#how to engage alumni

[rosesaints]

help wanted ! chapter one.

pairing: miguel o’hara / f!reader summary: a chance encounter after your life falls apart leads to some unexpected consequences. rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) warnings: unprotected sex, age difference, pet names, size kink, public sex series masterlist / next chapter

Thousands of dollars in debt later, you were officially graduating from college one degree hotter–-that’s right, for one, blazing moment of glory, you got to gloat about your fancy new degree on social media and flaunt your newfound education to all of your followers, popping champagne and exchanging clueless smiles with the other soon-to-be alumni in your graduating class as if you all spent even a single dime actually learning something useful.

Nevermind the fact that over half of your followers were meddling friends of your parents from your hometown’s PTA, insistent vultures that kept tabs on you from afar despite your repeated pleas that no, Sharon, you did not want to date her deadbeat son, no matter how good you claim he is at Madden. The point was, you had a tight and secure future within grasp.

You were coming out of college with an engagement ring, a spotless portfolio, and an impeccable internship, courtesy of your fiancé and a little help from his family.  Your beloved sat in the stands of your university’s stadium at graduation, alongside his family and yours, the very picture of spotless suburban perfection straight off the pages of  Good Housekeeping. You let yourself smile and believe that this was it.  

Dear god, how could you have been so clueless? 

You met your fiancé during your first year of college at a required gen-ed, while he served as a Teacher’s Assistant, three years your senior. At the time, like a fool, you let the red flags pass you by. He was attractive, ridiculously unattainable, and somehow you maintained his interest. Six months of dating passed you by, and suddenly you were moving into his place and agreeing to a joint bank account at the mature age of 19.

Slowly, you let him take over your life and for all that you gave to him, he still wasn’t satisfied. Nevermind the fact that you were completely–emotionally, physically, financially–dependent on him, he had to drive the knife so much deeper into you.

It sears and burns the pits of your stomach–your future coming aflame right in front of you.

The evidence was littered all over the entryway of your shared apartment with your fiancé. Kitten heels that were two sizes too small for you, a tacky, blue color reminiscent of ones you wore to Disneyland as a child. You imagined her prancing about your doorway in those heels, giggling like a little teenager as your fiancé murmured words of affirmation into her ear, “ yes, I made sure she left before you came over, she’ll never even know–-” putting her shoes in the place where your shoes usually rest.

On the counter, an equally tasteless purse. It was all just so insulting. 

From your spot in the kitchen, you could hear, clear as day, her pathetic little mewls and praises and the way your stupid, stupid fiancé would pant loudly right before he was about to finish. Looking back, you had no idea why you let that slide.

Your fists clench at your sides. 

The clock kept ticking on the wall across from you. 9:06 PM . Only six hours after your graduation, after he pushed you off towards your parents and insisted on you having the night off with them. Your parents had gushed and remarked how lucky you were, how truly blessed to have such a thoughtful and kind partner.

For one moment, you deliberated upon the next best course of action. You imagined several scenarios in your head. Your first instinct was to barge in sobbing, yelling words of betrayal and anguish at  your partner, hurling that ugly blue purse of that wench’s at his face and reveling in the tragedy of it all. Your next instinct was to get his parents on FaceTime and show them what a little bitch their son was.

Suffice to say, you decided upon the latter and things, decidedly, did not go very well.

From there, it was a blur of screaming, crying, and yelling, from all parties involved. Blue kitten heels girl began covering herself up upon your entry, covering her face in shame as your fiancé started panicking and scrambling to get his shit together, clearly shocked by your early arrival. His parents were blowing up your phone’s speaker as he urged his side piece to leave and let him explain.

An hour later, you were out on the streets with your belongings.

Apparently, he had been waiting for a proper time to break up with you for the past few months, some unintelligible nonsense about how the spark just isn’t there anymore, you’re just… not fun anymore and how he felt taken advantage of and only felt like you were using him.  Nevermind the dubious way in which you met while you were a freshman and he was some upperclassman blowing through his trust fund, giving you attention only to take it away hastily.

You ended up moving back to your parents’ place with no money, no prospects, and no friends. Whatever friends you had at the beginning of your relationship with your ex-fiancé were long gone–the consequence of having a partner who insisted that they were all you needed. In hindsight, you realize that his insistence on staying in and watching movies with pizza instead of going out with your friends were not actually all that romantic. He mostly sat on his phone while he scolded you for even considering going out.

Your fall from grace became well documented on your parents’ social media, as your mother regretfully laments how her precious baby girl lost it all and was forced to move back home with her tail between her legs. It just made the sting of losing everything all the more worse. Your mother’s friends no longer slid into your DMs with their sons’ contact info.

Several days in your childhood bedroom were spent watching rom-coms and throwing various objects at the screen, decrying false promises of eternal love and pointing out the stupidity in so many of the main characters. It was actually quite therapeutic. You let your hair remain unkempt and your room to pile up with takeout orders, courtesy of the engagement ring you had pawned off in a fit of rage after the breakup.

Your ex’s texts about the whereabouts of said ring was your future self’s problem.

On the tenth day of your self-isolation, your mother had had enough and barged into your room, opening all your curtains and dragging you out of bed to join breakfast with the rest of the family. You knew that this discussion was coming, dreading the inevitable conversation where your parents poked and prodded you for information about your next job. Your student loan bills were waiting, despite blocking it out and pretending they didn’t exist.

The energy in the dining room was tense and strained, silence hanging thick in the air as you prepared a bowl of cereal. Your parents looked at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to come up with a brilliant proclamation that you were going to move out of their house. Instead, you let the silence hang thicker in the air, awkward silence stretching impossibly long. 

Finally, your mother cleared her throat. “So–-”

“I’m heartbroken,” The half-rehearsed statement dripped lazily off the tip of your tongue before she could continue further, as you took a spoonful of stale cereal. “I just need more time to recover.”

“We don’t doubt that at all, sweetheart, you take all the time in the world that you need,” Your mother exchanged a nervous glance with your father before continuing. “But we thought it would be beneficial for you to… get out of the house for a little bit. Maybe try running some errands with me or helping out around the neighborhood? There’s a new family that moved in next door, the O’Hara’s, and I believe that they’re looking for a babysitter! Think about how impressed they’ll be with your fancy degree!”

“As wonderful as that sounds, like I said, I’m just not ready.” Glancing back down at your bowl to avoid your parents’ gazes, you couldn’t help but swallow down the disappointment that threatened to overcome you. Your degree was now being relegated to a babysitting gig. You feel small, like a child being scolded at dinnertime. The rest of breakfast was a relatively fast and uneventful affair, save for the pitiful looks being thrown your way.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

More days pass, and for the most part, your parents have eased off your back. Your feelings towards your engagement had soured and festered the longer you stayed within your room, and your fingers itched to call an old flame from high school and get the rebound stage out of the way, but you didn’t know if you could handle that amount of shame in such a small period of time. 

Two glasses of wine pushed you to hastily get ready on a Friday night (stirred by the shame of how quickly you became buzzed), you resigned to finally get out of the house and do some prowling around your hometown. There were only five legitimate places to go at night around the area, only two of which you’d deem acceptable, as in, trashy and good for dancing. The time it took for you to decide on an outfit came close to being embarrassing, but you ultimately decided on a short, skimpy dress that you were sure to attract some eyes.

A little ego boost certainly wouldn’t hurt your predicament at the moment, as you applied some dark lipstick and shimmery eyeshadow on your eyelids. You hadn’t gotten ready on this scale for such a long time, as a result of your ex rarely allowing you out, and the experience only furthered the uninhibited spirit you hoped to exude tonight. 

One last glance at the mirror, and you smiled. Dressed to kill, indeed.

Fifteen minutes later and your Uber drops you off at the steps of a dingy and busy nightclub. Too late to back out now, you thought, as you hastily pulled the hem of your dress down, avoiding the furtive gazes of some people you knew from high school standing close by the entrance. 

Some trendy pop song was blasting at full volume as you walked in, bass reverting immediately throughout your skull, as you giggled and made your way to the bar. You ignored the fact that the last time you had taken a Fireball shot was during your freshman year, and you resolved to remedy that, ignoring the searing burn down your throat as you finished your first shot of many for the night.

Slowly, but surely, you got reckless.

You lost yourself soon in the swirling vortex of bodies, moving in synchrony with the next trashy song that had been queued up, dancing with strangers all around you with no mind to the way your dress rode up to expose more of your thighs, thin spaghetti straps slowly coming down your shimmering shoulders. 

Across the room, in the midst of dancing, you caught someone’s eyes. His gaze locked onto yours, as if daring you to look away.  Look away, little girl. A small smile played at his lips, as if daring you to look away from those intense, almost dark black eyes eyes that you swore gleamed red in the lights of the club. Tall, brooding, and definitely older than you. He wore a tailored button-up that perfectly accentuated his downright criminal waist (swallowing down the immature jealousy that rose in your chest) and the broad expanse of his shoulders, seemingly dwarfing the people close to him at the bar in comparison.

Striking and distinctive from everyone else you had seen at that point, he was just the right remedy for the night.

Foolishly, you maintained his gaze under half-lidded eyes, beckoning him to come closer, closer, just a little bit. Catch me if you can. One raise of his eyebrow, watching as he downed another shot, and you were game.

Mustering up the confidence of your glory days, you swayed and shook your hips to the current song that blasted through the speakers, mesmerized as he began coming your way with confident, almost arrogant steps. 

Taller, almost towering over you as he looked down at you from underneath long lashes, a small smile still playing at his lips. “You don’t look like you’re from around here, hermosa .”

“Oh? I could say the same for you.”

Under closer inspection, you could see that a five o'clock shadow adorned his defined jaw, adding a touch of ruggedness to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. His hair, jet-black and sleek, screams business, accentuating the contours of his face in the red and purple lights, while a few rebellious strands occasionally fall across his forehead. Even in the midst of a heavy dance floor, his hair remained almost meticulously in place, a testament to his unwavering composure. He did not look like someone who would frequent this part of town at this time of night, but all the better for you.

Impulsively, you reached up and locked your hands around his lean neck, starting to rock and move along with him to the music, ignoring the goosebumps that overcame your skin as he started running his rough, calloused hands down your waist, down to the small of your back. 

You didn’t mind it one bit, finding yourself leaning into his touch with impressive ease. “What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

Your smile grew deeper.

Feeling his hands begin to explore farther down, taking more initiative, taking control. Letting him set the pace as you both plunged deeper into the night, giggling and spinning as Miguel hummed lowly into your ear, hot breaths fanning your face.

Your senses were overloaded by the smell of him; bergamot and crisp green leaves, patchouli and vetiver. It was intoxicating.

One of you leaned in first after what seemed like hours of orbiting each other’s faces, looking down at your lips, glancing up at his dark eyes; there was a blur of movement and all you could focus on was his hand around your throat, one around your cheeks, cupping you like delicate china and kissing you deeply, truly. There was no one else but him, at that moment.

Pulling away, briefly, as he lets out a low chuckle. “Keep your eyes on me, hermosa.”

He nudged your thighs apart with his impossibly large legs, holding your chin with one hand as the other slowly traversed your waist. “Do you want this, cariño ?” He had murmured lowly into the shell of your ear as he continued to rock your body with his, forcing you to move exactly to his rhythm. Here you were, straddling and riding the line of public indecency in the middle of your hometown bar. Of course, you wanted it. 

You wanted it so, so bad.

Miguel’s hands traveled back down to the small of your back and before you could even think twice, the words were tumbling out of your lips and onto his attentive ears, “What do you say we leave this dance floor and go somewhere else?”

His hand was so much larger than yours as he led you out of the middle of the bar, looking back at you every so often as if to make sure you didn’t disappear. He felt like your secret, your own treasure, all yours. 

It was well past 2 AM at that point, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as he pressed you up against the cold tile wall of the bathroom, giggling, and asking if he even locked the door. He hummed in response to your neck, indifferent, before licking a searing stripe up your neck to bite the lobe of your ear and you moaned, nails clutching his white button-up like a lifeline.

Dear god, he was gonna eat you alive. 

Rough, calloused fingers made its way underneath your dress and the room suddenly felt a lot hotter as he grinned wolfishly at what he found beneath. “My, my, my. Who’s got you all excited like this?

“You, Miguel,” You wanted him to fuck you now, fuck you fast and hard. “Only you.”

“So good,” His voice dropped an octave. “Good girls like you deserve a reward, hm?

You could only nod as you felt the pads of his fingers trace your hipbone and then squeeze your thigh, waiting in anticipation as he finally hovered one finger close to where you needed him the most, so fucking warm and wet and eager for him. “Jesus christ, you’re soaked. Wanna make you feel good. Do you wanna feel good ? Use your words, you can do it.”

Empty pleas and whines escaped your lips as he laughed, almost cruelly if it wasn’t so goddamn hot, teasing and rubbing you through the soft fabric of your underwear. Miguel pushed the fabric aside like it was nothing and suddenly he was pushing in, until one finger was completely buried inside you. Hot, you felt so fucking hot .

You shuddered and looked over his shoulder at the mirror, and the scene in front of you was just downright criminal, moaning, despite yourself. His back seemed to ripple in his white button-up, muscles tensing as he worked your body exactly how you needed him to. He used the opportunity to add an extra finger to your sopping wet pussy, murmuring low praises and Spanish in your ear.

His palm applied rough pleasure to your clit as he began to suck and bite at your neck while you whimper, completely at his mercy. You can still feel him chuckling into your skin. “What do you want chica?”

“Want you—Want you so bad, Miguel, need you to fuck me.”

“You’ll let me take you in this bathroom right now?” Miguel tutted. “What a filthy, nasty girl you are.”

You roll your hips faster onto his hand, chasing what you were so close to. Heated and heavy under his gaze, squeezing your eyes shut as you came, him letting you ride out your high until you were panting and recovering from your orgasm. Filthy. 

As the haze starts to dissipate from your vision, you take a moment to look at him. Miguel brings his fingers to his lips and moans . You’re —looking at him with wide, expectant eyes. You’re hanging onto every one of his actions with your desperation dripping off his fingers.  “Got you all ready, cariño. You ready?”

Nodding, you watch as he slowly positions you to bend over the cold, porcelain sink, nerves coming on fire as you watch the scene across from you in the mirror. Miguel’s a mess—and you are too, hair in a flurry around your shoulder, dress at the verge of ruin, just barely hanging on but what you can’t stop focusing on is his heated gaze, pupils blown wide and looking down at you with something akin to hunger. Your throat tightens when he grazes his fingers over his hard dick through his pants, slowly unzipping and revealing himself to you. Getting dizzy as he peers at you through dark lashes, stroking his cock as if appraising your reaction.

“You’re so big,” you murmur despite yourself, and Miguel sighs, so hard and hot as you reach out and wrap your fingers around it, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I need you inside me right now.”

(You’re not sure if you’ll be able to take him—all of him—but you still want it bad, so bad you could taste it.)

Time slows to a crawl as he spits onto his cock, spits on your clit and begins pressing the head of his cock to your entrance, other hand slithering around your waist to begin his attack on your clit again. Skin to skin, messy and filthy, and you couldn’t have asked for more.

“You’re gonna feel me in your stomach, dulzura , ” Miguel’s low voice seemed to echo in the tiny bathroom, words weighing heavily on your shoulders. Was it a promise or a threat? “No turning back now.” God, you wouldn’t even dream of it.  

When he pushes the throbbing length of his cock forward, it feels like something within you has shattered, both of you moaning in perfect unison, pupils blown wide and crooning under his touch. He’s barely in yet and you’re gritting your teeth, it’s like you didn’t just cum a few minutes ago.

Miguel watches you struggle to keep your moans contained, has to gloat as you melt around his cock. “You like watching me stretch it out, don’t you? Say it.”

You can only babble helplessly in response. “Yes, yes—yes, please, God—��

When he pulls his cock all the way out, it feels like a breath you’ve been holding has been released. And then he’s plunging back into you, fucking you harder, fucking you faster, and you can see the way your pussy starts dripping around him uncontrollably, one orgasm blending into the other, squeezing your eyes shut—

You feel a rough hand cupping your jaw, forcing you to look at the mess you made in the mirror. “Don’t look away.” He slips in deeper, so sensitive, and you can hear him groaning from above you, just a constant flurry of Spanish, praises, and oh Gods. 

All you can do is bend over the sink and take it as he pounds into you unrelentingly, fingers stimulating your clit ceaselessly. It’s so intense and your pussy squeezes around him, only asking for more.

Your breath fogs up the mirror as you whine and Miguel gets more careless, growing wild from above you. Can’t give up on pulling back, and pushing back in, determined to give you all he has. And then—the curve of his cock hits just right and you’re splitting in two, tip reaching that sweet and delicate part of yourself not even your fingers could reach, and suddenly he’s pulling out and cumming, pulsating as he strokes his dick above your back, massaging your hips. You took it so well, you were so good, mi hermosa. 

The world around you blurs into insignificance, as you and Miguel slowly come down from your highs.

You relish in the warmth and the silence, heavy breaths mixing with his as you look in the mirror to meet his gaze. For a moment, the world stills. 

And then he turns you around to sit facing him on the sink, and you wonder how his smile is so sharp, a menacing row of perfect white teeth as he nuzzles your neck, brushing his teeth on the skin. By now, your body must be littered in bruises and love bites, but somehow, you don’t mind.

The both of you recollect your senses side by side, and you let him slip the spaghetti straps of your dress back up to your shoulders—which you’re sure is falling apart, but who cares?---let him tug the dress down your thighs, ignoring the warmth that spreads when he kisses you once more. “Gorgeous.”

Smiling wide when he rests his hand onto the small of your back yet again as he guides you out of the bathroom, ignoring the one or two people that have been waiting in line outside the bathroom. You feel like you’re on top of the world. He holds you in his chest as you wait for the cab that he’s picked up for you by the side of the street, his chin resting on top of your head.  You feel safe, you feel warm, and you want to stay in this moment forever.

As the cab arrives, he’s careful to guide you into the back, kissing the back of your hand as he lets you go. “Sweet dreams, cariño .”

You wake up in your room in one piece, having effortlessly snuck back in without bringing attention from your parents. God knows what they would’ve done if they had seen you in your current state, looking like the losing end of a brawl. As you inspect the damage in the mirror, you can’t help but smile. The bruises will darken and likely become sore in the days to come, but that was an otherworldly experience.

There’s a pep in your step as you saunter into the kitchen, greeting your parents with the most cheerful of good mornings, ignoring how they glance at each other with optimism as they watch you fill up a cup of coffee for yourself. It was going to be a good morning, you could feel it.

Your mother, always the opportunist, takes the time to clear her throat. “Honey, I mentioned this before, but the O’Haras next door, well, Gabi is this cutest little five year old–you know, the one who always rolls her soccer ball into our backyard–anyway, his old babysitter can’t work any more days next week and he’s asking if we can help.”

The cheery mood in the room sours just slightly, and gears are turning in your head about how to best let your mother down. But then she hits you with a scalding look that says, we’ve given you enough time. Go be a dear. 

“Of course, mom,” You relent, sighing in your chair as you take a sip of your coffee. How bad could it be? You had seen Gabi learning how to ride a bike or kick a soccer ball around during a few occasions down the block, seeing the vague outline of her dad coaching and directing her. They seemed harmless enough. “I’ll pop in after breakfast.”

Your parents flash you a megawatt smile. “Great!”

That’s how you found yourself at the front steps outside of the O’Hara house, along with a plate of muffins your mother insisted that you brought along. You fiddled nervously with the collar of your turtleneck. Not even your best concealer could cover up the marks from last night and you had given up altogether, despite the fact that it was 80 degrees out and searing. You just hope that whoever Mr. O’Hara is, he buys into your excuses.

You ring the doorbell with a resigned sigh, mustering up a well-rehearsed smile as you wait. 

The door is answered by a little girl, who has to be less than five (you’re not entirely sure, you’ve never really been that good at guessing), gingerly opening the door slightly ajar as she raises an eyebrow at you, your turtleneck, and the plate of blueberry muffins you held. “Can I help you?”

“Hi! Yeah, I’m your neighbor, I live just next door and my mom sent me over to bring these to you guys. You like blueberries, right?” You sneak a peek at the house behind her, curiosity getting the best of you as the small child begins salivating at the sight of the plate. “Is your dad home?”

Big, doe eyes still focused on the muffins, Gabi nods. “Dad! Someone’s here.”

“Gabi, what did I say about opening the door to random strangers—Oh.”

Your heart drops in your chest and you’re hit with the urge to run. It’s Miguel. Miguel is the single father your mother has sent you over to babysit for.

No fucking way.

[lukeywritesstuff]

you and i

luke hughes x reader

about: seeing all the couples around you fail, luke tries to reassure you that you two are going to stay strong together

warnings: established relationships, mentions of breakups, mentions of outside abusive relationships, mentions of outside cheating, mentions of sex, very conversation heavy, not much plot but a lot of talking

note: quick lil thing cuz i felt creative and wanted to write a lil smthn about lukey since he’s my fav ever.

i never understood terms such as ‘cuffing season’ ‘wedding season’ ‘breakup season’ because those happen every day, all year round. i understand normal seasons, and holidays and romantic holidays such as valentine’s day, national girlfriend day, national boyfriend day and other holidays as such, but i never understood ‘seasons’ based on romance and breakups.

in college and school breakup season was mostly in the summer when people went home for the couple months off, but outside of it, people break up every day. and i see it happen every day. wether they break up due to falling out of love, an abusive partner, cheating, someone’s moving away or just because, it happens all the time. same with people getting into relationships. i see it happen so often, it’s even happened to me. it happened to me about four months ago. on may 15th 2023 i got into a relationship with university of michigan alumni and new jersey devils defenceman luke hughes. we got together but that didn’t make it ‘cuffing season’ it just means we got together on a random monday in may.

