sunghoon’s touch everywhere; your body against his and Sunghoon’s pretty lips and tongue and—You just want so badly to be his, to belong to Sunghoon.

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to ask.” Sunghoon says softly, hand coming up, up, until his fingers are running through your hair. You can’t help the way you squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of your arousal, because nobody’s ever touched you like this before; nobody has ever touched you with so much affection and care and fondness like Sunghoon’s been doing.

You stand up and remove your fingers from where they were teasing Sunghoon’s skin to curl them around the sides of his neck instead, pulling him in for a soft kiss that says too many things at once. Sunghoon’s hands slide around your waist, fingers digging into your blouse lightly. You spin the both of you around, flipping your positions until Sunghoon is the one seated on the bed instead.

Sunghoon sucks in a breath when you disconnect your lips to drop to your knees between his thighs. You leave kisses on his thighs, biting and sucking to leave small marks you knows will be covered by Sunghoon’s outfit tomorrow. Sunghoon’s hand rests in your hair, and you preen when Sunghoon’s fingers tighten when you bite down too hard.

Impatient.

Sunghoon’s voice echoes in your mind, but you're already painfully wet and throbbing under your panties and you think if you wait any longer you’ll go absolutely insane. You waste no time pulling Sunghoon's boxers down, the sight of the gray fabric damp with a wet spot from Sunghoon’s precome shoves the last bit of sanity and patience you have out the window.

Sunghoon hisses as the cold air hits his cock and his voice breaks off into a low groan when you wrap your soft hand around the base, one hand digging crescents into Sunghoon’s thigh and the other holding his cock steady so you can lean down and lick a stripe up the underside. You moan when you get to the mushroom-top head, eyes rolling back at the musky scent of Sunghoon’s precome and sweat finally on your tongue.

You suck lightly, tongue digging into the slit, already addicted to Sunghoon’s scent and smell and taste. Your lips are slick from the drool from your mouth dribbling out the corners of your lips and down Sunghoon’s cock, and you hear Sunghoon let out a shaky breath above you. You take a glance up and are frozen in place at the sight of Sunghoon with his head thrown back and his pretty throat on display. You make a mental note to remember to taste him there later too.

Sunghoon’s head falls forward when you take him deeper into your mouth, and you're obsessed with the way Sunghoon looks when he’s getting his dick sucked—when you're the one doing it. How his brows furrow, how his lips turn pink and raw from being bitten down on, how he sounds moaning your name when you swallow around his cock.

Sunghoon releases his bottom lip, tongue peeking out to run over it as a way to soothe it. You preen again when Sunghoon finally has his eyes and gaze on you, and it makes you think back to the show earlier today, when all of Sunghoon’s focus was on you. God, the thought makes your blood run hot, and you makes it your mission to prove to Sunghoon just how much you like when Sunghoon looks at you—how much you love when Sunghoon makes you feel like you're the only person there.

“So pretty—god, you’re so perfect for me.” Sunghoon tightens his fingers in your hair and uses the grip to pull you further down onto his cock, until your nose is buried into Sunghoon’s finely trimmed hair. You try to express how much you love this—Sunghoon using you and pulling your hair and praising you—but it only comes out as a weak moan that has Sunghoon's hips bucking forward. Sunghoon curses when you gag around him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You whine and rub your thighs together to relieve some of the ache in your core, fingers tightening where they’re already digging into Sunghoon’s thigh. You pull your head up to swirl your tongue around the tip again before going down, making sure to squeeze Sunghoon's balls ever so lightly and softly as you do, and the throaty moan you get in return has you pulling off to shove your face against Sunghoon’s hip in need.

“Sunghoon—Sunghoon, please. Fuck me now, I can’t take it anymore—please.” You whimper against Sunghoon’s shirt, dampening it with your saliva. “Sunghoon, I want you. I need you so bad.”

You feel Sunghoon shake, tremble, before you're pulled up by the hair and into a rough kiss. Sunghoon tugs you forward so hard that your teeth clash against each other as Sunghoon falls back onto the bed, bringing your body with him.

You moan, needy, as you crawl over Sunghoon’s body to situate yourself on Sunghoon’s thighs. You reach between them to stroke Sunghoon’s cock and swallow down the groan he lets out at the feeling. You suck at Sunghoon’s tongue when it enters your mouth to lick along your teeth and trace your lips. You grind against Sunghoon's palm when he rips your hand away from his cock and presses his palm against your core, instead.

“Off. Take it off,” you pant against Sunghoon's lips and tug at his blouse. You pull back to trail wet kisses down Sunghoon’s neck as he pulls the fabric up, only pulling away to help Sunghoon lift the shirt over his head and diving right back in to lick along his collarbones.

You runs your hands greedily all over Sunghoon’s chest and shoulders, moaning at the feel of his skin. Sunghoon's body is hot and damp with sweat and you can’t resist sucking and tasting every part of him that you can get your mouth on.

“Baby—I have a show tomorrow.” Sunghoon breathes out, sounding just as hot and bothered as you feel. “No marks.”

You whine in response. “But you taste so good.”

“Yeah? Won’t look so good walking tomorrow like this.” Sunghoon laughs, softly, before bringing you back up to pull you in for another kiss. “You’re so cute. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me walking down the runway with your marks on display for everyone to see. Everyone knowing that you did this to me?”

“Want it so bad—want you so bad.” You say in between kisses. You nod, letting out soft exhales into Sunghoon’s mouth as Sunghoon pushes his palm harder against your core, letting you rut your clit against his hand. “Sunghoon, fuck me already.”

“You’re so—”

“—impatient, I know. Hurry, I said please.” You interrupt, and Sunghoon laughs again, the sound ringing in your ears like a symphony. You don't think you’ll ever get enough of Sunghoon. “Sunghoon, now.”

“Are you always this impatient with other people? Or am I just special?” Sunghoon teases, moving to remove your blouse and throw it somewhere across the room. You ignore the fact that Sunoo and Riki would skin you alive if they knew their precious shirt was on the floor of a five-star hotel room while you fraternize with the face of their rival.

You shiver when your chest is completely bare, nipples hardening at the feeling of cold air against your skin. Sunghoon leans down to take one into his mouth, tugging lightly with his teeth. “No—ah—I’ve never wanted anyone as badly as I want you.”

Sunghoon laps at your nipple, and you keen during a hard suck. He's running his hands all over your back, and you can’t stress enough how addicted you are to having Sunghoon’s hands on you. Sunghoon pulls off with a loud pop, instead moving to leave marks in the middle of your chest. You can feel the way you're dripping into your panties, soaking through the fabric, hips grinding down against Sunghoon's palm.

“That’s cute. You’re so cute. Just for me.”

Just when you're about to get more impatient, Sunghoon reaches down into his pants to pull out a condom. You scoff. “Were you planning this?”

Sunghoon pats your thigh with a hand, and you gets the hint to hop off of his thighs and onto the bed. You crawl further, until the back of your head hits the soft pillows. Sunghoon removes his pants fully, leaving him completely naked, and your cheeks warm at how shameless he is.

“Maybe.” Sunghoon is kneeling in front of your legs, working on getting your pants off. “Asked Jake for it before the after party.”

“Oh.” You frown down at him. “How often do you do this that he just gave it to you?”

Sunghoon smiles, all teeth, before leaning down to press a kiss on your bare knee. “Don’t be jealous, darling. I told him who it was for.”

“And how do I know that you said me? For all I know, you could’ve had it ready for anyone else.” You pout when Sunghoon laughs against your knee. “It’s not funny.”

“Baby, I don’t want anyone but you. I’ve wanted you for years.”

And oh, “Oh.” Your breath hitches at the confession.

Sunghoon hums, the vibrations tickling your inner thigh. He kisses his way up to your stomach, sucking a mark right above the waistband of your panties. Your mind is swirling, thoughts of how long you've wanted Sunghoon, and now how long he's wanted you. They could’ve been doing this much sooner.

“Hey,” Sunghoon’s voice breaks you out of your thoughts. “We’ll talk about this later, yeah?” You nod, licking your lips. “Eyes on me.”

You haven’t taken your eyes off of him for as long as you can remember, but you nod. God, you think you might love Sunghoon. You don’t think about it for too long, not after Sunghoon pulls off your panties in one go, adding them to the pile of collecting designer clothes on the floor.

Sunghoon exhales, running his hands up your thighs. “You’re so pretty. Fuck.”

You whine, shy. “Don’t stare.”

“Why not? You’re mine, aren’t you?” Sunghoon says, raising a brow when you release more wetness onto the sheets.

“Yeah—I’m yours,” your voice comes out shaky. “Always have been.”

“I know, baby.” Sunghoon leans down to kiss your stomach, before coming up to kiss your lips too. “I know.”

You whimper against Sunghoon's lips, choking on a moan when Sunghoon ghosts the pads of his fingers down your slit. You can feel how wet you are, the wetness making the slide easier as Sunghoon slides two fingers against your clit, moving them slowly in between open mouthed kisses.

You're barely kissing at this point, more panting into Sunghoon's mouth and Sunghoon licking along your lips, but you can’t seem to be bothered when Sunghoon is touching you like this—fingers gently massaging you, rubbing slow circles against your clit—like you're his.

“Good, fuck, Hoon—you’re so good.” You throw your head back, and Sunghoon dives in to nibble at your neck and suck lightly at your jaw. “Can you touch me now? Please?”

“I am touching you.” Sunghoon emphasizes with a pinch to your clit. “More?”

“Hoon, no, here,” you reach down between you two to wrap your fingers around Sunghoon’s wrist—whimpering when Sunghoon’s hand leaves your clit—to push him lower, lower until Sunghoon’s fingers are ghosting over your hole.

Sunghoon inhales sharply, applying the lightest bit of pressure where you need him the most. “God.”

Seconds pass before Sunghoon reels back to rip open the packet of the condom with his teeth, spitting somewhere off the side of the bed. Sunghoon calls for you, “Baby, c’mere.”

You reach for him, arms coming around Sunghoon’s neck and pulling your bodies flush against each other. Sunghoon hoists one of your legs around his waist, firm grip under your thigh.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” Sunghoon leans in and noses at your jaw before running a finger down your slit.

You hold Sunghoon tighter when he finally pushes the tip of his finger in, hole clenching around the digit. You moan, voice cracking when Sunghoon slides his finger in deeper, crooking it before adding another.

“Hoon—Sunghoon, add another. I can take it, please.”

Sunghoon kisses your earlobe before pressing his lips against your temple. “I know you can—god, you’re so tight.”

You clench around Sunghoon’s two fingers weakly, pressing your hips down against his hand in an attempt to get him deeper, to feel fuller. You throw your head back when Sunghoon adds a third finger alongside the two, moaning when Sunghoon scissors his fingers.

“I’m ready, Hoon. Please, please, need you now.” You rock back against Sunghoon’s fingers, whining when you feels Sunghoon’s cock twitch against your thigh.

“I barely even stretched you out, baby.”

“Sunghoon, I can’t wait anymore—please,” you beg. “Hurry, baby, Hoon.”

You hear Sunghoon let out a low groan against your temple, and you let out a soft laugh. “Baby? Is that what did it for you?”

“Could say the same to you.” Sunghoon removes his fingers from your hole, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing. “It’s just you, I like whatever you call me.”

“Stop being so cheesy—fuck me already.” You can feel your ears getting hot again, and hopes that Sunghoon doesn’t see right through him.

“Hold on, I need to get the condom—”

“No! I’m clean. Wanna feel you inside me, please."

Sunghoon groans against your neck. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“C’mon, Hoon, hurry.”

Sunghoon inhales again, leaving one last kiss against your neck before he pulls back, your arms falling onto the bed. Your stomach churns with anticipation and arousal, and you can already feel the pool of wetness you've left under the both of you. Sunghoon isn’t doing any better, and you can feel the sticky spot of precome he’s left on your thigh as well.

You reach down to run two of your fingers through the mess on your thigh before bringing it to your mouth, sucking around your fingers and moaning at the taste. Sunghoon’s lips part, and then he’s surging forward to taste his own precome off your lips.

“You’re so hot, god, I’m so lucky.”

You whine, wrapping both of your legs around Sunghoon’s hips to cage him in. You moan in unison when Sunghoon’s cock brushes against your clit, and your mouth waters at how thick and warm and heavy Sunghoon feels against him.

You reach between them to wrap your hand around Sunghoon’s cock, guiding the head to your slit to rub it against yourself a few times before pushing the tip into your hole, barely, still teasing.

“Fuck.” Sunghoon moans, and you can’t resist pushing the head completely inside.

You keen, throwing your head back against the headboard as you feel Sunghoon finally entering you slowly, stretching you and filling you up just how youwanted. You moan at the feeling of being so full.

“Ah! Sunghoon—feels so good, so big,” Your head lolls to the side, tongue slipping out when Sunghoon finally bottoms out.

Sunghoon’s thumb swipes against your lip, pushing the spit that’s dribbled out from the corner of your lips back into your mouth, keeping the tip of his thumb inside. Your eyes roll back when Sunghoon moves, slowly, pulling back until the head of his cock catches against the ridges and walls of your entrance and slamming back inside in one go.

You wail, and Sunghoon pulls his thumb from your mouth so he can hear the sounds better. “Fuck, fuck—oh my god, Sunghoon, baby,”

“Yeah? You’re so tight. You feel so good around me—god, could fuck you like this every day.” Your moans rise in pitch with each thrust Sunghoon delivers, and by the end of his sentence, you're practically screaming. “You’re so fucking loud, you want everyone on the floor hearing you get fucked like this? Hearing you getting fucked by me, moaning like a bitch, hm?”

Your mind goes blank. All you can hear and feel and taste is SunghoonSunghoonSunghoon.

Sunghoon groans, throwing his head back when you tighten and clench around him. “All the people who saw you walk today don’t even know that their precious model cries and moans like a whore in bed. All for me, just for me.”

You're delirious. “Yes! Yes, Hoon—oh god, just for you! I’m yours, all yours only yours—”

“You’ve never been anyone but mine. Wanted you so bad for so long, now that I have you I’m not letting you go.”

You let out a loud sob, nodding your head vigorously. It sounds so tempting, so delicious—the thought of being owned by Sunghoon—being Sunghoon's own personal model. Just Sunghoon's and no one elses.

The thought has you seizing up, and before you know it, you're squirting all over Sunghoon's cock, fluid splashing against the sheets and spilling down Sunghoon's balls. Sunghoon moans loudly at the sensation of your walls fluttering but doesn’t let up. His thrusts and rhythm don’t falter, instead, he seems to get rougher, fucking you harder through your orgasm to milk you through it.

You whine in sensitivity, each thrust has Sunghoon’s cock abusing the spongey spot in your cunt, and you can't help the way you shake, releasing small spurts of wetness out around his cock.

Sunghoon hikes your legs higher, the angle causing his cock to hit deeper, filling you up even better than he did before. Your eyes well up with tears; the overstimulation hurts so good.

“Fuck, you look so pretty crying with a cock inside you.” Sunghoon curses, hands coming to hold your hips, using the grip and the new angle to piston his hips faster into your hole. “‘m close—gonna fill you up how you wanted, yeah?”

You nod, hooking your ankles around Sunghoon’s back and pulling him closer, deeper. Sunghoon groans, one hand coming up to wipe at your lashes where your tears are collecting so prettily for him. “Sunghoon, baby, fill me up. Want your cum inside me—want it inside, cum inside. Wanna feel you inside me for days.”

Sunghoon pulls you in for a kiss, all tongue and teeth before pushing his hips flush against yours, burying himself deep inside of your hole as he finally cums.

The warmth of Sunghoon's cum inside of his hole has you shuddering, finally content at the feeling of Sunghoon filling you up to the brim.

“Wish I could plug you up, have you come to my show tomorrow all plugged up with my come still inside of you. You’d like that, huh?” Sunghoon says against your lips, and you clench around Sunghoon’s cock, causing you both to moan lowly. “Next time, baby.”

The kisses turn soft, and you melt against the pillows at the feeling of Sunghoon's lips against yours. You sigh against Sunghoon’s mouth, hands holding his jaw to keep him close.

After a few minutes, Sunghoon moves to pull out. You whine, trying your best to clench to keep Sunghoon and his cum plugged inside of you.

“Baby,” Sunghoon chuckles. “We can’t stay like this forever.”

“Please?” You tug him back down and onto the sticky mess between you, grimacing when it smears against both of your skins. “It’s fine, we can clean tomorrow.”

“No.” Sunghoon fights back, but makes no move to get up or pull out.

“Baby, please?” You beg, voice soft, and your eyes widen when you feel Sunghoon’s cock twitch inside of you. “Sunghoon!”

“You’re just so—” Sunghoon lets out a breath, rolling his hips slowly. You full-body shudder, and blame Sunghoon for the way white hot arousal shoots throughout your body again. “Can’t get enough of you. Want you like this every day.”

“Sunghoon,” you sigh when Sunghoon pulls out an inch before rolling his hips forward, the head of his cock rubbing against your abused walls lightly with each thrust.

It’s slow and sensual and intimate, and after a few minutes you're brought to your third orgasm of the night, another load of Sunghoon's cum filling your hole up.

“God, you don’t know what you do to me. I think I like you too much.” Sunghoon says after you’ve both bathed and are lying in bed. Sunghoon’s arms are wrapped around you and your head is resting on his shoulder.

You look up at him, only to find him already looking at you. This time, it’s your turn to say:

“I know.”

Sunghoon laughs softly, lips curling up at the corners in a soft grin before he leans down to press his lips against your forehead.

“You’re going to be the death of me.”

You grin back. “Wouldn’t that be a headline? Sunghoon Park, death by love.”

“And who said that I love you?” Sunghoon raises a brow, amusement and fondness and everything swirling in his eyes.

“You’re not that subtle, Sunghoon.” You lean up to kiss him softly, once, twice before burrowing your head into Sunghoon's chest.

Sunghoon pulls the covers over your shoulders and pulls you closer to him, as if you weren’t already as close as you can be. “Wouldn’t you know?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Wouldn’t I know?” You repeat after him.

