#sunday night i left the heater on by accident. and they were next to it. and it dried out the leather SO badly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whitelionspirit · 3 years

Text

Pale Fire: Strange Habits

Pairng: Ace x Reader

Series: Modern au of the life of Ace and the reader.

Scenario: Over the last several weeks Ace has been huddling up in your room. It doesn’t help that your feelings for him have been solidified for a while now.

wc: 2.6k

warning: non just fluff and unsure feelings

a/n: It is here! The first part of this series I talked about a few weeks ago. Here a little bit about it if you missed x . This is not in order of events the story all comes together in different peeks into their lives

After another exhausting day at work and checking up on some assignments, you were ready for bed. Your usual bed stealer was already tucked into the cozy corner near the wall. His soft snores were your only indications that he was asleep. How you had ended up in this arrangement, you weren't sure anymore. Though it didn't bother you as the man was a walking heater. So in the dead of winter, you could care less as he kept you extremely warm.

Yawning, you close your laptop and move from your desk, and head towards the bed. Running a hand through your hair, you sit down on the edge of the bed. Leaning forward, you click off the desk lamp until the room is dark.

Crawling under the covers, you sighed happily at the warm feeling surrounding you; it was comforting. Shifting onto your side, you faced the wall where Ace was soundly still asleep.

You could easily make out his figure due to the street lights coming in from outside, making the room visible. He was laying on his stomach, hugging the pillow to his chest as his bareback was exposed to you.

You had known for a while that you had feelings for him, but you were too afraid to say anything to him. Perona had been on you lately about it, especially since Ace had been spending more time sleeping in your bed than his own in the last few weeks.

Why exactly, you weren't sure, but it didn't bother you much. He did love to be around you a lot, and you learned early on that he stripped in his sleep. It was a bit embarrassing at first, but you came to expect it throughout your friendship. Tonight was one of those rare times where he had kept his boxers on.

You smiled fondly at the memories as you continue to stare at the rise and fall of his back. Your eyes shifted downwards to the ink that littered his backside. What once was a skull and crossbones was now half a tattoo and a large amount of scarring. While you knew the story behind it as it happened before you even met the man. The sight of it made you emotional for some reason; Ace didn't like talking about it very much. Not that you blamed him, it was a horrific accident that left him very badly hurt with side effects even today.

The loud snore broke through the silence, making you freeze at the noise. You snorted as Ace's breathing went back to normal as he shifted slightly towards you.

Feeling content, you finally snuggled down into the covers and closed your eyes. Sleep finally overtook you as the day's events caught up with you finally.

Hot.

It was overwhelming and itchy, as if your whole body was on fire and unable to get away from it. Your mind raced as the intensity continued until something hard punctured it making it burst open. Your eyes fly open in a rush as you sit up with a start. Heart racing, you placed a hand on your heated skin to only cringe at the slick wetness that came off of you. Looking down, you noticed your body and T-shirt are soaked with your sweat. Still trying to catch your breath, you stare off into the still dark room.

You couldn't have been asleep for long, but what was that strange feeling you had never felt before. Your eyes finally adjusted again as you turn your head towards Ace. Who had somehow rolled over in his sleep and was now wrapped tightly around your body.

Well, that explains that issue. You supposed the man was still sound asleep as his arms tightened on your waist. The heat that radiated off of him was a lot. His leg was hooked over your thigh as he snored softly into your pillow.

"You are such a pain, Portgas, you know that?" You mumbled as you tried your best to settle back into the sheets ignoring the damp clothing you wore with the older man clinging to you like a monkey.

He didn't reply, but you took his snoring as a sign that he could care less. Closing your eyes again, you drift back off, not to be disturbed too.

...

The following morning was a noisy one but having lived in the house for almost over a year now, you grow used to it. Rolling over in your still half-asleep state, your eyes blur, not fully awake as you stare at the wall. The fuck how did you end up on the opposite side of the bed this time. Rolling back over, you noticed that your usual bed companion was nowhere to be seen.

Weird.

He must have gotten up already, which was odd for him. Ace usually slept in late on Sunday, but it seems today was a rare occasion when he didn't. Grabbing for your phone, the screen lights up to show it is a little past noon.

A little later than your own wake-up time but the little extra sleep was nice. Pushing the covers off yourself and getting out of the bed heading to the bathroom. After relieving yourself, you head down the stairs and into the chaos. The excited chatter of Luffy and Perona could be heard as you enter the kitchen. They don't pay you any mind as Luffy excitedly leans over the kitchen island and watches your best friend cook away.

The sight was very comical as Perona tried to push Luffy away, who was happily drooling at the presence of the sizzling meat. Giggling, you open up the fridge and grab for the jug of orange juice; shaking the container, you close the fridge behind you.

"Oh, (name) finally up, I see," Perona said, looking over at you.

Smiling at her, you open up the cabinet next to you and grab for a cup. "Yeah, guess I needed the extra sleep." You replied, turning back to them and pouring your drink.

"Well, I'm glad you came down when you did because I could use your help with cooking. No one else is around yet, so I decided to make a big brunch for everyone." She said as she cracked a few more eggs into another pan.

"You are so awesome, Perona!" Luffy said as he sat on the counter with a smile on his face.

You smiled at the sight even though this situation was a relatively regular one in your home. It always warms your heart because growing up, your luck with long-lasting friendships wasn't the greatest. So living here with some fantastic people made you emotional at times.

"So I see Ace slept in your room again last night." You froze at your friend's words as she peeked over at you from behind Luffy.

A guiltily blush crept its way up to your face. You looked away from her and stared into the living room. "Ugh yeah, he did; it's no big deal, just used to it." You mumbled.

"I see," she said slyly, making your face burn hotter with embarrassment.

"That's pretty normal for Ace. I think he's always clung to people that make him comfortable. He did a lot of that when we were kids and later with Deuce and Marco. Though for a while, he didn't think after his last relationship, which ended pretty badly, especially after the accident." He trailed off for a moment. "With you, for some reason, he started doing it again, but I'm glad we were all worried about him." Luffy grinned at you.

You were stunned. Ace had never mentioned anything before, not that you should be surprised. Despite his easy-going and friendly persona, Ace was relatively private on some matters of his life. Which never bothered you because you knew with time if it was necessary, he would tell you eventually.

"I wasn't aware, but I'm glad he feels so comfortable with me. I feel the same about him. He makes me feel secure, I suppose, is the right word."

Luffy looked at you thoughtfully and looked away, but you caught a hint of a smile anyway.

"Speaking of Ace, where is he? He wasn't in bed when I got up."

"Oh, he went for a morning run with Sabo. Well, I guess more of a late morning run. They should be back soon, though. Better start this before I have to listen to them whine about food again." Perona rolled her eyes, making you laugh at the image.

It was a ubiquitous experience in the shared home of the three brothers with bottomless pits. It was a good thing that Ace and Sabo had such good-paying jobs that they could have tons of extra food. Grabbing an apron from the hanger, you tied it around your waist and held for a mixing bowl, and started cracking eggs.

Both You and Perona moved in sync around the kitchen while dodging Luffy's grabby hands. The time passed quickly as you both finished making the feast just as the front door opened. The loud chatter of both older men caught your attention as you platted another stack of pancakes.

Looking over at your pink-haired friend you both shared the same thought as you both stepped away from the food. Just as both Sabo and Ace came stumbling in at the sight of the food. Just like wild beasts, all three brothers are divided in for their shares. You shook your head at their antics as a tap at your shoulder had you turning around.

Holding up a plate of food, Perona smiled at you as she headed it over. A smile spread across your face at her offering; grabbing it, you happily started to eat it.

"Thank, Rona yove the beth." You yell even though she barely heard you with your face stuffed and all.

She rolled her eyes at your display but smiled anyway. A sudden presence had you looking up at an arm circled your shoulders, pulling you into someone's chest. You gasped at the action but quickly recoiled at the smell and tried to tear away, but the grip was tight.

"(Name)!!" Ace mumbled as he swallowed his food.

"Acccce!" You whined as he held you closer to his sweat-soaked chest.

"(Name)!!!" He responded back teasingly.