‘hey, y/n, everything okay?’ luke said spinning his char to face his bed where ive bees sitting and staring at the wall.

‘hmm? yeah. just thinking of people breaking up.’ i said. ‘last week of school i was comforting like 6 different girls because they or their boyfriends were going home from college and wanted to break up so they won’t be ~trapped~ when they’re split apart.’

‘oh.’ he said putting his thumb between his teeth for a second. ‘is there any reason your thinking of break ups specifically?’

‘no. it’s just like, school is starting for everyone soon so that means either a lot of jealous exes or borderline toxic couples are gonna get together, and i was just thinking about how glad i am that we were nothing like that.’ i said and he smiled.

‘babe, when you’re with me, that’s the last thing you need to worry about. i can promise you that what we have, you and i, we’re stronger together than all those couples you’re thinking of. hell, we’ve been talking about engagement recently. i don’t think those people think about anything other than if they’re gonna fuck the upcoming friday. we’re so much stronger and happier than all of them, and we don’t have to wait till some random party to fuck. we only have to wait for jack to leave the apartment for a few hours.’ i laughed at him before getting up and standing infront of him.

‘thanks luke. i love you a lot. when i’m overthinking you overthink with me, but in more of a solving way than a insane way like i do. you’re my stability and if it wasn’t for you i doubt we’d be as strong as we are.’ i said.

he pulled me on to his lap and i kissed him.

we can make it to the end. we will make it to the end.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my December 2023 fic rec, organized by word count from longest to shortest. Enjoy!

Bitter Tangerine by purpledaisy / @daisyharry (119k)

Maybe it’s Niall, he reasons to calm his storming heart. Maybe he’s not actually gone for the holidays yet, maybe Harry got the dates confused. Slowly, he holds his breath and pushes the kitchen door open. The first thing he sees make him jump, a wooden spoon held out like a sword. Once his brain processes the sight in front of him, it’s less the sword that gets him than who is attached to the wooden spoon.

“Harry,” the swordsmen speaks before Harry can, his voice low and steady though confusion laces each word.

Harry’s breath catches. Every string around his heart, all the protection he spent nine months building, rips out and tears open all at once as he says, “Hi Louis.”

-

AU: Nine months after they break up, a twist of fate brings Harry and Louis back together at Christmas.

Summer’s In the Air and Baby, Heaven’s In Your Eyesby starryhaze / @starryhaze28 (71k)

“So we probably shouldn’t do this.” Louis says, and Harry knows he means staying like this, wrapped up in each other, and he nods, then lifts his head from Louis’ shoulder. His eyes are focused on the ground while he tries to will the tears away.

“We shouldn’t. I’m sorry Lou it’s just-“

“Hey it’s fine, baby.” Louis promises, gently rubbing this thumb over Harry’s cheek. Harry leans into the touch and blinks up at Louis.

“Not your fault.” Louis says, looking around before he presses his lips against Harry’s in a short but sweet kiss. “You’re like my dirty little secret now.” He grins wickedly and gives a wink, making Harry blush and bite his lip as he steps away.

⋆ .ೃ ࿔ *: ･

or a 70s tennis au filled with skirts, pet names and intrigue

Bring It Back That Old Feeling by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings (57k)

After six years together, Harry thought there wasn’t anything that he didn’t know about his husband, and no problem they couldn’t solve with a kiss and a snuggle. After a painful year of booze and heartache, he realizes some problems are much harder to fix, but the wait is always worth it.

Little Wings on My Shoes by juliusschmidt / @juliusschmidt (39k)

You have C Lunch?” Louis asks, peering over at Harry's work. The problem Harry’s just finished is printed neatly, the correct answer circled. Harry’s finger marks the next problem in his book as he copies it onto the page. It doesn’t look like he’s stealing the answers out of the back. Nice. 

He’s dimpled and smart. 

And probably gay. [The American High School AU in which no one is cool (except Niall) and Harry wears a rainbow bracelet.]

Playing To Win by  jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom (36k)

Big Brother UK alumni Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are selected for the UK vs Australia All Stars series with a massive one million dollar prize in the offing. They’re both fit and smart and would make a great alliance... if only they can stop their feelings from getting in the way.

OR the one where Louis really doesn’t want to like Harry, Harry is struggling to quell his growing fondness for Louis, but sometimes, no matter how hard you try, you just can’t fight fate.

Big, Bright World by RealName (35k)

It really was just a little crush in the beginning, nothing to be worried about. Louis had never really liked anyone he’d worked with in the past, but he was sure he could control himself. Little did he know that over time his ‘little crush’ would develop into a blazing inferno of Hell-fire proportions. Every day, Louis’ feelings became more intense, more immediate, each little smile and gesture and silly flirtation mounting up into something palpable, with a life of its own. Louis felt it every moment they were together.

The only problem? Harry was engaged to someone else and had been from the moment Louis started working at Visionary.

Office AU (not based on the TV show).

Our Little Corner of the World by brownheadedstranger (29k)

AU. Louis is stuck in his mom’s diner for the summer. Harry is the line cook with a pickup truck.

Woke Up With a Boy (Who Looks Just Like You) by glitteredcurls / @kissyboystyles (26k)

Harry goes to sleep in his shared flat with Louis. He wakes up older and sharing something more with his best friend-- a bed. Harry doesn’t know where the past four years of his life have gone. There is quite a bit he’s forgotten, but still would have never guessed for himself. The only thing familiar is Louis, who seems to mean something different to him at his new age than he did before… Harry just can’t seem to place how.

OR snapshots of the week Louis and Harry jump four years into their (unknowingly married) future suddenly and have to gather their bearings without alerting anyone else.

Lapful Of Lou by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal (2k)

Harry sighed, snuggling into his pillow. “You’re the best boyfriend.” He said, and then his eyes shot open. “I mean— you would be the best boyfriend.” His eyes flickered to Louis’ face, who was standing beside the bed, with a smirk on his face. “Not— not like my boyfriend. I mean— like. I wouldn’t mind if you were my— no.” He pressed his lips together to stop anymore words from barreling out. His face was flaming. And Louis was standing there, arms crossed over his chest, like he was waiting for Harry to finish.

“You done?” He asked with a little bubble of laughter.

Harry grimaced, “Just leave me here to die.”

Or they are both idiots and it takes a drunk Harry (with no brain to mouth filter) to get things going.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Sebastian Murdock at HuffPost:

Northwestern University in Illinois and Brown University in Rhode Island both reached a deal with pro-Palestine protesters this week to end their occupation of campus grounds.

College and universities across the U.S. have been flooded with student demonstrations in the past several weeks against Israel’s attacks on Gaza, in some cases pressing their schools to divest from companies linked to Israel. Many of the demonstrators, including those at Columbia University, have set up encampments on campus that have been met with police force, arrests and school suspensions. On Monday, Northwestern officials appeared to be the first to reach a deal with antiwar demonstrators, following five days of protests and encampments on Deering Meadow, the Daily Northwestern reported. As part of a bargain made by NU and the Northwestern Divestment Coalition, a group helping to organize the protests and encampment, the university agreed to permit protests and pro-Palestine gatherings through the final day of spring classes on June 1. The school has also agreed to disclose its investments in businesses with Israeli ties. In exchange, the NDC has agreed to leave just one aid tent on the lawn. University officials also stressed that students shouldn’t be punished for demonstrating by non-campus actors like employers.

[...] On Tuesday, another deal was reached between Brown University and the Brown Divest Coalition, a similar pro-Palestine group. Protesters involved with the coalition agreed to remove all tents and end the encampment on campus in exchange for a promise from the university to hold a board vote in October on whether or not to divest from Israel-linked companies. Brown also agreed to invite five students chosen by the coalition for a meeting next month with school administrators to again discuss a 2020 proposal recommending divestments from companies linked to Israel. BU also said students and faculty who have engaged in demonstrations won’t be punished by the school. “No member of the Brown community ― including faculty, staff, graduate students, undergraduate students, or alumni ― found to have been involved in the encampment or related activity will face retaliation from the University, including termination of employment or reduction in salary,” the agreement from the university said.

This is how universities should properly respond to the campus protests against the Gaza Genocide: Brown University and Northwestern University reached deals this week to end their occupation of campus grounds with mutual cooperation.

[melancholy-of-nadia]

love u lately (m) #4 | myg/knj/pjm

title: love u lately​ chapter title: #4 - sour candy​ pairing: yoongi x f. reader, namjoon x f. reader, jimin x f. reader (yoonminjoon x f. reader) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; college/university au , pseudo frat! bts; best friends! yoonminjoon friends to lovers; HALLOWEEN! summary: with jimin's birthday party coming, you hope that it will be a good opportunity to celebrate jimin's big day and heal namjoon's heart with all your closest friends. however, things take a turn and you start to further question how you feel about jimin and your fwb arrangement with yoongi. when you are confronted by jimin at matthew's halloween frat party, it will challenge you to make a decision that will further change your relationship with him, yoongi, and namjoon for good. warnings: first party of the year at the BETA TAU SIGMA HOUSE!, halloween, multiple house parties, alcohol/recreational drug mentions, swearing, another breakup mayhaps, kissing, mirror sex, yoongi being a little more dom than usual, vampire jimin also deserves a warning, sexy dancing, fingering, CONSENSUAL and PROTECTED sex, penetration, breast play, THINGS GET MESSY but it's NOT IN THE BED, unfinished orgasm, confessions???, ANGST with a side of GUILT note: thank u to @daegudrama (as always) for beta reading this incredibly long chapter + fixing the smutty bits. this was orginally 2 chapters, but i wanted to tie things together here in one big ol' chapter and be evil so i hope you like it. total word count: 12.4k drop date: October 30th, 2023, 11:40am PST cross posted on AO3 here ← #3 | Series Masterlist | #5 →

October 13 (Saturday)

The sun has barely began its ascent in the morning sky, casting a soft, golden hue over the bustling campus of the university.

In the quiet of dawn, the world seems at peace, a stark contrast to everything that has been happening to you and everyone in the house the past week.

Jimin, however, has had little time to appreciate the tranquility of the morning. He finds himself reluctantly attending a brunch event in a neighboring city. This event is orchestrated by Sigma Mu Epsilon’s president, Irene, for one of her sorority gatherings. It is a pledging event as well as a chance for new recruits to network with sorority alumni, which ends with an auction. He doesn’t particularly want to be there; all he craves is a few more hours of sleep and maybe the chance to enjoy a semi-fancy dinner at Yardhouse with his friends later in the evening. Lately, Jimin has been growing tired of his vibrant yet exhausting social life, wondering if perhaps he isn’t cut out for it anymore. Maybe his fatigue is more about Irene than the lifestyle itself. Maybe he has never truly been in love with her. It wouldn’t be the first time he has mentally tapped out of a relationship or a situationship before the other party. He has gone out and slept with countless people over the years. Ever since the virginity race in high school, he hasn’t really stopped. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he has the highest body count in the whole house, just a single person ahead of Jungkook. 

When it comes to Jimin finding people, he becomes intrigued with them because of their appearance and sometimes their charming personality that compliments his own. Most of the flings he’s had only last about 3-4 weeks. 

Irene is the first exception. You’re unsure why Jimin has been with her this long. Today marks 4 months since they’ve been dating, but seeing the way he’s forcing himself to go out for her sake, you aren’t sure he will last much longer.

While Jimin begrudgingly embarks on his mandatory brunch outing, it becomes the perfect cover for Beta Tau Sigma to set the stage for his surprise birthday party. Rising early, you see a glimpse of Jimin on his way out the door in a hurry as you walk downstairs. 

You join Namjoon for breakfast, relieved to see a glimmer of his usual self returning after the rocky events of the past few days. As you engage in conversation, you encourage him to relax and unwind at Jimin's party later that night. He smiles in response, promising to do just that.

Meanwhile, Seokjin has a friend who is also attending the brunch: Tiffany Young, a graduate student in Sigma Mu Epsilon who is in the sorority event's organizing committee. She is currently sending him real-time updates on the brunch schedule. Jin enters the dining area walking as he types on his phone. 

"Tiffany just texted me saying they’re going to be late," he says rather bluntly, which you can’t help but roll your eyes at. 

"Typical sorority events." You mutter, finishing up your breakfast. Namjoon chuckles in response to your snarky remark, to which you send a knowing smirk his way.

After breakfast, you call out to Yoongi, who has just come downstairs. He looks up at you, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as you ask, "Ready to go?"

He flashes a small, enigmatic smile, reaching for the coat rack by the staircase to retrieve his eco-friendly shopping bags. 

"I'm always ready for a trip to the store." he replies, holding the bags up, the corners of his lips quirking upward like a cat.

Together you leave for a shopping adventure to buy decorations for Jimin's surprise party. Meanwhile, Taehyung and Namjoon are in charge of the house cleaning duties, and preparing it for the evening's festivities. Seokjin and Jungkook are busy in the kitchen, getting the food and drinks area ready, while Hoseok has gone to Matthew's house to borrow his DJ setup for the party. Matthew and Hoseok are known to be close friends, not only as members of the dance team but also as active co-hosts of various parties together. At the store, you and Yoongi browse through the colorful array of decorations, selecting orange-colored streamers to adorn the house for the upcoming party. As you unroll a section of the streamer, you share your excitement. Your voice filled with anticipation.

"Tonight's going to be great," you muse, a smile playing on your lips. "A little kickback in the middle of the semester is exactly what we need."

"I thought so too. Things have been hectic lately." Yoongi nods in agreement, his expression mirroring your enthusiasm.

With a sly grin, you decide to tease him. You lean in closer to him, playfully suggesting,

"You know, we could always sneak off for a little alone time during the party."

Yoongi's eyes widen slightly from your alluring words, and for a moment, panic flashes across his features. But he quickly recovers, his lips curving into a flirtatious grin. 

"Is that an invitation?" He responds, his voice laced with a teasing tone.

Your heart skips a beat at his reply, and you can't help but wonder if there's more to his words or if he’s just having fun playing your little game. He’s too good at this, you think. You don’t respond right away and continue shopping for party supplies, keeping the tension high until you decide to take the conversation on a more flirtatious edge.

"Well," you reply with a sultry smile.  "I guess we'll have to see how the night unfolds, kitty boy. It's a surprise party, after all."

Yoongi's face closes in on yours as his hands reaches for another pack of multi-color balloons behind you. You feel a jolt of sensation shoot through you. The tension in your lower half filled with want intensifies, making your heart race faster. During these moments, you can't deny the magnetic pull between you two. The way he can be doing mundane things in a store or at home and somehow manage to drive you crazy. It's in the way he behaves, in the quiet cadence of his voice, in the soft glint of his eyes that holds galaxies within. You want to kiss him so bad right now and later on, but a part of you knows that would be difficult.

He leans closer to your ear, his voice dropping to a seductive murmur. "Always teasing me with the cat comments. I'll be looking forward to the surprise then, Angel."

The air between you crackles as the flame dies down and you both carry on with your shopping, each touch and lingering glance adding to the palpable tension building between you.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

As the day unfolds, Jimin's patience wears thin during the brunch with Irene. The restaurant's tea party-like ambiance, once vibrant and appealing, now feels stifling. Their relationship has felt too restricting, with Irene often taking the lead in making decisions, and Jimin has grown increasingly weary of it.

Irene, as usual, has taken the initiative to plan a birthday dinner for the two of them at Fogo de Chão, a fine dining restaurant known for its Brazilian churrasco experience. While it is undoubtedly a great place, Jimin can’t help but feel trapped by the lack of input he has in the relationship's direction. He wants to have a say, a sense of balance that has been sorely missing when he’s with Irene.

Jimin's mood is noticeably dampened as he drives back from the event at 6pm. His voice is tinged with exhaustion and annoyance as he speaks with you on the phone. You are calling to ask his ETA, but overhear Irene persisting he goes out to dinner with her. Her insistence is a stark reminder of the control she seems to exert over their relationship. You try to keep yourself together, but you know you are inching closer to yelling at the woman over her “pick me” behavior.

After you finish setting up, you take the remaining time to help Jin prepare a small lunch box cake with a Badtz-maru Sanrio character figure in the middle. A smile tugs at Jimin’s lips as you mention that you and Jin made a cake.

 "Get here as soon as you can," you urge, "before I decide to eat the whole thing by myself!"

The warmth of your invitation and the prospect of spending the evening with you, perhaps accompanied by a few drinks with the guys, brings a genuine smile to Jimin's face. He can’t wait to be with you, if only to momentarily escape the complexities of his relationship with Irene. With a heartfelt response, he assures you. 

 "Looking forward to it, Honey," his voice filled with anticipation and a sense of longing.

As Jimin ends the call, he can’t help but notice Irene's displeased expression. She stares out of the window, her indifference to his plans more apparent than ever. Though, he is not worried about it at all. +++++++++

The moment has finally arrived. At 7 pm, Jimin approaches the front porch, Irene trailing behind him, completely unaware of the surprise lurking in the shadows. Everyone at the party is tucked away in their hiding spots behind the couch, their excitement barely contained. As he unlocks the door and steps inside, Irene right beside him, Jimin flicks on the lights in the living room.

Suddenly, the room explodes with a collective yell of 

"Surprise!" Jimin, caught off guard, jolts in fear, his heart racing. 

"Holy shit! Ya! You guys really scared the fuck out of me." he exclaims, breaking into laughter. 

The surprise party has taken him by surprise. Even though he had a hunch it was coming, thanks to Taehyung's incessant giggling over his phone for the past few days. He knew it wasn’t Jennie making him act like that, that’s for sure. "I didn't expect a party with everyone I know on campus...thanks, guys!" Jimin grins, feeling truly touched by the effort put into the surprise.

 As he looks around the room, he notices Taehyung and Jungkook approaching him. They playfully place a plastic crown on his head and a sash reading "It's a Boy!" around his shoulders. Laughter ripples through the room as people snicker, and Yoongi chimes in with an apology, claiming that Party City ran out of birthday boy sashes.

With the formalities out of the way, the party kicks into full gear. The guest list is a mix of Jimin's friends from the contemporary dance club, various fraternities and sororities on campus, and even some non-frat affiliated friends.The living room is illuminated with a kaleidoscope of colorful lights. The atmosphere buzzes with laughter, music, and the clinking of plastic red cups. Jimin, still wearing his "It’s a Boy!" sash, is now deeply engrossed in a competitive beer pong match with Taehyung, forming a formidable team they called “Taejin” and “Jikook”. The alcohol has clearly taken its toll, evident in their slightly unsteady aim and louder-than-usual banter.

As the game continues, Taehyung can't help but blurt out, "Did you know I took Jimin's virginity?" His words hang in the air, drawing incredulous stares from those around, including you.

"Ugh, you guys always say this when you're drunk!" You interject, trying to steer the conversation away from talking about their sex life at a party.

Jimin, never one to shy away from a chance to tease, chimes in, "And it's true!"

"But you guys never mention this sober!" you retort, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

Jin, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, adds, "They did! I let Tae borrow my car, and it happened there!"

You burst into laughter, finding the situation utterly absurd. Still, you keep count of these drunken confessions, each sudden new revelation making the story more unbelievable. It has to be a lie right?

Meanwhile, Jungkook simultaneously takes on the role of the bartender, expertly mixing drinks for the guests, showcasing his impressive bartending skills.

Amidst the revelry, you can't help but notice Jimin and Taehyung being touchy, their usual closeness amplified by the alcohol. It's a stark contrast to the way Jimin and Irene interact, their interactions either avoiding each other entirely or being laced together with passive-aggressiveness. You venture away from the bartending area, seeking a change of scenery. In the living room, you find Hoseok rolling up joints with Jackson and a few others. The smell of freshly rolled weed fills the air as they chat and prepare for a little smoke session.

Hwasa pats your back gently as she rushes to join the group on the couch, her eyes bright with excitement as she plucks a rolling paper from Jackson's stash. Jackson playfully protests, the two of them engaging in a lighthearted argument. Soyoon, seated nearby, can't help but laugh at their antics, thoroughly entertained by the playful banter unfolding before her. You move from this scene to observe Namjoon and Yoongi sharing a lighthearted moment over their drinks, a sense of nostalgia washes over you. It's a feeling akin to stumbling upon an old, cherished photograph from your past, a glimpse into a time when life felt simpler, and worries were few and far between.

You recall the days when your group was unbreakable. In those moments, laughter flowed freely, and the weight of responsibilities and adulthood hadn't yet pressed down on your shoulders. A past when late-night conversations and spontaneous adventures with your favorite boys was the norm. The memories of those carefree days still warm your heart.

Seeing Namjoon and Yoongi sharing a genuine laugh is a reminder of that bygone era. It's as if a fragment of your youth has been recaptured, if only for a fleeting moment. The rareness of this sight intensifies its significance, making it feel like a precious treasure rediscovered.

It's not lost on you that life has changed, and with it, your relationships have evolved. Responsibilities, relationships, and personal growth have nudged you all in different directions.

You decide to join them, curious about their take on the party. "So, how's the party for you two?" You inquire.

Namjoon grins, clearly enjoying the festivities. "It's been going well. Jungkook's a real good bartender. Since when did he become a mixologist?"

Yoongi chuckles and adds, "Since I took him to a bar with a fake ID over the summer and we tried different drinks. The Irish bomb started all of this. Taught him how to make one drink, and now he knows how to make like 30 different drinks."