The two of you fall asleep like that minutes later, legs and limbs tangled together. You think your poor, weak heart has already jumped out of your chest and into Sunghoon’s welcoming hands a long, long time ago.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

XO sunoo and riki's brand PARADOXXX heeseung, jake, and jay's brand DUMBO house soho house's third nyc club, located on the edge of the east river + where a designer named peter do hosted his after party during nyfw 2 years ago!

a/n: my first fic here is done! listened to party 4 u the whole time while writing this, it almost made me insane. thank you so much for giving this a try if you did! pls reblog/leave me asks or anything :3 that would make me very happy! part 2 will be out soon hehe

#chamisulgrape #party4u series #enhypen smut #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #enha smut #sunghoon x reader #enhypen x reader #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon scenarios #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #sunki au

661 notes · View notes

lanadelspray02 · 21 days ago

Text

A BEAUTIFUL MISTAKE: CHAPTER 1

paige x azzi

warning: sexual content !!

hey guys! an anon on tumblr requested a friends with benefits series, so here it is. I will still be mainly focusing on hold me anyway, but i will every now and then release a chapter for this series. let me know what you think or if you even want me to continue it :) I honestly dont know how i feel about this.

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 7370

--------------------

The AC in Azzi’s dorm apartment had been broken for two weeks, but neither of them seemed to mind tonight. The windows were cracked just wide enough to let in a breeze that barely touched the edges of the room, fluttering the corner of a Kobe Bryant poster on the wall.

Azzi was sprawled across the couch in biker shorts and a too-big UConn shirt, one bare leg tucked beneath her and the other brushing against Paige’s thigh. Paige pretended not to notice, or maybe she just didn’t want to admit how badly she did.

The music playing was a mellow, late-night playlist Azzi had made on Spotify, mostly H.E.R. and SZA, with a little bit of Brent Faiyaz thrown in. It pulsed soft and low from a speaker on the windowsill, fading into the quiet hum of the room.

Paige leaned back against the armrest, one socked foot propped on the coffee table, an almost-empty can of spiked seltzer dangling from her fingertips. She looked relaxed, but Azzi could feel the shift in the air. The slow burn of eye contact that held too long, the laugh that stuck in her throat half a second after Paige’s smile.

This had been happening for weeks. Maybe longer. Paige wasn’t subtle when she flirted, and Azzi wasn’t stupid.

“You're actually insane if you think Bryson Tiller clears Summer Walker,” Azzi said, grinning around the lip of her glass as she took another sip.

Paige raised an eyebrow. “He’s literally heartbreak personified. She’s great, but you can’t tell me Exchange didn’t wreck you in 2017.”

“I was fourteen in 2017.”

“Exactly. Prime wreckable age.”

Azzi snorted, shaking her head as she leaned over to refill her drink. Her hair was pulled into a loose bun, a few curls sticking to the back of her neck. Paige’s gaze followed the movement of her arm, the dip of her shirt collar as she reached for the bottle. She didn't say anything. Just sipped her seltzer and tried to pretend she hadn’t noticed the way Azzi’s thigh pressed a little closer to hers when she sat back down.

“You’re quiet,” Azzi said after a beat, tilting her head toward her.

Paige shrugged, lips twitching at the corner. “Just taking it all in.”

“Oh yeah?” Azzi asked, amused. “What exactly is there to take in?”

“You,” Paige said, and her voice wasn’t teasing this time. It was low and easy, like it had just slipped out, honest without asking for anything in return.

Azzi blinked, her expression flickering for a moment into something unreadable. Then she gave a lazy smile, one brow arching as she leaned in just a little closer. “You trying to be smooth right now?”

“Do I have to try?”

That earned a laugh, soft, close to genuine, and then Azzi reached out and flicked Paige’s shoulder. “Cocky.”

Paige didn’t move away. “Confident.”

“Same thing.”

“Nope.” Paige leaned forward, bracing one arm on the back of the couch behind Azzi’s shoulders. “Confidence means I know what I want.”

Azzi’s smile faltered just enough to make the air between them shift again. Paige’s fingers brushed lightly against the back of Azzi’s neck, not quite a touch, more like a suggestion. The music dipped into a new song, something with a slow bass line and lyrics they weren’t really listening to anymore.

Azzi swallowed. “And what is it you want, exactly?”

Paige didn’t answer with words. She just reached down, slowly, and curled her fingers around Azzi’s waist, firm but careful, and pulled her into her lap.

Azzi made a quiet sound, surprised more than anything, her knees folding on either side of Paige’s hips as she adjusted her balance. She was warm. Solid. Close in a way that erased the space between flirting and something heavier.

“That’s bold,” Azzi murmured, but her voice had dropped half an octave.

Paige looked up at her, hands still resting low on her waist. “You gonna stop me?”

Azzi’s hands landed on Paige’s shoulders, fingers curling slightly in the fabric of her t-shirt. Her smile turned sharp. “I didn’t say that.”

The kiss happened like an exhale, slow at first, then deeper, more deliberate. Azzi shifted her weight forward, pressing Paige back into the couch as her hips settled into the space between Paige’s legs. Paige let out a soft sound that might’ve been a groan, her hands sliding up Azzi’s back and pulling her closer until there was nothing between them but heat and history and the kind of want that had been building for months.

Azzi’s hair brushed Paige’s cheek. Paige kissed her harder. Azzi answered without hesitation.

They didn’t say anything for a long time.

Only moved, lips and hands and the slight, rhythmic push of Azzi’s body against Paige’s lap as tension coiled tighter between them like something inevitable.

--------------------

Azzi’s mouth was on hers again, open and wanting, all soft lips and sharp edges. Paige couldn’t remember the last time she’d been kissed like this, like someone had been waiting for permission. Azzi shifted her hips in Paige’s lap, slow at first, testing, and Paige exhaled hard, fingers digging into Azzi’s waist. Her t-shirt had ridden up just enough to bare skin, and Paige’s hands found it greedily, warm, smooth, real.

Azzi pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to look down at her with something dangerous flickering in her eyes. “Still think you’re in control?” she asked, her voice low and uneven, her hands slipping up under Paige’s shirt, palms dragging over her ribs, thumbs brushing just under the swell of her chest.

Paige licked her lips, leaned forward until her mouth was at Azzi’s ear. “Not yet,” she murmured, and then stood.

Azzi yelped softly in surprise as Paige rose to her feet, her arms instinctively winding around Paige’s neck, legs still locked around her waist. Paige held her easily, one hand under her thighs, the other braced across her back, guiding them through the small dorm apartment like it was muscle memory. The hallway was short, but the tension between them stretched it long, every second taut with heat, with the way Azzi’s breath caught against Paige’s neck, with the way Paige pressed her a little tighter against the wall as they passed, just to feel the gasp that slipped out.

Paige’s mouth found Azzi’s jaw, her throat, the place just beneath her ear that made Azzi twitch in her arms. Her grip tightened, and Azzi let her head fall back, lips parted, fingers threading through Paige’s hair as her body arched toward the contact.

By the time they reached the bedroom, they were both flushed, breathing uneven, teeth flashing between kisses that turned rough in the way that only happened when restraint finally snapped.

Paige set Azzi down gently on the edge of the bed, but Azzi didn’t let go. She pulled Paige down with her, dragged her into the sheets with urgency, and their mouths found each other again like they were starving.

Paige kissed her again, then shifted downward, dragging her mouth along Azzi’s chest, slow and open-mouthed, until she caught one nipple between her lips. Azzi gasped, her back arching, fingers tightening in Paige’s hair. Paige swirled her tongue around it, then sucked hard, just to see how Azzi would react. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Fuck Paige,” Azzi breathed, hips twitching upward as she tried to anchor herself to something. Paige moved to the other breast, repeating the same hungry attention, and Azzi whimpered beneath her, pulling at her shoulders, trying to get her closer, deeper, more.

Paige smiled against her skin. “You’re already so sensitive,” she murmured. “Bet you’ve been thinking about this, huh?”

Azzi opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t find anything but another moan as Paige’s hand slipped lower, past the curve of her waist, fingers teasing the waistband of her underwear.

“Say it,” Paige said, her lips ghosting against Azzi’s stomach now, moving lower. “Say you’ve been thinking about me.”

“I...” Azzi’s voice cracked, half a breath, half a confession. “I have.”

“Good,” Paige whispered.

She hooked her fingers in Azzi’s underwear and dragged them down, slow and deliberate, exposing her inch by inch. Azzi tried to close her thighs, overwhelmed, but Paige pressed a firm hand to the inside of one, pushing her open again. She kissed along the inside of her knee, then up, slow and hot and teasing, until she could feel the tremble in Azzi’s legs. Paige looked up, and Azzi was already watching her, eyes glazed over, lips parted.

“Don’t look away,” Paige said, and then lowered her mouth to her.

Azzi’s reaction was instant, a choked gasp, her hips jerking up into Paige’s face, one hand flying to the headboard, the other fisting in Paige’s hair. Paige groaned against her, tongue parting her folds and licking through them like she already knew every part. She was warm and wet and tasted like every fantasy Paige had tried not to let herself have.

Paige flattened her tongue, dragged it slow from bottom to top, then circled her clit, gentle at first, then faster, firmer, until Azzi was panting above her, thighs squeezing tight around her head. Paige moaned at the pressure, loving it, letting Azzi ride her face as she worked her tongue in tight, rhythmic circles.

Azzi’s voice broke on a curse. “Oh my God, don’t stop”

She didn’t.

Paige reached up, slipping one hand beneath Azzi’s ass and lifting her just enough to keep her in place, the other hand slipping between Azzi’s thighs to tease her entrance. She pressed a single finger inside, slow and deep, and Azzi’s whole body arched like she’d been hit with electricity.

“Paige....” It came out broken. Begging.

Paige added a second finger and started moving, curling with every thrust, tongue never stopping on her clit. Azzi was losing it, gasping, cursing, her heels digging into the mattress as her body fought to keep up with how good it felt.

Her voice was ragged. “Gonna....fuck, Paige, I.....”

“Let go,” Paige murmured, barely pulling back enough to speak. “I got you.”

That did it.

Azzi came hard, thighs trembling around Paige’s head, her whole body tensing, breath catching in her throat before breaking into a long, desperate moan. Paige didn’t stop, kept licking her through it, fingers working her slow and deep until Azzi was shaking, overstimulated, pleading softly through clenched teeth.

When Paige finally pulled back, her mouth and chin slick, she crawled back up Azzi’s body and kissed her. Azzi tasted herself on Paige’s lips, and groaned into her mouth, grabbing her face like she couldn’t stand to be any farther away.

“You’re fucking unreal,” Azzi whispered when they finally broke apart, voice hoarse.

Paige smirked, brushing sweat-damp curls away from her forehead. “Told you I knew what I wanted.”

Azzi pulled her in again, rolling them so Paige was beneath her this time, and kissed her until her legs started shaking again, until wanting turned into needing all over again.

Azzi kissed her like she was making up for all the time they'd spent pretending they didn’t want this, deep and dizzying, tongue sliding against Paige’s as her hand skimmed down her chest. Paige was still panting, the aftershocks of what she’d just done vibrating through her muscles, but she didn’t resist as Azzi shifted on top of her, dragging her leg over and straddling her waist.

Paige’s hands found Azzi’s hips, still trembling slightly, and Azzi grinned against her mouth. “You good?” she asked, but the glint in her eyes said she already knew the answer.

“I will be,” Paige rasped, “once you stop teasing.”

Azzi leaned down, her mouth trailing a path along Paige’s jaw, her throat, across the collarbone already marked by a few of Paige’s earlier bites. “Then shut up and let me focus.”

Her hands were everywhere, confident but reverent, like she was still wrapping her head around the fact that she was allowed to touch Paige like this. She cupped her breasts, brushed her thumbs across her nipples, then bent down to take one into her mouth, sucking just hard enough to make Paige gasp. Paige arched into her with a sharp inhale, her fingers digging into Azzi’s back.

Azzi moved slow at first, kissing down the center of her chest, then her stomach, tongue sliding along the ridges of muscle as Paige tensed beneath her. When she reached the waistband of Paige’s shorts, she hooked her fingers there and looked up.

“Can I?”

“Azzi,” Paige groaned, “if you don’t...”

That was all the permission she needed. She pulled them down quickly, underwear with them, then tossed them off the side of the bed. She paused for half a second to just look, at Paige laid out beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, chest rising fast, legs spread open and slick with arousal.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” Azzi whispered, more to herself than anything.

Paige opened her mouth to fire back something cocky, probably a joke, probably a tease, but then Azzi’s mouth was on her, and nothing clever came out.

She licked her slowly first, just to watch Paige react, the twitch in her thighs, the way her hand flew up to grip the sheets. Then she flattened her tongue and dragged it through her folds, savoring the taste, before closing her lips around her clit and sucking hard.

Paige cursed loud and bucked her hips, one hand reaching down to grab Azzi’s hair. “Holy fuck”

Azzi smiled against her and kept going, her tongue worked in tight, steady circles, her hand sliding up to press down gently on Paige’s stomach, grounding her. Every now and then she’d back off just to tease, to flick her tongue lightly or drag it maddeningly slow, only to suck again harder when Paige started to whine.

When she felt Paige getting close, her hips rolling, her thighs starting to shake, she slipped a finger inside her. Paige choked on a moan, eyes flying open, head falling back against the pillow.

Azzi curled her finger, then added a second, pumping them in deep, slow thrusts while her mouth never let up. Paige was falling apart under her, cursing, gasping, hand tight in her curls as if she couldn’t stand the thought of Azzi stopping for even a second.

Azzi loved it, loved the sound of Paige breaking for her, the way she’d gone from cocky to wrecked in minutes. “That’s it,” she murmured against her, voice low and thick with arousal. “Come for me, Paige.”

And Paige did, hard. Her whole body tensed, her breath caught in her throat, her hips stuttered. She let out a broken sound, deep and raw, as she fell over the edge. Azzi kept her mouth on her until Paige physically tugged her up, dragging her in for a kiss with the little strength she had left.

They kissed for a long time, still half-naked, chests slick with sweat, legs tangled. Neither of them said anything for a while, not because there was nothing to say, but because whatever they’d just done wasn’t the kind of thing you could explain out loud.

--------------------

The room was quiet, save for the low hum of the fan spinning unevenly in the corner. Outside, campus had gone still, no more late-night stragglers, no more music bleeding through the walls. Just the soft sound of breathing and the occasional creak of the mattress when one of them shifted.

Paige lay on her back, arm curled under her head, eyes fixed on a faint crack in the ceiling she’d never noticed before. Azzi was on her side, the sheet tangled around her legs, her bare shoulder brushing Paige’s lightly. They hadn’t spoken in almost five minutes. The kind of silence that wasn’t just tired, it was loaded. Something was shifting between them. They both felt it.

Azzi cleared her throat, voice still hoarse from earlier. “So… are we gonna talk about it?”

Paige didn’t look at her. “Talk about what?”

Azzi rolled her eyes. “You know what.”

A pause. Then Paige exhaled and turned her head just enough to glance at her. “You mean the part where you came on my face and then pretended nothing happened?”

Azzi blinked, caught between a laugh and a glare. “Jesus.”

Paige smirked, just a little, but it faded quickly. “Fine. Yeah. We should talk.”

Azzi sat up, hugging her knees to her chest, hair a mess around her shoulders. Paige pushed herself upright more slowly, the sheet pooling at her hips. They didn’t look at each other at first.

“So what is this?” Azzi asked, voice quieter now.

Paige rubbed a hand over her face. “It was… good sex.”

Azzi shot her a look.

“What?” Paige asked. “It was. Really good. Possibly illegal in some states.”

Azzi snorted, but the laugh didn’t reach her eyes. “You’re deflecting.”

Paige looked at her for a long moment. “Okay. Yeah. I am.”

More silence. Not heavy. Not yet. Just cautious.

Azzi hesitated before saying, “I’m not looking for a relationship.”

Paige’s stomach twisted, not because she didn’t expect it, but because hearing it out loud still stung. She nodded slowly. “Me neither.”

Azzi raised a brow. “You sure?”

“I wouldn’t have pulled you onto my lap if I wasn’t.”

Azzi squinted at her. “That logic makes zero sense.”

Paige shrugged, voice dry. “Welcome to my brain.”

They stared at each other for a beat longer, then Azzi finally leaned back against the headboard. “So… rules?”

“Sure,” Paige said, though her chest already felt tight. “Rules are good. Rules are smart.”

Azzi started counting off on her fingers. “No catching feelings.”

Paige gave her a look. “Obvious, but okay.”

“No sleepovers.”

Paige gestured vaguely at the bed. “Failing spectacularly already.”

Azzi shrugged. “Exceptions can be made for post-orgasm comas.”

“Noted.”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Paige said, “No texting at weird hours.”

Azzi frowned. “Why?”

Paige glanced away. “Because 2 a.m. texts start to feel like something else.”

Azzi chewed on her bottom lip, nodding slowly. “Okay. No late-night texts unless it’s strictly logistical.”

Paige snorted. “What, like ‘meet me in ten, bring ice packs’?”

“Exactly.”

She was trying to make it funny. They both were. But the edges were too sharp, too close to something real. Paige shifted uncomfortably and added, “No telling the team.”

Azzi nodded. “God, no. You know they’d never shut up.”

“KK would start a countdown for how fast we’d catch feelings.”

“And Nika would have a betting pool by breakfast.”

They both smiled at that, a flicker of ease sliding into the space between them. But it didn’t last.

Azzi leaned her head back and stared at the ceiling. “What about… seeing other people?”

Paige froze.

Azzi looked at her. “Like… we can. Right?”

Paige forced her jaw to unclench. “Of course. Yeah. This isn’t exclusive.”

Azzi nodded quickly, like she was reassuring herself. “Right. Just sex. That’s it.”

“Exactly.” Paige laid back down again, staring at the ceiling. “Just stress relief. A mutual favor.”

Azzi laughed once. “You’re so bad at pretending you don’t care.”