You pouted as he snickered and kissed your cheek affectionately, making your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"Ok, lovebirds, take it somewhere else; we're trying to eat here," Sabo said as he gestured to the other three in the room, a grin playing at his lips.

You groaned and pushed Ace off of you as you grabbed your plate and joined the others at the table. Ace just laughed and followed you as he sat across from you. As you started eating again, Sabo spoke between mouthfuls of food and told a story.

You didn't hear half of it, but it was something about running into Zoro on their run from what you gathered. From the way Luffy was in hysterics, you knew the man had probably gotten lost again. It made you laugh at the image of him getting frustrated as he ran back and forth through the local town. Most people knew who he was as this was a constant habit, so that alone was funny enough.

After you were done eating, you helped to shove the boys out of the kitchen so you could clean.

"Go shower. You all smell!" You finally said, making them groan and protest.

You glared at them all, making the three boys shut up and stare at you before quickly saying sorry and scrambling up the stairs. The sight of them trampling over one another was entertaining and made you smile as you headed back into the kitchen.

…

You heaved a heavy sigh as you flopped down onto your bed; after finishing the kitchen, you had returned to your room. Knowing you would be waiting for the shower for a while, you decided to lay down. Rolling over, the three large windows greet you. They were currently blocking out the light making the room darker than it would usually be.

Lately, you weren't sure of anything between school, your job, and being an adult, in general, was enough to make you restless. Though the constant unsolved resolve in your mind was this deal with Ace. You cared for him so much, but the thought of destroying your close friendship is what stopped you from pushing further.

Turning on your stomach, you hugged the nearest pillow to your chest, which you realized had been the pillow Ace slept on. Closing your eyes, you bury your face into the soft fabric. The smell of smoke and cologne came off of it. It was all Ace, and it was soothing to have the familiar scent lulling you into euphoria. Between the warmth coming from the heater and the pillow you hugged, you dozed off pretty quickly.

The dipping of the bed alerted you from your half-asleep state as someone sat down beside you. You blinked your eye open more, making your whine softly. Rolling over, you are given the sight of Ace sitting hunched over on your bed as he pulled his blue sweatshirt off his head. Leaving him in a yellow shirt. He tossed it onto the floor, which made you roll your eyes at his carelessness.

Ace ran a hand through his still-damp hair and casually scooted himself back on the bed as he laid down next to you. He laid on the opposite side to you, so he was facing you upside down, his back to the wall this time.

"Hi," he said, smiling at you softly.

"Hello, intruder," you mumble, your face still buried in the pillow you were now hugging to your chest.

He laughed. "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you," he says with not a hint of remorse in his words.

You snorted.

"Right, because you are sorry every other time."

He shrugged his shoulders, continuing to smile at you, but this time his eyes had this gentle look in them you hadn't seen before. The look alone made you avert your gaze as your cheeks heated. You tried to not think of what that could mean exactly. The last few weeks had really been weird with him in general. The clinging, bed-sharing, soft looks, and just no boundaries at all at this point, which you were used to anyway, especially with Luffy, but this was different.

"Hey…..Ace, can I ask you something?"

You looked at him again; his brown eyes bore into yours.

"Sure, what is it?"

Closing your eyes, your grip on the pillow tightened, taking a deep breath, and you looked at him again. His lips pulled into a frown.

"It's nothing. Just wanted to know if you would take a nap with me?"

A huge grin split across his face at the gesture, and he happily sat up and grabbed you around the waist.

"Always (Name)!" He wrapped the blankets around you both and swaddled you into his chest. A giggle left you as you situated yourself in his grasp until you were comfortable. A sweet silence befalls you both as you settle into each other's warmth. After a while, you knew he was asleep from his soft snores near your ear.

You weren't sure when you would finally confine him about your feelings. For now, you were content with this strange arrangement you both had and were happy to continue it for a little while longer.

#Portgas D. Ace #portgas d. ace x reader #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #op imagine #pale fire series

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

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[19:54]

🎄Day 20 of the Christmas project🎄

a/n: mention of a horrible male manager (sexist, misogynist,...)

As soon as you had stepped outside of your office, goosebumps ran through your entire body, making your hands and legs shake. Exhaustion not helping to get rid of the uncomfortable feeling, you walked on the sidewalk to reach the parking lot which was a few meters away from the building where you worked. Snowflakes were falling in abundance, adorning your hair with a freshness that was meant to be uncomfortable. Nervous, tired and hungry, it was with a groan that you rummaged through your bag for your car keys while carrying important files under your arm.

Your manager was the perfect example of an asshole, but you couldn't say anything if you wanted to keep your job as long as possible. Besides being sexist and a misogynist, he made you work extremely irregular hours, to the point of going to work on a Sunday afternoon. According to him, it was urgent for you to work on the files you were currently carrying, and it could not wait until tomorrow. And do you know why he makes you work? Simply because he was too busy flirting and eyeing his secretary's plunging low-cut neckline to do his tasks, forcing you to do all the work for him. And yes, the world was unfair sometimes. This morning, you had left the apartment furious, cursing your damn manager for making you his slave, knowing full well that you weren't going to get another afternoon off for working today.

The environment you worked in was horrible, quite simply because you had refused your manager's advances during your first few months in the company, repeating to him several times that you were already committed in a relationship. Your words had hurt his ego, and since then, he made your life a real struggle. After several weeks of enduring sexist remarks every day and long evenings talking about it with Jacob, you decided to shift up a gear by threatening him to tell his superiors about his behaviour towards every woman who refused his advances. You did great because he quit his masquerade the next day, and this along with the rest of your female colleagues.

Finally, you managed to get the keys out of your bag with one hand, throwing the files in the passenger seat before getting into the vehicle as quickly as possible. You locked the doors behind you - simple forethought, you were always careful when it's late at night and you're alone, you don't want to repeat a bad memory of the past - and turned on the ignition. You rubbed your hands as you played with the buttons on the dashboard, finally feeling hot air coming out of the air conditioning caress your face. You shook your head and let water drops on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling that your hair was wet from the snow. Fortunately, you were foresighted, in addition to the heaters, there was a beanie that belonged to Jacob in the glove compartment. You rushed to put it on, now feeling more comfortable with something protecting your damp hair from the cold.

The further you drove towards your apartment, the harder the snow fell, causing you to slow down until you were driving at under 20 miles per hour, to not go off the road get into an accident. Shifting the wheel uneasily and your feet unsteadily on the pedals, you tried you best to not let yourself be overwhelmed by your emotions and the stress you were currently experiencing from being on the road, trying to keep your vision as sharp as possible. You couldn't see anything already because of the snow, no need to make it worse with tears.

Jacob was starting to worry when you didn't come back at the time you told him. Nose pressed against the window with his hands shielding his eyes from the kitchen light, he managed to make out snowflakes falling from the sky, but the street where you lived in was deserted. There wasn't a car headlight, nor a single noise. From the top of the skyscraper you lived in, Jacob had a panoramic view in front of him, offering a magnificent view of the rest of the city. You got it thanks to your income because you were unfairly treated yet well paid, which held you back from resigning. However, your boyfriend noticed that your mental health was deteriorating, and he had to do something so that you wouldn't burn out and lose your job. Your secret dream would be to be your boss's manager to make his life difficult and destroy him, but that meant that you would have to stay longer among the company to gain years of practice, and you couldn't do it anymore. Jacob was also tired of seeing you come home from work in tears and ashamed of being yourself, by the words spat out by your supervisor. Your boyfriend was seeing if Hyunjae's father couldn't help you, and things were moving, praying that the great CEO could help you.

Your boyfriend sighed in relief when he saw your car cautiously approaching the building, making him walk away from the wall and turn off the stove. He hastily pulled on a sweater and sneakers before locking the door, calling the elevator to come to meet you.

Once you got to the underground parking lot, you rested your head on the headrest behind you and sighed, glad you made it home in one piece. You hated driving on snow and icy roads, it was technical and unpredictable, but you didn't care anymore. You were relieved to be just steps away from your safe place. Opening the car door eagerly, you walked around your car to pick up your files and your jacket, removing the beanie before putting it back in the glove compartment.