You smirk playfully, teasing Jungkook's inventive nature. "Of course, the house genius had something to do with it. Always cooking up with ideas."

Yoongi cheeks flush at your compliment, which only makes you smile. Then, you shift the conversation toward Namjoon, still concerned about his well-being after the breakup with Jihyo. You wonder if he's still upset or if he's managed to move past it, both in terms of the relationship ending and the way it ended.

"Oh, I'm doing good," Namjoon assures you, his voice steady. "I think accumulated stress, coupled with that situation, got to me in the moment. But I'm doing better now after thinking about it more."

Relieved to hear that he's coping well, you offer a comforting gesture by rubbing his arm. 

"I'm glad," you say sincerely. "we were all worried about you, so if you ever need anything, we're here for you. Me, Yoongs, Mimi, Tae, Koo, Jin, and Hope!"

Yoongi nods in agreement, silently echoing your sentiment. However, beneath his supportive exterior, a gnawing fear lingers. You step aside for a moment to grab a snack bag from the box to munch on, leaving Namjoon and Yoongi to chat. Namjoon leans toward Yoongi, his voice hushed. 

"Hey, I'm gonna get her another drink from Jungkook."

Yoongi side-eyes Namjoon, a hint of curiosity in his gaze, and takes a sip from his whiskey.

 "What drink are you gonna get her?"

“I was thinking a Mai Tai. She loves those.”

The cat-eyed man furrows his brow, a sense of unease crossing his features. 

"I don't think that's a good idea." He cautions.

Namjoon raises an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean by that?" Yoongi takes another sip of his drink, contemplating the situation.

"You know, she hasn't liked Mai Tais since last year." He finally admits, alluding to the time you drank so many of them in one night and you swore off to never drink those again. "She switched to Pina Coladas as her preferred alcoholic drink. She even mentioned it on her birthday earlier this year."

"Oh, I didn't know. I guess I missed that." He looks at him, a tad surprised and maybe even a bit upset that he hadn't caught onto your changing tastes.

Yoongi mumbles under his breath, his jealousy flickering. "If you were as close to her as you think, you should've known."

Undeterred, Namjoon walks away, eventually returning with a Pina Colada in hand. He hands it to you with a smile as he sees you conversing with Yoongi. "Oh, Namjoon! Pina Colada? I'm surprised you remembered." You let out a giggle, a hint of appreciation in your voice.

He blushes a little, his confidence replaced by shyness. "I could never forget my favorite girl's drink."

Yoongi scoffs softly, his jealousy flaring up. He takes another sip of his whiskey, trying to calm the growing storm of emotions inside him. The alcohol burns his throat, but it does little to quell the turbulent thoughts swirling in his mind. He knows he needs to find a way to calm himself down. The alcohol isn't helping him at this moment. As you stand there talking with Namjoon, Yoongi watches you from the corner of his eye, lost in a sea of conflicting emotions. He's relieved that Namjoon's not stressing you with his previous relationship, but there's an undercurrent of fear plaguing him. He worries that this situationship, this tangled web of emotions you share, might lose its appeal to you.

Deep down, he knows that this fling serves as a distraction for both of you, something to hold onto in the midst of college life. But perhaps it's more than that. Perhaps you mean more to him than he's ready to admit while not under the influence of an intoxicating drink. The thought of you eventually moving on and finding someone else terrifies him more than he'd like to acknowledge.

On your end, you're equally conflicted. The seed of doubt and overthinking that Yoongi planted has taken root, and you find yourself questioning your own feelings. Is it just a casual fling, or is there something more beneath the surface? You don't want to admit it, not even to yourself, but there's a growing awareness that maybe, just maybe, this situationship has started to mean more to you than you initially thought.

The room buzzes with laughter and music, but in this moment, both of you are lost in the turmoil of your emotions, uncertain of where this journey will ultimately lead.

You decide to heed Yoongi's earlier suggestion of meeting in secret at the party, excusing yourself from the two men in the living room where everyone continues to have a good time. As you head upstairs, you discreetly signal to Yoongi that you'll be waiting for him in your room.

Once in your room, you decide to step out onto the balcony, feeling the crisp October air brush against your skin. The chill seems to awaken you from your drunken stupor, and you take a deep breath, gazing out into the night. The distant campus buildings are barely visible in the dim moonlight, and a plane streaks across the sky, leaving behind a trail of blinking lights.

Your phone suddenly vibrates in your hand, and you eagerly check it, expecting to see a message from Yoongi. However, as you read his response, a twinge of disappointment washes over you. Yoongi [11:02PM]: Sorry angel, i think it’s a bad idea right now. 

Yoongi [11:02PM]: another time, okay? 

Reading the pixelated words on a screen causes your chest to tighten, leaving you with a mix of emotions that you can't quite put your finger on. You're aware that your situationship with Yoongi is not committed or exclusive, yet you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It's a confusing feeling that leaves you standing on the balcony, contemplating the nature of your connection with Yoongi and wanting to run away from these thoughts. You look down from the balcony and notice Irene's dramatic exit from the party. She gets into a black car waiting at the curb, and not long after, it drives away. You don't think much of it until you hear the sliding door behind you open. At first, you assume it might be Yoongi changing his mind or teasing you about his earlier rejection. However, when you turn to see Jimin joining you, you feel a bit caught off guard.

"Oh, Darling? You're here? Why are you alone?" 

"Oh, Mimi," you reply with a smile, brushing off his question. "I just wanted to sober up a bit. I don't want to spend tomorrow dealing with a hungover existential crisis while trying to get assignments done."

Jimin nods in understanding. "Fair enough."

You lean on the railing, propping your arms up, and watch Jimin as he continues speaking. "So, how's the party, birthday boy?"

"It's been fun so far, way better than whatever BS I did for most of the day." Jimin responds.

"Irene being too much?" You ask.

Jimin rolls his eyes. 

"Yup." He seems like he's about to say more about Irene, but he changes the topic instead. "But you guys made my night. I'm not usually a 'receiving presents' type of guy, but Jin still gave me a Maple Story plush pouch with money earlier."

"Damn, that boy is more loaded than I thought," 

"Right!" Jimin agrees. "Tae got me a custom One Piece Zoro mug too." He chuckles cutely. "Oh, Yoongi hyung also said he's performing a special song for me from his upcoming mixtape at the party, so that's going to be wild as fuck." You can't help but laugh, a nervous chuckle escaping your lips as you try to make sense of the situation.

"Shit, now I feel bad that I didn't get you anything." You admit, feeling the corners of your lips curl into a playful smile. You stand up from the balcony railing, and your gaze locks with Jimin's as you lean against it, the party's background noise fading away in the distance.

"Is there anything else our birthday boy wants for his birthday?" You inquire, a glint of curiosity dancing in your eyes. Jimin's hesitation isn't lost on you, but his flirty expression keeps your attention, and you can't help but wonder where this is going.

Jimin closes the gap between you two until there is only a few mere inches from your lips, and his smile takes on a devilish edge. "A kiss."

“Huh.”

Your reaction is immediate. You freeze in place, wondering if perhaps the alcohol in your system has led you to misinterpret his words. The surprise has you giggling, a nervous, bubbling laughter that hints at uncertainty. "A kiss? Should I call Irene?" You tease, although a small part of you wonders if he's serious. You realize you're not entirely sure if you should take him seriously.

Jimin responds with a narrowed look, clearly expressing his desire, and it's evident that he means every word. "A kiss. From you.” He confirms, as he continues to close the distance between you, a playful gleam in his eyes. His breath, laced with the scent of alcohol, washes over you, making the situation feel even more surreal.

Despite your laughter, your heart races. You did not anticipate this, not from Jimin, not on his birthday, and not with Irene in the picture. It feels like a playful game at first, a continuation of your close friendship, but as the atmosphere grows heavier with tension, you're not quite sure where the line between friendship and something more blurs.

You attempt to regain your composure, using humor as a defense mechanism. 

"Uh, Jimin? I know we used to do those playful goodbye cheek kisses and all, and you practiced your first kiss on me in middle school because we're besties, but is this even okay right now? You're with Irene, after all." Your words convey your uncertainty as you try to mentally process the situation.

Jimin doesn't miss a beat. "I broke up with her.”

Your response is disbelief. "Wait, you what?"

 The shock makes you take a step back, and you try to understand why he chose this night, of all nights, to end things. You're genuinely concerned for Jimin. You know Irene been hitting several nerves for Jimin as of late, but to break up with her while at his own birthday party? 

He explains their fight as you lean on the balcony, your gaze fixated on him. His words hang in the air, and you can't help but reflect on the turn of events. 

"Oh...damn. I’m sorry," You finally reply, a mix of sympathy and understanding in your tone. You really don’t have much to say. You didn’t like her, that’s for sure. But two break ups in the same week, it’s kind of insane. There has to be some sudden explanation about how you were having a breakdown last week to suddenly everything being somewhat normal again after so long.

Jimin redirects the conversation with a flirty comment, catching you off guard yet again.

"So, my lips are free for a kiss.” He says, his eyes locked onto yours, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. As Jimin's words hang in the air, you look at him with a mix of disbelief and concern, hoping he'll snap back to his senses. 

"Jimin…" You repeat his name, your voice carrying a tone of incredulity. You raise your hand to your face, rubbing your temples in an attempt to clear your head. This situation has grown far more complicated than you ever expected. You lock eyes with him, your expression stern, as you attempt to make him understand the implications of what he's asking. "Are you SURE, Park Jimin?" you insist, emphasizing his name with a hint of desperation. 

You want to make sure he's aware of the potential consequences. Irene and Yoongi both occupy a significant place in your life, and crossing boundaries could jeopardize everything.

Jimin, however, seems untroubled by the complexities of the situation. He meets your gaze and lets out a playful giggle, his words light, "Just one won't hurt, Darling."

Your breath hitches as his lips come close, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him. Before you can fully process what's happening, he leans in and captures your lips in a surprising, lingering kiss. Your world momentarily narrows down to the sensation of his lips against yours, and you find yourself responding to the touch, your eyes closing as you sink into the moment.

The kiss is tender, passionate, and slightly intoxicating. It feels like time has stopped, yet it's over within a few heartbeats, lasting no more than seven seconds. Jimin withdraws, leaving you disheveled and breathless, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips as he chuckles.

"Thank you, Y/N." He says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Best present I’ve gotten all day!”

With that, he turns and heads back downstairs to rejoin the party, leaving you standing on the balcony in a state of bewilderment.

Your thoughts spin in confusion. What the fuck just happened? This single, impulsive kiss has stirred up a whirlwind of emotions and questions, pushing the boundaries of your relationships with both Yoongi and Jimin. You're left in a daze, trying to make sense of it all.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

The kiss from Jimin is a secret you vow to bury deep within, a momentary lapse in a whirlwind of unexpected events. To dwell on it would be madness, and you need your sanity more than ever in this house. Thoughts about moving out or taking a semester off cross your mind for a brief moment. Living among these chaotic emotions is a constant test of your resilience, and you question whether you are cut out for it. You rejoin the party downstairs, a tumultuous mix of emotions whirling in your head. Just as you enter, you catch the sound of Yoongi strumming his guitar, and he begins to sing a song he composed for Jimin. It is called "Autumn Leaves," and the lyrics seem to pierce through the core of your being. “떨어져 날리는 저기 낙입처럼

Like the leaves over there fallen and fluttering,

힘없이 쓰러져만 가 내 사랑이

helplessly falling, my love is”

The words Yoongi sings feels like they are plucked from the depths of your own heart. As he plays the chords on his guitar, the lyrics echo the complexities of your current situation.

“저기 저 위태로워 보이는 낙업은 우리를 보는 것 같아서

Because those precarious dead leaves over there look like us

손이 닿으면 단숨에라도 바스라질 것만 같아서

Because they look like they'll crumble at any slightest touch

그저 바라만 봤지 가을의 바람과 같이

I just gazed at them like the autumn wind”

The song finishes, and the party continues, but the lyrics remain etched in your mind. Yoongi's music has always been a vessel to convey feelings and emotions. You can’t deny that it has a way of capturing your own sentiments.

The night eventually comes to a close, the soft glow of dawn peeking through the windows.

The next morning, you find yourself nestled between a pair of hungover Jungkook and Taehyung in Jin’s bed, funnily enough. The two of them obviously got an earful from Namjoon about their antics during the party, and you can’t help but laugh at the comical scene. Despite the complex relationships and tangled emotions, moments like this still remind you why you stay.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

October 23 (Tuesday) You manage to navigate the days after Jimin's birthday without any major upheavals. Now, a little over 10 days since then, time seems to be passing with an eerie calm. As the days pass, life takes on a sense of normalcy you hadn't felt in a while. You find yourself spending more time with Namjoon and Jimin, enjoying outings for rolled ice cream and accompanying Joon to the local MOMA to do one of his art history assignments. These moments of familiarity make you ponder whether things are settling back into a comforting routine or if you are merely avoiding the looming changes.

On the other hand, you still have your secret rendezvous with Yoongi . These moments are like carefully hidden gems in your hectic life. As you indulge in your intimacy, you keep a vigilant eye on the house, ensuring no prying eyes or unexpected interruptions. It has become somewhat of a routine, a small sanctuary amidst the stress and chaos of a college student life. Yoongi often uses the excuse of studying together to enter your room in secret, and it's during these stolen moments of him fingering you or eating you out that you find solace. You don’t forget to return the favor with a blowjob either.

However on this day, you and Yoongi decide to get a little friskier than usual, seeing and hearing that no one is home during this time of day. Not a common occurrence, sadly. The connection between you two grows deeper with each stolen moment, yet you can't shake the nagging uncertainty that lingers beneath the surface. Mainly about how Jimin’s kiss may have shifted your current reality even further than before.

Yoongi moves to sit in the middle of your bed, patting his thigh to signal you to sit on his lap. You do as he requests, and crawl over your bed to sit on his thighs. Your back is towards him, while you face the standing floral-bordered mirror in front of your bed. You never thought there’d be a situation where you look into this exact mirror during promiscuous activities, but you guess thanks to college anything’s possible. The thought of seeing Yoongi pushing himself in and out of you turns you on more than you want to admit. Surely, the memory of your escapade will imprint much deeper in your mind after watching yourself.

One of his hands comes down to caress your wet folds through your panties. Then he slides them to the side, thrusting two fingers inside you while his thumb rubs your sensitive spot. His other hand passes over your blue lacy tank top covered breasts while his mouth sucks gently on your neck. The mirror captures the sensual scene well. Watching yourself coupled with the stimulation from Yoongi’s skilled fingers leaves your head feeling hazy to the point you almost come. You’re about to moan his name, but quickly cover your mouth as he continues to penetrate his fingers deep inside of you. It’s the middle of the afternoon, golden beams of light shining through your window. While you know it’s very likely you two are alone right now, you can’t risk exposing this situationship no matter how good it feels.

"Yoongi…it feels good.” You breathe out after moving your hand from your lips, your voice barely louder than a whisper as your fingers gently tighten around his forearm.

"Are you enjoying it angel?" He asks in a husky tone, his warm breath caressing your right ear.

"Mhm…" You nod, a soft sigh escaping your lips. 

His own lips curl into a sultry smile, as he increases the pace of his movements, his thumb working faster, sending waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. You gently rest your head against the crook of his shoulder, and his lips seek out yours, locking in a fervent, passionate kiss. Your fingers instinctively wind through the soft strands of his hair, deepening the connection as your tongues entwined in an intimate dance.

Reluctantly, he withdraws his fingers from your trembling form, but they don't go far. Instead, he guides them to your lips. With a hint of a seductive smile, you obediently take his fingers into your mouth. Your tongue dances around them, savoring the captivating blend of your own essence. Meanwhile, his hard dick is pressing against you begging for attention.

"Do you want me?"

"S-so fucking bad…please, Yoongi.” You manage to breathe out, your voice heavy with longing.

Yoongi’s arm stretches over to your bedside table drawer to grab a condom he keeps hidden in there, rolling it down his cock quickly without losing momentum. He kisses you while running his hands along the sides of your waist and then gropes your covered breasts. You hold his cock, lifting yourself up to line his tip up with your entrance. Suddenly, Yoongi holds your chin, forcing your head forward so you can see him pushing himself further inside of you and spreading your folds in the mirror. You groan at the sight and start bouncing slowly into his lap as his hands grip your hips keeping you in place.

The surging heat envelopes your entire being, your legs parting and trembling with an electric fervor. Sensing your waning strength, he adjusts his motions, guiding you upward and causing your head to tilt back in ecstasy.

"Don't take your eyes off the mirror, Angel. Look.” He grabs your chin to face the mirror once more. “Look how well you're taking me. You're so good at this Y/N." He says, holding your hips with the other hand, thrusting into you even harder and faster. 

You two are close to coming and you can barely keep up with his pace. He slides one hand down to rub your bud while the other cups your neck and tilts your head to kiss you. His thrusts slow taking in the feeling of your kiss and the sweet sounds of you moaning into each other’s mouths. He continues to rub your clit until you come while moaning his name. He quickly covers your mouth muffling your continues sounds of pleasure. You feel him also come into the condom right after. He lifts you up to withdraw from within you. He holds you to prevent you from falling from exhaustion and places you back on the mattress to catch your breath. You are quite exhausted and sweaty, he looks at you and smiles.

After the two of you take a breather and rest for a bit, you and Yoongi return to studying on your bed as if nothing happened. You like the normalcy of things like this. The atmosphere feels light and comfortable as you converse through psych homework. You decide to change up the conversation. Halloween is approaching, and you bring up the idea of attending Matthew's Halloween party at DSP's house.

"I was talking to Hwasa yesterday," you begin with curiosity lacing your words, "and she said Matthew's throwing a big Halloween rager at DSP's house next week.” “Mhm.” Yoongi hums, waiting for you to go on. “I was thinking that we should go!” Yoongi looks as if he wants to say something, but can’t bring himself to do it as he sees you speak with stars in your eyes. He knows Halloween is one of your favorite holidays aside from Christmas, so he lets you ramble on with your suggestion. “We could dress as something silly, like Pokemon onesies, or we can do a sexy concept that makes us so hot we look dumb...like an angel and demon pairing?" You both share a laugh, but as the mirth subsides, Yoongi grows pensive.

"Y/N, that sounds great, but I've been meaning to tell you, I'm—"

You interrupt with a hint of panic, "Is this about our situationship? Do you want to end it now?" Your eyes widen, fearing the worst.

"What?" Yoongi chuckles, pouncing to wrap you in a warm hug. "No! I'm going to be out of town for half of next week."

"Huh? Wait. Oh my God, Yoongi, is this for the Future of Music Conference?" You recall Yoongi mentioning the conference back in September. 

It is a big deal, and he’s been tirelessly working as a TA for Professor Kang, which is why he’s been so busy lately. You guess it's finally paying off. Yoongi has another year left until he finishes undergrad, and he is hoping to start working in the industry right after. However, it’s not easy to get a job without experience, so he is hoping to network and get an internship before then.

"Yeah, that's the one," Yoongi confirms with a nod. "I'll probably be on a flight to Los Angeles the evening of the 31st."

“Oh no…” Your expression falls as the realization sinks in. 

The prospect of spending Halloween without Yoongi is disappointing. You can’t help but entertain some steamy thoughts, like imagining him wearing a scream mask as he fucks you. The internet has you thinking up a couple of ideas lately. However, you can’t help but feel a mixture of happiness for him making moves and somewhat sadness feeling that you are holding Yoongi back from the chance to get more involved in music. Yoongi's gentle touch reassures you, making you feel secure in this complex, secretive relationship. He seeks to understand your hesitation.

"Yeah, but why did you think I was ending this?" he asks, gesturing towards the tangled bond you both shared.

"The way you said it sounded too serious. Sometimes I’m not sure what to expect from you, Yoongs." You reply, your voice tinged with the caution you'd learned from past experiences. 

You don’t want to blame Yoongi if he wants to end the affair and return to being just best friends, without the complications that come with it.

"I'm fine with this…unless you don't want to do this anymore." Yoongi assures you, his respect for your decisions unwavering.

Sometimes, you ponder the significance of continuing this secret relationship. Namjoon is no longer with Jihyo, and Jimin has also parted ways with Irene. You have more time to spend with your friends, and you’ve been enjoying activities with them. Despite all this, you can’t bring yourself to end things with Yoongi, and you can’t fully understand why. Are you catching feelings for him?

"No, I still want to keep this up, probably as long as we can." you reply, your feelings conflicted and unclear.

 Your thoughts turn briefly to Jimin's kiss, which has left a lingering impact. For some reason, it felt different from Yoongi's kisses. Not better or worse, just different, with unique emotions woven into it.

“I won’t push you Angel, but just let me know whenever you want to stop this. I promise you that I will always be your best friend no matter what.”

Yoongi then pulls you down onto the bed, and you both drift into a peaceful nap together, the unspoken complexities of your relationships lingering in the air.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

October 31 (Wednesday) As you finish applying makeup on your knees in front of your mirror, surrounded by scattered makeup items, you check the time on your clock and see it's already 8:25. Yoongi's flight is set to depart at 8:50, and you reminisce about his early departure earlier in the day. He left with his luggage in hand, bidding you goodbye with a pat on the head, in the presence of Jungkook, Hoseok, and Namjoon. You hadn’t had the chance to hang out with Yoongi much since last week. Once he told everyone the news that he was going to the music conference, Yoongi went into strictly producer mode. He wanted to have a solid four song demo tracklist to showcase to professional producers and artists attending the conference in hopes of getting signed. Before he left, he said his schedule would be packed with various panels and activities for the next few days. He mentioned he’ll have some downtime and will text you before his return on Monday.