Paige’s smile was tight. “So are you.”

Another silence. This one stretched.

Azzi laid back down beside her, not quite touching. “It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

“It already is,” Paige said quietly.

Neither of them said anything for a long time after that.

Eventually, Azzi rolled to her side and said, voice soft, “You’re still staying, though, right?”

Paige looked over. “Thought we weren’t doing sleepovers.”

Azzi shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “There’s an exception for post-orgasm comas, remember?”

Paige chuckled, but it didn’t quite reach her chest. “Right.”

She reached out under the sheets and found Azzi’s hand. Their fingers laced automatically.

No more words. Just that fragile, unspoken thing growing between them.

They fell asleep like that, not touching, but tethered.

And neither of them dreamed about anyone else.

--------------------

Azzi woke slowly, the way you do when your body wants more sleep but your mind has already decided it’s over. The light coming in through the blinds was soft and diluted, just enough to tint the room in a pale gray that made everything look quieter than it was. She blinked up at the ceiling, adjusting to the stillness, and only when she reached out on instinct did she realize Paige wasn’t there.

Her arm stretched across the mattress, fingers brushing the sheet, but the spot where Paige had been hours ago was already cold.

Azzi didn’t move for a moment. Her hand stayed there, resting against the empty space, and she stared up at the ceiling like maybe if she stayed still long enough, the world would shift backward. Just a little. Just to last night.

The room smelled like her shampoo and Paige’s deodorant. There was a sweatshirt on the floor that didn’t belong to her, one sleeve turned inside out like it had been taken off in a rush. Her nightstand drawer was half-open, she didn’t remember opening it. Her phone was face down. And on the chair by the closet, her clothes were folded neatly, but the edge of Paige’s t-shirt was gone.

No text. No note. Not even a missed call.

Azzi exhaled slowly, more habit than feeling, and rolled onto her back, dragging the sheet up to her chest like it might hold something together. It didn’t. Her body was still sore in places she hadn’t been touched in months, tender reminders of a night she wasn’t supposed to hold onto. But it was hard to forget. Her skin still buzzed with the shape of Paige’s hands, the echo of her mouth, the weight of how it felt to be wanted like that.

She closed her eyes for a second longer, pressing the heel of her hand gently against her sternum. It wasn’t heartbreak. It wasn’t even disappointment. It was just… that slow, empty pull. The reminder that she’d made the rules. That Paige was just following them.

Azzi finally sat up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Her bare feet hit the floor with a dull thud. The air was cooler than it had been last night. Her window was cracked open an inch, letting in the distant sound of someone on a skateboard and a few birds that wouldn’t shut up. She pulled her robe off the back of her desk chair, slipped it on, and padded into the kitchen without turning on the lights.

The apartment was still. Caroline and Ice were probably still asleep, their doors shut. Azzi moved on autopilot, kettle, mug, instant coffee, a splash of oat milk. Her hands moved like they were used to distraction, like they’d memorized the steps of pretending everything was normal.

She sat at the small dining table, one leg pulled up under her robe, cradling her mug with both hands. The first sip burned her tongue slightly. She didn’t care.

Her phone lit up on the counter, not a message from Paige. Just Caroline: “Brunch? I’m starving and bored.”

Azzi stared at the screen for a second, then typed back: “Sure. Let me shower.”

No mention of last night. No questions. No confessions.

She locked her phone, sipped her coffee, and kept her face blank as the mug warmed her fingers.

Just sex, she reminded herself.

She didn’t believe it either.

--------------------

The brunch spot was barely a five-minute walk off campus, one of those places that always smelled like cinnamon and espresso no matter what time of day it was. The windows were fogged slightly from the heat of the kitchen, and the patio seating was already half full of students in sweats and sunglasses nursing iced lattes like hangover remedies. Azzi spotted Caroline immediately, tucked in the far corner under an umbrella, one foot propped on the empty chair across from her, sunglasses perched in her hair and a nearly empty mimosa in her hand.

Azzi approached quietly, adjusting the strap of her crossbody bag across her chest. She’d tied her curls up into a high bun after her shower, loose strands escaping around her face. Oversized hoodie. Leggings. Big black sunglasses she hadn’t bothered to take off even though the sun wasn’t that bright.

Caroline looked up as she approached and dropped her foot from the chair with a grin. “There she is. I was about to order for you and pretend we were dating.”

Azzi huffed a soft laugh, sliding into the seat. “As if they’d believe you could land me.”

“Ouch,” Caroline said, clutching her chest. “See if I order you the good pancakes now.”

Azzi let herself smile, small, easy, and picked up the menu, even though she already knew what she wanted. Something about pretending to think helped slow the morning down.

“You look like shit,” Caroline added after a beat, not unkindly. “Rough night?”

Azzi’s eyes stayed on the menu. “Didn’t sleep much.”

Caroline hummed, stirring the last inch of her mimosa with the straw. “Doing what?”

Azzi looked up briefly, then back down. “Just… thinking. Trying to reset.”

“Sure,” Caroline said, tone casual but eyes sharp. “You know you ghosted me last night, right? Whole team was in the group chat. You just vanished.”

“I wasn’t feeling it.” Azzi folded the menu closed and placed it on the edge of the table. “Needed a quiet night.”

“You always need a quiet night,” Caroline said, but it wasn’t an accusation, just an observation. She leaned forward, rested her chin on her hand. “You weren’t alone, though.”

Azzi didn’t flinch, but she didn’t meet her eyes either.

Caroline watched her for another second, then leaned back as the server arrived to take their order. Azzi asked for a green smoothie and banana pancakes. Caroline ordered eggs and hashbrowns, another mimosa. The server smiled and left. The silence returned.

“I’m not trying to pry,” Caroline said finally. “Just… checking in.”

Azzi nodded once. “I appreciate that.”

“But also,” Caroline added, tapping her fingers lightly against her glass, “if you’re going to sneak around and act mysterious, at least let me pretend to be supportive.”

Azzi laughed under her breath, and this time, it sounded real. “There’s nothing to support. It’s not a thing.”

Caroline tilted her head. “Uh-huh.”

“I mean it.” Azzi picked up her water, took a sip. “It was just… whatever. Not a big deal.”

“You’re talking like I asked for a ring size.”

Azzi gave her a look.

Caroline held up her hands. “Okay. Not a big deal. Totally normal to disappear for a night and show up looking like you wrestled a fever dream.”

Azzi smirked. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re deflecting.”

Their food arrived, giving Azzi a moment of reprieve. She busied herself with syrup, focusing a little too hard on pouring it evenly. Caroline didn’t push further, but the silence between them stretched in that familiar way, not uncomfortable, just heavy with what neither of them was saying.

Azzi stabbed a piece of pancake, chewed slowly, then asked, “What’s the group chat say this morning?”

Caroline shrugged. “Mostly nonsense. Nika wants to go out tonight. KK’s being KK. Someone made a joke about Mia again, which I still don’t understand.”

Azzi’s fork froze halfway to her mouth.

Caroline clocked it.

But Azzi just said, “Mia’s a freshman. Paige tutors her sometimes.”

“Interesting.”

“Not really,” Azzi muttered, setting her fork down. “She’s just loud.”

Caroline didn’t say anything else. She just picked at her eggs, let Azzi sit in her own quiet.

They finished the meal without circling back. But when the check came, Caroline paid for both of them without comment, and Azzi didn’t argue. As they stood to leave, Caroline bumped her shoulder lightly and said, “Just don’t shut me out, okay?”

Azzi adjusted her sunglasses and gave her a small nod. “I won’t.”

She already had.

--------------------

The gym was half-lit and echoing when Paige pushed through the back doors, a worn-out hoodie tugged over her tank top, earbuds already in. The playlist was old, one of her summer grind mixes — all bass-heavy and wordless enough to drown things out. She liked the gym this way, still waking up, not yet buzzing with team chatter or Coach’s whistle. It gave her space to move without thinking. Just repetition and sweat.

She dropped her bag, tied her shoes tight, and picked up a ball without stretching. The first few jumpers were lazy, loose-wristed, just enough arc to feel it again. The fourth clanged off the rim and bounced hard. She chased it down, jaw already tight. Fifth went in. Sixth rattled, but fell. Seventh, smooth.

It was muscle memory. The one thing she could trust to not get complicated.

She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t notice Nika until she was standing at half court, spinning a ball on one finger like she’d been there all morning.

“You work out in silence now?” Nika called out.

Paige popped her earbuds out. “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“You’re not that hard to find. Also, you missed breakfast.”

Paige caught the ball off a bounce and wiped her wrist across her forehead. “Didn’t feel like a crowd.”

Nika cocked her head. “You always feel like a crowd.”

Paige smirked. “That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Doesn’t have to. You get my point.”

They moved into a rhythm without really talking about it, Nika rebounding, Paige shooting, the kind of flow that came from years of knowing each other’s timing. But even with the ease of it, Nika was watching her. Paige could feel it. The too-long silences. The way Nika let her miss four shots in a row without a comment. That wasn’t normal.

After the next make, Paige said, “You’re being weird.”

“I’m being observant.”

“Same thing.”

Nika tossed her the ball, then crossed her arms. “You’ve been quiet lately. Like, Paige quiet. Which is worse than regular quiet because it means you’re either overthinking or actively self-destructing.”

Paige let the ball bounce once before catching it again. “I’m fine.”

Nika gave her a flat look. “You disappeared last night. Didn’t answer the group chat. And now you’re here at nine in the morning like it’s therapy hour.”

“I just needed to shoot.”

“Uh-huh.”

Paige took another jumper. Swish.

Nika walked closer, dropped the ball she was holding. “Look. I’m not asking for a diary entry, but you know you can tell me shit, right?”

Paige exhaled slowly. “I know.”

“Then tell me why you’re acting like you got hit by an emotional semi-truck.”

“I’m not.”

“You only dodge like this when there’s a girl involved.”

Paige hesitated just for a second, and that was all Nika needed.

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes lighting up. “Who is she?”

“There’s no girl.”

“Lie better.”

“There’s no relationship.” Paige corrected, catching her own slip too late.

Nika’s eyebrows went up. “So there is a girl. And something happened.”

Paige shook her head, turned back toward the hoop. “It’s not a big deal.”

Nika folded her arms. “You know, I was gonna invite you to Ted’s tonight. Whole crew’s going.”

Paige hesitated again, then said, “I don’t know if I’m up for...”

“That’s exactly why you’re coming.”

Paige shot again. Missed.

Nika grinned like she’d just won a bet.

They didn’t say anything for a while. Just the rhythm of ball on hardwood, sneakers squeaking, the low hum of music still leaking from Paige’s phone speaker in her pocket. But then Nika pulled her own phone out and tapped into the group chat with a mischievous gleam in her eye.

“Just to let the people know,” she said.

--------------------

Group Chat – “UConn Fam”

9:04 AM

Nika:

Ted’s tonight. 9PM. I expect chaos. No excuses.

—

1:57 PM

Aaliyah:

I'm in. who’s trying to black out responsibly

Aubrey:

Im 100% in

Ines:

Only if someone keeps KK away from the DJ booth this time

Ice:

Can’t promise anything

KK:

Is Paige even alive??? girl’s been dodging us like we’re taxes

Aaliyah:

Fr she’s been in stealth mode all week

KK:

She was probably with Mia again 👀👀

Caroline:

Who the hell is Mia???

Nika:

Freshman Paige tutors. loud. confident. definitely crushing.

KK:

Tutoring. suuure 😏

Ice:

Here we go again 💀

Paige is typing…

Nothing sent.

POV: Paige

She’d been lying on her bed, hair still damp from her post-gym shower, phone face up on her chest. She hadn’t opened the group chat when the first message came through that morning, just saw Nika’s Ted’s invite flash across her lock screen and ignored it. But this? She read through the thread three times.

Mia. Of course they brought her up.

Her thumbs hovered above the keyboard. She could’ve joked it off. Said something dumb. Given them the reaction they wanted.

But the idea of Azzi seeing her name tied to someone else made her stomach twist, not because of guilt. Because she didn’t want Azzi thinking it meant anything. Because it didn’t. Not even close.

She typed, “you’re all sick”, then deleted it. Locked the screen.

Let them think what they wanted.

POV: Azzi

Azzi had just gotten back from brunch and dumped her bag on the floor, hair still in a half-undone bun, hoodie sleeves pushed to her elbows. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d eaten anyway. Smiled at the right times. Lied when it counted.

She hadn’t opened the group chat until the notifications stacked. Her eyes skimmed the thread. Then froze.

Paige was probably with Mia again 👀👀

The name hit harder than it should have. Azzi stared at it, thumb trembling just slightly over the screen. The kind of joke that wasn't really a joke. The kind of thing that clung.

Her jaw tensed. She exited the app. Turned her phone face-down on the windowsill.

She wouldn’t ask. She wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t let herself care.

But her chest still felt hollow.

--------------------

POV: Azzi

Azzi adjusted her crop top in the mirror for the third time, smoothing her palms over her ribs as if the fabric would magically shift into something more comfortable. It was tight, on purpose. The kind of top she usually reserved for nights she needed to feel in control of something. Paired with high-waisted jean shorts and the same black sneakers she always wore when she wanted to look casual but still hot, it was… a choice.

“You sure you don’t want to bring a hoodie?” Caroline called from the kitchen.

Azzi looked down at herself. “No.”

Caroline popped her head into the room and let out a low whistle. “Okay, damn. You’re showing up tonight.”

Azzi turned slightly, checking her profile in the mirror. “Too much?”

“For a regular night? Maybe. For seeing your almost-hookup-you’re-trying-not-to-have-feelings-for? Perfect.”

Azzi gave her a look. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Caroline said sweetly, already walking away.

Azzi sprayed perfume lightly over her neck and wrists, then pulled her curls over one shoulder. Her lip gloss was subtle. Her earrings matched the thin chain around her throat. She looked effortless.

She didn’t feel it.

Ice was already by the door in camo pants and a tiny halter top. “We going or what?”

Azzi grabbed her phone, glanced at the lock screen. Nothing.

She wasn’t expecting anything. That’s what they’d agreed.

Still, she lingered for a beat before answering. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

POV: Paige

The mirror above her desk was streaked at the edges, but Paige leaned in close anyway, swiping on a quick coat of mascara with practiced ease. It was the only thing she ever wore, just enough to make her eyes stand out without looking like she cared. Her hair was freshly straightened, parted down the middle and tucked behind her ears, still warm from the flat iron.

She pulled her oversized white tee over her head, the cotton soft and slouchy against her skin. The neckline hung a little loose, just wide enough to show the strap of her sports bra and a peek of her collarbone. She adjusted it without thinking, then grabbed her black cargo pants from the back of her desk chair and stepped into them, cinching the waist tight. They sat low on her hips and hung just right, baggy, but not shapeless. She checked herself in the mirror. Oversized shirt, cargos, fresh sneakers, silver cross chain glinting at her collarbone.

Casual. Comfortable. Still hot.

“You look like the kind of girl that ruins lives,” Nika said from the doorway, one brow raised.

Paige smirked. “That’s the goal.”

KK piped up from where she was sprawled on the futon, holding her phone over her head. “Mia’s gonna combust if she sees you in that.”

Paige rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone from the windowsill. “She’s not going.”

“You sure?” KK grinned. “Girl looked ready to fake an ID just to find you.”

“I’m not going for Mia,” Paige said, shoving her phone into her pocket.

“Didn’t say you were,” KK sing-songed. “But she’s definitely going for you.”

Nika gave Paige a look, but kept her mouth shut. Just handed her the hoodie Paige had left crumpled on the chair. “Take this. In case you want to hide your shame.”

“I don’t have any shame,” Paige said, pulling it on but leaving it unzipped.

KK cackled. “Lies. But she looks fine as hell.”

Paige didn’t respond. Just grabbed her keys and nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.”

But as they left the dorm, she tugged the hem of her shirt down once more, fingertips brushing her hips like she was already thinking about who might be looking.

--------------------

POV Azzi

Ted’s was packed, low ceilings, sweaty walls, and music that hit harder than it had any right to on a Thursday. The bass rattled through her ribs, all synth and bassline and bodies packed too close together. Azzi stuck near the front with Caroline and Ice at first, drink in hand, eyes scanning through the blur of familiar heads and half-lit faces.

Then she saw her.

Paige.

Standing across the room near the back wall, just a little outside the crowd, lit by the dull red glow of the overhead lights. Oversized white tee, black cargos, silver chain catching the flicker from the DJ booth. Straight hair tucked behind her ears, her posture loose like she didn’t care, but Azzi knew that look. It was curated. Paige looked relaxed, cool, unfazed.

She looked hot.

Azzi took a slow sip of her drink, already half warm in her hand. She wasn’t going to stare. She wasn’t.

Paige turned at the same moment, eyes locking with hers like it was choreographed. Azzi didn’t look away. Neither did Paige. The corner of Paige’s mouth lifted, not a full smirk. Just enough to say yeah, I see you too.

Azzi’s stomach dipped.

Then someone stepped into Paige’s space. A girl. Shorter, brunette, loud in the way freshmen always were. She leaned in close, too close, her hand brushing Paige’s arm in a way that made Azzi blink.

Mia.

Of course it was Mia.

She said something that made Paige laugh, head ducking slightly. Azzi’s jaw clenched. She didn’t wait for more. Just turned, walking straight toward the bar without a word.

POV Paige

She felt Azzi’s eyes before she saw her.

Across the room, tight black crop top, denim shorts, thighs out, curls framing her face like it was personal. Her skin glowed under the lights, bronze and smooth and soft in a way Paige remembered way too well. She couldn’t stop looking. Wouldn’t. Azzi looked unreal. And Paige knew she was doing it on purpose.

Paige’s fingers curled into her pocket, trying to keep cool.

Then Mia appeared out of nowhere, all perfume and confidence, brushing against Paige’s arm like it was nothing.

“Didn’t expect to see you out tonight,” she said, already half shouting over the music.

Paige kept her tone casual. “Didn’t expect to be here.”

“You look good,” Mia said, eyes flicking down. “Dangerous. In a fun way.”