"Y/N?" A voice in the parking startled you, heart pounding as you heard someone call your name. You sank your head in your car, trying to peek through the various car windows around you to discreetly check who was hanging around. You let out a sigh of relief as you saw your boyfriend walking over to you, his hands in his sweater pockets, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

"Jacob, you scared the shit out of me," you whispered with a smile, relieved that it wasn't some creep who wanted you dead. Your boyfriend knew how much you hated being alone late at night, having him next to you and not just on the phone gave you great reassurance. "Honey," he picked up your files with a smile, and you were close to bursting into tears. You had frequent shitty days, but Jacob was there to make them better or at least make them softer. You closed your car door and locked it before your boyfriend reached out to give you a hug, the smell of his perfume calming your thoughts instantly. He kissed your forehead, and you looked at him with shining eyes, silently thanking him for coming down for you.

"Come on, let's go home," you nodded and walked to the open elevator, greeting the caretaker who was sweeping near the doors. Once we entered the small cabin, Jacob pressed your floor button, and you leaned on him, your head against his collarbone, closing your eyes. His hand stroked the back of your neck and then tightened around your back, leaning against him in a gentle hug. You whispered a little thank you against his sweater and felt him shake his head before resting his chin on the top of your head. "It's okay, Y/N. Come on, I'm going to take a bath for you, what do you say?" You weakly smiled and nodded, letting him unlock the front door before he pushes aside to let you in first. You got rid of your things quickly, Jacob pacing to the living room to put your stuff on the table. Hand on the faucet, you were ready to let the water run, but your boyfriend made you sit on the toilet lid and took care of running you the bath, just the way you liked them.

"You're overdoing it," you hugged his waist from your seat, and he turned around, a small smile on his lips. "I'm only doing it because I love you," he said, looking at you, his arms around your shoulders. Resting your head on his abdomen, you distractedly listened to the gurgling of water falling into the tub, already feeling your body relax. "Do you want to join me?" Jacob grabbed your chin to look at you and smiled. "Do you want it?" You nodded vigorously, and he laughed at your enthusiasm, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head, getting shirtless. You imitated him and stepped into the tub first, moaning at the water's temperature. He joined you seconds later and pulled you to him, kissing your temple. Closing his eyes for a few moments, Jacob turned off the faucet and began to splash the patches of skin on your body that were still dry, a gentle shiver running through you as the hot scented water acted like a hug.

Jacob was busy covering you with kisses and hugging you while you sighed, trying to focus on your boyfriend instead of the thousands of thoughts that were running through your head. Sometimes you wish you could take your brain and put it aside for a moment so that you could enjoy the present moment without having to worry about anything.

"I want to find another job, I can't take it anymore, I'm exhausted," you whispered as you felt your throat tighten because of how close you were from crying. Jacob sensed your distress and stroked your head before taking your hand in his, bringing it to his mouth to leave a kiss on your warm skin. "I know, Y/N. I told Hyunjae about it, and his father should be able to do something. He confirmed me he would discuss your situation with other companies because he finds your condition unacceptable," you nodded at his words, a small weight coming off your chest, which was still quite heavy for the young adult that you were. "We'll find a solution, I promise," he whispered in your ear, and you gave him a kiss on the neck as a thank you. He then proceeded to lean over to take the shower head, pressing it against your side of your leg so you can adjust the temperature of the water. After getting your approval, he ran it over your skin, working his way up to your hair. There you gently shifted, and he wet your hair, his hand working on your scalp. You closed your eyes at the massage and handed him the bottle of shampoo when he asked for it, enjoying the head massage that came as a bonus.

Finally, thanks to Jacob, any problem seemed like it could be solved, you just needed time and patience.

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nanoland · 3 years

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am writing hellblazer fic asfdfsfff

title: The Cave

fandom: Hellblazer

characters: John Constantine, Chas Chandler, the First of the Fallen

blurb: John gets lost in a cave.

warnings: Depression, covid19, demons getting themselves Extremely murdered.

It was when the death toll had crested 100,000 that he’d snapped and made his way to Number 10 Downing Street with murder in his eyes and a briefcase full of every cursed artefact he owned.

“What are you gonna do, eh?” bellowed Chas, who’d been following behind him in his cab for the last half mile. He’d already tried to physically drag John into it and had received a bite on the hand for his trouble. “Chuck ‘em through the windows? That’s bulletproof glass, John! Fuck’s sake! Be reasonable!”

“Stop sodding shouting!” John shouted over his shoulder, wiping rain off his face. “You’ll spread sodding germs!”

“John, I already had it. Four months ago, remember?”

“You can have it more than once! Christ, does nobody in this city read the papers but me?”

It was fair to say that John wasn’t at his best. In his defence, he’d spent the last year sitting inside his tiny, poorly-ventilated, roach-ridden flat, vividly imagining what a respiratory virus would do to lungs that had suffered over forty years of heavy smoking, two run-ins with cancer, and the actual devil sticking his actual great big grubby clawed hand in ‘em. No fucking thank you.

Chas sighed heavily and climbed out of the cab again, slamming the door as he did. He splashed through a dozen puddles before coming to stand in John’s path, arms folded. “Listen, Conjob. I love you. Even when you’re a complete prick, which is most of the time. And I know you can do amazing things. But mate, hear me out; you cannot assassinate the British Prime Minister.”

“Someone bloody has to!” John Constantine, greatest wizard of his age, screamed at the top of his wretched, ragged, Satan-besmirched lungs.

Eventually, Chas managed to calm him down and get him home for a cup of tea.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” John grunted as his socks dried in front of the heater and the rational parts of his mind re-exerted themselves.

“S’alright.”

“How’s the bite?”

“Didn’t pierce the skin. John, you need a break. A holiday. You need to get out of town for a few weeks. Go breathe fresh country air, do some weird mystical shit with a goat, whatever it is that sorts your head out these days. But you can’t carry on like this, mate. I haven’t seen you this miserable in years.”

He handed John one of Renee’s strawberry-patterned towels. Dragging it across his face, John grunted, “Holiday? At a time like this?”

“Why not? Makes as much sense as any other time.”

“What if you come down with it again? Or Geraldine? Or Renee?”

“John,” said Chas, gently, laying a hand on his shoulder. “You already tried to cure me with magic. It didn’t work. At all. Just wasted a lot of chicken blood and Renee’s best spoons. Get this in your skull: there’s nothing you can do. Alright? I know you hate that, but it’s the truth.”

John swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Yeah. Alright.”

So he went home to his tiny flat, stuffed fresh socks and his toothbrush into a backpack, booby-trapped his front door, and fled London in the dead of night, feeling like one of those gits in Boccaccio’s Decameron.

“It’s called glamping.”

“Some new wizardy stuff, I’m guessing?”

Chas’s voice over the phone was distracted, like he was half-watching the telly. John was relieved; he’d wanted to hear another human speak but wasn’t feeling up to a proper conversation demanding his usual levels of sparkling charisma and staggering wit. Not right now. Not without weed, and he’d not thought to bring any.

Nestling deeper into his teak folding chair and drawing a thick woven blanket up over his knees, John said, “Nah. Not buggering about with any of that old guff until I’m back in town. Promised myself.”

“Right.”

“Don’t sound so sceptical, you git. I’ve done it before.”

“Mm-hmm. What’s your record? The longest you’ve ever gone without doing anything mystical and creepy?”

“‘Bout… hmm. Three days.”

“You’re coming up on the tail end of that right about now.”

“I know. Chas, on my word, I am going to make it to Sunday without so much as sniffing around a graveyard or wanking off a werewolf. I am on holiday.”

“Alright, alright, if you say so. Good for you, mate. So what’s this ‘glamping’ business, then?”

“It’s camping. But posh. I’m sitting up here atop a hill in Yorkshire with a tent the size of a cathedral and me chic woodburning stove and me box of white wine and feeling like the yuppiest old cunt who ever drew breath.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“It does, doesn’t it? That’s why I chose it over a nice comfy bed and breakfast. Figured I’d wake up with a cow shitting on my head and could use that as an excuse to come home early. Actually, though… it’s alright. Quiet. There’s a river at the bottom of the hill where these giggling honeymooners like to have a morning bonk but it’s far enough away that I can’t hear them unless they’re really having fun. And the weather’s been alright. It’s all surprisingly decent.”