You rise from your seat on the floor and reach for the angel costume on your bed, changing into it. This is the outfit you chose when Hwasa took you to Spirit Halloween earlier that week, where the two of you picked your costumes together. As you gaze into the mirror, a myriad of thoughts swirl in your head, all stemming from that night on the balcony when Jimin kissed you. Even now, with Yoongi as your fuck buddy, the memory of Jimin's lips lingers in your thoughts. It's becoming a persistent distraction, and you find your mind often wandering back to that stolen kiss. The days have only made this internal conflict intensify, leaving you feeling increasingly torn between whatever you have with Yoongi and whatever is brewing with Jimin. You hear a knock on your door, breaking the spell of thoughts on your mind. You rush to open it, revealing Namjoon on the other side. He's dressed in a Hogwarts school uniform, complete with thick-rimmed glasses and a Gryffindor cloak over his outfit.

"You look so cute, Joonie!" You compliment him.

"Really?" He asks, a hint of shyness in his tone.

"Yeah, the whole look suits you well. Pair it up with your British accent, and it'll be even better," You tease, and you both share a laugh.

"Thanks, I'll do that too. You..." Namjoon's eyes roam your body, his gaze landing on the sleeveless, short white dress you're sporting for the party. "look really good too, Tiny." His gaze lingers on your cleavage for a moment before you catch on.

"Really? Good! I spent the last hour going through Tiktok for makeup tutorials, and I was so close to giving up and not going anymore.” You admit with a chuckle.

"Seriously, you look great! Where are you heading tonight?" Namjoon inquires.

"I was going to go to Dark Side with Hwasa and the other girls. We're planning to go to DSP's party since Matthew kindly extended the invite a few weeks ago." You explain. 

Dark Side is a neighborhood on the southwest side of campus known for throwing wild and raunchy parties. You'd never venture there alone, but with the girls there as well as Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok and Jimin heading to DSP later, you'll have trustworthy friends close by.

"I'll try to swing by later tonight too. I'll be on Light Side, Halloween bar hopping with John, Zico, and San for Jin's frat event. Drinks are $1 for two hours, and I don't want to miss that." Namjoon shares with a chuckle.

"Oh, that sounds fun too, but I want to spend time with the girls this one time, so I gotta pass. Send my regards to Jinnie for me." You say with a smile.

"Of course." Namjoon replies.

"Is BTS' angel ready to go?" Hwasa, dressed as The Bride from Kill Bill, peeks into your room next to Namjoon.

"Kill Bill?" Namjoon raises an eyebrow at her choice.

"Yeah, why not? SZA made it trendy again." Hwasa scoffs, playfully defending her costume.

"Okay, you two! I don't want to see Harry Potter and The Bride fight to the death in my room. Let's go get wasted, shall we?" You say, intervening.

"Fine!" They reply in unison, and together you head downstairs to find the rest of your friends. Grim Reaper Soyoon, Barbie Cowgirl Jieun, and Dorothy Soohyun, are waiting by the door for you. You head out together, bidding Namjoon and Jin, who are making food in the kitchen, goodbye.

++++++++++++

As you arrive at Matthew's frat house, you can't help but be awestruck by the eerie Halloween atmosphere that greets you. The whole house is bathed in a sinister red lighting, casting an unsettling glow on everything it touches. A mysterious haze hangs in the air, making your every breath feel like a step into the unknown. You aren’t sure if it’s coming from a fog machine or the smoke of people hotboxing the house with weed, but it adds ambience. String lights are meandered throughout the house, resembling spider web-like streamers that cling to the walls and ceilings, giving the place an otherworldly feel. Enormous pumpkins and grinning skulls adorn various corners, casting ominous shadows. The centerpiece of the decorations is a giant tapestry in the living room featuring a hauntingly detailed skull and the bold letters "DSP HALLOWEEN RAGER 20XX" leaving no doubt that DSP going all out for Halloween is definitely their frat tradition.

You and the girls continue exploring the house, drinking whatever glittery purple concoction was in one of several cauldrons by the alcohol table, immersing yourselves further into the atmosphere. Loud music reverberates through the air, colorful lights flash, and costumed partygoers fill every corner. 

You're glad you chose to come as an angel. The outfit is simple: a white satin corset dress, white pumps, paired with feathered wings and a shimmering halo headband to add a touch of ethereal charm. It's easy to move around and dance without feeling too weighed down. The alcohol flows freely, infusing everyone with a giddy sense of euphoria. The beats of the music thump in your chest, electrifying the atmosphere even more. You and the girls can't help but dance once you get closer to the music, caught in the moment.

Matthew, who has been DJing with his fellow Delta, Somin, takes a break and strolls over to your group with a tray of tequila shots. His tracks have been setting the perfect vibe for the party since you got there, blending seamlessly with the pulsating energy in the room. From Beyonce to Doja to Michael Jackson to Post Malone.

"Hey, ladies!" He greets you and the girls with a charismatic grin. He's dressed as a '90s grunge rocker, his outfit complete with ripped jeans, a band tee, and a flannel shirt tied around his waist. “I brought y’all some shots! It’s from my special Don Julio stash.” Soyoon looks at the tray, surprised with the VIP treatment from DSP’s President. “Really? Wow, that’s awesome. Thanks Matthew.” 

“Nah, it’s nothing!” “Cheers!" You all chimed in unison, lifting your shot glasses high to clink together before downing them. The tequila's warmth coursing through you.

"Matthew, I gotta say, you're killing it as the DJ tonight!" Hwasa exclaims.

Matthew chuckles modestly. "Thanks, Hyejin. Always a pleasure to make y’all dance. And Y/N, you look truly angelic, by the way." His compliment comes with a wink and a nod of approval.

"Aw, thank you, Matthew! You're not looking too shabby yourself as a '90s rockstar." You reply with a grin as you sip your drink.

As you chat, Matthew offers you and the girls some insights into the party scene tonight.

"It’s pretty packed here tonight. A lot of the Gamma guys and Psi peeps decided to come by. GOT doesn't usually do Halloween parties, and I’m sure y’all already know that DSP is the go-to spot for Halloween festivities on campus. Y’all better dance and drink safely, alright? Let me know if y’all need anything." You all nod and thank him for his consideration for your safety.

Hearing about the Gamma guys' presence, you can't help but wonder if Jaebeom is among them. You do not want an awkward and uncomfortable run in with him or any of his Gamma buds.

The night progresses, and as you engage in the festivities, you can't help but feel a growing sense of nostalgia and longing for Yoongi. Halloween had always been a cherished tradition for both of you since childhood. You would go trick-or-treating with the 3 boys under the guidance of Yoongi’s older brother and then eventually spending Halloween nights watching slasher films, which Yoongi hated, but watched knowing how much you and Jimin liked them. Not having him by your side this time felt lonely. And while the worries about Namjoon and Jimin's romantic involvements had dissipated, the absence of Yoongi left a void in the group that you couldn't ignore. 

Despite this yearning for him to be here, thoughts of Jimin continued to intrude, making you feel conflicted. You remember the playful cheek kisses and innocent pecks on the cheek that you and Jimin used to share as best friends, but now the thought of that happening again feels entirely different. That birthday kiss was not like the past ones.

The more alcohol you consume, the more Jimin's presence continues to tug your mind, creating a sense of inner turmoil. You remind yourself that you don’t owe Yoongi exclusivity, yet your arrangement with him still hung heavily in the back of your mind.

Fuck, you feel yourself falling into insanity.

Not long after you start feeling like you’re going crazy, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jungkook finally show up. You glance at each of their costumes: Taehyung is dressed as a character from Bridgerton, while Hoseok is all out as a pirate. This is great, you think to yourself. However, as your eyes move to Jimin, you find it hard to maintain your composure. His vampire costume is equal parts charming and alluring, and your slightly intoxicated state makes it difficult to look him in the eyes. His demeanor is relaxed, but he's no stranger to reading people's body language. You have managed to act like nothing has been picking at your brain when talking with him the past weeks since his birthday, but that’s not the case right now. Jungkook, wearing a Rocky boxing costume, gently shakes your shoulder asking if you’re good, to which you say yes. You’re lying, which Jimin takes note of. 

In the kitchen, while you chat and laugh with the group, you find your gaze involuntarily drawn to Jimin more than once. At one point, your flustered state leads to an accidental mishap – you drop your drink. Thankfully, it's a party, and no one minds a small accident.

Jimin notices your nervousness and the way you keep fidgeting. He smiles playfully, sensing your discomfort but not mentioning it outright. You're grateful for his discretion. The chemistry between you and Jimin has shifted since his birthday party, and navigating this new territory is both nerve wracking and a little confusing.

After a brief chat with your girls and guys, you all part ways to continue navigating DSP’s party and its many alcohol-filled Halloween activities. Your constant urge to keep your eye on Jimin continues despite the large crowd of people filing in and out of the house. You are standing next to Soyoon and Jieun playing King’s Cup against Sigma Kappa Zeta’s Chris and a group of other guys, as you glance at the other side of the house seeing the dance floor filled with familiar faces. 

And there he is again. Jimin. 

There are a few girls dressed as Barbie clones circling around him, trying to grind against him, but their attention on him doesn’t faze you. This phenomenon is quite familiar when it comes to Jimin. He’s gorgeous, everyone knows it, and everyone wants him.

However, you remained immune to what they commonly refer to as the "Jimin Effect." Jimin himself is well aware of the impact he has on others, but for you, he is simply Jimin, a close friend, and nothing more. You never thought of anything more with him. He'd try to tease you at times by giving you cheek kisses because it's what French people do when they say hello or goodbye. "It's just faire la bise.” he'd say, but it'd be a ploy to see if you'd crack. You didn't.

There was a time, though, when you spent more time with Jimin than with Namjoon or Yoongi. The latter two had started high school, which was situated across town from where you lived. Your daily interactions with them dwindled because of the new commitments and distance. 

However, one day, you noticed a change in Jimin's behavior. He seemed anxious, fidgety even. It was then that he asked you a rather unexpected question.

"Could you be my practice partner for my first official kiss?" 

Your eyes widened, convinced that he was pulling your leg with one of his classic pranks. You inquired if he was serious, and he assured you he was genuinely seeking your assistance for something he had no idea how to do, even though he found it embarrassing to admit. Recognizing his sincere plea for help, you decided to assist him. Your initial attempts during after-school sessions proved fruitless, but after watching "The Notebook" together one afternoon, you decided to replicate one of the film's romantic kissing scenes. At first, it felt awkward, and the two of you couldn't help but chuckle after. But as the scene played out repeatedly, you began to notice a subtle shift. The practice had evolved into something; there was a growing intimacy in each kiss you shared. And this was how you too, had your first kiss. Jimin's nervousness gradually transformed into comfort, and you noticed how his lips became more confident against yours. His sweet laughter and warm smile during your practices caused a shift. You found yourself thinking about him more often than you’d want to admit to anyone.

As time went on, you both became increasingly comfortable in each other's presence. While these practice sessions were meant to be lighthearted, they grew into meaningful moments for the two of you. 

Though this period was fleeting, like to the ephemeral beauty of cherry blossoms in spring, their brief existence was marked by a burst of color before gracefully scattering away. Much like those delicate petals, your shared moments of intimacy came to an end, not lasting beyond that season. 

Jimin got his "official first kiss" from one of the girls he admired in your 8th-grade history class. As you both stepped into high school, he had started seeing and dating a series of people. He continued on as if that time was just a dream. Namjoon and Yoongi never learned of what transpired between you two. And you too, had continued to live your life like nothing had happened during that spring of your final year in middle school.

Until now. "Y/N!" Jimin's voice pierces through the loud music and chatter. 

You snap back to the present, his call pulling you out of the distant memories from long ago. Your eyes widen in surprise, wondering why he is calling your name so urgently. Before you can react, he exchanges some quick words with the girls around him and makes his way toward you. You will your feet to move forward to meet him. You are about to ask about the urgency when Jimin speaks first.

"I needed an excuse." He confesses, his shoulders slumping with a sigh, "I couldn't get rid of them."

Ah, classic Jimin. A smile tugs at your lips as he runs his hand through his hair in a way that you know well. You aren’t sure why you feel a rush of giddiness knowing he chose you over the other girls.

"Let's dance, darling?" Jimin suggests, breath warm against your ear. His words make your brows furrow. You tilt your head, teasingly skeptical.

"Are you drunk right now?"

"You know I've got a high alcohol tolerance." He replies, his confidence unshaken.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Park.” You concede, and with that, he pulls you deeper into the crowd on the dance floor, ready to let the music and the moment carry you both away.

In the dimly lit embrace of the dance floor, you find yourself swaying to the beat of Take My Breath by The Weeknd, creating a world of sensuality around you. Jimin's strong hands confidently claim the small of your back, and his touch sends a wave of heat radiating through your body. Together, you move with grace, entangled in a slow, seductive dance that defies the pulsating rhythm around you.

Your fingers glide along the contours of his muscular cape-covered shoulder, and you're entranced by the intense connection in his dark, probing eyes. Each sinuous movement feels like a secret conversation, a silent language whispered through touch.

Jimin's warm breath, tinged with a hint of alcohol, brushes against your earlobe as he guides you even closer. The sensation of his lips softly grazing your neck sent a shiver down your spine, intensifying the yearning that courses through every nerve. As his hands caress your body, his cologne, a scent different from the one he used to wear, envelopes you, adding to your growing sense of intoxication. The fragrance was a symphony of warm, vanilla notes, creating an intoxicating blend that only heightens your desire.

The world outside your bubble seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this sensual realm. The chemistry between you intensifies with every caress, each gentle press of your bodies, as you're pulled deeper into a realm of unspoken longing.

The sweet agony of desire intensifies, and your souls unite, dancing to a silent melody that pulses with yearning and passion. In this enchanted moment, you are giving in to the irresistible pull of the night, surrendering to the all-consuming allure that keeps you locked in your sensual dance. Suddenly, you are pulled out of your blissful daze as you notice Hogwarts student Namjoon and Navy Captain Jin enter the front door. You quickly pull apart from Jimin as you see them nearing. While you and Jimin promiscuously dancing isn't a new sight for any of your housemates, for some reason, you can't help but stop. The action even surprises you. Jimin's lust-filled eyes widen, wondering if he did something wrong.

Namjoon soon approaches behind Jimin, which scares him a little. "Made it just in time, you two."

"Namjoon!" You say in unison, but in different tones.

Namjoon looks at the two of you lovingly. "Finally, the avengers are all together." 

"Well except Yoongi hyung," Jimin points out in a somber tone.  

In that split second, you remember again that Yoongi isn’t there. You check your phone in your bag to see if he sent you any LA updates, to which he had about 5 minutes ago. Yoongi [10:23pm] : I landed. Safe and Sound. 👍

Yoongi [10:23pm] : In the city of angels without my angel :( 

Yoongi pulling out your nickname in that second text has you flustered for a second. Thank God the lighting is red here or else you’d be questioned until no end.

"Why don’t we take a picture together to send to him! Let him know we're together."

The other two men nod, and you hand your phone to Namjoon, with the longest arms, to take a selca together. The three of you squeeze together, Jimin in the middle, and Namjoon stretches his arm as far as he can to capture the perfect shot. 

"Got it!" Namjoon grins, showing the picture to all of you.

You take a moment to admire it. It's a funny picture: Namjoon with his typical fuckboy smile, Jimin kissing your temple while winking his eye at the camera, and you holding up a peace sign capturing the essence of your overall shared bond. 

You [10:29PM]: [Photo Attachment]

You [10:30PM]: Good to know, but we miss our favority kitty boy bestie here with us :(

As you send it to Yoongi, you can't help but hope he'll find a way to have a good time tonight. You wonder how things would’ve been different tonight if he was around. Would you still be lusting for Jimin while Yoongi’s with you? Or would your wicked thoughts have you wanting them both. You choose not to think about it more. In a distant city, Yoongi feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and quickly retrieves it to find a new photo message from you. Upon opening it, he sees a picture of Namjoon, Jimin, and you. While he would typically be thrilled to see a photo of all of you, an uneasy feeling creeps into the pit of his stomach when he sees Jimin kissing your temple. He decides to wait awhile until he’s more situated in his hotel room to respond.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

You tell yourself you can't continue to be around Jimin tonight. That's why you escape your two best friends and find yourself outside with Soohyun and Hwasa, navigating a makeshift haunted maze set up by DSP in their backyard. After making it out alive, the three of you decide to take a breather. It's during this moment of respite that Hwasa decides to address the elephant in the room. "So, when are you going to stop running away from Jimin tonight?" Hwasa speaks up, causing Sooyoung to gasp.

"Damn you, Ahn Hyejin, and your psychic senses!" You curse half-jokingly. Sooyoung, being candid as ever, chimes in, "To be fair, you couldn't keep your eyes off him earlier." "Honey is up to no good, it seems," Hwasa narrows her eyes at you, hinting at what she already knows about you and Yoongi, but not what's up with Jimin.

Afraid you might spill more than necessary with strangers potentially overhearing your conversation, you hastily excuse yourself, claiming you need to use the bathroom. You head back inside through the side door. As you scan the room, you don't spot Jimin anywhere, making you wonder if he's left for another party.

You’re kind of relieved you can finally breathe in peace.

You grab your phone from your bag to check to see if Yoongi had replied back to the photo from earlier, but you only see that he read it not long after you sent it. You don’t think much of it. Maybe he’s busy with the others that went on the trip with him. At the same time you feel a bit worried.

You make your way upstairs and locate a door that you assume leads to a bathroom. Jackson is standing in front of it, looking out of it. Is he high? You ask him to move, and he manages to shuffle away. In your haste, you swing open the door, slam it shut behind you, and make sure you locked it. However, once you turn around to look at your surroundings, you realize you walked into a bedroom, not a bathroom. Inside, you find Jimin sitting on the bed, holding a barely smoked blunt. The scent of marijuana hangs in the air, and the dimly lit room adds to the surreal atmosphere.

"Y/N?" Jimin's voice sounds both surprised and somewhat amused, his eyes glistening with the effects of the weed. He takes another hit from the blunt before carefully setting it aside.

God, you have no mercy tonight, it seems.

"I was trying to find the bathroom...but, um, I didn’t know you smoked weed." You comment, regarding him with a curious expression.

"Okay, well, I started smoking with Hoseok at the back of the house during the summer, but Irene didn't like the smell and told me to cut it out."

"Ah, I see." You acknowledge with a nod, the mention of Irene casting a shadow over your curiosity. Consequently, you opt not to probe further into the matter.

You remain there, gazing at Jimin, who returns your gaze intently. Although you momentarily consider fleeing the situation, for some inexplicable reason, you find yourself unable to move. Completely frozen in this moment with your best friend, trapped in what appears to be Matthew's bedroom.

Your attention dips to Jimin's rosy, plump lips, appearing irresistibly kissable. A dangerous impulse, stirred by the alcohol coursing through your veins, threatens to push you toward a regrettable choice. This isn't good. 

"Did I finally win?" Jimin giggles.

"Huh?" You respond, your perplexed expression once again betraying your internal thoughts. What does he mean? Surely not what you're thinking…

Jimin's laughter deepens, whether fueled by the weed or your confused reaction, it's hard to tell. Abruptly, he rises from the bed, grabs your hands, and pulls you back onto the bed with him. You find yourself beneath him, your breath quickening. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, studying you with admiration.

"You've finally fallen under the 'Jimin effect,' huh? Did that birthday kiss really hit you that hard?" He teases.

"Ugh!" You groan, hiding your face behind one of your hands with your phone in the other hand, letting out a resigned sigh. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"I knew it!"

"Okay yes! Fine! I've been thinking about it since the party!” You admit, embarrassed to hear your own voice say this to his face.

Jimin's eyebrows arch curiously as he asks, "What have you been thinking about?"

“...Wanting to kiss you again.” You mumble, your frustration apparent.

"Then why won’t you just do it?” 

You’re caught off guard by this question. Why won’t you do it? What’s stopping you? Yoongi? You’re not dating him though. But was it ever established that you would be exclusive to each other? Your semi-intoxicated brain can’t remember what rules you two set in place. 

Though, the more you think about your answer to Jimin’s question, the more you start to remember what Yoongi asked many nights ago. Your semi-intoxicated brain struggles to recall the boundaries you had set. You told Yoongi that Jimin was like a brother who can empathize with you, but is that really the case? What if you’re more afraid of acknowledging some underlying feelings, not just for Jimin but also for Yoongi and Namjoon? In an ideal world, you’d love to spend your life with all of them, but the harsh reality might not allow it.

“I-I don’t know…” You stutter.

"Well, do you want to do it again then…" Jimin speaks slowly, as if sensing that he, too, is hesitant about what he wants to do next with you. “...Darling?”

Your nod slowly, a bit hesitant, but still eager in your actions. Recalling Jimin's preference for explicit consent, you affirm, "Yes."

With that assurance, Jimin closes the remaining distance between your lips. The moment his mouth meets yours, it's as if a long-held tension is released. The kiss is soft, a gentle exploration of the warmth and tenderness that lies beneath the surface. His fingers lightly trace the contours of your face, brushing over your cheek and down to your jaw, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. Your own hands find their way to his back, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his cape as you pull him closer.

Time seems to stand still as the world outside fades into insignificance.

Jimin's kisses gradually deepen, turning more passionate and fervent. The taste of his lips, combined with the lingering scent of weed in the air, fuels a heady desire that sweeps through you. Sour candy. It’s the only way you could describe it. Like the sweet citrus cocktail you saw him drink earlier that night. 