Paige forced a laugh, but it didn’t land. Her eyes drifted back across the room, only Azzi was gone. A flash of dark curls weaving through the crowd, headed toward the bar.

Something tugged in her chest. Harder than she wanted it to.

“Hey, you want a drink?” Mia asked, still touching her.

Paige stepped back a half-step. “I’m good. I gotta...yeah. One sec.”

She didn’t wait. Just moved, slow but direct, slipping through the crowd until she found Azzi leaning against the bar, waiting for the bartender, arms crossed under her chest like she was trying not to look annoyed.

“You ran off,” Paige said, sliding in beside her.

Azzi didn’t look at her right away. “Didn’t realize I owed you a debrief.”

Paige smirked. “You looked good tonight.”

Azzi finally turned to face her. “You looked busy.”

“That wasn’t” Paige sighed. “I didn’t ask her to come up to me.”

“Didn’t stop her from touching you.”

Paige leaned in a little closer. Her voice dropped low, just for her. “I didn’t want her.”

Azzi’s brow arched. “And who do you want?”

Paige’s mouth hovered near her ear, breath warm. “When can I fuck you again?”

Azzi didn’t flinch. Just tilted her head slightly, lips brushing a smile against the rim of her glass. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“How tonight goes.”

Paige chuckled, low and quiet. “So I need to be on my best behavior?”

Azzi turned to face her fully now, her voice sweet but loaded. “No, Paige. You need to be interesting.”

The bartender arrived. Azzi ordered another vodka soda. Didn’t ask if Paige wanted one.

Then she turned and walked back into the crowd, leaving Paige standing there, smirking to herself, aroused and entirely off-balance.

--------------------

POV Paige

She watched Azzi disappear into the crowd, glass in hand, hips moving like she didn’t know she was being watched, or worse, like she did.

Paige stayed at the bar for another minute, pretending to care about nothing. Then she turned, rejoined Nika and KK near the edge of the dance floor, trying to act like her pulse wasn’t jackhammering in her throat.

The lights were low and hazy now, flickering between violet and red as the DJ dropped into something grimy and bass-heavy. Around her, everyone was moving. Laughing. Drunk.

Paige wasn’t.

She let KK shove a cup into her hand, took a sip without tasting it, eyes scanning through the blur of bodies. She found her fast.

Azzi was near the center of the floor now, surrounded by people but not with any of them, just dancing, head tipped back, curls sticking slightly to her neck. Her crop top rode high as her hands moved up, hair bouncing with the beat, the curve of her waist catching every flash of light like a fucking magnet.

Paige didn’t realize she’d stopped breathing until Nika nudged her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, eyes still locked.

Nika grinned like she already knew. “You’re about to do something stupid, huh?”

“Very.”

And then she moved.

It wasn’t a rush. Just a slow weave through the crowd, casual, discreet, like the music pulled her in. She let herself get swallowed by the pulse of it, drifting close, close, until Azzi’s back was just inches away.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t give a warning.

She just slid a hand low on Azzi’s hip and pulled her gently back into her front.

Azzi didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn.

She leaned into it.

Pressed her ass into Paige’s pelvis with a slow grind that matched the beat, one hand lifting to rest lightly behind Paige’s neck, the other snaking back to guide Paige’s grip lower.

Paige’s mouth parted slightly, breath catching. She moved with her, bodies aligned, letting herself get lost in it. Her hand flattened against Azzi’s stomach, anchoring them together as they moved.

It was heat. Friction. Payback.

No one around them noticed or if they did, no one would remember. Not in this crowd. Not in this chaos.

Azzi tilted her head back, mouth grazing the curve of Paige’s jaw.

Then, her lips at Paige’s ear, low and breathless:

“Let’s get out of here.”

Paige didn’t answer.

She just grabbed Azzi’s hand and led her through the crowd, fast, deliberate, like she already knew how the night was going to end.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #pazzi fics #uconn wbb #pazzi #paige x azzi #wlw

546 notes · View notes

breelandwalker · 4 months ago

Text

Magical Oil Recipes - Baneful Blends Edition

For anyone looking to brew up a potion with a less-than-friendly bent, here are some recipes I've created that you might find useful.

To prepare them, blend the ingredients in such proportions as feels correct for your purposes (or as supplies allow). Use dried material except where indicated. Place a few spoonfuls in a mason jar with a screwtop lid and fill the jar with a bland oil of your choice. (Vegetable oil of the sort you would buy for cooking works fine.) Screw the lid on tightly and shake well to combine, then leave the jar in a dark dry place for 2-4 weeks to steep.

Once steeped, prepare a clean storage bottle (also with a secure lid) and label with the type of oil and the bottling date. Strain the oil through paper towels or cheesecloth to remove the plant material, then bottle immediately. Store away from sunlight and heat for up to one year. Use for spellwork as you see fit.

(Please note that NONE of these potions are meant to be taken internally by any means. Observe all proper safety measures related to glass, fire, and potentially harmful plants as necessary during preparation.)

*- Ingredient is potentially harmful if inhaled or ingested. **- Ingredient should not be used or handled if you are pregnant or nursing.

All-Purpose Hexing Oil For general hexing, cursing, and baneful magic.

Dried Chili Pepper

Fresh Lime Peel

Lemongrass (dried or fresh)

Rusted Nail (place in bottle with finished oil)

All-Purpose Hexbreaking Oil For general negation of baneful spells cast by oneself or others.

Agrimony**

Cinquefoil

Fennel

Vervain

Solomon's Seal Root (place in bottle with finished oil)

Backhanded Blessing Oil For blessings that are anything but benevolent.

Burnt Cinquefoil

Bay Leaf

Pine Needles

Bayberry Root NOTE: Prepare as you would a blessing oil, then twist the blessing into a curse, i.e. May You Get Everything You Deserve.

Done in the Dark Concealment Oil For secrecy, confidentiality, and general deception.

Juniper Berries

Licorice Root

Black Hemp (Dogbane)

Ferns or Dried Seaweed Note: For the final ingredient, use whichever is easier to obtain. Both bracken and seaweed work well for basic concealment spells.

Eye of Newt Disruption Oil For disrupting and confounding magical efforts against you.

Black Mustard Seeds

Bloodroot**

Nettle Leaf

Garlic (1 clove, bruised)

No Rest For The Wicked Hexing Oil For punishing one's enemies.

Chili Pepper (any)

Horseradish Root

Cramp Bark

Bayberry Root

On Your Own Head Retribution Oil For counter magic and revenge hexes.

Elderberries*

Bloodroot**

Devil's Shoestring**

Vetiver

Tangled Shoelaces Binding Oil To impede someone's ability to move or act against you.

Pine Needles

Devil's Shoestring**

Scullcap**

Coffee Grounds

Iron Nail in master bottle

Wicked Witch Heavy-Duty Cursing Oil For occasions when a regular-strength hex just won't do.

Wormwood* **

Ghost Chili Pepper (or the hottest chili you can get)

Lemon Seeds

Lobelia* Note: Use With Extreme Caution And Cover Your Ass.

Witchbane Warding Oil For repelling and countering harmful spells.

Bay Leaves

Elderflower

Star Anise

Birch Bark

Should the reader require supplies, I recommend the following:

Penn Herb Company

Starwest Botanicals

Bulk Apothecary

Mountain Rose Herbs

Specialty Bottle

Image Credit - Shaiith

If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar, tune in to my podcast Hex Positive, or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop.

#witchblr #witchcraft #curses #baneful magic #potions #potion recipes #witchy things #I'll see your Threefold Law and raise you an I'm Not Wiccan And I Don't Give A Fuck

693 notes · View notes

55szn · 1 year ago

Text

always and forever - cs55

carlos sainz x fem!reader smau

summary an instagram timeline of carlos and yn’s 8 years long relationship warnings too much fluff fc dua lipa taglist @jaydaaasworld notes i have more requests to get to but i’ve had this idea for a while and let’s just say i needed to write some carlitos fluff🥲

INSTAGRAM

carlossainz55

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 10.302 others

carlossainz55 Always a good time with this one 😜❤️

tagged yourusername

view all 52 comments

yourusername t quiero Carlitosss (love you)

carlossainz55 te quiero más ynnnn (love you more)

user scrolled all the way down to carlos first post and of couse it’s yn

user he’s always been so in love with her is so cute

user so pretty

april 20, 2016

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, yourbsf and 4.291 others

yourusername Feliz cumpleaños a mi persona favorita 💕😘 #birthdayboy (Happy birthday to my favorite person)

tagged carlossainz55

view all 43 comments

carlossainz55 muchas gracias preciosa 💓😘 thank u so much beautiful

yourusername por muchos más cumpleaños juntos 💘 here’s to many more birthdays together

yourbsf feliz cumpleaños!!

user so we are all just stalking their instagrams after their last post, right?

user how can you not

user and they posted each other sooo often it’s so sweet

user i’ve been a fan of carlos for so long and they’ve ALWAYS been there for each other i love yn

september 1, 2017

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, fernandoalo_official and 24.289 others carlossainz55 Quick getaway to celebrate two years and counting with my soulmate by my side 🌅❤️

tagged yourusername

view all 98 comments

yourusername oh carlitos 🥺

yourusername you sure know how to make a girl swoon

yourusername i’ll love you forever <3

user STAWWWWPP

user his caption and her comments i might die 😣

user they’ve been together for a lifetime oh my god

august 15, 2018

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 12.210 others

yourusername my boy and his new boyfriend 🙄

tagged carlossainz55, landonorris

view all 73 comments

landonorris sorry i’m just that charming 💁🏻

yourusername he was mine first 😠

carlossainz55 don’t fight i’ll choose yn anyway

landonorris damn 💔

user bro was so down bad he couldn’t even play along to the joke

user omg i never knew it was yn who posted these iconic carlando pics

user well it makes sense she’s carlando’s no. 1 fan

user supporting her boyfriend’s boyfriend iktr 😌

may 22, 2019

carlossainz55

liked by landonorris, yourusername and 368.291 others

carlossainz55 i would have gone insane without you during this crazy year, feliz año nuevo mi amor😘💘 (happy new year my love)

tagged yourusername

view all 1.308 comments

yourusername gotta admit quarantine sucked a little bit less with you by my side

carlossainz55 just a little? 😏

yourusername okay maybe it didn’t suck at all 🤐

user oh to be carlos a be able to lay on yn all day long

user she looks so cute in the third pic 🥺

user from when they were FINALLY (yn’s words) able to see each other after spending two weeks apart 😭

user most in love mfs i’ve ever seen

december 31, 2020

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, scuderiaferrari and 15.291 others

yourusername already knew he looked good in red but thanks for the confirmation @ scuderiaferrari 😝

tagged carlossainz55

view all 119 comments

carlossainz55 you’re making me blush ☺️

scuderiaferrari you’re more than welcome yn! 😌

user this pic is so sjdiaq

user i don’t want to speak of the things i would do if carlos looked at me like that with those big ass eyes 🫠

user yn is such a lucky girl

user SHE is lucky??!?!? have you seen her??? carlos should be thanking every god above

user i’m pretty sure he does that everyday 😭

march 12, 2021

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1 and 456.412 others

carlossainz55 guess i’m a tatted man now, i just can’t say no to that face 😶

tagged yourusername

view all 1.302 comments

yourusername you have to admit it’s pretty cute

carlossainz55 whatever you say🫡

user oh my god carlos get up!!

landonorris i don’t think that’s enough ink to call yourself a tatted man mate

yourusername maybe i should make another appointment 🤔

carlossainz55 don’t give her ideas you muppet 🤦🏻

user i didn’t know they had matching tattoos that’s so cute 😭

user sleeping on the highway tonite

october 17, 2022

yourusername

liked by carlossainz55, lilymhe and 732.819 others

yourusername how could i say no when my date looked like that? 🤭

tagged carlossainz55

view all 3.995 comments

carlossainz55 can’t wait to spend forever with you mi amor ❤️

maxverstappen1 congratulations you two! 😘😘

carmenmmundt so so thrilled for you both! love you 🫶🏻

yourusername i love you my girl, get ready to try on a loooot of dresses 😅

user EVERYONE remembers where they were when this post dropped

user i remember dropping my phone on my face when i opened instagram

user i cried happy tears, had been waiting for that day for years 🥹

august 15, 2023

carlossainz55

liked by yourusername, georgerussell63 and 3.281.819 others

carlossainz55 can’t believe i finally get to call you my wife. just you and me, always and forever, te amo yn ❤️

tagged yourusername

view all 10.371 comments

yourusername te amo y te amaré por siempre, mi carlitos (i love you and i’ll you forever, my carlitos)

user “mi carlitos” oh god i’m sobbing

landonorris congratulations, you two were made for each other ! 🥰

yourusername your boyfriend is now my husband 😜

landonorris don’t even remind me about it.

charles_leclerc so happy for you two ❤️❤️

user can’t believe i’ve been following carlos since the beggining of their relationship and now they’re married

user omg don’t even talk to me abt it i feel like a proud mother

september 28, 2024

the end

1K notes · View notes

mariacallous · 3 months ago

Text

Just after Trump’s re-election in November 2024, I wrote a column headlined ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ (reproduced below) and in the three months since, pretty much everything it predicted how now come to pass. This is technoauthoritarianism. It’s tyranny + surveillance tools. It’s the merger of Silicon Valley companies with state power. It’s the ‘broligarchy’, a concept I coined in July last year though I’ve been contemplating it for a lot longer. Since 2016, I’ve followed a thread that led from Brexit to Trump via a shady data company called Cambridge Analytica to expose the profound threat technology poses to democracy. In doing so, I became the target: a weaponized lawsuit and an overwhelming campaign of online abuse silenced and paralysed me for a long time. This - and worse - is what so many others now face. I’m here to tell you that if it comes for you, you can and will survive it.

This week represents a hinge of history. Everything has changed. America and Russia are now allies. Ukraine has been thrown to the dogs. Europe’s security hangs in the balance. On the one hand, there’s nothing any of us can do. On the other, we have to do something. So, here’s what I’m doing. I’m starting a conversation. I’ve recorded the first one - a scrappy pilot - a podcast I’ve called How to Survive the Broligarchy and I’ve re-named the newsletter too. This first conversation (details below) is about how we need a new media built from the ground up to deal with the dangerous new world we’re in. That can only happen, in partnership with you, the reader. The days of top-down command and control are over. Please let’s try and do this together.

1 When someone tells you who they are, believe them. Last week Donald Trump appointed a director of intelligence who spouts Russian propaganda, a Christian nationalist crusader as secretary of defence, and a secretary of health who is a vaccine sceptic. If Trump was seeking to destroy American democracy, the American state and American values, this is how he’d do it.

2 Journalists are first, but everyone else is next. Trump has announced multibillion-dollar lawsuits against “the enemy camp”: newspapers and publishers. His proposed FBI director is on record as wanting to prosecute certain journalists. Journalists, publishers, writers, academics are always in the first wave. Doctors, teachers, accountants will be next. Authoritarianism is as predictable as a Swiss train. It’s already later than you think.

3 To name is to understand. This is McMuskism: it’s McCarthyism on steroids, political persecution + Trump + Musk + Silicon Valley surveillance tools. It’s the dawn of a new age of political witch-hunts, where burning at the stake meets data harvesting and online mobs.

4 If that sounds scary, it’s because that’s the plan. Trump’s administration will be incompetent and reckless but individuals will be targeted, institutions will cower, organisations will crumble. Fast. The chilling will be real and immediate.

5 You have more power than you think. We’re supposed to feel powerless. That’s the strategy. But we’re not. If you’re a US institution or organisation, form an emergency committee. Bring in experts. Learn from people who have lived under authoritarianism. Ask advice.

6 Do not kiss the ring. Do not bend to power. Power will come to you, anyway. Don’t make it easy. Not everyone can stand and fight. But nobody needs to bend the knee until there’s an actual memo to that effect. WAIT FOR THE MEMO.

7 Know who you are. This list is a homage to Yale historian, Timothy Snyder. His On Tyranny, published in 2017, is the essential guide to the age of authoritarianism. His first command, “Do not obey in advance”, is what has been ringing, like tinnitus, in my ears ever since the Washington Post refused to endorse Kamala Harris. In some weird celestial stroke of luck, he calls me as I’m writing this and I ask for his updated advice: “Know what you stand for and what you think is good.”

8 Protect your private life. The broligarchy doesn’t want you to have one. Read Shoshana Zuboff’s The Age of Surveillance Capitalism: they need to know exactly who you are to sell you more shit. We’re now beyond that. Surveillance Authoritarianism is next. Watch The Lives of Others, the beautifully told film about surveillance in 80s east Berlin. Act as if you are now living in East Germany and Meta/Facebook/Instagram/WhatsApp is the Stasi. It is.

9 Throw up the Kool-Aid. You drank it. That’s OK. We all did. But now is the time to stick your fingers down your throat and get that sick tech bro poison out of your system. Phones were – still are – a magic portal into a psychedelic fun house of possibility. They’re also tracking and surveilling you even as you sleep while a Silicon Valley edgelord plots ways to tear up the federal government.

10 Listen to women of colour. Everything bad that happened on the internet happened to them first. The history of technology is that it is only when it affects white men that it’s considered a problem. Look at how technology is already being used to profile and target immigrants. Know that you’re next.

11 Think of your personal data as nude selfies. A veteran technology journalist told me this in 2017 and it’s never left me. My experience of “discovery” – handing over 40,000 emails, messages, documents to the legal team of the Brexit donor I’d investigated – left me paralysed and terrified. Think what a hostile legal team would make of your message history. This can and will happen.

12 Don’t buy the bullshit. A Securities and Exchange judgment found Facebook had lied to two journalists – one of them was me – and Facebook agreed to pay a $100m penalty. If you are a journalist, refuse off the record briefings. Don’t chat on the phone; email. Refuse access interviews. Bullshit exclusives from Goebbels 2.0 will be a stain on your publication for ever.