“And you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yep.”

“Hmph. I should have come with you. You get all weird and introspective when you’re left alone for more than a couple days.”

“I’m not alone. There’re birds. Squirrels. A few ghosts hanging out by the toilets.”

“John.”

“Ain’t gonna talk to ‘em! Mind you, one did give me a wink when I was zipping up. How’s everything back home?”

“Er – look, I won’t lie, it’s shit. It’s all shit. But it’s not any more shit than it was when you left three days ago. Not any worse, not any better, yeah?”

“Right.”

(Stupid to be disappointed. Stupid that a part of him had secretly believed that as soon as he abandoned the sinking ship that was London, things would miraculously get better for everyone, even as another part of him, on the opposite side of his brain, had been convinced – maybe even hoped – that the moment he was gone, the entire city would descend into screaming anarchy, at which he could point and laugh from a safe distance.)

“Listen, John, I’ve gotta go. Renee needs groceries. Be careful, please?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t fuck about with any occult bollocks. Don’t go foraging for brain-melting mushrooms. Don’t do anything. Just stay in your tent and read your dirty books, yeah?”

“Heard and understood, Mum.”

“Bastard.”

“Love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

John dropped his phone onto the grass and stared up at the sky. A herd of thin grey clouds drifted past. Off in the distance, he could just make out the shape of a barn – or was it a church? Either way, there were sheep next to it.

A squirrel scurried down a nearby tree trunk and then up another one.

Yawning, he scratched his chin. (Getting scruffy. Hadn’t shaved in two days now.)

“Should prob’ly do some reading,” he mumbled to no one.

A few minutes passed.

He dangled his head back behind his seat and sang quietly: “First produced my pistol… then produced my rapier… said ‘stand and deliver’, for he were a bold deceiver… mush a-ring dum-a do dum-a da…”

Heaving a sigh, he stood up and walked around his tent to dispel pins and needles, then went inside to read his book.

“I am not bored,” he muttered fiercely, staring down at pages that might as well have been blank.

“Oh, but you are, John.”

England’s greatest wizard jumped up, wielding his novel as though it were a club, and dealt a devastating blow to empty air while screaming something along the lines of, “Raargh die die die!”

Then he waited for a moment to see if the voice returned. Tried to determine whether he could sense anything. Nope. Admittedly, that didn’t mean much these days. Lots of beasties and bastards out there had learned how to hide from him.

“Either I’m hallucinating or someone’s pissing me about,” he concluded, placing his hands on his hips. “Chas, mate, I’m sure you would agree that either constitutes a fine reason to leave this fucking tent.”

And leave he did.

He went caving.

The BBC had published an article a couple years back calling the UK’s cave systems its ‘last true wilderness’. He and Chas had had a good long laugh over that, Chas suggesting that John take the caver quoted on an expedition to Faerie or maybe direct him toward any of the two hundred portals to Hell between Plymouth and the Orkney Islands.

But the article had stuck with him. Perhaps it was the obvious love the caver had for his hobby, the clean and simple joy he got out of crawling around in dark, damp holes. John was always drawn to people like that, and not just because it sounded smutty.

(Imagine if he’d loved something clean and simple; gotten into bird-watching or carpentry instead of magic. Would have saved him a lot of hassle.)

Idly, one evening, he’d poked around on the internet – now that, that really was the last true wilderness – until he’d found a map listing all the cave systems in the UK, along with a guide to which were popular, which were dangerous, which were good for a family holiday, and yes (inevitably), which had been the scenes of grisly accidents.

(Wikipedia said that historically there’d been only 136 fatalities ‘associated with recreational caving’ in the UK and that, statistically, it wasn’t a particularly dangerous hobby. Hadn’t stopped him from having vivid dreams about bodies wedged in tiny tunnels miles below ground, cooling and rotting and bloating, except how could they bloat when there simply wasn’t enough room, what happened when…

Anyway, Chas had eventually rescued him from his maudlin musings and dragged him to the pub.)

And while his memory was a messy old thing, especially these days, that just happened to be the sort of useless information that tended to hang around in his head for years, like the words to every song in Sweeney Todd or the rituals required for an exorcism spell that didn’t actually work, doing nothing but taking up space.

There was a cave only a few miles from the campsite.

When he arrived, he beheld a clumsily painted sign nailed to an oak tree next to the entrance:

CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC UNTIL SPRING

NO TRESPASSERS

HAZARDOUS! ENTER AT OWN RISK

He lingered at the cave’s mouth. Though it was big enough for him to stand up in, it made for an unassuming sight. Squirrels played in the old oak with three sets of lovers’ initials carved into it that stood at its left and the pathway leading up to it was strewn with weeds and wildflowers.

“Am I really this stupid?” he pondered aloud, before correcting himself: “Am I really this bored?”

After five minutes’ internal debate, he decided that yes, he was.

He took a step towards the narrow crevice, before stopping himself. No. This was ridiculous. What was he thinking? Shaking his head, he turned and walked away.

Three hours later he was back, now with a good pair of leather boots (stolen from an arsehole in a nearby village), a Power Rangers backpack (given to him by a kid in exchange for a cigarette and some magic tricks), a cheap flashlight, two cans of lager, and a packet of crisps (paid for with the last of his cash).

“Off we go, then,” he said, and marched into the dark.

Like a well-fed leopard on a low-hanging branch, the First of the Fallen lounged across his throne of vertebrae, long black hair dribbling off his broad shoulders and pooling on the ground. Though he was wide awake, his eyes were closed. This, combined with the corpses of three supplicants dangling from nearby steel hooks, would hopefully discourage anyone from bothering him for the next few hours.

“My liege?”

Shit.

He kept still. Said nothing. Perhaps they would go away.

“Um… my liege, I’m terribly, monumentally sorry to disturb you, but…”

With a wave of his claw, the messenger exploded into red mist.

When, ten minutes later, a second messenger summoned up the courage to approach him, he realized that it must be very serious indeed.

“You have five seconds,” he said cordially, holding them up by the neck.

“Con… constantine!” they croaked.

Brightening, the First set them down. “Indeed? What’s the little bastard up to this time, eh?”

“Nothing, my liege. He’s dead.”

A few minutes later, a fourth corpse hung from a hook and the throne of Hell was empty.

To the First of the Fallen, caves were still a novelty.

Confined spaces, in general, were still a novelty.

At 13.6 billion years, he was only slightly younger than the universe. While solid planets had come into existence around the same time, he’d not actually visited one until the emergence of homo sapiens and his subsequent quarrel and falling-out with God – a mere 300,000 years ago.

Cast from Heaven, naked and freezing cold, he’d stumbled into a rocky cranny by the shoreline and wedged himself between its slimy walls. That was his earliest memory of ever being ‘indoors’. No surprise, then, that he avoided such places when he could. He had built no castles in Hell; his throne sat atop a mountain beneath an endless red-gold sky.

But right now, it wasn’t the cave that had his attention, dark and chilly and, yes, slimy as it was.

“Stupid turd,” he grumbled, glowering at the corpse. “Ow!”

He’d bumped his head on the cave ceiling again. It was too low for the average human to stand upright, much less an eight-foot primordial being.

Constantine stared at him, blue eyes blank and glassy. His body was unmarred save for the dent in the left side of his scalp, which had stopped leaking some time ago. As far as the First could tell, his nemesis had simply tripped and fallen onto an unfortunately positioned, unfortunately sharp rock.

The First spat on his tie and snarled, “Pathetic! What the fuck are you even doing here, eh? And – God’s hairy bollocks, when did you last bathe?”

His soul was still dangling off him, like drool from a dog’s mouth. Heaven, obviously, had no interest in him and the First hadn’t yet authorised his admission into Hell.

Because he wasn’t ready, dammit.

He’d not been expecting to welcome John home for at least another thirty years.

“Always have to make it difficult, don’t you?”

When he reached down to take hold of the soul – such a grubby, tattered thing – it bit, blazing gold for a sliver of an instant before he snatched his hand back. Stuck his index finger in his mouth until the sting abated. Fumed.

He tried again, grasping it firmly, as one might a snake. It thrashed. He gave it a disciplinary shake before opening Constantine’s mouth with a claw and forcing it down his gullet.