His fingers brush across the sensitive skin of your neck and collarbone before he cups your breast in his hand. Jimin kneads your breast over the fabric of the dress for a moment before you help him free them. He breaks the kiss to swoop down and take one of your hard nipples into his mouth. Jimin swirls his tongue once before sucking the bud into his mouth and releasing far too soon. He plants a few kisses on your exposed breasts leaving you only wanted more. 

He pulls you back to continue kissing and a soft moan escapes your lips muffled by Jimin's mouth. You can't help but think about your complicated feelings and the new questions that have surfaced. You're not sure where this will lead, but for now, all that matters is this. The sound of surrender to his advances.

“Touch me more…I want to feel you…please….”

Jimin pushes your dress up roughly and slides your panties down your legs discarding them over the end of the bed. He hungrily looks at you. Your whole body is itching for more of him. It feels like your whole body is on fire.

He brings his hand down, slipping his fingers inside of you. He moves slowly at first, teasing you like he always does. Although now, you are in a completely different situation than ever before. Your face contorts in pleasure as he changes speed, plunging his fingers in and out of your pussy with purpose.

Jimin finds your clit with the thumb of the hand deep inside you and you moan as he presses his thumb onto the sensitive area. His other fingers explore your walls, circling them softly and pushing ever so gently against them. You feel like you’re going to explode into a million pieces with each tantalizing motion of his fingers. He looks up at you as he giggles. He knows that he has corrupted you completely with his own fingers and there is no turning back now. You faintly get a sense of Deja Vu.

Your breathing becomes heavy as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, faster and faster as the pleasure intensifies. As you feel you’re incredibly close to reaching an orgasm, suddenly, you hear your phone vibrate aside you. This sound catches Jimin’s attention. 

His hand moves to grab your phone to see that a text message came in.

From Yoongi.

“Yoongi hyung?”

Your eyes immediately widened, panic setting in.

“J-Jimin! Give me the phone!” You yelp out despite your hazy brain continuing to bask in the pleasure of Jimin’s fingers. You know that while Yoongi's message might be harmless, you can’t risk Jimin stumbling upon your previous conversations with him. The consequences of that discovery are unknown, and you don’t want to find out.

"But I want to reply to Hyung!" Jimin protests playfully.

"N-No, I'll reply!" You insist, desperation in your voice.

Jimin's eyes shift from the screen to you, and he asks with a hint of suspicion, "So needy…Y/N, is there something you're hiding?" 

His gaze bores into yours, and you can sense that he is more perceptive than you have anticipated.

Jimin's question hangs in the air, and you feel the weight of it pressing on you. Your hazy thoughts race as you struggle to come up with a plausible explanation.

He removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you on the brink of an orgasm with your pussy clenching around the air. The abrupt halt to the intense sensation leaves you breathless, aching for release, and a soft whimper escapes your lips as Jimin withdraws his fingers. His revelation, however, catches you by surprise, and you are momentarily stunned.

"I have an idea of what's been going on," He admits, his voice low and laced with a suspicious bounce in the tone. "But I want to hear it from you. What's going on with you and Hyung?"

Your mind races, torn between loyalty to Yoongi and the trust you hold for Jimin. Your immediate urge is to lie, but Jimin has known you for years, and lying to his face would hurt you and feel disrespectful towards him. On the other hand, you told Yoongi you wouldn’t tell anyone in the house and you wouldn’t want him to get hurt either.

Jimin's proximity makes it even more difficult to keep your secrets hidden. He leans in close, his warm breath against your ear as he whispers, "If you tell me, I'll keep going. If you don't, we stop, and we can pretend this never happened."

A part of Jimin thinks he’s going too far with this game, but after the break up with Irene, he knew immediately what he wanted. You. He spent far too long running away from his own feelings. If he keeps doing that, you will eventually leave his side permanently. He cares too much about you and doesn’t want someone else to pull you away. He is unsure if his Hyungs feel the same about you.

His offer hangs in the air, a tempting proposition. You wrestle with your thoughts, torn between loyalty, desire, and the need for honesty. 

As if the current atmosphere isn’t tense enough, Yoongi proceeds to call you, which you identify by his customized ringtone. 

Against all odds in this enclosed space, you respond.

“Jimin…you can hate me for this and I have my reasons for wanting this, but for the past few weeks…”  You take a deep breathe before saying what you most likely will regret telling him. God, you need to pray that this will end well somehow.

“I’ve been sleeping with Yoongi.”

----

tbc!!! a/n: i hope i left y'all wanting to learn more about what's going to happen. do you have an theories. i'd love to heart about them so lmk hehehe thank you all for reading! i had to post this just in time for halloween but i wanted it take my time fleshing it out for y'all before letting this work fly out. if you did enjoy, please interact however you can! reblog, like, share with friends!

[justagalwhowrites]

Lavender - Ch. 8

On the run from infected at the dawn of the end of the world, you fight to keep those you hold dear safe. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-7 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller X Female Reader

Length: 5.3K

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, character death (not reader), miscarriage, Sexual Assault/SA (coercion or blackmail). No use of Y/N. 18+ Minors DNI

A/N: See note at the end of the chapter please. Trying to avoid spoilers (beyond what's in the warnings) and want to contextualize the story choices. Feel free to read first before reading the chapter if you want as long as you don't mind some spoilers!

Tuesday, September 30, 2003

“The Princess Pat” 

“The Princess Pat” 

“Lived in a tree” 

“Lived in a tree” 

“She sailed across”

“She sailed across”

“The seven seas”

“The seven seas” 

“She sailed across”

“She sailed across”

“The channel too”

“The channel too”

“And she took with her!” 

“And she took….” 

“Hello!” 

You threw your arm out, forcing Jessica behind you, and raised the shotgun. Your heart was pounding. 

It had been 2 days since you’d last seen another person, possessed or otherwise. You’d stuck to the woods alongside the main road, hopefully far enough away to not be easily seen while staying close enough to follow the route. You were heading steadily east. You figured eventually, you’d reach the Atlantic, orient yourself and go from there. 

On Saturday, you’d shot six people. Almost people. Former people? You weren’t sure how to count it, but you’d killed six people who were trying to rip you and Jessica apart. It made you sick. “Don’t let anyone take you from me.” 

You tried to justify it. Jessica and the baby made it easier but it was hard. Could you possibly be worth that many lives? What if whatever was wrong with them was temporary and you’d murdered them? The only way you could live with it was by thinking of Jessica and the baby. You could kill for your child and the girl you’d come to think of as your niece. You could live with that. Or you thought you could, at least. 

Saturday, you’d come across a sporting goods store. There was one possessed person inside, someone had locked them in a storage room and you’d been stupid enough to open the damn door looking for more ammunition. You’d been so surprised it took you a moment to get a shot off and the first one missed. You kept shoving Jessica back, the thing lunging for you and snarling until you hit it with the butt of your gun, forcing it far enough away that you could shoot it. You stood guard while Jessica found some clothes and you were able to take your sweatshirt back. It probably would have been smart to change the shirt, when you thought about it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It was one of your UT sweatshirts, one that said “alumni” on it. Joel had gotten it for you as a graduation gift. It didn’t matter that it was bloodstained now. You needed something from then. You packed a bag for her, too. The store had been pretty well looted but the possessed person in the storage room had left the stock in there intact and you were able to find some useful stuff. 

You ran into three more possessed people on your way back out of town. You were pretty certain you were traveling about a day behind the military - or some military like force, anyway. Did the military actually exist anymore? Did America? But you kept coming across near mountains of bodies. You weren’t sure if they were people who had been possessed or if whoever was in charge now was just wiping out anyone they deemed as a potential risk. There were two more possessed as you made your way into the woods again. 

On Sunday, Jessica woke up crying. It took some time to calm her down. She didn’t want to tell you what she’d dreamed about that made her so upset but you could guess. When the day started quiet enough, you started trying to get her to engage a bit. Pointing out different trees as you walked, signs of different animals when you saw them. You tried to think of something else to talk about with her - something that would take her mind off of the fact that you were pretty sure the world was ending without reminding her of what you thought was entirely lost. You resorted to singing NSYNC. 

“That’s not how it goes,” she muttered at one point. 

“What isn’t?” You asked, knowing perfectly well what you’d gotten wrong. 

“It’s ‘I wanna see you out that door’ not ‘Go walk on out that door,’” she said. 

“Well, I’ve never been a good singer,” you shrugged, still keeping an eye out for possessed people. 

“Yeah, you’re really not,” she snorted. “Heard you and my mom singing in the kitchen once. I think you were drunk. It was real bad.” 

“We thought you were asleep!” You looked over your shoulder to her. She smiled a little. 

“Yeah, I had my GameBoy,” she said. 

“You little shit,” you smiled. “We were that bad, huh?” 

“You are always bad,” she said. “It was way worse then. I was embarrassed and there wasn’t even anyone else to hear you it was that bad.” 

“Well then you demonstrate, rock star,” you said. “Seem to recall you doing pretty good hairbrush karaoke.” 

She was quiet for a minute. You were trying to think of something else to get her mind off things when she started signing a Spice Girls song. You smiled. She was quiet at first, almost under her breath. You didn’t press her. She got louder as the day went on. 

Monday you hummed the Beetles to see if she’d sing along. She did. 

Tuesday, you suggested some of the songs she’d brought home from Girl Scout camp over the summer. She’d sung them for three weeks after spending two weeks a few hours away, horseback riding and swimming and boating. You were half sure she was singing because she knew it was annoying the shit out of her mother. The other half of her just really loved summer camp. She sang the songs so much, you’d learned them, too. You could even lead them. 

Which is how you ended up singing Princess Pat somewhere in the woods along the highway in New York State. 

“Who’s there?” You yelled, gun up. 

“I’ll come to you!” It was a man’s voice. You tightened your grip on the weapon. 

“How many of you are there?” You called, looking around for some sign of whoever was talking but you couldn’t see them. 

“Just me!” He said. “Please… please don’t shoot me?” 

“I won’t if you don’t give me a reason,” you called back. “But I’m keeping the gun up.” 

He came from further into the woods and you moved in front of Jessica, gun up. When he got about 20 feet away, you stopped him. 

“That’s close enough.” 

You looked him over. He was young, probably not even 20, tall and gangly. All limbs. He hadn’t grown into his body yet. His hands were up and his eyes were wide. One of his arms didn’t look right.

“Lift your shirt,” you said, gun still up. 

“What?” He frowned.” 

“I need to see your waistband,” you said. “Make sure you don’t have a weapon. Lift up your shirt and turn around in a circle, slowly.” 

He did as he was told. No gun or knife that you could see. You lowered the gun. He lowered his hands.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking like he was about to cry. 

“Hi,” you smiled a little back. You nodded to the misshapen arm. “What happened there?” 

“I fell,” he said, cautiously stepping closer to you. “I was running, my parents…” 

“How’d you escape?” Jessica peered out from behind you. 

“By falling,” he said. “Down a cliff. It was short but they stayed up top. What the hell is going on?” 

“I don’t know,” you took your pack off and started rifling around for the first aid kit. “But I can set your arm for you.”

His name, you learned while aligning his bones in the way you’d read about in medical texts, was Andrew. You were right on his age, he was 18 and from a small town not far from there. He’d been wandering alone since Sunday. 

“I haven’t seen any people,” he said. “I mean, I’ve been hiding but I thought I’d see someone. Anyone. I was hiding from… I wasn’t trying to hide from people. Where is everyone?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You knew what little you’d seen but you weren’t sure if that was true anywhere else but where you’d been. And you weren’t sure if telling that to a teenager would make it any better. 

“We haven’t run into anyone in a few days either,” you said, tying off the makeshift cast you’d put on his arm. “Feel better?” 

“Yeah,” he said, bending his elbow a bit. “Thank you.” 

“You can travel with us,” you said, repacking your bag. “But you have to do what I say when I say it. I can try to keep you safe but I can’t do that if you’re a wildcard.” 

“I can listen,” he said quickly. “I won’t be any trouble, I promise.” 

You got moving again. 

You made it to another small town that night, the bodies all piled in the center of the little downtown area, a heap of flesh in front of a pizza parlor. You tried to protect Andrew and Jessica from seeing it. You weren’t sure it worked. You set up for the night in a pharmacy, tucking yourselves away behind the counter and pulling down the gates. You stocked up on water, pain killers, bandages and broad spectrum antibiotics before you left. 

You were walking until Wednesday afternoon when you saw the first sign of people. 

There was a man in a military uniform dead on the ground. So it was military. 

“Stay back, guys,” you said, waving Jessica and Andrew off. You looked around for a moment. “Andrew, have you ever used a gun? Hunting with your dad or anything?” 

“Yeah,” he said, voice shaky. “But I’ve never shot a person…” 

“Well I hope you don’t need to today,” you said, handing him the gun. “But keep an eye out for me? If you see someone coming, I’ll take it back, OK?” 

He nodded once, taking a deep breath. You went to the body. 

Someone had shot him in the head, blood splattered over his camo. His body was still warmer than the air around you, but not by much. Whoever had gunned him down was in a hurry, his weapons were still on him. You took his guns - a sidearm and a rifle, both with some extra ammunition - and his knife. You looked over the rest of him. There was a vicious looking bite at his wrist. You were busy looking at that when something moved out of the corner of your eye. 

It was like the tentacle that had reached out of your grandmother’s mouth coming out from between the man’s lips. 

“Holy shit,” you leapt back as the fibrous thing stretched for you. Eventually, it stopped, just sitting there. You looked at it, frowning. 

“What is it?” Andrew yelled at you. 

“I think…” You leaned in a little closer. “It’s a fungus.” 

The thing reached for you. You backed up again before getting up and getting away from the body entirely. 

“A fungus?” Andrew asked. 

“Yeah,” you frowned, standing beside him again. “Which both makes a lot of sense and none at all.” You held the guns out that you’d just picked up. “Pick your poison.” 

He chose the rifle. You took back the shotgun and tucked the sidearm in your waistband. 

“What do you mean about the fungus?” Jessica frowned. “Also, I don’t have a gun.” 

“Yeah, you don’t need a gun,” you said. “You don’t need to be shooting at anyone, you’re 13.” 

“It’s the end of the world,” she said flatly. 

“Not yet it’s not,” you said. “No gun. Let’s keep moving.” 

“Fine,” Jessica said. “But you need to explain the fungus thing because I don’t think mushrooms are doing this.” 

“There are lots of different kinds of fungus,” you said, starting down the road. “There are some we eat, some that does stuff like make your toenails yellow… And there are some that take over host bodies and control them in hopes of spreading.” 

“What the fuck,” Andrew said, taking up the rear. “Like people?” 

“Well, no, that’s the weird thing,” you said. “We’re too warm for those fungi. They live in insects, take over the bodies of ants or wasps, not mammals. But that’s what that looked like. It doesn’t make any sense…” 

“None of this makes any sense,” Jessica said. 

You kept walking. 

That afternoon, you found people. Two of them, in uniform guarding the road, a military truck parked broadside over the lanes so no one could just drive through. 

You were back in the tree line and you signaled for Jessica and Andrew to be quiet, but you stepped on a stick, snapping it. The men spun, training their guns on the trees. 

“Who’s out there!” The one closer to the tree line yelled. “Respond or I start shooting!” 

“We’re not possessed!” You yelled, signaling for Jessica and Andrew to get behind you. 

“Come out here!” He yelled. “Now!” 

“There are three of us,” you called back. “We’re armed but we will lower our weapons if you lower yours.” 

He hesitated. “I’ve got two kids with me,” you said after a moment. “Teenagers. We’re healthy.” 

“I’m keeping my gun out,” he called. “But I’ll point it down.” 

You aimed your gun toward the ground and cautiously walked toward the road. 

“What are you doing here?” The man demanded. 

“Trying to find somewhere safe,” you replied. “What’s going on? How widespread is this?” 

“It’s the whole world,” he said, looking you up and down. “It’s everywhere.” 

“What do you mean it’s everywhere,” you frowned. “How can it be everywhere?” 

“You’re trying to get somewhere safe?” The second man came and stood beside the first, looking you up and down, too. You nodded. You could sense Jessica and Andrew behind you. You wanted to tell them to run. Something about these men didn’t feel right. 

“There’s a base of operations in Boston,” the first man said. “We’ve been told to send survivors there, people who aren’t at risk of infection.” 

“We’re not infected,” you said. “We haven’t had any contact with any infected person in days, we’re not a risk.” 

“We can help you get to Boston,” the second man stepped closer to you. “But I’d want something in return.” 

“She’s a doctor,” Jessica said quickly. You shot a glare over your shoulder. 

“No, I’m a science teacher who’s been training to become a doctor,” you said quickly. “But if you’re injured, I might be able to help. We also have some food and water, pain killers…” 

“Not what I’m interested in.” 

It took you a second to realize what he meant. His eyes were on you, ranging hungrily over your body. 

“Not sure the next time I’ll see a woman who isn’t infected,” he said. “Want to make sure I enjoy it.” 

He adjusted the grip on his gun. 

You considered your options for a split second. There was no way you’d be able to kill both of them before they killed one of you. And even then, could you live with killing two people - two people who weren’t infected or possessed or whatever it was - if it was anything but a last resort? 

“You can get us to Boston?” You said. 

“There’s a code,” the man said. “I’ll give it to you. If you give me something.” 

You glanced behind you. Jessica just looked confused. Andrew seemed to get it. Your stomach turned. 

“Fine,” you said, taking off your pack and passing it back to Andrew. “Give me a minute.” 

You handed him the gun, too. 

“If he goes for either of you,” you said quietly. “Kill him.” 

He gave you a nod. You turned back to the man. 

“Let’s go.” 

You followed him into the woods. He was still armed. 

“What do you want?” You asked, standing there, trying to not think about what you were about to do. 

“Take off your shirt,” he said, still holding the gun. You obeyed, pulling off your sweatshirt and t-shirt at the same time, hands shaking. 

“Good,” he smiled. “Bra, too.” 

You took that off, too. 

“Fuck you’ve got nice tits,” his hand went to his crotch, feeling himself through his pants. “Waist down now. All off.” 

You shakily stepped out of your boots and peeled off your pants and underwear, glancing back toward the road, thankful you couldn’t see Jessica and Andrew. 

“Lie down.” 

You got down on your back. The leaves and pinecones scratched your bare skin. Your stomach turned. Until now, Joel had been the only man to have seen you naked. He’d been the only man you ever wanted to see you naked. 

The man stepped forward, his penis in his hand, still fully clothed, working himself. You looked at it for a second before staring up at the tree canopy. He was smaller than Joel. You were thankful for that much, at least. 

He got on top of you without preamble and you tried to push your mind elsewhere, anywhere but here. He started trying to work his way into you, forcing his way inside. 

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he grunted. You stared past him. 

You thought about Joel. Not about sex with Joel - you didn’t want to connect any part of that with this - but just being around him. How he made you feel safe. His smile. The way he tried to pretend he didn’t like the movies you picked but you caught him sitting forward a bit more in his seat when the story reached its climax. The man over you was making your back drag along the ground and your vagina hurt. You tried to ignore it. Joel playing guitar in the backyard. Sarah making fun of him for his choice of song. There was a cluster of three pinecones over your head. The man’s pace increased. Joel making burgers in the summer. He was so picky about the meat, looking over every package at the store until he found just the right one. 

“Fuck,” the man grunted and stilled before going limp on top of you. He breathed heavy for a second before rolling off you. 

“Done?” Your voice sounded strange. Weirdly flat. He reached over and patted your stomach. You tensed. You took it as a yes, getting up off the ground. You brushed yourself off quickly and got dressed as fast as you could, the man watching you as he panted for breath. He put his penis away and got up. You looked up at him. “You said there was a code.” 

“C’mon,” he jerked his head back toward the road. You followed. He went to the back of the truck and ripped off a scrap of paper. He wrote down a name and a number and handed it to you. “Give that information at the checkpoints between here and Boston. They’ll let you through.” 

You nodded once, reading the paper and trying to memorize it. McCarthy. You looked at the name on the uniform. It matched. You pocketed the paper. 

“Stick to the road,” he said, looking you over again, almost affectionately. Almost like he thought what had just happened meant something. Like he was invested in you now. “Now that you have that, it’s safer that way. Lots of crazies and infected in the woods between here and there, road is better. It’ll take about a week to walk to Boston from here.” 

You nodded once and went and got your bag from Andrew. He was staring at you. You put the pack on and took your gun. 

“Let’s go.” 

You led the way again. No one talked. No one sang. You stared straight ahead. Your hand went to your lower stomach. You tried to focus on what was important. You threw up a mile later.

Sunday, October 5, 2003

“It’s my birthday, you know,” you whispered to your stomach. It was late, about three in the morning. You were on watch, Andrew and Jessica were asleep. You ran your thumb over yourself. There was a bump there now. It was small, if you didn’t know to look for it you wouldn’t notice it was there, but you could feel it. “Last one before you’re born, little one. Sorry to be bringing you into such a shit show.” 

You leaned your head back against a tree, cradling the little bump, and sighed. 

“Maybe it will be better by April,” you said. “Maybe this is just a crazy blip. I can tell you the insane story one day. About everything your mom did to get to your dad.” 

The amount of infected had grown as you’d gone down the road, getting closer to Boston and more civilization. You’d killed a dozen more people. Andrew had killed three others. You’d tried to make it so he wouldn’t have to shoot anyone but you’d been nearly overrun at one point and he’d been forced to. He was sobbing after, his whole body shaking. You tried to hold it together enough to comfort him. 