13 Even dickheads love their dogs. Find a way to connect to those you disagree with. “The obvious mistakes of those who find themselves in opposition are to break off relations with those who disagree with you,” texts Vera Krichevskaya, the co-founder of TV Rain, Russia’s last independent TV station. “You cannot allow anger and narrow your circle.”

14 Pay in cash. Ask yourself what an international drug trafficker would do, and do that. They’re not going to the dead drop by Uber or putting 20kg of crack cocaine on a credit card. In the broligarchy, every data point is a weapon. Download Signal, the encrypted messaging app. Turn on disappearing messages.

15 Remember. Writer Rebecca Solnit, an essential US liberal voice, emails: “If they try to normalize, let us try to denormalize. Let us hold on to facts, truths, values, norms, arrangements that are going to be under siege. Let us not forget what happened and why.”

16 Find allies in unlikely places. One of my most surprising sources of support during my trial(s) was hard-right Brexiter David Davis. Find threads of connection and work from there.

17 There is such a thing as truth. There are facts and we can know them. From Tamsin Shaw, professor in philosophy at New York University: “‘Can the sceptic resist the tyrant?’ is one of the oldest questions in political philosophy. We can’t even fully recognise what tyranny is if we let the ruling powers get away with lying to us all.”

18 Plan. Silicon Valley doesn’t think in four-year election cycles. Elon Musk isn’t worrying about the midterms. He’s thinking about flying a SpaceX rocket to Mars and raping and pillaging its rare earth minerals before anyone else can get there. We need a 30-year road map out of this.

19 Take the piss. Humour is a weapon. Any man who feels the need to build a rocket is not overconfident about his masculinity. Work with that.

20 They are not gods. Tech billionaires are over-entitled nerds with the extraordinary historical luck of being born at the exact right moment in history. Treat them accordingly.

There is much much more to say on all of the above and that’s my plan. But please do share this with anyone who needs to hear it.

How to Survive the Broligarchy: a new podcast

A month ago, I was feeling floored: at the moment in which everything I’ve been warning about for the last eight years suddenly became overwhelmingly real, I was also being dislodged from my journalistic home. The Guardian, my seat of operations for the last 20 years, the last nearly ten of which have been focussed squarely on this subject, has done a deal, in the face of fierce opposition from its journalists, to give away a core part of the organisation. More than 100+ journalists will leave the organisation, including me.

This week, the Guardian confirmed that the last edition of the Observer would be April 20 and my 20-year employment with the organisation would be terminated then. The same day, Tortoise Media, the new home of the Observer, wrote to tell me that they would not be offering me a contract. But now, instead of feeling floored, I feel energised. You’ll hear some of that energy, I hope, in this first episode of the new podcast that I made a pilot for this week. It’s embedded at the top of this newsletter and - when I figure out the backend - will be available on Apple and Spotify and everywhere else too. I have an idea that I explore in this first episode with two people much smarter than me that this might be the start of a journey to a creating a independent, open, collaborative transparent form of ‘live’ journalism.

My investigation of big tech, power, politics, the weaponisation of data, foreign interference, Russian oligarchs and social media has always traversed subjects and specialisms. I’ve drawn on the expertise of so many people along the way and in trying to understand this moment, I realised they are not only the people I want to speak to now, they are also the expert voices that everyone needs to hear. My idea is to make these conversations public and to build a community - a feedback loop - contributing ideas and suggestions and, hopefully, networks of action.

I’ve been doing some of this work with the Citizens, the non-profit, I founded back in 2020 (sign up to their newsletter here), but there is a small ray of hope, in the midst of the current crisis, independent media is in a huge moment of growth and the green shoots of a non-corporate, non-oligarch owned media system are springing up everywhere. I’m hugely grateful to the 55,000 people who’ve signed up to this newsletter so far but there’s so much more we can do.

I’d been kicking around this idea for a new podcast for the last few weeks and then a call with my friend, Claire Wardle, spurred me into action. Claire is a professor at Cornell, an Ivy League university in upstate New York, where she studies as as she puts it “our crazy information environment”. I first met Claire when giving evidence to a parliamentary committee back in 2017 and then we re-met at the TED conference in Vancouver in 2019 where we were both due to give talks and hung out in between paralysing bouts of fear and imposter syndrome.

That TED talk led to a years-long lawsuit for me. And Claire, who founded a non-profit called First Draft that co-ordinated newsrooms and researchers to fight mis- and disinformation, has also found herself under attack. She and more than 100 other researchers in the field have been subpoenaed by a congressional committee who accused them of being part of the ‘censorship industrial complex’.

It’s these sorts of attacks that are now coming for so many other people. My ‘How to Survive the Broligarchy’ column, above, was intended as both a handbook - how do we protect ourselves? - and a manifesto, how do we fightback against these companies? And that’s the ethos of this podcast too, bringing together a network of people who have the knowledge we need for this next stage.

Claire and I decided this first conversation should be about how the media is covering this moment and its inability to shake off the “business as normal” framing of the authoritarian takeover of the US government.

I include a voice note from Roger McNamee in the first episode, a tech investor - he introduced Mark Zuckberg to Sheryl Sandberg - who’s now one of the most trenchant critics of both Silicon Valley and the media. And Mark Little, an Irish foreign correspondent turned tech entrepreneur (one of his claims to fame is being aquired by Rupert Murdoch), who’s pioneered new media models joined us to talk about solutions.

The best and most enjoyable journalism I’ve done in recent times is two investigative, narrative podcasts. Sergei & the Westminster Spy Ring debuted in December at number one in the Apple podcast chart and the BBC’s Stalked is currently sitting at the top of the true crime and series charts.

And what Mark pointed out, which I hadn’t thought about before, is that it’s the “process” of these real-time investigative podcasts that young listeners like. And it’s true that what we’re doing in Stalked is really punchy: this week, we name the suspect who we believe to be Hannah, my ex-stepdaughter’s, cyberstalker, something the police abjectly failed to do. In Sergei, we uncovered a UK government cover-up of foreign interference. We’re doing both of these live, transparently, and showing our workings.

As Mark teases it out, this is the impulse behind this podcast pilot too. It’s also a “true crime” story: democracy has been murdered and there’s a serial killer on the loose. It’s a race against time to prevent the perpetrator devastating the US beyond repair and racking up a bodycount in Europe. (If you can’t or don’t want to listen to it, there’s a transcript here.)

If that all sounds a bit weird and experimental but also ambitious and unlikely, I’d have to agree. But the whole point is that we have entered a wholly dangerous new era and we need new ways of communicating, of doing journalism, of storytelling, of reaching new audiences. It may very well not work in which case I’ll try something else but I’d love your feedback in the comments below. If you have ideas for collaborations or building this network, you can email me at [email protected].

301 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

5K notes · View notes

doctorobinavitch · 7 months ago

Text

Vamp Appreciation Week 2024 | Day 1: Favorite Vampire ─ Damon Salvatore, The Vampire Diaries (2009-2017)

Do I kill you or do I not kill you? Please don't. But I have to, Jessica because I'm not human and I miss it. I miss it more than anything in the world! That is my secret - but there is only so much hurt a man can take.

441 notes · View notes

mapileonxputellas · 7 days ago

Text

Private (Kelly Smith x Reader)

Where you and Kelly are in a private not secret relationship.....

Arsenal was your club. It was your life.

Your earliest memory was going to Highbury as a child every weekend, a signed photo of your favourite player at the time sat about your bed, changing every season as your mind flittered between players. At the age of eight you had to beg your mum and dad to redecorate your room from the baby pink princess wonderland to a bright red Arsenal inspired mural. You were a goner through and through.

All you wanted to do was play for Arsenal, in front of thousands of supporters all cheering your name. Your gender was the only issue.

So whilst your twin brother moved through the age groups, eventually signing on for a local lower league club, you were left to face the real world.

From the ages of 16 to 25 you spent your weekdays behind a desk, an admin assistant role you couldn’t have hated more if you tried. You lived for those evenings you spent with your local women’s football team. You weren’t paid, you had to wash your own kits, the other team didn’t turn up sometimes, but you loved it.

And that love paid off. When you were scouted by Arsenal it was a dream come true. It might not have been the glamour you were expecting as a child, you still had to work, you still had to wash your own kits, the crowds were usually hundreds not thousands. But you played for the childhood team you adored.

Your favourite footballing memory came in that 2007 UEFA Women’s Cup final, at 23 it felt like you’d conquered the world. As a central defender your two clean sheets more than contributed to a 1-0 double legged win over the favourites.

But you had a lot more to thank Arsenal for than just the footballing memories.

It gave you the family you so desperately loved. Kelly was the star in that team, the person you all looked to in hard times, and the person you fell for from day one. And maybe if it wasn’t for those celebrations in 2007, following 2 years of pining for her, you wouldn’t have ever had the courage to go for it.

And that led you to today.

When the both of you retired in 2017 you were very lucky to have different offers available to you both, whilst Kelly went down the coaching route, heavily being involved within the game and now sitting as assistant coach for Arsenal women. You on the other hand took a role in front of the camera, now a regular on several platforms, presenting and commentating on the game you loved. All of that whilst being a regular at Arsenal, taking on a mentoring role within the club.

You never intended to keep your relationship a secret. At the start maybe, the 7-year age gap between you both wasn’t something you wanted to be twisted in the media, you knew you had something good and that was all that mattered.

But then the moment just never arrived, of course the fans now knew you were together, but you had never spoken in public about it. Private but not secret.

Your wedding following your retirement was very intimate, a few close friends and family probably sealed the deal in the minds of many. It was too much of a co-incidence for you both to post pictures of your own wedding bands at the same time.

If not then your growing family definitely did. In 2019 you welcomed your first daughter into the world, Elsie, followed by Theo in 2021 and your family was completed by the arrival of Ava in 2024. You’d been spotted by fans together on multiple occasions, been in the background of photos together but you never felt the need to make any sort of statement on it.

But today was special in so many ways.

Arsenal had the chance to win a European cup for the first time since you did back in 2007.

You’d barely seen Kelly for the past week, she was either sleeping, playing with the children or at Arsenal. You arrived in Lisbon late last night, heading straight to your hotel, both of your parents accompanying you on the trip, not just to help with the flight but you were working today.

Of course you had both mentioned what was happening today enough that your kids knew what was happening, at 7 you were woken by Elsie and Theo jumping on top of you ready to start the day.

“Mummy’s going to do it today.” Elsie mentioned as you all sat and ate breakfast, Ava suckling the bottle you’d prepped earlier as you ate with the other hand. “She told me.”

“Do you think?”

“Of course, she’s the best.” You probably should have emphasised how good Barcelona were, how Arsenal were the underdogs in many peoples’ eyes. But today felt different, you’d visited some of the squad this week. You built up a mentoring relationship with some of the players, Leah and Lotte especially at some points had felt like your adopted children. Katie was the kid’s crazy auntie. Your kids had become regular visitors at the training ground. You knew every player would give it everything today and on their day they could beat anyone. “Then when I’m older I’m going to win it.”

“With Arsenal?”

“Why would I play for anyone else?”

…..

Your job as a presenter took you to some incredible stadiums. You’d been part of the crew at the past two World Cups and the Euro’s in England, Lisbon matched all of them.

You liked to arrive early, take in the atmosphere both before everyone was on the move and everything was rushed. The children were all taken care of by their grandparents, you were yet to get changed, still in your shorts and old Arsenal shirt and you stood in the centre circle, just taking it all in.

You could feel the nerves creeping in, you’d been so confident all week, it felt different and yet football was nothing without nerves. This mattered and with that came nerves. You wanted this, not just for women’s sport in England, not just for those players, for this club, all the staff, you wanted it for Kelly. For all the work she’s put in, for those long hours and night away. For her.

“Any final words of wisdom?” You were so in your own head you’d blocked out the stream of players now making their way into centre field, Leah coming to wrap her arm around your shoulder. “You good?”

“I will be tonight.” You replied, wrapping your own arm around her waist. “How are you?”

“I’m good, it’s going to be tough but we have to believe.” She sounded confident. “At least that’s what you’ve been telling me all week.”

“Don’t leave any regrets out there, as long as you do that then you can look back on today as a good experience. Whatever happens, it’s all out there.”

“How are the kids?”

“Excited, Elsie told me this morning that you’re going to win tonight and then she’ll win it when she’s older.”

“That girl.” That look told you all you needed to know, you were going to have your hands full with that girl.

“I know.”

“How can she not be when she’s got two legends for mums.”

“Well one at least, not sure about the other one.” Kelly sneaked up behind you both, her body language the image of cool.

“I’ll leave you to it, see you later.” Leah leaned in to give you a hug.

“Go shine out there.” You whispered in her ear, giving her one final tap before you were left alone. “You ready?”

“Of course, what time are they due to get here?”

“Not until just before kick-off, they’ll never sit still otherwise. They’ve got your genes after all.”

“Nothing to do with you of course.”

“Never, I-“

“Y/N, make-up are ready for you.” The floor runner interrupted you both. “Sorry.”

“No worries.” You waved her off before pulling Kelly into your arms, the small number of cameras in the vicinity not enough to spoil this moment. “Good luck.”

“Thank you.”

……

You could never be impartial in a game like this.

You just about managed to be persuaded to take off your Arsenal shirt, the compromise being a bright red satin skirt with a white shirt tucked in.

Your make up was done, you’d ironed out your shirt, checked in on the kids en-route and now it was time to be in front of the camera.

Karen Carney and Fara Williams would be with you today, Becky anchoring the show. The analysis shifted between both teams as they warmed up behind you, the atmosphere building as the crowd grew.

“Y/N you were part of that team back in 2007,” Becky turned to you. “We all know you work closely with Arsenal. What advice have you given them these past few weeks?”

“The cliché is to just say go out and enjoy it. Of course I’ve told them that but it’s just about leaving it all out there. As long as you do your job and you do it to the best of your ability then you can leave today without any regrets.”

“How are your nerves holding up?” Fara teased you. “You love this club.”

“I do, I was doing alright until about two hours ago. Now I’m nervous, I just want it so much for all of them.”

The focus switched to the change in Barcelona’s coach before the attention switched back to Arsenal and their new team.

“Obviously Renee can’t do it alone, she’s joined by Kelly Smith. Y/N your old teammate, what does she offer to this team?” Becky ever the professional asked, a few snickers coming from your counter-parts.

“She’s again just the ultimate professional. There’s no-one better for the team to have around them when she’s there to offer advice. She loves Arsenal and she’s committed to making this team better and taking them to days like today.”

“How has she coped this week?” Karen asked.

“She’s very chilled,” You answered honestly. “At least that’s the version I see, she works long hours and then comes home and switches off.”

It felt natural to speak about her, you were private as a couple but it felt right to give her credit.

“I’m sure right now she’s just in the zone, maybe if you cross to her in the final ten minutes she’ll be anything but calm.”

……

You were anything but calm.

If you had a heart rate monitor on right now, you were sure it would be through the roof. Your ring finger was red raw from fidgeting with your wedding ring throughout. You couldn’t sit still. The air felt tight around you, your chest pounding as you watched the clock slowly tick.

Time was slowing down but Arsenal were winning.

Arsenal were minutes away from being European Champions.

Football in your mind was separated into moments as a player and moments as a supporter and the moment that Stina goal went in was the most joy you’d had as a spectator. You’d grabbed Fara next to you, clinging on for dear life as you jumped onto the seat. Soaking in the atmosphere as the Arsenal red around you jumped for joy.

That moment felt like a lifetime ago now as you watched the board for 7 added minutes go up.

You’d been ushered over to pitch side, ready to step on the moment the whistle went, except now you weren’t just fidgeting in your seat. You were pacing, back and forth, back and forth. Glancing at the clock. Watching the play. Closing your eyes.

It was almost over, Barcelona had a freekick in their own half. Last chance saloon. You couldn’t watch as they got the ball going again.

Then it was all over.

The ref’s whistle blew.

The crowds showed the two sides of football. Barcelona fans slumped in their seats, Arsenal fans jumped out of theirs.

Arsenal were champions.

You were known as the steely defender in your playing days, sent off on a couple of occasions. Not against the odd yellow card. But right now you couldn’t stop the tears from coming as you watched the players and staff swarm on the pitch. Their joy bringing you so much joy.

They only increased as you looked up into the stands, your eyes trained on the little figures in their box, away from the mess currently in the crowds, the smile on their faces as they jumped up and down enough to bring out a little sob. They were right.

You were glad the cameras weren’t on you right now as the TV pictures stayed on the players, your voices now transmitting over them.

“Y/N we can see you’re very emotional right now.” Becky said. “Can you describe how you’re feeling right now?”

“I’m just so happy for the players and the staff, everyone. They deserve it so much, they were all exceptional today to a woman they all did their job. I couldn’t be more proud of them.”

“She’s just glad it’s all over.” Fara interrupted you. “I think she lost ten years in those last ten minutes.”

“Maybe more.”

You handed back over to the commentary team for the team to be given their medals and then the trophy lift. It was a good thing they didn’t need you for commentary as you were honestly left speechless watching on as your wife and all her colleagues received their medals and then joined the team on the podium.

You rejoined your own colleagues on the podium as the team began to disperse around the pitch, giving the fans in the stadium a lap of honour with the trophy.

“Y/N talk us through how tiring it is to defend like Arsenal did over 90 minutes.” Becky asked you.

“It’s exhausting, Barcelona enjoyed really good spells of possession at times today. It would have felt like it’s just them coming in waves and waves, you have to stay pinpoint focused otherwise they’ve got players like Aitana and Alexia who can take an inch and produce a goal.”

“You’ll all have had tough moments in your careers, Stina Blackstenius has had lots of those moments over the past season. How will today have felt for her?”

“Well live for those moments as footballers.” Fara started. “Football comes with it’s tough moments, there are times for everyone where-“

You should have been expecting it really, you were patiently waiting to speak to the players, expecting to get your moment in turn. What you definitely weren’t expecting was for a body to jump on your back, completely knocking you off balance and tumbling to the floor.

“Yess girllllll.” The Irish accent gave it away, so many more bodies piling on top of you, the cameras capturing the moment you were stuck at the bottom of a full pile on, sweat all over your body but you couldn’t care less.