Coming back to life was never enjoyable. Constantine spasmed and gurgled, legs and arms contorting as pink foam gathered at his lips. The First, bored, sat down beside him, reclining against the cave wall with one knee crooked. Surveyed their surroundings. The ground was – oh dear – littered with crisp crumbs, an empty foil packet, two cans, and dozens of cigarette butts. How foul.

“Disaster in your wake, as ever,” he commented, tutting.

Constantine groaned, eyelashes fluttering.

Belatedly realizing that he wouldn’t be able to see in this subterranean gloom, and very much wanting to afflict him with the identity of his saviour, the First snapped his fingers. A dozen lit candles appeared across the cavern, hovering ghost-like in mid-air.

“Urgh… fffu… whu… oh, Christ Almighty.”

Watching him sit up, the First assumed a lordly expression, tilting his head. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”

Unhealthily pale skin and facial muscles stretched and twisted to an indeterminable end.

Then John Constantine set his jaw.

Growled: “I’m on holiday, you bellend.”

And passed out.

He awoke to the smell of slightly burnt waffles.

Better than burnt flesh, which was what he’d anticipated after His Infernal Bloody Majesty had popped in for a fag and a chat. Certainly better than sulphur.

“For you,” the First of the Fallen purred.

A white plate – averagely-sized but rendered absurdly dainty by the dimensions of the clawed fingers holding it – was set down in front of him.

He frowned at its golden-brown contents. “The catch?”

“No catch. I was peckish. I imagine you are, too.”

“Come on. Not in the mood. Did you piss on ‘em? Did you mix a baby’s blood into the batter?”

“Honestly, John.”

Scratching his chin, he reviewed the facts. Still in the same sodding cave, albeit far better illuminated than the last time he’d been conscious. Alive, but with that unmistakable stiffness that he’d come to associate with having recently been dead. Cold. Irritable.

Hungry.

His archenemy’s smug smile was almost enough to make him spit the first bite back out. Instinct borne from months of extreme poverty forced him to swallow instead.

“Tastes like shit,” he remarked, wiping his lips. “But I suppose you usually have minions to prepare food for you. Where’s the syrup?”

A regal sigh, before a bottle appeared beside the plate. He emptied a third of it and spent the next few minutes in delicious, sticky silence.

There were, as ever, consequences to allowing the First of the Fallen centre stage. The moment the big smelly git realised that John really wasn’t in the mood for banter, he waved a hand and conjured up a thin hardback with Into the Underworld: The Amateur’s Guide to Caving in Britain on the front.

As John rolled his eyes and stuffed another waffle into his mouth, the First cleared his throat and read: “‘According to the National Speleological Society, the minimum number of people required to safely embark on a recreational caving expedition is four – at least one of whom should have prior caving experience.’ Did you know that, John?”

John chewed sullenly.

“I did. I’d wager that most people do. At least, I’d wager that most people know that going caving in groups smaller than two – going caving alone – is wildly inadvisable. Caves are dangerous, John.”

Where were his cigarettes? Had the bastard nicked them?

“And… let’s see – ah! Here we are. ‘There is a great deal of commercial equipment available to a first-time caver, some of which is necessary, some of which is not. Two items, however, that are absolutely non-negotiable are a helmet and a helmet-mounted light.’ Do you have either of those, John?”

“Do I criticise your fucking hobbies?” he exploded, knowing better, knowing it would only encourage him. Sugary crumbs flew everywhere.

“You do, in fact. Often. And quite understandably. My favourite hobby is murdering your friends, after all.”

John threw the plate at his head.

He’d had a good sense of direction even before he’d learned how to see psychic residue coating streets and walls, left behind by previous travellers. Always scurrying around in places no kid should; subways, sewers, dirty basements, any haunted house his greedy little eye fell upon.

When he’d reached sixteen, burgeoning schizophrenia had muddled him up now and then. Occasionally, it’d even left him standing in streets he didn’t recognise with no earthly idea how he’d got there. PTSD had compounded the problem.

Even so, at fifty plus, he didn’t make a habit of getting lost. Meds, practice, and years of experience meant that he could walk from Chas’s house to Saint Paul’s with a blindfold on.

Long story short: This was embarrassing.

“I’m fairly sure we’re going in circles. That stalactite is very familiar.”

And he certainly wasn’t fucking helping.

(The floating candles, following them like ducklings, were. John’s torch had broken when he’d tripped. Still, he didn’t need the First of the Fallen for light. Could conjure it up himself, no bother. It just made sense to avail himself of a primordial being’s infinite magical resources before dipping into his own, far more limited stockpile.)

“Do you know the way out?” John asked, not breaking his stride.

“I do.”

“Will you tell me where it is?”

“I will not.”

“Then shut up.”

In his defence, John hadn’t thought the cave was big enough to get lost in. It hadn’t looked it from the outside.

But he’d wandered, then crawled, down at least a mile of twisting, increasingly narrow tunnels before getting himself killed. He’d kept meaning to stop; said to himself five times, ‘Okay, Conjob, this is getting stupid, let’s trot our arse back to civilisation’. Then he would notice another crevice wide enough for him to squeeze into.

“Curious place for a holiday,” the First of the Fallen commented after bravely keeping his tongue still for an unprecedented five minutes.

“Curious times we’re living in, innit?”

He hummed in agreement. “Are you really not here for any particular reason? Not – I don’t know – trying to find a missing child abducted by the fae? Searching for a wicked spirit who’s been cursing the local shepherds? Treasure-hunting, perhaps?”

“No.”

“You’re just here.”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“I told you. I’m on holiday. Taking a nice long break.”

“John. We’ve known one another for some time. I am familiar with the ways in which you ‘take a break’. You either go to the pub or you go to several pubs. Attempting to reconnect with nature is hardly your style.”

“Being oblivious to current events – especially shit ones – is hardly your style. Been too busy shaving your chunky arse to pick up a newspaper lately?”

“Print is dying. Besides, you try managing an entire dimension. See how much spare time it leaves you. Honestly, I’m run off my feet most days.”

“So quit.”

“Don’t be silly. What else would I do?”

“I dunno. Could be a camgirl. You’ve got the legs for it.”

“Stop trying to change the subject. Why aren’t you at home?”

John stopped walking and spun to face him. “There’s a plague, you gormless, oblivious prick. I can’t go to the pub. I can’t meet up with me mates. I can’t visit people’s homes to perform exorcisms. I can’t do anything but sit indoors, on my own, for months on end, just watching everything get worse, and that… and that’s not an option. Not for me. I crack too easy. So I got out. Before I killed someone. Now, for the last time, shut up and let me concentrate.”

He bent down to tug off his shoes and socks.

Telepathic magic tended to work best when you were naked. But sod that. Not with the First of the Fuckheads watching. Waffles or no waffles, he did not deserve a treat.

“Oh, is this what we’re doing now? Marvellous! I do love watching your quaint party tricks,” he oozed with a mocking round of applause as John dropped to his knees.

Ignore him.

Taking a deep breath, John let his awareness expand.

It was hard, with the First standing right there. His presence was staggeringly heavy, weighing on the ley lines like an iron ball on a lace hammock. And so alien; elements found nowhere on Earth, bones and muscles formed before Earth had been a glint in God’s eye.

John sneered into the darkness. Piss on that. On him. This was child’s play. Buggered as his brain might be, John Constantine wasn’t going to falter at the sound, scent, or sensation of a mean-spirited old cosmic relic.

Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.

Seven years ago, three people came this way. A family. A woman; her sister; her daughter. They were having fun. The sisters had done this before; the daughter had been begging to come along for years. Afterwards, they were going for pizza. It was a good day.

Two years ago, four people came this way. All friends from work. Well – ‘friends’. One was the company CEO, the other three wanted promotions. Everyone but the boss was miserable. One was arachnophobic.

Eight months ago, a… sheep? Yeah. A sheep. Barely more than a lamb. It was lost. There was a storm and it came down here looking for shelter. Went too deep. By the time the shepherd found it, it was half-starved.

“John? What are you-…”

Ignore him.