It was hard to believe that it had been just over a week since this started. It felt like an eternity. Two weeks ago at this time, you’d been asleep in your bed at home. You’d gone to bed that night after giving up on finalizing your lesson plans for the week, leaving Thursday and Friday to deal with during your planning period on Monday and mad at yourself for procrastinating. You were still debating about whether or not you wanted to tell Joel about his child. It all seemed so silly now. You’d die to go back to those kinds of problems. 

At four, you roused Andrew. He groggily got up and took over the watch, you laying down beside Jessica. She sighed and pressed herself back against you. You put an arm around her, tugging her close to you. It was easier to sleep, having someone close. 

You got up and got moving right away in the morning. You were expecting to hit another checkpoint that afternoon or evening, you wanted to put some miles between it and you before stopping for the night. The code from McCarthy had done what he’d promised so far. They took your word that you weren’t infected after a quick once over and didn’t demand any more ‘payment’ for passage, instead just sending you down the road. You were thankful for that much. But you didn’t trust the men at the checkpoints. You wouldn’t be able to relax, knowing they were close by. 

You’d been walking six hours when it happened. 

Your gun was out but held low. You heard the odd, guttural sound only a split second before they came from the tree line. 

There were more than a dozen of them, all of them running for you, strange husks of human beings now driven by one thing. 

“Run!” You screamed, raising your shotgun and firing, catching one in the chest and sending it flying back. You’d gotten better with the gun since the world collapsed, knowing that you had to plant your feet to keep from falling, knowing how to stand to aim and not stumble back. You stood in one spot, firing off the four rounds in the shotgun and taking down three infected before you ran, too, Jessica frantically looking back over her shoulder at you. “Go!” 

You did your best to lodge the depleted shotgun between your pack and your back while pulling the sidearm from your waistband, turning and firing almost blindly behind you. Three shots, another infected fell. You looked forward and saw it before Jessica or Andrew did. 

“Jessica!” You shrieked, an infected launching at her from the other side of the road and tackling her to the ground. It pinned her for a moment and Andrew ran up on it, slamming the butt of his rifle into it, sending it sprawling before shooting it. He gave Jessica his hand and yanked her to her feet. She clutched her hand to her upper arm and ran with him. 

You weren’t sure how the hell you were going to get out of this, firing behind you, barely outpacing the infected as it was, your lungs starting to ache, when you saw the checkpoint up ahead. 

“Help!” You yelled. “McCarthy sent us on! There are infected!” 

The two men at the checkpoint ran forward, rifles drawn. It only took a moment for them to start firing. You instinctively ducked your head but kept moving, hoping it would keep you from getting shot. 

The men and their rifles made pretty quick work of the hoard of infected, the bodies littering the road. You panted for breath, stopping at the truck that blocked the lanes. 

“McCarthy sent you through?” One of the men asked. You just nodded and pulled the code from your pocket. The man took it and nodded, handing it back to you. “Those the first infected you’ve seen lately?” 

“No,” you shook your head. “But first since the last checkpoint.” 

He nodded once and started looking you over. 

“Clear,” he said, nodding Andrew forward. He did the same with him before calling Jessica up. He sighed, stopping at her arm. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He sounded sad. Genuinely sad. Jessica frowned. “You’ve been bitten.” 

You all but jumped up from where you’d been leaning against the truck, going to Jessica’s arm. He was right, there were distinctly human teethmarks on her arm. 

“Shit,” you muttered, sliding your pack off to get out the first aid kit. Jessica’s eyes were wide. “We’ve got the stuff for this but you’re probably going to get a pretty cool scar…” 

“What the fuck!” Andrew yelled. You looked up. The man was aiming a gun at Jessica. You stepped in front of her, your arms spread wide. 

“Woah!” You said. “Gun down, we’re not a threat!” 

“She’s been bitten,” he said. “Stand aside.” 

“No!” 

“I don’t want to die,” Jessica was sobbing. “Please…” 

“I will kill you too,” the man aimed the gun at you. “Don’t make me.” You made the decision before really thinking, lunging for the man. He fired the gun, the bullet glancing off your shoulder, and turned the weapon so he could slam the butt of it into your stomach. He put all his weight behind it, sending you sprawling to the ground before he starting aiming again. You scrambled to your feet and tried to grab the gun as he tried to throw you off. The other soldier grabbed you by the collar from behind and threw you against the gate of the truck, the metal slamming into your stomach. You felt a sickening jolt just as the gun fired. 

“NO!” You shrieked, the man holding you down, your face against the metal. You fought to look to Jessica, to get to Jessica. “Let me go!” 

The man listened, letting you up and you ran for her. Andrew was over her already and you shoved him back. There was a gaping wound on her stomach. 

“It hurts,” she whimpered. She was crying. You tried to stem the bleeding but there was so much blood. 

“Andrew,” you were panting, gasping for breath. “The first aid kit, in the pack…” 

Jessica sobbed. Andrew was frozen. 

“Andrew!” 

“I’m sorry,” he was crying. “I’m sorry…” 

You looked down at her. Her eyes were wide. 

“I’m scared,” she said. “I don’t…” 

“It’s OK,” your face was wet. You delicately, gently, pulled her onto her lap. “You’re going to be OK sweetie. It’ll be OK, you’ll be OK, it’s OK…” 

You brushed her hair back. She grabbed your arm. 

“My mom,” her eyes searched yours. “My mom…” 

“You’ll get to see her again,” you tried to smile. “I’m sure she’s missed you, probably thinks I’ve been corrupting you all this time. It’s OK. It’ll be OK.” 

You felt her die, a strangled cry ripping through you as you collapsed against Andrew. He cautiously put his arms around you, Jessica’s body still between you. 

“Why!” You turned to the man who killed her. The gun was still in his hands. He didn’t say anything. You set her body down, gently, like you would a toddler who had fallen asleep against you, and got to your feet. Your head spun. You stalked toward him. “Why would you kill her? She was a child!” You shoved him. You didn’t care that he had a gun. He stumbled back. The other man raised his weapon for you. You didn’t care about him, either. “A CHILD!” 

You threw your whole body at him and he fell down. 

“She was infected!” He yelled at you, breathless. You fell to your knees. “She was infected. That’s how it spreads, through bites. Once someone’s bitten, it’s just a matter of time - sometimes just an hour or two - and they’re like them. There’s nothing anyone can do. It was better this way. I’m so sorry.” 

You sobbed. You felt Andrew’s hands on you, pulling you to your feet. He started moving you down the road. 

“Her body,” you turned, reaching for her. 

“That other guy wants to fucking shoot you,” he said quickly. “We have to keep moving, she’s gone, it doesn’t matter now, we have to go.” 

You weren’t sure how long you walked before he took his hands off you. It could have been five minutes or five hours. He’d grabbed the backpack, your shotgun. You stared straight ahead. You’d promised to keep her safe. You’d told her you were going to get her through this. And now she was dead. 

You kept running the attack over in your head again and again. What could you have done differently? What would have saved her? You catalogued every way you failed her, every way you let her die. 

Andrew said your name. You barely registered it. He said it again. 

“What?” You asked, looking back at him. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

You looked at your arms, your torso, but didn’t see anything. 

“No, like…” he paused. “I think you started your period but… it looks like a lot of blood for that. I have…had sisters, it looks like a lot of blood….” 

Your hand went to your lower stomach and you stopped in the street, right in the middle, a yellow dashed line in front of you, one behind. 

“It’s not a period,” you said, putting a hand between your legs for a moment and examining it. It was slick with blood. You wondered how you hadn’t felt it. You registered the cramping then, the sharp, stabbing pain of it breaking through the numbness. “I’m having a miscarriage.” 

You kept walking, the blood running down your legs. You put both hands over the small bump. You wanted to feel it as long as you could. Your child. The piece of Joel you carried with you. You’d failed your child, too. 

Andrew pulled you off the road as it got dark. You were in a daze. You couldn’t bring yourself to get cleaned up or pull a sleeping bag out of your pack. You lay down in the dirt and stared into nothing. 

“I’ll keep watch,” he said. “I can pull an all nighter. You sleep.” 

“It’s my birthday today,” you said softly. You cradled the bump. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

You considered the gun tucked in the waistband of your bloody pants. You knew that, if you tried that way, you’d succeed. It would be easy. Just one twitch of a finger and you could be done here. 

“Don’t do it alone.” That’s what Joel had said, when you’d told him about the way you felt sometimes. About the time you’d tried to die before. “Tell me. Always tell me.” 

“Don’t let anyone take you from me.” 

You took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, too.” 

You cried, closing your eyes, letting the numbness swallow you. 

A/N: Hi y'all. I'm so sorry for this. I know there's a ton of misery in this chapter, but here's why. I'm not just brutalizing my characters for no reason. Kid is meant to be Joel's mirror. She carries much the same trauma as him. She loses someone in her care and she loses her child. She was willing to do anything for Jessica and her baby and she still lost. What she does with that grief and pain and what Joel does with his are very different. They are two sides of the same coin, bound by trauma and love and loss. I hope you stick with their story in spite of the sad stuff and thank you for reading <3

[prettyboykatsuki]

warm-ups | nagi + sfw + worm

✬ wc ; 1k | ✬ tags ; gn!reader, fluff, established relationship, gardening + worms

✬ a/n ; i used to write warm-ups before writing and i haven't in a while. so i decided to try again and i think i'll keep doing it since it helps me get into the groove of writing.

the process is i have 4 wheels that help me decide a random noun for the prompt. i rolled bllk, nagi, sfw, with worm as the prompt.

Nagi doesn't really understand you.

A lot of the time, he has no idea about what goes on in your head. He's always been airheaded about how other people feel. Though Reo and everyone else dub him the lazy genius - it's not a title Nagi often feels deserving of. He likes soccer for different reasons, but mostly because it's interesting. Engaging, laziness aside.

But he's simple, at the end of the day. He doesn't like doing things that are hard and hates anything that troubles him. He's not in the business of changing for anyone or for any reason. Maybe it's the calmness of his character, but he always attracts the strangest people.

Passionate ones, more kindly. People like Isagi or Reo who seem to always be thinking about something or putting everything into it. Nagi tries in a different way, and only sometimes. Only when he thinks something is worthy of his attention and only to know about something he's personally intrigued by. He's sure his Bluelock alumni would call it his ego, and Nagi agrees with that assessment.

He likes playing with Reo and he's good at it. He likes being good at it. These simple, uncomplicated reasons make up most of his drive. Nothing complicated or hard, nothing like a puzzle. He's linear in his train of thought.

He wonders, often, why he attracts people who are so full of energy.

Nagi doesn't really understand how you've come into his life. You're... a different person to him. He likes you. There's not really any big, complicated reason other than the fact he likes you. It's easy to be around you.

And he was interested in you. How you so boldly confessed your feelings with an embarrassed smile and a head-bow so deep he couldn't see your face. Nagi was attracted to you because it's interesting. He doesn't think he's met anyone like you. Someone who is awkward in the way you are.

If Nagi is being honest, he thinks you're a little weird. You stumble over your words and overshoot your own confidence. You cry easily and often and get embarrassed about things he doesn't really wrap his head around being embarassing.

You only need to do something once to get over it but once seems to frighten you. You like a lot of the same things he likes, but you like things he's never heard of too.

And, you look pretty in the sun. You have a nice laugh, the kind that comes from your stomach and not your chest. You like holding his hand (and he likes holding yours, too)

Above all, Nagi loves you. To him, such a thing is uncomplicated. It's not that there's any big reasons.

(Though he has reasons, but he doesn't see them as something blinded by love. To him, it's objective truth that you're loveable. It's a linear train of thought. Anyone who knows you would think the same.)

Nagi can't understand a lot about you. Right now, he can't understand why you're sweating in the sunlight. It's early spring, the frost has melted and the sun has returned to stay.

Currently, you're wearing a sun-hat and overalls and gloves, working up a sweat as you dig up some garden beds. Nagi is there, sitting on something as you work. You begged him to just come spend time with you and it wasn't like Nagi was going to say no to you.

"You don't have to help," You had assured, maybe a little embarrassed by it "I just think it'd be nice to have company."

So Nagi has kept you company, and you haven't asked for much help other than the occasional prompt to pass something to you. Nagi has been reading Shounen Jump for most of his stay - but right now, he's having a hard time paying attention.

You're in two different worlds, and Nagi watches you in yours. You're putting worms in the soil, and you're talking to them. The sun is peeking through the leaves like they want to look at you much like he is. It feels like every bits of it's attention is on you.

You're smiling as you do it, unflinching as they squirm in your hands. Earthworms, you bought from somewhere in town - you put them gently in the soil. A bead of sweat rolls down your head, along the crown and down your cheek. You look dirty, hot and sweaty.

But you're still so bright, so warm. You hum a little to yourself, softly, as if you don't remember he's next to you. It's nice to see you like that.

"Thank you for the help," You say, to the worms. Not to Nagi, but the worms "Let's make a nice garden this year," You say to them, kindly. You watch them wiggle into the dirt and smile.

Nagi feels a little envious. He wonders if love is more serious of a thing, if he's feeling this way over some worms. He puts down the comic in his hands and finds himself squatting next to you, body moving all on it's own.

You jump a little at his presence before relaxing.

"Oh, Seishiro," You say. His name sounds nice when you say it "Sorry, are you getting bored? I'm sure it's no fun, sorry," You say apologetically. He shakes his head.

"No, it's okay. I want to help," He says. You look surprised.

"It's a lot of work, though?"

"It's okay," He says, rolling up his sleeves. He wants to say because he loves you but he thinks you'll make a funny face if he does. So instead he says "I want to help,"

You brighten. You beam at him, and Nagi thinks that love is very uncomplicated.

"Okay! I don't need much help but,"

Nagi doesn't hear all of it as he watches you talk. He doesn't know why you're so insistent on working for a garden that can wither at any time. He doesn't really understand you.

But maybe he doesn't need to, to love you this much.

[bratshaws]

through the hourglass 348. brb x oc

a/n: uwu (comments and reblogs are super welcome and encouraged!)

pairing: plus size!oc x rooster

warnings: none uwu

goodness gracious (pls read this one to know more what this fic is about!!)

chapter

1/

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-

They were still at the den, it was really fun and, it was early enough for the kids to stay awake. He had his arm around Beatrice while the other was around Nikki as she played with his watch, plucking the leather around his wrist, babbling a bit.

Rooster’s ears stayed in the convo, but his eyes slowly traveled to where Thomas disappeared inside. He didn’t like how he just…showed up in front of Bea.

He kept a watchful eye on the surroundings, subtly scanning the den for any signs of the unwelcome guest. Beatrice, catching the subtle shift in Rooster's demeanor, leaned her head against his shoulder. "You okay, Roos?"

Rooster looked down at her, a soft smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, just keeping an eye out. I don't like the way Thomas just popped up."

Beatrice nodded, understanding his concern. "It was weird. But let's not let it ruin our night. We're here to enjoy ourselves."

Rooster tightened his embrace around her, his focus shifting back to the ongoing conversations. Well,he tried to at least.

Evelyn, noticing Rooster's occasional glances, leaned over. "Hey, everything okay with you two?"

Rooster hesitated for a moment before responding. "Yeah, just a bit on edge with Thomas showing up like that. Can't shake off the feeling."

Evelyn frowned just in time for Jake to say ‘who?’ next to her “He’s here?”

Rooster nodded, his gaze still scanning the den. "Yeah, he showed up earlier, congratulated Bea on the game. Just seemed... off."

Evelyn exchanged a concerned look with Jake before turning back to Rooster. "Hm.”

“What?”

“Weird that he’s here,huh?”

"I guess…" Rooster admitted, "but I'd rather not take any chances. Bea's been through enough."

Evelyn just pursed her lips as she moved JJ to the opposite arm, ‘To be honest, the reason he’s here might be…I don’t know, he’s been flirting with a lot of girls lately, like, alumni,” Rooster’s eyes narrowed, “And I don’t know why he’s…here you know, weird.”

Rooster's protective instincts kicked even harder, like a donkey,as he absorbed Evelyn's words. A subtle furrow appeared on his forehead, and his jaw tightened. "Flirting with alumni? That's... unsettling. Why??"

Evelyn shrugged, glancing over at Beatrice, who was engaged in conversation with Maverick. "Hard to say. He's always been a bit of a player, but showing up at a reunion after all these years? Feels calculated." she rolled her eyes, “He’s pathetic, he tries to be those…I don’t know, coach wannabe bros.”

“Don’t feel like it.” considering he flinched when he first met Rooster.

“He tries to.” Evelyn repeats, gently bouncing JJ in her arms and rubbing a hand on his light blonde head, “I mean, did he try anything else?”

"He didn't try anything, but just…” he shrugs looking back at Bea who was busy still chatting up with Maverick “It’s just weird.” and he tries to relax after that.

He does.

Hours later, the den began to wind down as the reunion approached its conclusion. Some alumni bid their farewells, promising to keep in touch and meet up more frequently. Rooster, while still keeping an eye out, felt a subtle relaxation in the atmosphere.

Beatrice, sensing the shift, leaned over and whispered to Rooster, "Looks like things are winding down. Maybe we can head home soon?"

Rooster nodded, grateful for the suggestion. "Yeah, let's gather the kids and say our goodbyes. It’s getting late.” Rooster noticed Thomas once again lingering in the background. This time, he was deep in conversation with a group of alumni, but his gaze occasionally flickered in their direction.

Evelyn, catching Rooster's attention, whispered, while standing up as well "He's still watching. You want us to say something?"

Rooster hesitated, glancing at Beatrice. "No. Let's just leave peacefully. I don't want to escalate things unless he tries something." they bid their goodbyes to Evelyn and the others, to Maverick and then he picks a sleepy Nicole up while Beatrice carried both twins in her arms.

He flicks his gaze down at her as they walk to the car, “You sure you don’t want me to carry them?”

Beatrice smiled at Rooster's concern, "I've got them, Roos. You're already carrying Nicole, and I can manage the twins for a bit." She adjusted the twins in her arms, making sure they were comfortable.

Rooster nodded, his eyes still scanning the surroundings as they made their way to the car. The night air was cool, and the neighborhood was now quieter, with only a few groups of people lingering around.

As they approached the Bronco, Rooster helped Beatrice settle the twins in the back seats, making sure they were securely fastened in their car seats. Nicole, half-asleep, mumbled a soft goodnight to a random person when she had her cheek on her dad’s shoulder, head lolling to the side as he set her down as well. Rooster leaned in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead before closing the door.

Beatrice slid into the passenger seat, and Rooster took the driver's seat. The engine rumbled to life, and the Bronco rolled out of the parking lot, leaving the Den and the reunion behind.

The drive back home was quiet, the twins dozing off in the back seat. Beatrice stared out of the window, lost in her thoughts. Rooster, still on alert, occasionally glanced at her, his concern evident in his eyes.

"Hey," he said, breaking the silence, "you doing okay?"

Beatrice turned to him, offering a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bit tired. It's been an eventful night."

Rooster reached over to give her hand a comforting squeeze. "We'll be home soon. You did great at the game, by the way.”

“Thank you,Roos.” she smiles softly, “...are you okay?”

Rooster nodded, the corners of his lips curling into a half-smile. "Yeah, I'm good. Just keeping an eye out, you know? Thomas is... unsettling."

Beatrice sighed, her gaze fixed on the passing streetlights. "Well I don’t think he’s following us home,Roos." she says softly, “You’ll always rescue me huh?”

“I mean,” he smirks, proudly,”Gorgeous you can defend yourself, you’ve proven that but…I do like taking care of you. Partners, right?"

Beatrice nodded, the warmth of his words spreading through her. "Right. Partners." She reached over and entwined her fingers with his. As they pulled into the driveway, the soft glow of the porch light welcomed them back. Rooster turned off the engine, and they sat in the car for a moment, reluctant to disturb the peace that enveloped their home.

"We made it," Rooster said, breaking the silence. "Safe and sound."

Beatrice grinned, leaning over to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks for being my knight in shining armor tonight, Roos."

Rooster feigned a bow,. "Anything for my beautiful damsel. Now, let's get these sleepyheads inside." He hopped out of the car and went to the back to carefully unbuckle the twins and carry them inside.

Beatrice followed suit,grabbing Nicole and gathering some of their belongings and heading into the house. Nicole, still half-asleep, clutched her favorite stuffed animal just as the dogs trotted over to greet them.

“I’m going to tuck them in,alright?” he says, “Be right back.”

Rooster gently carried the twins to their room, tucking them into their respective cribs with the same care he displayed on the volleyball court. He placed a soft kiss on each of their foreheads and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. The dogs followed him, wagging their tails, content to have their family safely back home.

Meanwhile, Beatrice took a moment to unwind in the living room while still holding Nicole. He comes back seconds later to pick their oldest and rush back upstairs. Normally, she’d go with him…but boy is she spent.

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated the room, casting a warm ambiance. She sank into the plush sofa, reflecting on the events of the reunion.Beatrice enjoyed the quiet moment, the gentle hum of the air conditioner and the occasional creak of the floorboards underlining the peace of their home. 

Rooster returned to the living room, having made sure the twins were comfortably settled. He settled down beside Beatrice, a warm smile playing on his lips.

"Everyone's asleep," he whispered, as if afraid to disturb the tranquility. "I tucked them in and checked on the dogs. Now it's just us."

Beatrice smiles softly. "Thank you, Roos. You really are my hero tonight."

Rooster grinned, his eyes filled with affection. "Always, Bea. It's my favorite role."

The clock on the wall ticked away the minutes as Beatrice and Rooster shared a quiet moment in the living room. Rooster draped an arm around Beatrice, pulling her closer, and she nestled against him.