Their smiles lit up the whole pitch as they helped you back on your feet, Leah, Katie, Vic, Lotte, Steph all giving you massive hugs.

“Girls can we get some thoughts on today.” Fara asked them, each of them putting their happiness into words, a few swears coming out but it was filled with delight.

“But I have to thank Y/N.” Katie said pulling you into her arms again. “As a young girl you took me in, under your wing, you showed me what it took to become a professional footballer. You looked after me when I was homesick, invited me into your home.”

These girls couldn’t stop making you cry.

“Even now I know I can always come and get your advice, on football, life, anything. You mean so much to the whole team.” The other girls nodded in agreement. “This one is for you as well. I love you girl.”

“I love you lots.” You whispered back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Go and celebrate.”

“I’ll save you a tequila.”

“You better.”

You’d only just gotten over that, the focus turning back to analysis, watching back their highlights of the game when you spotted a figure walking towards you.

Fuck professionalism, this was your moment. “I’m sorry.” You apologised, setting down the microphone on the podium and running. Running into the awaiting arms of Kelly, her arms wrapping around your waist as she spun you in the air. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” She whispered back, sealing your lips in a short kiss. “We did it!”

“You did it.”

Kelly was a national treasure, of course they would want an interview and you held her hand as you both made your way back to the podium.

Of course she did the usual questions, the nerves, the game plan, how the players performed. “How does this compare to 2007?” Karen asked Kelly.

“It feels different, we were in Borehamwood, in front of fractions compared to today. Lots of us had work to go to the next day. Now we all know what this means, we’ve worked for months, years for this moment.” She explained. “Plus I’ve got a family here watching on, people I want to make proud.”

“And you did just that.” You confirmed, wrapping your arms around her. “People won’t see the hard work you’ve put in to get to this moment but I do, our children do, you’re the best partner, best mum and you’re our hero.”

“You guys…..” Karen teased you both. “I think you’ve got some little people here to celebrate with.”

You couldn’t do anything but watch as Elsie and Theo ran onto the pitch, straight into Kelly’s arms. You let them have their moment, going over to the sidelines to grab Ava from your mum’s arms before joining them all in a group hug.

“You did it mum!”

“We did.” You couldn’t help but laugh as a mixture of tears and joy lined all your faces.

“I need to find Auntie Katie,” Elsie muttered leaving your grasp. “She promised me something…..”

It wouldn’t be till later on you found out what that was, as you sat in Kelly’s arms in the corner of the party. The two of you all danced out as you watched the younger girls dance the night away, alcohol and pizza lining their stomachs. The two of you in your own little bubble of love.

“Oi you two, how would I go about getting a football net installed in your background…..”

#woso imagine #woso #woso imagines #woso x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal imagines #arsenal wfc #arsenal imagine #kelly smith #kelly smith x reader #kelly smith imagine #arsenal women

243 notes · View notes

dessarchive · 1 month ago

Text

ENHYPEN DR. THE INTERNATIONAL DREAM GIRL.

THE INVITATION…

REI, the only female member of the American based K-pop group, ENHYPEN, is the global it girl. With her killer fashion sense, trendsetting abilities, insane range of vocals, versatile songwriting and producing abilities, there is no doubt she’ll leave her mark on this generation.

IN THAT DREAM,

Born as Reilly Iris Evermore on March 1, 2002, in Brisbane, Australia, Rei grew up in a big family. Raised in Brisbane, she was often at the beach surfing or swimming, on her family’s farm tending to the animals, or shopping with her siblings.

At the age of nine, her hobby for swimming shortly morphed into her dream of becoming an olympic swimmer. She proved this dream was very serious to her as she placed as the best swimmer on her schools swim team within the next six months. According to Rei, she grew up loving to stay busy so while juggling school and being on the swim team, she also pursued her love for dance after enrolling in a local dance studio at the age of ten. In the same year she also began writing songs with her sister, famously known as Lexi Jayde.

Rei’s love for songwriting and music definitely came from her parents because they were always playing music, no matter the occasion. Singing in the car, dancing at the dinner table, putting on concerts in her family’s living room, and even singing while tending to the farm was something Rei grew up around and also doing. She’d always gotten positive comments on her voice but decided she wanted to be even better at the age of twelve, so she asked her parents if she could get vocal lessons. Rei stated the lessons made her more confident in her singing abilities and broaden her range of songs she could sing.

In 2017, she along with her childhood best friend and member, Jake Sim, realized they wanted to pursue music after watching BTS perform at the American Music Award’s. After this, Rei attended her dance classes, singing lessons, and continued songwriting more frequently.

WHAT VISION AWAITS?

In 2018, Rei was named the youngest olympic gold medalist after winning first place in the women’s 200 meter freestyle swim at just sixteen. Praised for her performance and humbleness, Rei, known then as Reilly Evermore, was a name known all across Australia.

In 2019, Rei announced she would be leaving her swimming past behind and reaching for a new dream in music. Rei worked hard in both dance and singing classes for months while also working towards graduating. In May 2020, a few weeks after graduating from high school, Republic Records announced they would be holding global auditions for a global K-pop group they’d be forming.

Naturally Rei auditioned and passed. She beat 998 other Australians who auditioned. You may be wondering who the other person who passed was and that would be none other then her childhood best friend, Jake Sim. Rei and Jake flew to Los Angeles a week after getting the news of passing their auditions. In Los Angeles, they met the other members, Heeseung, Jay, Sunghoon, Sunoo, Jungwon, and Riki.

After training for three months to test their chemistry and skills, they started working towards their debut with the label. After two months of preparing their release and themselves, ENHYPEN debuted on November 30, 2021.

BURNING BRIGHT, ACROSS THE WORLD…

Their debut EP, BORDER : DAY ONE, skyrocketed in sales after their TV debut on The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon. Their choreography along with their vocals for the title-track, Given-Taken, stole the hearts of fans and non-fans alike. Fans were very intrigued by the group because while all the members had their specialities, which were showcased during their documentary, Walk The Line, they all shined bright on stage, together.

With their second release, BORDER : CARNIVAL, in April 2022, ENHYPEN dived deeper into their vampire concept which drew more people in. Their sales heightened even more and have continued to do so ever since. In 2023, ENHYPEN attended and the 64th Annual Grammy Awards. In the following year they won their first Grammy for Best New Artist then performed their latest song at the time, Future Perfect (Pass The Mic). On April 12, 2025, ENHYPEN performed at Coachella and achieved the second highest YouTube livestream numbers for the festival with 250,000 total viewers.

Starting in August, they will embark on their second world tour, “Fate”, which will cover North and South America, Europe, Asia, Australia, and Africa.

OH, I LEAVE QUITE AN IMPRESSION!

Rei has continued to prove just how determined she is while being in ENHYPEN. She has helped write and produce all of the groups songs and has even helped write and produce for other artists such as Tate Mcrae, Sabrina Carpenter, Olivia Rodrigo, Gracie Abrams, Boys World, Chappell Roan, FLO, and Addison Rae.

Rei being known as the best songwriter and producer in Hollywood and as the global it girl, has artists, fans, and even non-fans praising her left and right. While her talents are show-stopping, so is her face card. Brands have been after Rei since she debuted but she didn’t accept her first brand deal until May 2021 with Calvin Klein. Since then she has stacked up brand deals with Miu Miu, Louis Vuitton, Vivienne Westwood, Coperni, Chanel, and rhode.

Talents and looks can only get you so far, so what about her personality? That of an angel. Ask anyone! Dubbed “Nation’s Best Friend”, Rei is noticed for treating others with such kindness as if she’s known them for years. She also gained this title by being connected with so many celebs and each of them having nothing but nice things to say about her. This coincides with her title, International Dream Girl, which she’s had since debut. It sparked by fans and artists across many different platforms saying they were automatically drawn to Rei, and that the atmosphere around her was beautifully alluring and beyond anything they’d ever seen.

Rei’s love for music has taken her a long way from her family’s farm in Brisbane and although music wasn’t her first love it certainly is her last along with a certain member of her group, but we’ll save that for later.

MOODBOARDS & EDITS . . .

ENHYPEN. REICORE. REIYUN. FRIENDS. FANS.

SOLO DISCOGRAPHY . . .

DEBUT ALBUM. SECOND ALBUM.

MY ONE AND ONLY . . .

RANDOM . . .

NAME TREND.

179 notes · View notes

the-library-alcove · 25 days ago

Text

Annotated Debate Between Hen Mazzig and Kei Pritsker

Source

Full text and commentary under the cut, original annotations done on Google Docs here, being shared here on tumblr due to some people being unable to see the comments.