Ten years ago, another family. Fifty years ago, a frightened child running from a monstrous father. And others – a hundred others – a thousand. The cave had a rich and storied history. Almost against his will and entirely against his better judgement, John followed its threads through the rock layers, chasing faded ghosts, brushing up against magic so ancient it had fossilised.

“John!”

Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore-

His head was ringing. His blood was on fire.

Fuck, I’ve gone too far, too bloody deep, fuck, oh fuck.

“Constantine! Heed me!”

His eyes snapped open.

“Ah,” he said.

“Precisely,” said the First of the Fallen, who was holding him up by his coat collar like a jizz rag in need of a bin.

The cave had changed.

It was brighter, thanks to a small, well-constructed fire in its centre.

The walls were covered in paintings. Deer. Hogs. Great red and brown bulls.

A woman sat in the corner, wrapped in furs, adding detail to what might have been a fox. She didn’t seem to have noticed them.

“Did you mean to do that?” the First of the Fallen queried.

“In thirty thousand years, a monk will come down here and find them. He’ll be horrified, believing that they’re the work of… well, me. So he’ll leave and return with water in buckets and scrubbing brushes. As he lies on his deathbed, he will be firmly under the impression that this great good deed will grant him entrance into Paradise.”

The First of the Fallen paused for effect, then added, “Alas, he will be mistaken.”

Without looking away from her work, the woman spoke several words in a language miles removed from any contemporary tongue John had ever heard.

“The young lady says she doesn’t mind spirits wandering her caves, but requests that we don’t chatter while she’s trying to concentrate.”

Crouching next to freshly-etched cow and her calf, feeling uncharacteristically dazzled, John said, “Ask her if I can take a picture. Ask her!”

“Homo neanderthalensis, John. She won’t have the faintest idea what you mean.”

Rolling his eyes, he fished his phone out of his trenchcoat pocket and waved it at her. When she deliberately ignored him, he shrugged and took the shot.

The flash won her attention. She stood – revealing a faded seashell necklace and a long, curving scar across her left thigh – and approached them, limping slightly. John held out the phone to show her the picture and, after a resoundingly unimpressed inspection, she uttered a terse sentence.

“She’s unsure why the sickly-looking spirit thinks shrinking her beasts in any way improves them,” said the First of the Fallen.

The woman raised her head (hard to tell how old she was; younger than him, definitely) and looked John in the eye, squinting. Another few sentences followed, some of which sounded like questions.

Sarcastic questions, unless he was mistaken.

“She asks if you shrink them because large beasts frighten you. She speculates that, if the only beasts you can bear to approach are scrawny ones, it’s no wonder that you yourself are such a measly creature. She says that she too was scared of bulls when she was a child, but that her mother taught her not to be. She wonders why your mother failed you in this regard. Should I tell her your mother died in childbirth, John?”

“Stick your head up your own arse and choke. But ask her name first.”

Tossing back his thick black hair, he scoffed. “Why? What does it matter? She’s a primitive, doomed creature and she’s not even really here. This is just one of the cave’s memories.”

“Christ – are you jealous I’m talking to her more than I’m talking to you? Because that’s fucking inane. This is a one-in-a-lifetime type deal. I’ve never spoken to a legit bloody Neanderthal. I speak to you all the blasted time, more’s the pity.”

Yellow eyes narrowed. “Maybe I’ll kill her.”

John laughed. “You said it, squire; she’s a memory. You can’t kill her. She’s long dead. Now shut up.”

He wasn’t able to learn her name. Still, via pantomime and pointing, he eventually managed to convey his desire to find a way out of the cave – or so, at least, it seemed.

She took a bundle of sticks from beside her fire, lit them, and walked towards the nearest inky-black tunnel.

“See?” he said to the First of the Fallen as they followed her. “Politeness. All it takes.”

“Don’t act like you have any real idea what’s going on. She could be leading you straight into a trap. You’re aware, I’m sure, that archaeologists generally agree Neanderthals practised cannibalism? Ten muscular relatives might be waiting right around the corner with clubs and a cooking pot.”

“For fuck’s sake – I have literally stood and watched you slouching on that colossally pathetic bone throne of yours and nibbling the edge of someone’s pelvis like it was a turkey drumstick. Loathsome bloody hypocrite.”

“That doesn’t remotely count as cannibalism, John. That was a human pelvis. I’m not a human. I’m the prototype. A species of one. Which, I suppose, means it’s technically impossible for me to commit cannibalism. Hmm. What an interesting philosophical notion.”

Walking a short way ahead, bare feet soundless against the rock, their new self-appointed guide said something.

“What was that?” John whispered.

“‘If you must burden my ears by bickering like children, you could at least do it in a language I can understand’. Then she called us a rude word.”

Then the First of the Fallen spoke several sentences in his usual bored, drawling cadence and, to John’s surprise, she laughed.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” the First of the Fallen said, innocently.

“I’m serious, bastard. What’re you saying to her?”

“Nothing important, John, really.”

More than once after that, he caught her glancing back at them and snickering.

The artist and the twisting stone galleries through which she led them – it couldn’t possibly have all been hers; the monk had destroyed the work of generations – were insufficient to keep John’s mind from straying back to important matters.

“Hey. Ponce. What’ve you done with my cigarettes?”

The First of the Fallen had plucked them from his trenchcoat pocket while he was unconscious. When it came to his sorcerer, he’d learned, you always wanted a bargaining chip to hand.

“We’re in the company of one whose lungs are as yet unsullied by the Industrial Revolution, Constantine. Are you really planning on exposing her to second-hand smoke?”

It was a prospect John, it seemed, hadn’t even considered. Obviously angry with himself for that (oh John), he snapped, “No! I was – it’s – look, she can’t get lung cancer, can she? She’s dead. Doesn’t matter what she breathes in now.”

Smothering a smile, the First of the Fallen said, “Oh? So the fact that she won’t actually perish upon inhaling your fumes is all that matters, is it? Never mind her comfort or dignity, I suppose; as long as you don’t have to clean up another corpse.”

Nostrils flared. Fists clenched. Blue eyes gleamed with something hotter and even more violent than divine wrath.

“Like you give a shit about her,” John growled.

So much in this miserable world reminds me of Heaven. The grass. The sky. The beauty. You alone remind me of the time before Heaven; that bizarre, unpredictable time when there were no rules, no beauty, only feelings, only sudden bursts of light, fierce and erratic, cutting through the void.

“Or anyone,” John continued, gathering steam. Nicotine withdrawal, the First of the Fallen suspected, was kicking in. “Remind me, what was that you said the day we met? ‘To be mortal is to be stupid, proud, conceited – and ultimately pathetic’. You showed your hand, idiot; you loathe us all. Ergo, any taunts that depend on you concealing that are a total bust. Forget about the ciggies. If they’ve been anywhere near you, I don’t want ‘em.”

For years, the First of the Fallen had secretly hoped John had forgotten his, in hindsight, ill-considered words.

(He’d meant every one of them, but at the time he’d been trying to come off as a Gentleman Devil, the quintessential Man of Wealth and Taste, affable and urbane, not a bitter, angry old monster.)

Should have known better. John was so foolishly protective when it came to humanity as an abstract concept, even while his attitude towards actual humans tended to be far more variable. He’d probably been furiously gnawing on that phrase – ‘ultimately pathetic’ – like a dog with a bone for thirty years.

Thirty years.

Was that really all the time they’d known one another? John Constantine, his Constantine, He Who Was Most Hated… a mere thirty year acquaintance?

“What’re you laughing at?”

“Heh. Nothing, John. Reminiscing, that’s all.”

“About what? Poor old Brendan?”

Brendan, Brendan. Who -? Oh yes. John’s friend. The one who’d sold his soul. The catalyst, in fact, for their meeting. Pity the bastard was in Heaven; he’d have liked to thank him.

“You see these?” said the artist, holding up her torch to illuminate a painted wolf pack. “My grandfather did these.”

“What’s she saying?” John demanded.

As the First of the Fallen translated, he gazed dispassionately at her.

The first time he’d encountered a human, they’d looked much the same. Small. Unremarkable. Clad in skins and hardened from a life exposed to this planet’s weather (he personally hated weather and had made sure there was no such thing in Hell).