"You know," Rooster began, breaking the comfortable silence, "I was thinking about the game. You really crushed it out there."

Beatrice chuckled, her exhaustion giving way to a sense of accomplishment. "Well, I had a great team supporting me. And you were my lucky charm on the sidelines."

He grinned, playfully tousling her hair. "And I'll take that title with pride. But seriously, you were amazing, Bea."

“Hmmm….thank you.”

As they basked in the quietude, Rooster's fingers traced absent-minded patterns on Beatrice's arm. "You know, you never told me about the flooded basement back at Northride. What was that all about?"

Beatrice chuckled tiredly, the memories resurfacing. "Oh, it was just a burst pipe, nothing mysterious. But the rumors that spread were wild. Conspiracies and such…we were art students,Roos, creativity was our forte.”

“Hah,true.”

“What about you?” she asks softly, “And your time at UVA?”

Rooster's expression softened as he reminisced about his time at the University of Virginia. "Well, UVA had its own set of tales, but they were probably not as colorful as the ones at Northride. It was more about academic pressure and trying to figure out life post-graduation."

 "I can relate. The post-college transition is a journey in itself."

"Yeah, it's like stepping into the unknown," Rooster agreed. "But I have no regrets. It eventually led me to you, and that makes every challenge worthwhile."

“Aw…” she smiles more, ‘You are avoiding the subject, come on Roos, there has to be something.”

Rooster chuckled, his eyes gleaming with a mix of nostalgia and amusement. "Alright, you caught me. There's this one incident that stands out. You see, there was this legendary mascot rivalry between UVA and our neighboring college. It was all in good fun, of course."

Beatrice's eyes lit up with curiosity. "Mascot rivalry? Do tell!"

Rooster leaned back, his arms crossed, and began to recount the tale. "So, during one of the basketball games, our mascot—the Cavalier—decided to pull a prank on the rival college's mascot."

Beatrice laughed, eyes fluttering. "What happened next?"

Rooster grinned, clearly enjoying the retelling. "Well, the plan was going smoothly until they realized the rival mascot was a bit more...uhhh…energetic than expected. Long story short, there was a wild chase through the campus with two mascots running wild."

She giggled at the mental image. "Who won?"

"Neither, really," Rooster admitted with a laugh. "They both ended up tumbling into a fountain, soaked in water and struggling to get out of their costumes. It became the talk of the campus for weeks. "

Beatrice shook her head in amusement. "That's hilarious… I bet it was the talk of the town for a long time."

"Oh, absolutely," Rooster agreed. "It even made it to the local news. But you know what's even better?"

"What?"

Rooster leaned in with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I had it all on film but…lost it…and…” he stops a bit when he notices her head dropping again and again, ‘...maybe we should go to bed,honey.”

“M not sleepy.”

“Yes you are.” Rooster grinned, recognizing the subtle signs of Beatrice's obvious fatigue. "Come on, gorgeous. You need your beauty sleep, and I could use some cuddle time with my favorite girl."

 "Favorite girl, huh? I like that nickname…"

Rooster winked, "Always finding new ways to express my love, Bea. Now, let's get you to bed." he picked her up bridal style, “The right way.”

[popping-greenbean]

i want to get back the energy i had as a kid where i would just put down things that came into my head ,, this is a personal art post technically so ill allow myself some 2 am personal thoughts feel free to skip

im realizing.here doing the art school things and being constantly surrounded by students and profs all with high standards and high expectations bc of the reputation of this program,, seeing classmates work played on the screen or put up on the walls, upper year students work, award winning thesis films, alumni getting spots in big studios, films + series, its so so easy, encouraged, to focus entirely on improving, like how to consistently make a clearer pose, smoother line, more engaging story ideas.and. of course its necessary and important and adaptability and fast improvement is something good to strive for when my eventual goal is a job in the animation industry when skill and efficiency and reputation will be what gets employment opportunities

but right now at least it is so.difficult to want to improve in a way that matters. and pretty soon ill stop making any sense here but the competitive nature of .how commercial art works ,combined with that of the academic setting with everything we make getting graded has been making it all just a non-stop trucking along to complete one project after the other which i do think is giving us huge + quick improvements in our tool skills, observation, storytelling yadayada but i am so.., its easy to forget why i wanted to become an artist to begin with,, . like when i was 6 and scribbling dragons onto sheets of lined paper and of course looking back now the drawings are formless, illogical but at the time i was so proud because dragons were cool and i made my own dragon right there on the paper and it had cool horns and scales and that was all and it all has gotten so complicated and its like.i am working to improve my skills just for the sake of improving with so little wiggle room in my brain for original concepts and i need to remember the insane visions for full song animations and magic fight sequences and mary sue ocs that started and kept me drawing way back and anyway ill stop for now if you read this far i love you and pls be kind

[rosalindwrites]

Beyond the Dueling Arena

Pairing- Chazz Princeton x Reader

Word count- 870ish

Summary- Chazz and the Reader attend their Duel Academy alumni reunion. Amidst catching up with old classmates, they find themselves admitting feelings and admirations from the past.

The evening air was charged with nostalgia as Chazz Princeton stepped onto the familiar grounds of the Duel Academy. The alumni reunion had brought former students from all corners of the world, eager to revisit the place where their journeys as duelists had begun. Chazz couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation as he scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces.

Among the sea of attendees, Chazz's eyes locked onto someone he hadn't expected to see – you, one of his former rivals. You were engaged in a lively conversation with Alexis Rhodes, discussing your post-Duel Academy adventures. Chazz's heart raced as he approached, unsure of how the night would unfold.

"Chazz!" Alexis greeted with a warm smile. "Long time no see! Have you met up with everyone yet?"

"Not yet," Chazz replied, trying to mask his nerves. "But I just spotted someone I've been meaning to catch up with."

Following Alexis's gaze, you turned to face Chazz, your expression mirroring his surprise. The air was thick with unspoken tension as the two of you exchanged a nod of acknowledgment. It had been years since your intense duels at the Duel Academy, and now, here you were, face to face once again.

"Chazz Princeton," you said, a smirk playing on your lips. "Never thought I'd see the day when you willingly attended a reunion."

Chazz chuckled, his signature cockiness and confidence returning. "Well, I figured it was time for a visit. Plus, I heard there might be some good duels tonight."

The three of you shared a laugh, but as Alexis excused herself to greet another classmate, an awkward silence settled between you and Chazz. The unspoken history of rivalry and competition lingered in the air, but beneath it, there was something else – a connection that had survived the test of time.

"Surprised to see me?" you asked, breaking the silence.

Chazz smirked, the familiar banter between rivals resurfacing. "I thought you would've retired from dueling by now. Living a quiet, non-dueling life, perhaps?"

"Retired, yes. Quiet, not so much," you replied, a glint of mischief in your eyes. "What about you? Still the king of obnoxiousness?"

Chazz chuckled. "I've toned it down a bit. You know, adulthood and all that."

As the night progressed, Chazz and you found yourselves gravitating towards each other. The reunion became a backdrop for shared memories, laughter, and the occasional duel between old friends. The tension that had initially surrounded you and Chazz began to dissipate, replaced by a growing sense of ease.

Amidst the chatter and laughter, you and Chazz found a quiet corner to catch up. The years melted away as you reminisced about your time at Duel Academy, the duels, the victories, and the defeats. It was in this moment of shared vulnerability that Chazz felt a surge of courage to broach a subject that had lingered in the back of his mind for far too long.

"Remember our duels?" Chazz asked, his gaze intense.

"Vividly," you replied, a faint smile playing on your lips. "You were a tough opponent, but I always enjoyed our matches."

Chazz took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "There's something I've been meaning to say for a long time."

Your curiosity piqued, you met Chazz's gaze, encouraging him to continue.

"I never thought I'd admit this, especially not at a Duel Academy reunion," Chazz began, his voice sincere. "But those duels with you, they meant more to me than just competition. I... I respected you as a duelist, and I admired your strength."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprised by Chazz's unexpected confession. The air seemed to shift, charged with an unspoken tension.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is," Chazz continued, "I may have been obnoxious, and I may have acted like I didn't care, but the truth is, I did. I cared about what you thought of me, about how I measured up to you. And now, after all these years, I realize there's more to it than just rivalry."

You took a moment to absorb his words, the honesty in his gaze stirring something within you. The years of rivalry had masked a deeper connection, a mutual understanding that had evolved over time.

"Chazz," you began, a genuine smile forming, "those duels meant a lot to me too. I may have teased you about your attitude, but deep down, I respected you as well. You pushed me to become a better duelist, and I'm grateful for that."

As the weight of unspoken feelings lifted, Chazz and you found yourselves standing on the precipice of something new. The reunion, once a walk down memory lane, had become a turning point in your relationship. The acknowledgment of shared respect and admiration had laid the foundation for a connection that transcended the confines of Duel Academy.

The night continued, but now, there was a subtle shift in the air whenever Chazz and you were together. The unspoken tension had transformed into a quiet understanding, and the reunion became a celebration not only of the past but of the potential for something more. As the evening drew to a close, Chazz and you exchanged a lingering glance, the promise of a future yet to unfold.

A/N- Nothing like getting a little tipsy and writing a lil fan fic on Christmas Day. Ho ho ho hope everyone had a jolly day :)

[the-garbanzo-annex-jr]

by Dion J. Pierre

It is in this vexed climate that the HCJAA is seeking an urgent meeting with Gay to discuss “concrete plans to ensure the protection of Jewish students on campus.”

“Even before the current wave of antisemitism on campus, there had been a steady uptick in reported incidents of harassment, including physical assaults, verbal abuse, and graffiti of Hillel and other Jewish spaces,” the association pointed out. It also seeks an unambiguous condemnation of the Hamas pogrom from the university’s leadership, something so far conspicuous by its absence.

“There are deep concerns among the alumni about the destructive tone of conversation the university encourages by not swiftly and unequivocally condemning the terrorist attacks by Hamas,” Rebecca Claire Brooks, a co-founder of the HCJAA, told The Algemeiner in an interview on Thursday.

In the wake of Hamas’ atrocities, Harvard University has lost financial backing and faced sharp criticism for refusing to disavow students who signed the widely condemned letter that carried Bharmal’s signature. The controversies startled business and philanthropic leaders and prompted allegations that Harvard does not regard antisemitism as a significant issue.

According to Brooks, it is vital that the university establishes “whether or not there is a toxic culture at Harvard that allows a peddling of antisemitic discourse that calls all Jews colonizers, that calls for resistance by any means necessary, and that promotes very slanted views about the state of Israel.”

She stressed that HCJAA seeks “a fundamental shift in the campus culture in which students are able to have informed debates, to engage in critical thinking, to engage in moral reasoning without bullying and antagonism [from other] students.”

So far, Harvard has neither recognized nor agreed to hold a meeting with the HCJAA, which, Brooks said, is keen to discuss its “reasonable reforms.”

Other Jewish alumni cited in an HCJAA press release voiced similar concerns to Brooks.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Peter Bronstein, who graduated from Harvard in 1965. “The University has accomplished twin moral failures: allowing the widespread glorification of Hamas terrorism by its students and abandoning its responsibility to teach students how to express their ideas without resorting to violent discourse.”

[jakeluppin]

A long but good read on antisemitism at universities and what could/should be done on campuses. Really good, especially for those of us in academia. Full article below, but a few highlights I wanted to share:

Many students today have little exposure to ideological diversity on campus, and most agree on most politically fraught topics, such as abortion or transgender rights, said Eitan Hersh, a professor of political science at Tufts University. Since issues in the Middle East are so divisive, even among groups that otherwise tend to align politically, students don’t know how to talk about them. They are “not equipped to know how to deal with that,” Hersh said.

“Students have been entirely left alone to sort this out for themselves with zero institutional support, with zero attempts to organize any kind of rational discussion or conversation about the issue,” [Tyler Austin Harper, an assistant professor of environmental studies at Bates College] said. “It’s not a big surprise that they’re floundering when adults have been too cowardly to do their jobs.”

A pro-Palestinian demonstrator asked [Jared Levy, an 18-year-old freshman at the University of Texas at Austin] how he could defend Israel. “I sat there in the rain for an hour and a half talking to students about why I supported Israel,” Levy said. He talked about the importance of a Jewish homeland, about his conviction that Hamas was a terrorist organization, and that Israel had made mistakes but had a right to defend itself. Some of the students with the pro- Palestinian group, he said, didn’t understand what Hamas was and had just been told by friends or social media that Israel was committing genocide and was an apartheid state.

“A lot of students have been eager to engage in dialogue and weren’t just here to yell in my face,” Levy said. At the local Hillel, a Jewish campus-life organization with chapters on many campuses, he said they’ve discussed organizing a “neutral- ground dialogue.” But despite Levy’s success in engaging with students one on one, he doesn’t feel the campus is ready for group discussions. “We came to the conclusion that things need to cool down first,” he said.

A Jewish student’s nose is broken in a melee sparked by attempts to burn an Israeli flag. Messages declaring “Glory to our Martyrs” and “Divestment From Zionist Genocide Now” are projected onto the façade of a campus building. Jewish students huddle inside a campus library while protesters shouting “Free Palestine” bang on the glass walls.

With each new headline and video snippet that goes viral, the pressure on colleges to respond forcefully and quickly to incidents of antisemitism is building. So too is the pressure to resist calls from politicians, donors, and alumni to crack down on protesters in ways that stifle protected speech.

College leaders, who’ve been lambasted over the past few months for failing to tackle antisemitism with the same ardor they’ve confronted other forms of prejudice and hate, are having to make quick judgment calls under the harsh glare of the national spotlight and the war between Israel and Hamas.

The questions are complicated, and backlash is certain. What counts as antisemitism? How can campuses help Jewish students feel safe? And perhaps of greatest consequence for colleges, where is the line between protected speech and prohibited harassment, and how should students who cross it be disciplined?

College leaders today “face tremendous pressures from competing groups of students, faculty, alumni, and administrators,” said Ethan Katz, associate professor of history and Jewish studies at the University of California at Berkeley, one of several universities facing lawsuits over alleged antisemitism. “The number and intensity of those pressures is pretty widely underestimated by the public.”

The Chronicle spoke with more than 20 scholars, free-speech experts, faculty members, and students — all of whom echoed a similar message: Battling antisemitism is one of the most pressing challenges facing campus leaders today, and it is also one of the most difficult.

Many colleges have taken a typically academic approach to the situation, forming or expanding task forces on antisemitism, and often, Islamophobia. To protect students who feel threatened, these groups have proposed tightening security, clarifying reporting procedures, and improving mental-health supports. They’re examining speech codes and student-conduct policies to ensure they’re being applied evenly and fairly. The task forces themselves are proving controversial, especially when it comes to who should be appointed to them.

When campus leaders are called on to intervene in a dispute, the terrain can turn treacherous. If they discipline pro-Palestinian protesters over chants many consider antisemitic, they’re accused of trampling free-speech rights. If they defend the right to demonstrate, they’re accused of failing to protect Jewish students from antisemitism. Impartial stances are attacked as weak, sparking debates about whether campus leaders should comment at all.

In Utah, Gov. Spencer Cox has made it clear he doesn’t want the leaders of public colleges speaking out about the Israel-Hamas war, or any other current events. “I do not care what your position is on Israel and Palestine. I don’t,” he said on December 1 after the Utah Board of Higher Education passed a resolution requiring colleges and their leaders to remain neutral on such topics. The board also called on colleges to spell out the protections and limitations of their speech policies.

Punishing protesters has only stoked anger on some campuses. When the president of George Washington University, Ellen M. Granberg, denounced pro-Palestinian messages projected onto the library in late October as antisemitic and the university suspended the group responsible, Students for Justice in Palestine, demonstrators formed a new coalition. Declaring that “the student movement won’t be silenced,” they marched to the president’s home.

Tightening restrictions on when and where students could protest has often resulted in even rowdier clashes. At the entrance to the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, known as Lobby 7, pro-Palestinian protesters went ahead with a demonstration in November even after the area was left off a list of approved sites that the administration released the night before the planned event. Students clashed, some were suspended, and outrage followed.

In early December, that anger erupted on the national stage, when three university presidents testifying before a House congressional hearing on antisemitism appeared to waffle on a question about whether students should be punished for calling for the genocide of Jewish people. The backlash led to the resignation of one of the presidents, the University of Pennsylvania’s Elizabeth Magill, and was a factor in the resignation of another, Harvard University’s Claudine Gay.

Nationally, colleges have been accused of doing too little, too late. Between October 7 — when Hamas militants attacked Israel, killing 1,200 people and taking 240 hostage — and December 7, the Anti-Defamation League recorded more than 2,000 antisemitic incidents in the United States, compared with 465 during that period in 2022. At the same time, the free-expression group PEN America points out that there’s been a significant uptick in harassment of Muslim, Arab, and Palestinian students since the Israel-Hamas war broke out. Students have reported being called terrorists and having hijabs pulled off. Some politicians, including former President Donald J. Trump, have called for international students to forfeit their visas for participating in pro-Palestinian rallies. Three Palestinian American students were shot and injured — one seriously — on November 25 in Burlington, Vt., during their Thanksgiving break.

Pressure is building on colleges, and it’s coming from both Republicans and Democrats. Republicans have seized on rising antisemitism as evidence that the culture of higher education has dangerously liberal leanings. They’ve accused colleges of more aggressively enforcing speech and harassment codes when Black or Hispanic students accuse people of being racist and looking the other way when hateful, or even violent, speech is hurled at Jewish students.

More than two dozen colleges are under investigation by the U.S. Department of Education over complaints of antisemitism or Islamophobia. The vast majority of the investigations began after the October 7 Hamas attacks. The Education Department reminded colleges in November of their legal obligations under Title VI of the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to “take immediate and appropriate action to respond to harassment that creates a hostile environment.” That extends to discrimination against people based on shared ancestry or ethnic characteristics, including Jewish, Arab, Muslim, and Palestinian students.

Students complaining of antisemitism have sued several universities, including the University of Pennsylvania, the University of California system and its Berkeley campus, New York University, and Carnegie Mellon University.

Eyal Yakoby, a senior at the University of Pennsylvania who spoke at a news conference before the House hearing, is one of two students who sued his university, calling it an “incubation lab for virulent anti-Jewish hatred, harassment, and discrimination.” The lawsuit contends that Jewish students have been subjected to antisemitic chants, slurs, and graffiti, including a spray-painted swastika in an academic building.

Yakoby says the university has ignored his complaints, while aggressively disciplining those who harass other minority groups. “When it comes to the protection of Penn’s Jewish students,” the lawsuit states, “the rules do not apply.”

Meanwhile, the American Civil Liberties Union joined a pro-Palestinian group in suing Florida higher-education officials and Gov. Ron DeSantis after the Republican governor ordered public colleges in the state to “deactivate” campus chapters of Students for Justice in Palestine, and Chancellor Ray Rodrigues of the State University System of Florida conveyed that message to system presidents. That order, the plaintiffs said, violated the First Amendment.

Threats are also coming from state politicians, including Democrats. On December 9, Gov. Kathy Hochul of New York said in a letter that a call for genocide made on a public-college campus would violate state and federal law, as well as codes of conduct. Colleges that failed to discipline students for engaging in such behavior, she wrote, would face “aggressive enforcement action.”

To Jeffrey Melnick, an American-studies professor at the University of Massachusetts at Boston whose research interests include Black-Jewish relations, reports of antisemitism have turned into a “moral panic”: They have roots in a real situation but have been heightened out of fear. Colleges need to carefully distinguish, he says, between true instances of antisemitism and those he believes shouldn’t be considered antisemitism, such as chanting “Intifada revolution.”

If phrases like that make Jewish students uncomfortable, colleges need to help them understand their history and what they mean to the Palestinian movement, said Melnick, who is Jewish.

“Our main job as university instructors is ‘teaching the conflicts,’” he said. “You don’t shy away from them. You say: ‘This is complicated. A lot of people feel really invested in this, and now we need to kind of drill down and figure out what it all means.’”

While antisemitism needs to be confronted, Melnick said, the “panic” is distracting from the continuing violence in Gaza as well as other forms of hate on campuses. When college presidents are called on to condemn antisemitism and “no questions are asked” about how they’re handling Islamophobia, he said, “that silence speaks really loudly to me.”

Kenneth S. Stern, now director of the Bard Center for the Study of Hate, in 2004 drafted what became known as the “working definition” of antisemitism as a way to help data collectors identify trends in such incidents. Stern identifies antisemitism as “a certain perception of Jews, which may be expressed as hatred toward Jews.” He goes on to say, “Rhetorical and physical manifestations of antisemitism are directed toward Jewish or non-Jewish individuals and/or their property, toward Jewish community institutions and religious facilities.”

The definition also provides examples of antisemitic acts, including “denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination,” “drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis,” and “holding Jews collectively responsible for actions of the state of Israel.”

Though other definitions of antisemitism exist, Stern’s is one of the most widely accepted, having been adopted by the U.S. Department of State and the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance. In 2019 then-President Trump required all federal agencies, including the Education Department, to use Stern’s definition when assessing violations to Title VI.

The move drew widespread criticism, especially from Stern, who considered it an attack on free speech. Using the definition in Title VI enforcement has a “chilling effect” on administrators, who may try to over-correct speech violations out of fear of being sued, he told The Chronicle.

Such controversies have surfaced repeatedly in recent months. Chants like “Globalize the Intifada” and “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free,” have become staples of pro-Palestinian protests.