Commentators include myself, @strangestructures, and several others.

~~~~

Hen Mazzig: My name is Hen Mazzig. I’m an Israeli author, activist, advocate and founder of the Tel Aviv Institute. I was born and raised in Israel. My family came from Iraq and North Africa and I live in London today with my partner. He is not Jewish. My focus is on Jewish advocacy and fighting antisemitism and hate online in all its forms.

Kei Pritsker: I’m Kei Pritsker. I’m co-director of The Encampments. I’m a journalist with Breakthrough News.

(Here is Kei's Canary Mission profile; https://canarymission.org/individual/Kei_Pritsker)

HM: I was just interested in your background, Kei.

KP: I mean I’m a journalist, I’m a student activist. I was involved in the Palestinian student groups. This is an issue I’ve been involved in heavily for a big period of my life.

(Kei refuses to give any personal background, sticking solely to professional, in contrast to how Hen gives both his personal and professional background in relation to this conflict.

Yeah, I tried to look him up online and there's nothing about him. I could confirm that he's been involved in anti-Israel activism since at least 2017 (source: canary mission), so at least he's right that it's been a big period, not just since oct. 7.)

HM: Got it, OK sorry.

I want to start with a current event; we’ve had a couple in the past few weeks that speak to both your areas of expertise. First with the Mahmoud Khalil arrest and deportation proceedings, and then the Mohsen Mahdawi case more recently. I wonder if each of you can describe how you feel about both cases. Kei, this in your wheelhouse, maybe you can start.

KP: Ya, I mean it was really horrifying to wake up to that news of Mahmoud being arrested. Our team found out like everyone else just on social media or news notifications. Having known him this was particularly devastating. But the way I see this is as something that really reflects the success of the encampments movement and the Palestine movement. The reason this is happening — the reason Mahmoud was arrested — his only crime is speaking out against the genocide and speaking in support of the Palestinian people.

(False; while Trump was doing it in a hamfisted way, there's no question that Mahmoud was in violation of the terms of his green card by supporting terrorist organizations and supporting attacking citizens. Also, Genocide Canard counter is at 1.)

And he is now being abducted.

(This language is conflation between a man held in detention but still able to communicate, and the Israeli hostages being held by Hamas)

The reason for it is Israel knows they’ve lost the narrative, they’ve lost the battle of ideas, they’ve lost the argument, and the encampment movement really proved they’ve lost the next generation.

("Israel controls the US government" Canard--presenting the crackdown as being done at the instigation and direction of the Israeli government, as if Trump wouldn't do it on his own for his own reasons)

Because of this they’ve resorted to the last tool in their toolbox, which is essentially repression, censorship. This is why there’s such a concerted effort from the Trump administration to ban pro-Palestine speech, to ban freedom of expression. I can’t even think of a country you get deported for criticizing in the United States besides Israel.

(Also that they are trying to in some way center the Palestine situation in the USA context. When they say that is only in the USA that there is this "repression" against speaking for Palestine)

So while it was initially very shocking it really seems now this is a concerted effort to criminalize speaking out for Palestine.

(Continued "Israel Controls the US Government" Canard, plus "We're just criticizing the Israeli government!" downplaying of their actions.)

Because the mood and the consciousness in the U.S. has changed so much. There was a poll that came out recently that showed that for the first time in decades American perceptions of Israel are majority negative.

(If it's the poll that's been circulating on tumblr, I looked at the numbers and posted a more detailed analysis (https://www.tumblr.com/strangestructures/782103564186189824/that-is-definitely-concerning-however-the?source=share), and the truth is still that across all age groups, there are more people with a favorable opinion of Israel than a negative one. And a lot of people, especially in the younger cohort (18-24), simply don't care.)

This is because of the work of the pro-Palestine movement and people seeing what Israel is about in the last two years and learning about the history of Zionism. People are starting to wake up to what it really is and I think they’ve lost the narrative and now they’re resorting to abductions, and it’s shameful and disgusting and I think it will blow back in their face.

Hen, what do you make both of what Kei is saying and the actions the administration has taken in recent weeks?

HM: Yeah, no it’s absolutely ridiculous to hear this response from Kei to be honest. I think that using words like abducted — we know what being abducted is; my family members and friends have been abducted on October 7 by Hamas, a terrorist group, that had been celebrated by the same people presented in this film.

(I want to add to this and note how Khalil is getting to write Op-Eds for newspapers, while hostages held by Hamas get used for propaganda videos)

And to speak to us about how the Trump administration is being controlled by Israel — somehow Israel is infiltrating America while with the encampments on college campuses, specifically campuses that have been bankrolled by Qatar, funders of Hamas gave billions of dollars to those American universities and in the last few years we’ve seen the radicalization of these students.

(Kei ignores and don't mention this point. I don't know if is because he knows or because he knows that even mentioning it is going to make him look bad)

While I’m personally not a supporter of Trump or these tactics of taking people and deporting them, I think we should be very mindful of the words that we’re using. And I think [pro-Palestine activists] know what they’re doing. The reason that they’re framing it this way is to equate the students that have spent 18 months making the lives of Jewish students a living hell, that’s why they intentionally exclude from the movie any voice of Jewish students.

[And portraying the Jewish students at the encampments] equates to “we’re not racists, we have some Black folks we can push forward.” Kanye West was quoted as saying that slavery was a choice. Is he a voice for the Black community? Of course not. No one would argue that. But here we are with encampments taking a fringe minority of American Jews that do not represent the American Jewish community which by and large is Zionist. Over 90 percent of American Jews describe a positive feeling toward Israel according to Pew Research.

So this whole, really, charade — it’s a way to mask a lot of hatred and turn it against us, as if we’re to blame for their arrests or attacks on Jewish students who are fearing for their lives. In the encampments you hear calls like “al-Qassam’s next target.” Mahmoud Khalil has links to Hamas. The Instagram page of one of these anti-Israel groups at Columbia activating their page just moments before the attacks on Oct 7. The leader of Iran is sending them praises, Ali Khamenei saying, “I’m so proud of what you’re doing.”

(This, exactly; he's not being deported for "protesting Israel", he's being deported for supporting terrorists.

Also add that when is convenient they ignore that they received Iran's support. They probably try to clean themselves as an effort of making propaganda against them.)

I mean I would be ashamed. I would not be saying this is a success. I don’t even know how they can hold both arguments in their heads, to say “we are being silenced ” while we’re seeing this everywhere in the media, from The New York Times to CNN to BBC, everyone is covering it as if it’s the only conflict that ever happened in the world, as if it’s the only war, while in Sudan or in Darfur — I don’t want to get into whataboutism so I won’t even name the countries that are having far worse human rights violations that are getting zero attention.

So I think the question here is why are we talking about those students that have used hate speech against Jews specifically for over 18 months as being the targets but not speaking of actual victims of deportation? Why are we talking about privileged students at Columbia that can afford hundreds of thousands of dollars to attend those universities and they’re becoming the victim? It’s very bizarre to me.

Kei, what do you make of Hen’s assertion that in your movie pro-Israel Jewish voices were not platformed, and that conversely some of the backgrounds of pro-Palestinian activists were played down?

KP: Hen, did you watch our film?

HM: Absolutely.

KP: Yeah I mean so there’s a whole scene dedicated to the pro-Israel presence at these encampments and how these pro-Israel students would go up to the encampments and tell people “you should be raped, I hope you’re raped,” “you should be killed, if you went to Gaza you’d be killed—

(So no actual reporting on pro-Israel Jews, no discussion, just one scene of them shouting at the encampments. Though I do admit this went too far.)

HM [sarcastically]: Raped? Why would they use this example?

KP: —for being gay.” There was also this lynch mob, the pro-Israel lynch mob that descended on UCLA and actually dragged students out of the encampments and beat them bloody and also fired fireworks into the encampments, which very well can kill people. You know, we did show both sides.

("Show both sides" = "cherry pick one example")

We showed what pro-Israel students said to the pro-Palestine side and we also showed the non-Zionist pro-Palestine Jewish students as well because quite frankly the media coverage you’re talking about — Hen you said the media coverage of the encampments was wall-to-wall coverage. You’re right but the coverage was 100 percent slanted in favor of Israel.

(Bullshit; media biases have been consistently in favor of Hamas on the Left. Also, "Jews control the media" canard.)

All the coverage was talking about alleged antisemitism, people being attacked and “oh my god it’s these dens of violence.”

(Supposedly the fact that there is a reporting in antisemitism that there is in the encampments it make is automatically pro-Israel because is against the movement. This is a false equivalence.)

Not only was there no truth to that, not only was there no video of that shown which, by the way, in the October 8 film there’s no video or evidence shown of any Jewish students being attacked.

(Funny, I've seen plenty of videos of people from these encampments attacking Jews, threatening them, or otherwise engaging in violence--typically while having their faces covered.

There's also the whole "not letting jews get to class" by putting the encampments in the way thing. Not sure to what extent blocking someone's path counts as violence, but...)

The evidence they put forward of antisemitism was people saying “Free Palestine” or “From the River to the Sea.” Yes the media coverage was wall to wall — obsessing over antisemitism that didn’t exist.

(Jews don't get to define antisemitism canard, plus the whole denial of a hostile environment.)

The purpose of putting our film out was to balance the unfair coverage of the media — which by the way was coming from people who never stepped foot in an encampment. I was there, I lived in the Columbia encampment for 12 days. Hen, the reason I live in the United States is because on my father’s side my grandparents were kicked out of Ukraine because of antisemitic pogroms.

(See, this would have been something to mention back at the start, Kei. But your choice of words are interesting, because it makes it very clear that you weren't raised as a Jew, and the closest Jewish connection you can claim is two generations back.)

If I saw real antisemitism there I would have left, I would have covered it, I would have said something about it. I didn’t see it at all.

(This isn't Real antisemitism Canard)

What we wanted to cover was the anti-Zionist Jewish students, which is a growing phenomenon, thousands, tens of thousands, millions of young Jews in the United States

(eyeroll There aren't "millions of young Jews" in the entire world, just as a matter of demographics. Unless you're somehow claiming that every Jew under 30 is an "antizionist", then mathematically can't be, and that's before we even get into the fact that the number of antizionist Jews is somewhere in the ballpark of at most one million Jews. at most, being under ten percent of fifteen million people. So this is the "Silent Moral Majority" logical fallacy.

They also seem to not realize that when centering in the anti-Zionist jews they are not showing a jewish perspective because the other parts of the group, the ones that don't have an opinion or are zionist, are not considered for the film and also banned from the encampments.)

are realizing their Judaism doesn’t have to be tied to Jewish ultranationalism,

(Redefining zionism canard)

or a Jewish ethnostate

(ethnostate canard)

that kills people, that bombs hospitals, that bombs schools

(falling for Hamas' policy of why they use human shields the way they do)

and says that Palestinians have no right to live in their country of origin.

(Generalizing the opinions of the Israeli far-right as being the common one from the in all Israelis)

Jews are reacting to that en masse. So that’s my goal. To balance out the narrative which was completely skewed by the mainstream media.

("Jews control the media" canard)

We put something out and let the students speak for themselves.

Hen, Kei is making the point that there was a lot of vilification happening of these students, whether from the media or elected officials. What would your response to that be? And particularly in terms of Jewish protesters, we see in the film scenes of Jewish students who are actively practicing their Judaism in the encampments,

(I'm sure they exist, but I also can't help but think about the JVP "seder plate" and "sukkah". In general, the way Judaism is practiced in the camp feels very performative, and in many cases it's quite noticeable that these are people for whom practicing Judaism is unusual, either because they are disconnected from their community or because they are not actually Jews.)

and who are making a case for being Jewish without the state of Israel. How should we be looking at them in your view?

HM: Ya. I mean there are anti-Zionist Jews that exist in the world. For some reason they receive the majority of the representation in this film. That is my issue. The majority of American Jews are Zionists and you can add another seven million Jews in Israel. So you can say it’s a “growing phenomenon” but there are a lot of “growing phenomena” that are still very small and not representative. It’s like saying Caitlyn Jenner speaks for all trans women. No one would make this argument but here we are able to tokenize a minority, a fringe community, and weaponize it against us. It’s not because they care about Jews and wants Jews to be represented. It’s that they hate us so much that they’re doing this and gaslighting us. I’m sorry I’m getting passionate but it’s really I feel like they’re living in a different universe. I’ve seen the videos on these campuses — not the encampments because for some reason I’m not allowed there — but I’ve seen the violence in the videos of these young Jewish students that send them to me and they’re afraid for their safety. They kidnapped a janitor that was not even Jewish in Columbia.

(This is ignored by Kei and doesn't try to refute it.)

For anyone to say there was not antisemitism in the encampments is completely ludicrous. They weren’t saying support Palestine, they were calling for support for Hamas.

Even the October 8 film that Kei was mentioning there were clips of protesters saying they were Hamas, a terrorist organization that brutalized and killed over 1,000 Israelis on October 7 — kidnapped, killed babies, raped people. That’s why a lot of Jewish students were so upset and were calling out the rape of young girls that came back from Hamas captivity and testified about rape. We have recorded testimony of rape from a former hostage, Amit Soussana, and instead of engaging with that she was gaslighted and told she was lying. I’m sure that’s where those comments came from about rape. They are terrible comments. But I also think we need to recognize the pain Jewish students are going through. So if it’s true that someone said that someone should be raped, and I don’t know if it really happened, but if it happened I think it’s horrible and I also think it’s horrible to tell Jewish women they weren’t raped, and to deny it and say that Jews aren’t in danger when their dorms are being vandalized and the chants of “Zionists Get Out” when we know the majority of Jews are Zionists. How do you expect them to feel? Most Jews believe in Israel’s right to exist — that’s what Zionism is. So this chant is coded hate against Jews.

Kei, you’re privileged enough not to feel intimidated, good for you. The majority of Jewish students that I know and have spoken to, the majority of Jews in America, have a completely different experience than you. So it’s great you’re able to be a part of a tiny, tiny piece of the Jewish community and you take this and put your energy into presenting something but it’s just not the truth and it’s not reality and it’s completely whitewashing the violence and the hate that has been documented over and over again. You can see it anywhere, anyone can Google it, I don’t even need to cite it because there’s so much of it.

KP: if you’re saying there was violence that took place, tell me what happened.

(Hen gave specific citations and examples, so this qualifies as a goalpost move. "No violence occurred." "Yes it did, here are some specific examples." "Give me more examples.")

HM: Oh you think if you put a sign that says “al-Qassam’s next target” is that an issue for you or is that something legitimate? Is that a call for violence or not?

KP: Sorry, well you said someone was attacked. Who got attacked?

HM: I’ll find you some — I mean everyone can Google all of those cases but yeah there were Jewish students that were attacked. In Los Angeles I remember the bloody face of the student that was attacked.

KP: Yeah those were students in the Palestine encampment. It’s in our film; did you watch our film? Those students in the Palestine encampment that were ripped out and beaten by a Zionist mob and they fired fireworks into the UCLA encampments.

(Double standard of the violence only committed against the encampment are the ones that should be critize.)

That was pro-Israel violence. Those were pro-Israel people that beat up pro-Palestinian students. Who were the Jewish students who were attacked again?

HM: Do you think that calling to kill Jewish students is ok? That’s not attack, that’s not violence for you?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But it’s speech. It’s not violence.

(This is coming from the same ideology that views misgendering someone as an act of violence, but apparently saying someone is a terrorist group's next target is just "free speech". Please note the parallel with the same sort of behavior on the Right.)

HM: Oh it’s speech? To call someone to be killed is speech Kei? Are you serious?

KP: I don’t agree with it. But you said someone was attacked.

HM: I’m sending links, don’t worry, I’m sending links. Here you go. [Links appear in chat.] This is one link to an incident with two Jewish students at DePaul. Don’t worry I’ll get you all the links and all the sources.

If I can distill what you both are saying a little. There seemed to be incidents that everyone here would agree are troubling. Telling a Jewish student they’re al-Qassam’s next target or to go back to Poland is not the kind of speech I think we can all agree should be used. Kei I guess the question as I hear it from Hen is whether you feel this was the norm, the culture, or this was anomalous or outside the encampment.

KP: So that’s exactly what I’m saying. Hen is kind of proving my point with the articles he’s sending. These articles are not from the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single person that has ever said “Free Palestine” in their life. I’m just saying the attacks he’s alleged weren’t attacks that took place at the encampments. [Looks at chat]. I mean you’re just spamming—

(Goalpost move; "Show me violence" shows violence "these cases aren't valid because I have moved the goalposts, and you're spamming anyway, because these aren't valid evidence since I've moved the goalpost."

The goal post moved is the one of Violence on the Campus to violence in the encampments. Kei or he didn't remembered Hen point or he didn't heard it)

HM: Sorry, I’m sending too many examples of attacks on Jews.

KP: No, I mean you said a Jewish student was attacked.

HM: I said Jewish students were attacked. There were attacks of Jewish students in their dorms, there was an example of Jews in California attacked outside a synagogue. You say it wasn’t part of the encampment, it’s hard to identify when they have masks on. But this type of spirit is the one that is leading to violence against Jews. if you want to tell me that Jews were not attacked then we have a different issue and I mean you live in a different reality.

KP: So again what I’m saying is there were not attacks on Jewish students in encampments and none of these [links] are examples of that.

("I wonder why there are no attacks on a minority in a space that isn't allowed inside of it")

HM: Because they weren’t allowed in.

KP: And moreover there’s ample evidence of pro-Israel students attacking the encampments. I’m not speaking for every single protest that there was no bad conduct. I think we can all agree that anyone being attacked — that violence is not acceptable, that we shouldn’t be attacking people for their opinions. What I’m saying is that someone saying “from the river to the sea” — it’s in our film, a whistleblower who worked for Columbia and logged these cases of alleged antisemitism and a lot of it was people saying that or wearing a keffiyeh to class.

("Tu quque" fallacy, goalpost move, and several other fallacies--"there isn't any violence on his side, but even if there is, the Zionists do it too! And besides, there hasn't been any violence inside of the encampments, and any examples of violence outside are downplayed and presented as "alleged antisemitism" or people chanting slogans or wearing a keffiyah, so the real violence is coming from the Zionists!")

These are not antisemitic things, these are people calling for an end to a 75-year occupation and humans rights abuses that have been condemned worldwide.

("Israel itself is illegitimate" canard)

It’s legitimate speech against — ironically — an actual violent occupation that’s happening in Palestine.

Like that’s the thing that gets me — everyone keeps talking about “Jewish students feel unsafe because they see flags waving.”

(I mean, given the behavior they regularly see from people carrying these flags, yeah, it makes sense. I also feel concerned when I see a Palestinian flag waving these days, and I'm not even Jewish!

Also says a lot, because there have been repeated instances of people aligned with Kai saying that the Israeli flag makes Palestinians feel "unsafe". So rules for thee but not for me, etc.

Oh yeah, didn't think about that. The reaction to the Israeli flag is a good example, for me, of the "Israel is ontologically evil" thing.)

Meanwhile the students are protesting an actual situation where entire cities are being wiped off the face of the earth.

(Exaggeration, and also falling for Hamas' human shields policy again)

Hen you have yet to say anything about that fact — you talk about the students on these campuses as privileged or whatever or people feeling unsafe walking to their dorms, but what about the fact that Israel has destroyed every single university in Gaza?

(Stripping context of this, along with the other accusations, to demonize Israel, instead of acknowledging that the reason for the destruction is because Hamas uses civilian infrastructure as shields. But stated like this, it's this narrative that Israel just blows up hospitals, schools, and other civilian infrastructure just because they can out of simple cruelty, instead of "they have to because terrorists are using them as shields")

That’s what our film is about.

(I mean, as far as I understand the film is not about Gaza directly, but about anti-Israel activism at American universities, which is exactly what the discussion has been about. So yeah, definitely moving the goalposts.)

What do you have to say about that? What do you have to say about the safety of the Palestinian students?

HM: Ya I’ll speak about this in a second. I just want to point out that i did not say there were peaceful signs that triggered Jewish students. It was a student holding a sign that said “al-Qassam’s next target” with an arrow pointing to the Jewish student. Of course there was no violence in the encampments — the encampments were closed to Jewish students—

KP: —No that’s not true, there were Jewish students in the Columbia encampment in our film—

("We have tokens that we trot out to defend ourselves against accusations of bigotry!")

HM: —if i can finish my sentence. They were closed for Jewish students that would not sign off and say that they hate half of the world’s Jewish population in Israel.

(Kei ignores and doesn't engage in this part even to deny it. Also he ignores that a member of a minority is expressing how he is perceiving those attacks. That is a double standard.)

If they’re not going to say it they’re not going to get in. That’s why the attacks didn’t happen in the encampments — because there was no one to challenge [organizers]. They closed them down and made sure it would be a sterile area for Jews — not all Jews, the 90 percent of Jews that are Zionists in America. And for those students in the encampments — I mean I heard those testimonies of them not having humanitarian aid or getting enough food and I found it a bit bizarre. For someone who is advocating for peace for both Israelis and Palestinians and has been for years now, as someone who spent five years as a humanitarian officer working on building hospitals in Gaza and the West Bank and Hebron and Ramallah and building schools for Palestinians, it’s been part of my work so I’m deeply committed to promoting peace through building bridges this way. The situation in Gaza is horrific, it’s absolutely horrific. It’s been horrific since October 7 when the world was silent about what happened and it’s been horrific since then.

You can quote Anthony Blinken saying that the protests around the world are part of what emboldened Hamas. Hamas continues to hold hostages, continues to oppress Palestinians in Gaza, and while according to what Kei is describing is one of the worst situations ever and yet they still refuse to release the hostages, they still refuse to end it. You know if they released the hostages there would not be justification to continue this war; this war would be over. We haven’t heard anyone in the encampments actually say this. “Why don’t you call for the release of the hostages,” someone asked them. They said “well, you know it goes without saying.” But everything else you need to say and this fact you conveniently ignore?

If the hostages would be released the war would be over. Women have been raped in Gaza by Hamas and they haven’t said a word about it. Well they have said a word about it — they said you shouldn’t believe those Israeli women and said that those babies deserve to be killed because they live in Israel. While ignoring far worse human rights violations and getting praised from the Supreme Leader of Iran, one of the most brutal countries in the world for gay people. But they haven’t protested for those gay people, for gay Iranians, they haven’t said a word about them. They have an issue with Israel because according to what Kei is saying it’s an ethnostate. Show me another country in the Middle East that isn’t an ethnostate. But what type of ethnicity are we talking about? It is the Jewish one or the Arab one? My family is from Iraq and Tunisia, we have the same ethnicity.