Mind you, the ones he’d run into while naked and terrified and still injured from being swatted down to Earth like some insect had been much less hospitable. They hadn’t known what he was; only that he was wrong. When he’d tried to approach their campfire, they’d thrown stones at him. Slaying them all hadn’t even occurred to him. Father had said that they were precious and at that stage, he’d still given a toss about His rules. Instead, he’d slunk away.

Catching food wasn’t a problem. He was faster than any buck or bird. It was loneliness, not hunger, that drove him to try again, and again, and again. In time, they grew used to him. Even showed him kindness. They had an extraordinary capacity for that. (For all that it was so often conditional and withdrawn the moment one became too strange or too frightening.)

But he’d never grown used to them. They were, at heart, creatures of community. And he simply wasn’t. He was a species of one. The prototype. He’d always been alone but for God’s company, and adjusting to life as a member of a tribe had proved impossible. Their norms, their traditions, their complicated etiquette – it had all bewildered him, then intimidated him, then irritated him. That, combined with his ageless body and supernatural strength, had driven an inevitable wedge between them, and he’d returned to the wilderness to wander alone.

He considered telling John that story.

(Why not? He’d told him everything else and the idea that his nemesis might have an incomplete view of him was, for some reason, concerning.)

Then he considered John’s likely reaction. The curled lip. The scornful snort. “What, you looking for pity? ‘Boo-hoo, my rotten childhood turned me into a git’? Hah! Jog on, squire.”

No. John’s hatred was a hard-won prize. John’s contempt was to be avoided at all costs.

“You realise most people aren’t allowed down here,” the artist said, glancing his way. She was shorter than John, who himself was slightly shorter than the average man; her eyes were level with the First’s navel. “Only elders and those who’ve earned the right. There are grave penalties awaiting any who sneak in.”

“Really?” he replied, interested only in John’s furrowed brow and silent, aggravated attempts to work out what they were saying.

“Yes. Because this place is important. Sacred. When I was young, I spent years dreaming of being allowed to venture this deep. I don’t know the ways of spirits – but I’ll not pretend it doesn’t rankle that you spend more time studying your sickly friend than your surroundings.”

“You’re still young. Compared to me, everyone is.”

“He doesn’t even seem to like you very much. Why are you travelling with him?”

“I don’t know. Why do urine and semen come out the same hole?”

“‘It’s none of your business’ would have sufficed. Are you always this rude? Is that why the sickly one doesn’t like you?”

“No. No, he dislikes me for other reasons.”

“Well, well, well. Hullo,” came John’s voice, and they both realised that he’d stopped walking.

Turning, the First of the Fallen spied his nemesis standing with his hands in his pockets, studying a man dressed like a thirteenth-century peasant.

“Eh? Where did he come from?” the woman asked.

In quavering tones, the peasant said, “Are you angels?”

The First of the Fallen laughed. “John! He’s asking if-…”

“Just because I can’t speak Neanderthal doesn’t mean I don’t know sodding Middle English. Give me an ounce of credit. I’m only a cocking wizard, after all,” John snapped, before addressing the new arrival: “No. Just travellers.”

The peasant’s shoulders slumped. “Oh. I thought maybe God had sent me angels. I’ve been requesting them for several days.”

John shuddered. “Bad idea. Trust me. You don’t want to mess around with that lot.”

“But I need guidance. Protection.”

“From what?”

Eyes wide, the peasant took his hand and clutched it. “My friend, can’t you see? I am being pursued.”

“By who?”

“By demons.”

(to be continued)

#hellblazer #john constantine #chas chandler #first of the fallen #fanfic #my fic

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cutaepatootie · 5 years

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Cold Iced Americano - 01

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Warnings: too many sarcasm, as always.

A/N: Happy Birthday to the boy who makes my heart shake. Talented, kind, big-hearted, that is our Yoongo <3 This is a story I’ve been writing for quite some time, but what better time to post it than on Yoongi’s day? It will have four parts, each one of them portraits a different year of university and a different stage of the relationship between Yoongi and the reader. Enjoy!

It is lazy Sunday mornings like this, when you remember him the most.

Clouds covering the sky and casting grey shadows all over the still awakening city. The rain hitting rhythmically the glass of the small window of your room, just like his fingers hit the keys of his beloved piano. And, outside the little world that is your room, you can hear the relaxing sounds of birds and the angry horns of cars, such a contrast between heaven and hell, just like his cold iced americano in the middle of December. Just like him.

Tangled in your white sheets, you think of him every lazy Sunday morning like this.

You think of him while the strong scent of freshly made coffee fills your nostrils, while you stretch in bed trying to awaken your limbs, while you open your eyes getting rid of your blurry vision.

You think of him as an old rap song starts playing on the radio, the sounds of the beats blending in with the sound of the rain hitting the window, the happy birds and the angry horns of the cars outside your small room.

And just like every other lazy Sunday morning like this, while you remember him, you think of all the things that brought you together and that tore you apart.

You guess everything started on your first day of university.

As you ran – nearly half an hour late you must admit – to your first class, you wondered how could you have ended up like that despite all the planning you had been doing the previous week.

You blamed it all to the torn map in your hands. The paper was so damaged that you could barely distinguish the different buildings from the green areas that were the gardens of your campus.

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, taking a sharp turn to the left just as you were about to enter the Physics building instead of the History one – the one you had been looking for the past fifteen minutes.

But the torn map wasn’t the only responsible of your delay.

The old alarm clock you had brought with you to your dorm decided to stop functioning that same night at 3 AM, so it didn’t ring at 7 AM as it was supposed to do. Your first class didn’t start until 9 AM, but you wanted to take a walk around the campus first so you could get familiar with the place and, luckily, pick a good seat at your first class. All those plans went o out of the window the moment you opened your eyes at 8:30 AM.

After a ton of “shits” and “fucks” you woke up from bed and went to your wardrobe so you could pick a decent outfit for the day. To your surprise, the wardrobe was completely empty. And as you murmured another round of “shits” and “fucks” through clenched teeth you remembered that you had been so tired the previous day that you had decided to go straight to bed instead of organizing your new room.

The idea of the nice outfit and makeup went out of the window with the rest of your plans as you chose the first hoodie and pair of jeans you found in your suitcase.

But, of course, that wasn’t the end of your misfortune that September morning. That was just the beginning.

While you were stepping into your shower and your feet touched the freezing water, you remembered you hadn’t turned the water heater on the previous night either, so the water of the shower was as cold as the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. After ten long minutes under freezing water, you finally dried and dressed yourself, not even bothering in washing your hair.

“I still have fifteen minutes to eat some breakfast and still be on time for my first class” you thought as you grabbed your backpack and closed the door to your dorm, sighing, because everything that could have gone wrong that morning had already happened, so, what else could go wrong? Nothing, right?

Well, it turns out you were wrong.

“He dumped me!” the girl at the other side of the counter said, sniffling as she waved her arms dramatically in the air.

“What a bastard!” the other girl exclaimed, pouring some coffee in a small cup.

“Can you believe it? Him? Dumping me? It should have been the other way around, he is such an asshole. I don’t even know why I was with him in the first place!” the first girl continues her monologue in between angry and sad tears – and you say angry and sad at the same time because you couldn’t quite decipher if the girl was sad or angry.

You cleared your throat, indicating you were there.

“Oh! Excuse me sweetie! What do you want?” the girl said, wiping her tears away as she looked at you.

Fuck those fifteen minutes and fuck being on time for your first class.

Of course, you had to miss the bus that would take you to the campus - which was only a fifteen-minute walk from your dorm, but those precious fifteen minutes had been snatched from your hands by the barista who had been dumped by her boyfriend, breaking their two-year relationship.

While you waited for the next bus, you opened your backpack, trying to find the map of the campus that you had put in there. It was only when you emptied the whole backpack, that you found the map. It was there, lying in the depths of your old, black backpack, torn from the weight of the notebooks and laptop that had been lying on top of it.

You tried not to cry – and not to punch someone in the face at the same time – as you stepped on the next bus.

And that’s why you were entering the History building at 9:35 AM on your first day of university, because of the broken alarm clock, the empty wardrobe, the cold shower, the crying barista, the missed bus and the torn map. Such a long list of coincidences that led you to that exact same moment in which you bumped with a hard, unknown object, in the empty corridors of the History building.