Rep. Elise Stefanik, Republican of New York, demanded a yes or no answer during the House hearing in December about whether calling for genocide — which she’d earlier equated with such pro-Palestinian chants — would warrant discipline. None of the presidents pointed out that the meanings of those phrases, and whether or not they’re antisemitic, are contested. The impression they left in those deer-in- the-headlights moments, when they all insisted that context was important, was that they wouldn’t immediately condemn actual, explicit calls for the elimination of the Jewish people.

Many Jews and their supporters do see the chants as calling for violence, the destruction of Israel, and the genocide of Jewish people across the world. But to many of the pro-Palestinian demonstrators, including students, the calls are for the liberation of Palestinians and the return of land they believe belongs to them.

Problems arise when definitions of antisemitism, such as Stern’s, are used as speech codes, said Will Creeley, legal director at the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE), a free-speech advocacy group. Many of the examples listed under Stern’s definition are protected speech under the First Amendment, as are pro-Palestinian chants, even some cases when one calls for “horrific acts, including genocide.” Other acts, especially ones that are true threats or incitements to violence, go beyond the bounds of the First Amendment, Creeley said.

“To impose a blanket ban on certain sentiments or phrases,” he added, “would imperil a great deal of constitutionally protected expression.”

In an initial hearing on antisemitism, in November, House Republicans spent much of the time blasting campus offices of diversity, equity, and inclusion, accusing them of dividing students and fomenting hatred, especially against Jewish students. Some argued that such offices actually encourage anti-Jewish sentiments by dividing groups of people into oppressors and oppressed and failing to see Jews, whom many regard as relatively privileged white people, as among those oppressed. In the second hearing, with the college presidents, Republican representatives repeatedly raised questions about whether Harvard was disciplining students for racist acts but not antisemitic ones.

A recent article on Jewish Insider.com described deep rifts within the current and former leadership of prominent Jewish communal organizations about whether campus diversity offices can be partners in combating antisemitism. Two former longtime heads of the Anti-Defamation League and American Jewish Committee argued that those offices and the infrastructure they support only worsen problems for Jews. Leaders of those organizations have recently urged members to work with diversity offices to better incorporate Jewish concerns into the DEI structure.

Meanwhile, lawmakers have taken advantage of the spotlight on antisemitism to intensify attacks on campus diversity offices. U.S. Rep. Dan Crenshaw, a Republican from Texas, introduced a bill in December that would strip federal funding for any university that requires students to write diversity statements, blaming them for the spread of antisemitism on college campuses.

“Make no mistake — the DEI bureaucracy is directly responsible for a toxic campus culture that separates everyone into oppressor vs. oppressed,” he said in a news release announcing the legislation, which also bans diversity statements as a condition of employment.

Paulette Granberry Russell, president of the National Association of Diversity Officers in Higher Education, calls such critiques “an orchestrated attempt to discredit and dismantle diversity, equity, and inclusion efforts in higher education.” She added that “these attempts by individuals, well-funded organizations, and legislators who have leveled such criticisms and misrepresentations stand in opposition to higher education’s efforts to create more diverse and inclusive campuses and experiences for all students.”

Many diversity offices, Granberry Russell said, provide opportunities for cross- cultural dialogues and encourage students from various racial and cultural groups to collaborate on community-service and other projects.

Georgina Dodge, vice president for diversity and inclusion at the University of Maryland at College Park, said her office is working closely with a task force on antisemitism and Islamophobia created in November at the main campus in College Park.

“Within our department, we have a unit dedicated to supporting any member of our community who has experienced hate or bias, which includes antisemitism,” Dodge wrote in an email to The Chronicle. “This has been a key element of our work for years, and recent events have only underscored the importance of this kind of care on our campuses.”

Granberry Russell agrees. “What is evident today is that there is much more work ahead,” she wrote in an email to The Chronicle. “But to ignore the work, and the evidence-based research that informs the work, of offices specifically designed to respond to the needs of a diverse campus, and to conclude that such offices” contribute to antisemitism is “ill-informed and short-sighted.”

Some, however, question whether diversity offices are equipped to handle the complexities of antisemitism and Islamophobia, especially at a time when their work is under siege from right-wing groups that have succeeded in getting many banned.

“Antisemitism doesn’t fit with what is generally DEI’s focus today — on structural issues of equity and inclusion,” said Berkeley’s Katz, who’s also faculty director for the UC flagship’s Center for Jewish Studies. In 2019, he co-founded the university’s Antisemitism Education Initiative, which has worked closely with campus groups, including the university’s DEI office, to educate people about the roots and different forms of anti-Jewish bias and hatred. That kind of close cooperation with diversity offices, he said, is somewhat of a rarity across higher education, as well as corporations.

“It’s clearly very difficult for DEI professionals to figure out what to do with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict,” Katz said. “When attacks are coming from white nationalists shouting ‘Jews will not replace us,’” in Charlottesville, Va., “it’s much easier to wrap your head around it and get on board.” But when the hostile language is coming from the left, and the terminology is disputed, the connections to hatred and exclusion might be harder for diversity officers to grasp without additional training and education, Katz said.

Many students today have little exposure to ideological diversity on campus, and most agree on most politically fraught topics, such as abortion or transgender rights, said Eitan Hersh, a professor of political science at Tufts University. Since issues in the Middle East are so divisive, even among groups that otherwise tend to align politically, students don’t know how to talk about them. They are “not equipped to know how to deal with that,” Hersh said.

Colleges have failed to help students navigate “one of the most complicated geopolitical issues in the 21st century,” said Tyler Austin Harper, an assistant professor of environmental studies at Bates College who frequently writes about issues involving politics, culture, and race.

Part of an administrator’s job is encouraging open debate about complicated topics, he said. Rather than censoring student speech, colleges should be encouraging faculty members to model how to have conversations with people who disagree with them.

“Students have been entirely left alone to sort this out for themselves with zero institutional support, with zero attempts to organize any kind of rational discussion or conversation about the issue,” Harper said. “It’s not a big surprise that they’re floundering when adults have been too cowardly to do their jobs.”

That’s assuming that students are ready to have those conversations. “A lot of campuses are struggling with what to do now,” said Todd Green, director of campus partnerships at Interfaith America, which works to promote greater understanding among people of different religious backgrounds. “Do you try to bring students together now, or wait?”

In a different time, his group might have suggested bringing people from different faiths together in a room to try to find some common ground. To many, though, the issues at a time of daily bloodshed are too fraught, the emotions too raw. People from opposite sides may be shouting at each other, but there’s little talking, Green said.

Interfaith America, he added, “isn’t traditionally a crisis-response group. But we’re in the midst of a crisis that, in my years of higher education, is the most tense it’s ever been on campuses — even compared with post 9/11. In this moment, it’s very difficult to bring students together to try to build relationships.”

Some students, like Jared Levy, an 18-year-old freshman at the University of Texas at Austin, are doing their best to connect. Levy went to a Jewish boarding school in New York City, where his parents are both rabbis. In November, hundreds of UT students walked out of class to join in a large pro-Palestinian demonstration. Levy, with an Israeli flag pinned on his backpack, noticed a small group of Jewish students standing quietly off to the side. “People are being very cautious. You don’t want to be the next student to get punched in the face,” Levy said, referring to an incident at Tulane University where a Jewish student was smacked with a megaphone during a tussle over an Israeli flag.

A pro-Palestinian demonstrator asked him how he could defend Israel. “I sat there in the rain for an hour and a half talking to students about why I supported Israel,” Levy said. He talked about the importance of a Jewish homeland, about his conviction that Hamas was a terrorist organization, and that Israel had made mistakes but had a right to defend itself. Some of the students with the pro- Palestinian group, he said, didn’t understand what Hamas was and had just been told by friends or social media that Israel was committing genocide and was an apartheid state.

“A lot of students have been eager to engage in dialogue and weren’t just here to yell in my face,” Levy said. At the local Hillel, a Jewish campus-life organization with chapters on many campuses, he said they’ve discussed organizing a “neutral- ground dialogue.” But despite Levy’s success in engaging with students one on one, he doesn’t feel the campus is ready for group discussions. “We came to the conclusion that things need to cool down first,” he said.

Other students, like Katie Halushka, a Jewish senior at George Washington University, also wouldn’t be comfortable participating in an open forum or other type of civil discourse. While she hasn’t felt threatened much on campus, even after Students for Justice in Palestine projected messages on a campus building, she’s still tried to avoid talking about the war out of fear that it could permanently sever some of her relationships.

“It’s been sort of a ‘damned if you do, damned if you don’t’ situation,” Halushka said. “If you say anything, someone will be upset with you.”

A popular move among college administrators has been to establish advisory groups to combat antisemitism and Islamophobia. They are typically made up of faculty members, experts, and sometimes students.

Most of the groups, often called task forces, lack the authority to make changes or respond directly to incident reports, but they meet multiple times a week to evaluate campus policies and climate.

Following its creation in early November, Columbia University’s 15-person Task Force on Antisemitism first met in full in mid-December. Columbia has been one of the most tumultuous campuses in recent months, with several tense rallies, dueling faculty statements, and clashes between students. It’s one of the colleges under investigation by the Department of Education for incidents of alleged antisemitism and Islamophobia. The university also banned two pro-Palestinian groups — Students for Justice in Palestine and Jewish Voice for Peace — saying the groups held “unauthorized” events that included “threatening rhetoric and intimidation.” The following week, 400 students and 200 faculty members protested the suspensions.

One of the group’s main goals is to evaluate the university’s policies on free speech and demonstrations, said Nicholas Lemann, a co-chair of the task force. When Columbia suspended the student groups, many on campus were unclear whether it was on the grounds of an existing campus policy or if the administration had created a new one. Once the group understands the specifics of the policies, Lemann said, they’ll recommend how to revise them.

He also hopes the group can study the root cause of discomfort among Jewish students, evaluate where antisemitism is present in classrooms, and include lessons on antisemitism in orientation programs for incoming freshmen.

“This is not an easy moment at our campus and many other campuses,” Lemann said. “But I do think that our charge from the president and the way we have been working so far makes me optimistic that we can produce something useful.”

Some task forces have had a rockier start, though. Ari Kelman recently resigned as co-chair of a Stanford University subcommittee on antisemitism, bias, and communication, after some controversy about his writings on the difficulties of defining antisemitism.

David Wolpe, a rabbi at Sinai Temple in Los Angeles, arrived at Harvard University’s Divinity School as a visiting scholar planning to do research and teach a class on Jewish spirituality. But since October 7, combating antisemitism has become his “full-time job.”

Amid a whirlwind of complaints over her response to the war and a highly publicized statement from a coalition of student groups solely blaming Israel for “all unfolding violence,” Gay, who was then Harvard’s president, called Wolpe asking for help. She was “clearly shaken,” Wolpe said, and he agreed to join a new advisory panel to help her respond to antisemitism on campus.

Wolpe’s inbox has since been filled with reports of antisemitism at Harvard, and he’s spent much of his time talking with administrators, donors, and alumni about the problem. But following Gay’s testimony during the House hearing this month, Wolpe met a breaking point. In a now-viral X thread, he announced his resignation from the panel.

While Wolpe anticipated that the university would make changes to campus, he said it wasn’t moving fast enough to discipline students, define antisemitism, enforce current regulations, or begin “serious education about Judaism and antisemitism.” Gay’s testimony was the final straw. “I saw what was going on as a five-alarm fire,” Wolpe said. “The way it was being treated was a sort of slow- burning flame.”

The focus, he said, should be on creating civil discourse and communication. Many campuses have become “screaming echo-chambers” where students find it impossible to have a conversation with someone whose view is different from their own, he said.

“If you can’t model civil discourse at Harvard University, where do you expect it?” Wolpe said.

There’s no sign that the political, cultural, and legal pressures on colleges over their handling of antisemitism will let up anytime soon. In addition to investigating the responses to antisemitism at Harvard, the University of Pennsylvania, and MIT, the House Committee on Education and the Workforce has set up an email address to report antisemitism on college campuses.

Wealthy donors will continue to flex their muscle, and faculty groups will continue to push back. The president of the American Association of University Professors, Irene Mulvey, issued a statement on December 12 saying that universities are obliged to protect both student safety and free expression. “We must not allow partisan actors to exploit this moment to demand further control over university curriculum and policy in order to shape American higher education to a political agenda,” she wrote.

Student protests continued to reverberate as the semester came to a close. Many of the demonstrators’ tactics have become increasingly disruptive — sit-ins, occupying buildings past normal hours of operation, and directly targeting campus programs and partnerships with Israel.

Colleges have ramped up their consequences as well. On December 11, 41 Brown University students were arrested after holding a pro-Palestinian sit-in at a university building and refusing to leave before 6 p.m. The next day, Rutgers University suspended a chapter of Students for Justice in Palestine on its New Brunswick campus for “disrupting classes, a program, meals, and students studying” and “allegations of vandalism,” according to a letter an administrator sent the organization. The student group accused the university of applying a “racist double standard” and attempting to silence Palestinian voices. Rutgers is the first public college to suspend the group.

As war continues to rage in the Gaza Strip, those who are pleading for a free exchange on campus of even sharply divergent opinions worry it may never come. Melnick, the professor from the University of Massachusetts at Boston, said that despite his “annoyingly optimistic” nature, he’s never seen the campus climate as grim as it has been over the past few months. And, with no easy solutions, some fear the turmoil could deepen in the new year.

An incident at Syracuse University in December underscored just how fraught things have become. Even a seemingly innocuous event — in this case an advertised study session before finals — can become a flashpoint. Students were gathered in the student center on December 14, three days after the university’s chancellor had released a statement saying that calling for the genocide of any group of people would violate the university’s conduct code. One student had taped a flier to her laptop that read “globalize the Intifada.” Some students complained they felt threatened. A campus administrator asked the student to remove it and she refused, a video posted on Instagram showed. The administrator told her the word called for genocide, and constituted harassment. She told him the word meant uprising and did not call for genocide.

A campus spokeswoman said other students had similar fliers that they were told to put away in their notebooks or book bags and that when they didn’t, they were told such refusal violated the student-conduct code. It’ll be up to the university’s Community Standards office to determine what, if any, punishment they’ll face.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Roland Fryer

Published: May 9, 2024

The anti-Israel protests on college campuses present a puzzle for observers of academic norms and mores. Today, even relatively minor linguistic infractions, like the failure to use someone’s preferred pronouns, are categorized as abuse at many elite institutions, some of which even define potentially offensive speech as “violence.” One need not even speak to run afoul of campus speech codes; I recently participated in a training in which we were warned of the consequences of remaining silent if we heard someone “misgender” someone else.

Definitions of “harmful” speech have become so capacious that one assumes they include antisemitism. In some cases, they surely do: A university wouldn’t take a hands-off approach to a student or faculty member who expressed prejudice against Jews in the manner of Archie Bunker or the Charlottesville marchers. Yet that’s what many of them have done when faced with protesters’ speech that is offensive to Jews, even when it crosses the line into threats, intimidation and harassment.

At a December congressional hearing, the presidents of Harvard, Penn and MIT struggled to answer when Rep. Elise Stefanik (R., N.Y.) asked whether “calling for the genocide of Jews” violates the schools’ “code of conduct or rules regarding bullying and harassment.” Two of the presidents lost their jobs, but the central question remains unresolved: How could it be that the university is zealous about policing pronouns but blasé about the advocacy of hateful violence?

For someone who prides himself on adherence to fact, reason and rationality, trying to follow the logic of university decision-making over the past five years has been a mind-bending experience. But universities are also political entities, where competing interests vie for influence over the function and purpose of the institution. In the case of the protests, two competing interests have made themselves heard most loudly: students and faculty who are hostile to Israel and alumni donors who see the protests as antisemitic. Caught between them are administrators, who must figure out how to balance these interests without entirely losing the faith of either group.

This dynamic can be explained by economic theory. In the early 1970s, economist Michael Spence introduced the concept of signaling, which has since become one of the foundations of information economics and earned Mr. Spence the 2001 Nobel Memorial Prize in Economics. This seminal concept helps explain how individuals and organizations communicate their attributes or intentions in situations of information asymmetry.

The best-known application is the job market. Employers and potential employees face a situation in which applicants have more information about their productivity than the employer, since the employer can’t directly observe those qualities before hiring. To overcome this asymmetry, job seekers engage in signaling—taking actions that can credibly convey information about their abilities. Such signals include everything from educational credentials to the way the applicant dresses for an interview.

When I encountered Mr. Spence’s model in graduate school, I was mesmerized. My doctoral dissertation extended his work to understand underinvestment in education in some black communities. The basic economics also seem applicable to what’s going on now on college campuses.

The key idea is that the protests present university administrations with a two-audience signaling quandary: Behaviors that appease students may anger alumni, and vice versa. Like a job applicant’s potential productivity, university administrators’ political preferences are hidden from students and alumni, but they may signal them in various ways. They may choose a liberal commencement speaker rather than a conservative one, they may create programs that emphasize “inclusiveness,” and so on. Students and alumni observe these strategic disclosures of preference, and each group decides whether to accept the decision or agitate against it.

University administrators whose preferences align most closely with their alumni will ignore the students and simply do what they think is best, as the University of Florida’s president did when he banned encampments and declared that the school is “not a daycare.” Those whose views align with the protesting students will do the opposite.

But most top administrators don’t have such strong preferences. They will engage in a high-wire act of trying to appease both students and alumni. If students decide “safety first” is the most important initiative on campus, administrators—even if they disagree—will adopt stances consistent with that and hope the alumni don’t revolt too much. If a few months later students set up encampments and chant anti-Israel slogans, then administrators will also adopt stances consistent with that and, again, hope the alumni don’t complain too much.

The congressional hearings revealed that this signaling strategy was at work. The three presidents would risk alienating students if they disavowed anti-Israel slogans and alumni if they endorsed them. So they offered lawyered-up equivocations that signaled confusion and weakness.

Economic theory can explain why the situation on so many campuses has spiraled out of control and why no interested party—neither students nor donors nor seemingly anybody else—has anything good to say about how administrators are handling the protests. But economics can’t address the more essential issue at play, which is moral. Elite universities decided years ago that they would adopt a basic principle: Any speech act that attacks, questions or even declines to affirm the self-understood identity of another constitutes harm worthy of punishment.

I may not like that principle, but it’s now a fait accompli. And if you’re going to punish one person who violates it, you have to punish everyone who violates it. To permit attacks on one identity group while prohibiting attacks on others is worse than hypocrisy—it is profoundly immoral. If administrators had the courage of their stated convictions, if they had principles rather than merely gestures meant to signal their status as good liberals, the most egregious antisemitism on campus would have been stopped before it could snowball.

Mr. Fryer is a professor of economics at Harvard, a founder of Equal Opportunity Ventures and a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute.

[iimtcollege]

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[appalamutte]

bitty is the sole responsibility for, like, half of the samwell student body’s freshman fifteen. he’s the go to for late-night study snacks. for club meetings that promised newcomers food. for floor movie nights who are sick of pizza. for all sports teams who have to bulk. for faculty luncheons and sorority picnics. for research conferences. for festival days and tailgates. for homecoming week parades. for any and all event or matter that would need a bite to eat.

the haus is his dispensary and the team starts charging a $3 entrance fee for pick-ups. they set up tables on the quad for when bitty panic-bakes and sell half of the stock (bc they have to eat the other half obviously). they repair haus maintenance issues with the money they rack up. kegsters suddenly become much more popular. other teams suddenly start personally inviting bitty to their parties. there’s a facebook page for his campus appearances with pie tins. there’s a twitter hashtag, #bittythebest, that trends every other week when he plays with new ideas for recipes.

bitty slowly becomes samwell famous. he gets multiple front-page stories in the swallow. he’s asked to cater for committee and alumni banquets. people recognize him everywhere—founder’s, annie’s, stop-n-shop. it starts driving up his engagement on his youtube channel nearly exponentially. students from neighboring colleges are reaching out. he’s asked to bring food to away games by the team they’re playing against. he even gets a small feature in the boston globe, if you could believe it. it’s framed and hung in the haus kitchen.

does he prioritize his baking over his classes? sometimes, mostly. he knows he’s not at risk of losing his hockey scholarship just yet, though maybe he’s a little embarrassed when his mama asks how his classes are going, and maybe he can’t look his advisor in the eye when midterm grades roll around. but it’s income, it’s fun, and it’s all worth it. especially when he starts to see jack tense up less when they’re out in public, when jack’s no longer the one drawing all the attention. jack promises people don’t recognize him as much anymore, but bitty can still see lingering effects of being a zimmermann and being in public in a hockey town, and he hates it every time jack silently panics when they’re approached.

so when they’re walking back from annie’s and get stopped on the bridge crossing the river, and bitty can see jack brace himself for the attention, only to let out a small sigh of relief when everyone’s turned toward bitty and asking for pictures, bitty knows it’s wholly, completely worth it.

[royal-confessions]

“I live in Switzerland and there’s an article going around of Archduke Alexander who’s now engaged to the girl people were saying he cheats on but that’s not even the juicy part! Allegedly she’s been trying to marry into a royal family and social climb and targeted Alexander. Her name is Natacha Roumiantzoff I believe. She claims to be a Countess related to the extinct Russian royal and went to schools her family couldn’t afford. Her LinkedIn has her on a Le Rosey (most expensive school in the world) alumni but she never went there. Why are there so many people like this somehow marrying into these families! He’s not even rich so I wonder if he was the original target!” - Submitted by Anonymous

“YOU GUYS!!! Did anyone else hear about how Alex de Hapsburg’s engaged now and his fiancée faked a story that she’s a Russian countess!?!?!? Like HOW!! And WHY do these people always marry into the Luxembourg(h?)’s lol the tea this family gives us!!” - Submitted by Anonymous