One last thing — this movie would have much more credibility if they didn’t have someone like Macklemore producing it. Someone who engaged in antisemitism and wore a Jewish nose and had Jewface on at a concert and he took up the Palestinian cause and is producing movies. Just very interesting why you’d be OK with someone that engaged in antisemitism to be the face of this movie. Would you be OK with someone that engaged in racism to be the face of a movie about the Black community?

KP: What’s this Macklemore issue?

(Out of all the things Hen said, Kei only concentrates on the one that affects him personally.)

HM: Why, it’s not a part of your film?

KP: I don’t know, what’s your issue with Macklemore?

HM: I’m asking if it’s a part of your film.

KP: If what’s a part of my film?

If Macklemore produced the film. He was an ep, yes?

KP: Ya he’s the executive producer.

HM: Yeah, so he has been criticized by the Jewish community for wearing a caricature of a Jewish nose onstage and Jewish beard and engaging in antisemitism to the point that he had to issue a public apology [in 2014] for what he did on stage in front of thousands of people.

KP: So I mean I actually didn’t know about this and just looked it up briefly and it looks like he apologized for it. It sounds like he made a mistake and I believe in people’s capacity to grow and apologize. As long as I’ve known him I’ve not gotten the sense he has an antisemitic bone in his body.

(And who are you that gets to decide that, Kei, as someone who is apparently outside of the Jewish community?)

He’s always talking to Jews and he’s been very outspoken about the issue of Palestine, that’s why we brought him on. Because he was someone who was outspoken after the genocide

(Genocide canard counter 2)

began, at great risk to his own career.

(I feel like the people defending Israel are at greater risk of being ostracized in creative communities, which destroys careers. But there were a few cases of people going too far and losing their jobs, so now anyone who "supports Palestine" is a potential martyr. And that's what they want to be, martyrs, because it puts them front and center and shows what good people they are.

Is this a form of getting the consequences out of proportion and center more in the "persecution" of the Pro-Palestine side than in the real numbers?)

So that’s why we chose him, and you know I can’t speak to anyone’s past but it sounds like—

HM: I’m sorry, I’m sorry to interrupt it’s just really important that we point it out, Macklemore wore a long nose onstage with a Hasidic outfit and marked the Jewish community. This is directly leading to violence against Jews and we know that. Kei be honest, would you accept someone that used blackface?

KP: No, no of course not. But it looks like he apologized.

(You don't even know the details, but "it looks like he apologized" is enough. Great, I can do anything I want as long as I give a token apology!)

HM: Would you accept someone if they apologized, would you take them as a producer, if someone used blackface?

KP: I mean again, some people have the capacity to change. And if he knows he did something wrong then that’s OK. I wasn’t aware of it.

(Gotta love the double standard. "Blackface is verboten but Jewface is okay if they've changed.")

If I can, I think the subtext of Hen’s question here if I’m understanding correctly is whether having Macklemore on the film coupled with the lack of hostage emphasis, whether that adds up to an antisemitic strain and not just an anti-Zionist strain, is that what you mean Hen?

KP: I just think this idea if he made a mistake and he apologized and Hen you’re making him out to be this raging antisemite.

(Again, who are you to say that he isn't? You're not Jewish, Kei.)

[On the hostages], there are Palestinian hostages. Israel imprisons tens of thousands of Palestinians every year — administratively detains them without charges. Children as young as 12 for throwing rocks at armed vehicles. I think if we’re talking about hostages we should talk about releasing hostages on all sides.

(So... acts of violence are okay, so long as the targets can shoot back, eh?

This is a double standard that or the Israeli are capable of defend themselves so they are valid targets?)

I mean I don’t understand the implication, you’re saying the students are antisemitic for not talking about Israel hostages but it would never be asked of the pro-Israel side to talk about the 10,000 Palestinians in Israeli prisons.

(It's interesting how just a few lines ago, "Israel is imprisoning tens of thousands of Palestinians every year for no reason", then gives a reason, and then says that there's only ten thousand. What happened to the previous years' batches? I'm bringing this up not just to point out Kei's routine goalpost moving, but also to point out that he also routinely exaggerates and inflates numbers, percentages, and groups as part of appeals to emotion, while, in contrast, Hen gives specific details, which are then ignored)

We’re not asking Hen to justify these things. I don’t know why the students are being made to speak about 200 Israeli hostages.

("See, they don't count, because they're not as human as Palestinians, and we don't have consistent principles that say that any hostages are bad. And I think that people kidnapped from their beds and babies are morally equivalent to people who are assaulting others with intent to injure or kill."

Also, I'm pretty sure that if I had the choice, I'd rather spend a year as a prisoner in Israel than a month as a hostage in Palestine. A prisoner and a hostage are not the same thing!)

Hen what would you say to that?

HM: Just to clarify, the 10,000 Palestinian prisoners — hostages, as he calls them — they have committed crimes and are held in Israeli prisons, right? And they get family visits by the International Committee of the Red Cross. I’ve actually facilitated many of those visits. And the ICRC goes and makes sure they’re being treated well. In fact in the latest hostage release eight Palestinian prisoners refused to go back to Gaza because they’ve enjoyed their treatment in these prisons more than they—

KP: That’s absurd.

("I haven't heard about it so it can't be true.")

HM: — that’s not a lot. But it’s a reminder they’re not hostages and to frame them this way is just meant to do one thing and that’s to —

KP: Sorry, I think they probably didn’t want to go back because Israel destroyed Gaza.

(Calls it absurd and then tries to reinterpret it in his favor.)

HM: Interesting, so they’d rather stay a hostage? No Israel hostage wanted to stay in the tunnels. That’s the difference.

KP: Yes, because Israel is the one responsible for killing many of the hostages.

(Ah yes, the "Israel kills it owns people" canard.)

If Netanyahu and Israel cared so much about the hostages they wouldn’t be carpet-bombing the place where the hostages are being held.

("Carpet bombing" canard. If Israel was actually carpet bombing the Strip, the death toll would be orders of magnitude higher.)

HM: Kei, have you been to Gaza?

KP: What?

HM: Have you been to Gaza? Have you been to a war in your life?

KP: No but I don’t need to go to Gaza—

("The information I've vaguely absorbed is enough for me to know everything.")

HM: So don’t say people are being killed [by Israelis]. You know each time a hostage has been killed it’s a tragedy that crushes all of us. And also civilians. Any civilians dying in this war. It’s horrific to all of us. But for you to use that, to weaponize it against me to say “your army kills hostages.”

KP: How am I weaponizing?

HM: Those hostages should not have been kidnapped by Hamas. Those hostages should not have been taken from their beds by Hamas and held in tunnels and babies should not have been kidnapped from their beds with their mothers and the women should not have been taken from her bed and raped in the Gaza tunnels. The fact that you don’t speak about it is the issue when you focus on Gaza.

KP: So here’s the reality, and it’s something the protesters have been trying to point out, that this didn’t start on October 7.

(Trying to downplay the atrocity of the 7/10 with the crimes of Israel from before as that justifies it.)

HM: When did it start? When my family was forced out of Iraq in 1941? When?

KP: I mean you can go back 100 years to the First Zionist Congress. You could go back even further.

HM: So when?

KP: So the one thing I want to point out is the premise of your film is this whole war, this genocide,

(Genocide canard counter 3)

started on October 7, on October 8.

(which is interesting, because Israel didn't respond militarily inside the Strip for weeks afterward. The only response on those days were from people like Kai, celebrating and throwing parties. Remember that one professor who said, on October 15th, that the attack was exhilarating and that anyone who disagreed wasn't human?)

But the genocide in Gaza started in 2007 when Israel imposed a full naval, ground and air blockade on Gaza.

(So, eighteen years of genocide, in which time the population tripled? Can I trade? I'll exchange 4 years of genocide with a 90% death rate for 18 years where the population balloons!)

HM: They have a border with Egypt.

KP: Let me finish.

HM: They have a border with Egypt. How did Israel enforce a blockade? Because Israel is supposed to be better? Oh, so you hold Israel accountable but not Egypt.

KP: No I criticize Egypt.

HM: Oh have you protested? I haven’t seen a single sign about Egypt, not even one. Not even in your film.

KP: Because the film wasn’t about the protests.

(Double standard with "we criticize Egypt also" but our main concern is Israel.)

HM: Oh it was about Israel.

KP: We’re absolutely critical of the Egyptian government. But hold on let me finish. In 2007 Israel imposed a full blockade of the Gaza Strip, controlling everything that goes in and out.

(Yes, because Hamas started using the Strip as a base to attack Israel with, using anything they could get their hands on.)

This policy has been described as being akin to an open-air concentration camp, and not for no reason.

(Holocaust Inversion.

I always wonder since when this is a open concentration camp and how are they supposed to be being exterminated, by dying of hunger or by the hand of Hamas?)

There was an Israeli minister of the Knesset who once joked that Israel is putting the Gazans on a diet, and what he was referring to was that Israel controls the flow of food into Gaza so much so that they can actually calculate the caloric intake of the people there.

(I find it telling that this speech is worthy of condemnation (and it is) but telling someone that they're the next murder target of a terrorist organization is "free speech".

Double standard also because this is used without even considering the time when it was said, but when someone points out the "Curse upon the Jews" of Hamas this considered outdated.)

The genocide in Gaza started long before October 7.

(Genocide canard counter 5)

There was a UN report written in 2018 saying that Gaza would be uninhabitable by 2020. Before October 7, 95 percent of the water in Gaza was unfit for human consumption; the average Palestinian in Gaza got four hours of electricity.

(Gee, I wonder why? Is it because Hamas trashed all of the infrastructure in order to repurpose it into rockets? Oh wait, it is!

Also, I still don't understand why Israel is supposed to be responsible for water and electricity in Gaza, a region they completely left, despite the amount of humanitarian aid Gaza gets.

Because these people think that Gaza is an "open-air concentration camp" and is thus under Israel's complete panopticon and control.)

If you put people in an open-air concentration camp why should we be surprised they try to break out?

(That wasn't trying to break out, that was a killing spree.

Says a lot about their mindset, doesn't it?

They want to clean this saying that a good chunk of the hostages were killed by Israel and that the members of Hamas that really killed someone are a minority, downplaying it.)

Just to quickly clarify, Hen was not involved in the film October 8; there may be some confusion because Debra Messing who’s on his show was an executive producer. But to amplify Kei’s point, Hen, the idea from pro-Palestinian activists that this didn’t start on October 7 but long before — some say 1967 [when Israel captured territory and borders were redrawn] or 1948 — and October 7 was not a beginning but a culmination, how do you respond to that?

KP: This is Israel’s policy and of course collective punishment is a crime against humanity. Regardless of what you think about Hamas or what their role is, to starve two million people because they had an election [in 2007] and elected a government you don’t like is a crime against humanity.

(Good thing that, according to multiple sources, including the UN, there was never famine conditions inside the Strip!)

HM: That we “don’t like.” Do you think Hamas was elected democratically? Come on.

KP: They were. There were international observers that went there and oversaw the election, whether you like it or not is not really the question.

(It was only an election in all the time that Hamas has been in power. And then they said it has been Israel fault that Hamas has been in power this long.)

HM: That’s why there’s a war. Because we don’t like an election.

KP: My point if you leave people in a condition like that, why are we acting so shocked when they decide to break out?

(No, because they keep sending rockets to Israel.

Even before this, the rockets were just the status quo, like the weather. The war was because Hamas invaded and went on a mass murder campaign.)

Were they supposed to just sit there and accept that and say “this is my new lot in life, I’m just going to live this way, I’m never going to question it, I’m never going to do anything about it? We’re just supposed to sit there and take it?”

(Double standard, Palestine can do anything they want in retaliation but the rockets that the Israeli receive they should do nothing.)

HM: No, so we’re supposed to sit there and take it when 1,200 people are being killed—

KP: You’re collectively punishing—

HM: That’s what you’re saying though. You’re saying that we should take it.

KP: You’re collectively punishing everyone in Gaza.

HM: You’re saying we should take it, that we should allow them, because we don’t understand what it’s like to have borders, and if you have borders you should be allowed to go and take hostages.

KP: You are collectively punishing the people of Gaza for a crime they didn’t commit. Literally for having an election.

(Ignoring Hen point and doubling down in his version that what happened in 7/10 should not have formed a reaction like that and downplaying that is because they don't like Hamas)

HM: No. No, the war is not punishment. There’s a war because of October 7. Because of the massacre of 1,200 people in one day.

KP: No there’s a war because Israel is enforcing a genocidal blockade policy in Gaza.

(Genocide canard count 6)

HM: You are supporting 1,200 people being killed and a baby being choked to death—

KP: You’re supporting 200,000 people being killed—

(Even Hamas isn't claiming that number; why do you want another 150,000 people dead, Kei?)

Guys, I understand the passion on both sides. If we can—

HM: I have passion because I’m connected to it. It’s my family that is on the line. It’s my friends that have been killed. That’s why I’m passionate. I’m not sure—

KP: It doesn’t matter if it’s your family.

(At this point, I think that Kai has made it abundantly clear where he stands--and where his ideology stands--regarding the worth of Jewish lives to them. I.e. Nothing.

Also being indirectly showing support to Hamas even if is contradictory.)

HM: It doesn’t matter if it’s my family?! Are you insane? No, I’m sorry Steve, I can’t—

OK, Hen, guys, let’s bring it back — I think we all feel understandably heated, we all have stakes in this, and, again, passion. I appreciate that. Let’s bring it back to some U.S. policy. [Long pause.] So we talked a lot about the Khalil and other incidents but there’s obviously a lot going on on campuses now. We’re seeing the Trump administration take action against Harvard and Columbia in the name of antisemitism, and I want to ask both of you just in terms of this policy now, how should we feel about it? Whether it will do any good? Because I think that’s what we can all hope for is to live more peacefully, I think we can all agree with that. Hen why don’t you start and talk a little bit about what you think of this approach.

HM: I need a minute. So let him go first [goes camera-off].

KP: So again, this policy is reflective of the larger crisis here for the Trump administration, for the military-industrial complex, for Zionism, for Israel, which is that they have lost the argument especially among the younger generation.

(Is that the "Jews control the government" canard again? Oh yes, yes it is!

Also, having looked over this whole thing again... this is almost word-for-word what he said at the beginning. This isn't a considered statement, it's a catechism--basically a rote answer delivered without thought.)

The pro-Israel side is trying to put forward this increasingly paranoid conspiracy theory that the reason this is happening is because everyone in the world is an antisemite, that the United Nations is antisemitic, that the ICJ is antisemitic, that The New York Times is antisemitic, that Human Rights Watch is antisemitic, that Amnesty International is antisemitic, that Harvard University is antisemitic, that Columbia is antisemitic, that students are antisemitic.

(Well, of course you're not going to believe it, Kei, but we can give evidence of antisemitism at all of those organizations--often from their own internal documentation.)

But I actually think the reality is that it’s not that everyone is irrationally hateful all of a sudden against Jews.

(Again, who are you to decide what counts as antisemitism, Kei?

"...all of a sudden" as if antisemitism isn't millennia old

Don't you know that antisemitism was invented by the Nazis in 1933 and was ended by the Allies in 1945! /s)

I think it’s that people are sick and tired of watching babies incinerated in their cribs,

(and I wonder how you saw video of that? Who took the video, who uploaded it, and who edited it? Which conflict did it come from? Oh, also, Blood Libel canard)

of watching people’s livelihoods destroyed, of watching entire families, entire bloodlines, wiped out.

(Unless they're Israelis, apparently)

I think people don’t like genocide.

(Genocide Canard counter 7)

And I think people are sick and tired of watching their government send money and weapons and 2,000-pound missiles to be dropped on apartment complexes and journalists.

(again with the "Israel is cruel and bombing just for shits and giggles and wanton cruelty" canard.

They really should learn why it is dangerous being a war reporter in general. Do they really think that a certification is like a force field or similar?

Don't forget that a lot of Hamas militants actively seek out being "independent journalists" in order to use that as a shield.)

Hen talks about journalists. This has actually been the deadliest conflict for journalists ever.

(Because they're all terrorists moonlighting as journalists; that's been shown repeatedly.)

Israel doesn’t want that truth out.

Kei, can I ask you just on that previous score. You mentioned a lot of organizations. I don’t want to get into specific ones but people on the right say that there is something endemic to left-wing organizations that can be antisemitic. Do you think that’s true? Clearly there are people on the right and far-right who have problems with antisemitism, I just wrote about some of them. But is is true on the left, with the pro-Palestine movement? I’ll mention this example because Hen just tweeted about it, that the suspect who tried to burn Josh Shapiro’s house down cited the Free Palestine movement. The argument is there’s a normalization that’s happening that says it’s OK to be antisemitic and can lead people like the suspect which, if he did what was alleged, to do something terrible. Is this a problem in your view in the Free Palestine movement?

KP: So with the Josh Shapiro incident, if you look at the video [the suspect] is clearly mentally ill.

("There is no systemic antisemitism on the Left. Everyone who is antisemitic is having a mental health crisis. There is no war in Bah Sing Se."

Also, you can look at a short video of someone and diagnose them with "mental illness". And mental illness leads directly to hate and violence against minorities, even if there's no hate against said minorities in society at large, because mentally ill people develop their hate out of thin air and are not influenced by society at large. And of course, there's the whole "mentally ill people are scary and violent" thing, which is not directly related to Israel / antisemitism, but I still found it worth pointing out. Mentally ill people are much more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators.)

He has never posted about Palestine before. The idea that he’s some Palestinian activist is ridiculous. I think he probably has mental issues. I don’t think he has anything to do with the Palestinian movement.

("No True Palestinian activist would do this!")

So you’re not concerned about normalization of antisemitic rhetoric.

KP: Well again, what Hen is doing is making a false equivalency between anti-Zionism and antisemitism.

("Jews don't get to define antisemitism, only outsiders do.")

There’s growing anti-Israel sentiment in the United States which is true but to say that this has led to attacks on Jews I think is wrong. And a lot of the incidents, if you look at the ADL’s report on antisemitism, a lot of the antisemitic incidents being reported are just people speaking out in support of Palestine or wearing a keffiyeh or saying Free Palestine. That’s not antisemitism.

("Jews call everything antisemitism, and I don't understand micro-aggressions or hostile environments when they're targeting Jews."

They also put the ADL as being blindly Pro-Israel and with Trump government.)

Hen, what would you say to that, to the idea that tying antisemitism to an anti-Zionist movement is a false equivalency.

HM: Yeah. First I’ll quote the person that wanted to burn Josh Shapiro’s family alive. He said “I have said for years, years before October 7, that I favor a two-state solution, Israelis and Palestinians living peacefully side by side, being able to determine their own future and their own destiny,” that’s what he said to reporters just yesterday. To me it sounds like a legitimate call for peace and co-existence. But that made him go and try to burn down a Jewish family and Jewish governor. So there’s a lot of semantics here that are being thrown around. Since October 7 antisemitic incidents in America have reached an all-time high — yes, even statements about Palestine like the one I cited led this person to go and try to burn an entire Jewish family alive. I think there is a problem of antisemitism on both the left and the right and I think the fact that Kei didn’t even know that Macklemore has used Jewface — they would never touch someone who engaged in racism or homophobia but when it comes to antisemitism it’s such an afterthought that you didn’t even know about it, it wasn’t even an issue.

Maybe I’ll speak briefly about what I’m doing with And They’re Jewish. Because what’s striking to me is the contrast between The Encampments and my project, the whole notion that it’s something they’re not even related to — Kei said it doesn’t matter if you’re related to it — but I am related, I am a person invested in it, and the difference between his film and my series is that the film shows Jewish identity through the lens of political rage, through chants, through erasure, through deciding for Jews what is and isn’t antisemitism. It’s very political, and Jews are just a background noise at best or the villains at worst. But And They’re Jewish centers joy, creativity, diversity, humanity. And it reminds people that Jews are not just headlines or symbols in someone else’s protests; we’re real, complicated, vibrant people. And I think the world needs more of that right now. Because this sort of dehumanization that we’re seeing from the encampments and other causes is directly leading to violence against us, and there are reports after reports, study after study, that show how dehumanization of Jews is leading to violence against us, that led to the worst genocide in modern history of six million Jews.

And that’s our fear today — that this dehumanization, this afterthought about Jewish identity and the way we’re being portrayed by this [pro-Palestine] movement, even if it’s just in the guise of “we’re just speaking about Zionism; we’re just speaking about seven million Jews in Israel that we think should be killed, not all Jews,” it doesn’t matter, it harms real Jews, it’s how a 70-year-old Jewish guy was beaten to death in California at a protest, it’s how we ended up with Josh Shapiro’s house being burned, it’s how we end up with so much violence in this country against us, it’s how we end up being gaslighted about the horrific brutality of October 7.

Thanks Hen, I’m glad you talked about the show, and Kei, I’m glad we spoke about the movie. I hope you each continue to watch each other’s work and we all watch work even from people we don’t agree with. We have time for one last question, so I’ll ask each of you this: What’s something you would like to see change on your own side? Something thought about or done differently. Hen let’s start with you.

HM: I’d like to see more voices from the pro-Israel camp speaking up for Palestinian civilians. I think it’s important that we speak about suffering on both sides and that we humanize both Israelis and Palestinians and we make sure we’re focusing on people as human beings and not just as pawns in some dystopian story.

(Kei ignores this)

That we’re seeing real human beings. I hope Israelis and Palestinians will be seen on both sides.

Thank you for that Hen. Kei, same question. Anything you’d like to see done or handled differently on your end of things?

KP: Yeah, I think there are a lot of people in the U.S. that are being legitimately propagandized or lied to about who the Palestinians are and are being told the same narrative that they were told after 9/11, “a lot of Muslims are violent, that they’re hateful people and the Palestinians are our enemy that Lebanese people are our enemy.”

(American-centric glasses for the conflict, and not bothering to examine any deeper.)

But the reality is our enemy is the military industrial complex, it’s the generals, it’s these politicians who sell us on these wars. I would like the Palestine movement to really engage with more debate with these people who are coming forward and supporting Israel because I think a lot of them are being misled about who Arabs and Muslims and Palestinians are.

(Honestly, Kei, if you're an example of the level of good faith debate coming from your movement...)

Thank you for that Kei. A good note to end on from both of you. I think more understanding about who we all are is a good thing. Before we go I just want to give you guys credit. Usually with this conflict people are chanting behind barricades or talking to their followers and not engaging with another side. I know things got heated and there may be some raw feelings. That’s understandable. I hope everyone takes a minute to takes care of themselves. And then feels good about what they did. Not everyone is willing to sit here and have these conversations — hard as they are, important as they are. So thanks to both of you. I hope we can continue talking, and listening.

#antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #the anti imperialism of idiots #israel hamas conflict #jumblr

164 notes · View notes