“Ouch!” you exclaimed as you felt a cold liquid splashing on your hoodie.

“Shit!”

At the sound of the deep voice, you lifted your eyes from your stained hoodie to find that the hard, unknown object was, in fact, a boy.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” you said, your eyes widening as you saw that the boy’s t-shirt was definitely more damaged by the collision than your hoodie.

The boy looked at you with angry, dark eyes, as he held his empty cup of Starbucks, the iced americano that had been in it now splattered all over his Stranger Things t-shirt.

“Shit…” the boy repeated, averting his eyes from you and examining his stained t-shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” you said as you quickly searched for a pack of tissues in your backpack.

Once you grabbed the pack of tissues, you handed the boy one tissue with trembling hands.

“I’m truly sorry…” you kept saying, anxiously looking at the boy, who looked angrier by each passing second.

Eventually, he stopped trying to clean his t-shirt with your tissues and lifted his eyes to you.

You went to hand him another tissue, but he refused, signalling you to stop with his empty hand.

“Leave it,” he sighed. “It’s useless.”

“I’m so sorry, really…” you repeated. “I can give you money for another coffee, or money for another t-shirt… Or for both!”

You started searching for your small wallet in your backpack.

“No,” the boy said, shaking his head, trying to calm his temper.

“No, no. Here, take it, you’ll have enough for both things,” you said, handing him some money.

He refused but you didn’t give up and kept offering the money to him.

“Stop! I told you I don’t want your stupid money or your stupid tissues!” he said, raising his voice and making your eyes snap up to him.

You observed him properly for the first time since you had bumped into him.

He was small, barely taller than you by a few inches, and despite that, he made you feel as if you were Frodo Baggins next to him. His sharp, dark eyes piercing into you with a glaring fury, his presence, imposing.

“You should fucking look where you’re going, instead,” he spat, making you frown.

“I could say the same to you,” your voice turned serious, all softness disappearing from it. “Two doesn’t bump if one of them is looking where they’re going.”

The boy scoffed, and you scoffed back, holding his gaze while he tried to intimidate you. You had tried to be nice to him and apologise for bumping into him – which had been an accident, not a murder as he was making it out to be – but your morning was already being shit, and the last thing you needed was for a rude asshole to ruin it even more, so you didn’t budge.

“Fucking great, my morning’s going fucking great!” he cursed, finally looking away from you, pulling from his t-shirt angrily and then, letting go from the damp material.

You put the pack of tissues and your wallet back into your backpack and adjusted it on your back.

“Here,” you forcefully shoved the money on his hands. “Buy some manners along with a new t-shirt and a coffee.”

And with that, you averted your eyes from the boy and strolled past him and down the corridor towards your History of Art class, cursing under your breath.

. . .

It turns out you weren’t the only whose alarm clock had decided to stop functioning that day.

You were sitting on the last row at the back of the lecture hall, picking your laptop from your backpack, when a girl entered the lecture hall from the back door – just the same way you had done it just five minutes before.

“What have I missed?” she asked as she breathlessly plopped down on the seat next to yours.

“Uh… Sorry, but I’ve arrived late too, and I have no idea what the professor’s talking about,” you whispered, smiling softly.

She looked at you for a moment, as if she was examining you thoroughly.

“You arrived late on your first day of college?” she asked finally, narrowing her eyes. The smile disappeared from your face and you were about to ask her who was she to ask you something like that, when she spoke again. “I thought I was going to be the only one, phew… We need to be best friends.”

And that’s how you met Max, a whirlwind of laughs, screams and life. She made you feel as if you could be yourself without being judged, with your stupid comments and silly laughs, and you both connected immediately.

Of course, it wouldn’t be the last day one of you arrived nearly an hour late to class.

From that day on, you became inseparables.

If you arrived late to class, Max arrived late with you. If you needed some books from the library to do some research for your Romanticism essay, Max helped you find them. If you felt like grabbing some coffee before class, Max grabbed some coffee with you. If you wanted to go to the cinema and watch the last Marvel movie, Max went with you. If you didn’t feel like going to class that day, Max skipped class with you. If you wanted to buy a new pair of Vans, Max bought another pair of Vans with you. If you wanted to go the bathroom, Max went with you.

And precisely, going to the bathroom is how you met the third member of your crazy, but lovely, group of friends.

“I hate her so fucking much,” you said, opening the tap and washing your hands with the horrible university soap that smells like bathroom floor with pee all over it.

“Ugh,” Max said, rolling her eyes and not even thinking about washing her hands with that disgusting soap. “Leaving that bitch aside… How can you wash your hands with that shit? I would rather stick them into a toilet.”

You lifted your hands and brought them to your nose, so you could smell them. When the scent of the chip soap filled your nostrils, you scrunched up your face in disgust. “I don’t even know, but the thought of all those bacteria running through my hands makes me sick.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s plenty more bacteria on your hands after washing them with that soap,” Max said, throwing you a roll of toilet paper for you to dry your hands with it.

“Ew! Please, don’t mention the soap anymore!” you said as you struggled to grab the roll of toilet paper in the air as Max threw it to you.

“Okay, what I’m gonna mention is Mrs. I-Kang-Fucking-Know-Everything,” Max scoffed as she mentioned Kang Seulgi, the known-it-all from your class.

“And don’t forget to mention how we have an exam next week because of her,” you said, smiling sarcastically.

“Ugh!” Max screamed, dramatically clasping her hands over her face. “I can’t stand her. She’s always so perfect and arrogant. She sits with her back straight, I mean, who the fuck sits with their back straight?”

“Someone who doesn’t want to get scoliosis,” a voice said as a girl emerged from one of the closed stalls of the bathroom.

You and Max both fell silent as you observed Kang Seulgi herself walking towards the sinks, her bangs perfectly falling over her forehead as always, her hair shiny and so straight.

“Fuck,” you heard Max murmur under her breath.

You stood there, not knowing what to do or say as you observed Kang Seulgi washing her hands, the roll of toilet paper still in your hands.

“Can you pass me the toilet paper?” Kang Seulgi asked once she finished washing her hands.

“I… I…” you stuttered. “I… Of course,” you ended up saying, handing her the roll of toilet paper delicately.

Kang Seulgi grabbed it from your hands in a harsh movement and dried her hands.

The lump in your throat was becoming uncomfortable, and the tension in the bathroom was going to make all the mirrors and fucking sinks explode. You could still feel embarrassment all over your body and heat on your cheeks, and just the thought of Kang Seulgi walking out of the bathroom knowing that she was important enough to piss two other girls off, was unbearable to you. That arrogant bitch wasn’t going to sleep that night knowing she had two more enemies in her long black list.

“Kang Seulgi,” you called her as she was about to exit the bathroom. “I fucking hate you and your arrogance, and because of your know-it-all attitude we all have an exam next week.”

When those words left you, your felt two things: the first one was the need to pee because you were really nervous – you had never faced someone like that before. And the other was relief, because you had nothing to hide anymore and you could be clear to her from then on.

“I’m just saying that, in case you go around there thinking or saying that we speak behind your back,” you continued, not knowing how to interpret the look on Kang Seulgi’s face. “Well, we don’t, I just told you what we both think. I hope you don’t take that as an insult and more as constructive criticism instead.”

Kang Seulgi stood there, in the threshold of the bathroom door, a perplexed look on her face. Max was just as perplexed as Kang Seulgi was, and she couldn’t stop looking at you with her eyes and mouth wide open.

“I…” Kang Seulgi stuttered.

Suddenly, her bitchy known-it-all attitude was down and there was just a pretty girl left on its place.

You flinched when you saw the girl starting to walk towards you in a fast pace. You closed your eyes and clenched your teeth as you waited for the harsh slap to arrive. But it never did.

Instead of slapping you, Kang Seulgi hugged you and laughed.

You blinked a few times, looking at Max, who was observing it all as if she was in some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Thank you,” Kang Seulgi sighed as she broke the hug.

You stood still like a statue as the girl took a step back and smiled at you with a hand on her chest.

“T… Thank you for w-what?” you stuttered, blinking a few times.

“Thank you for saying what everyone thinks but never tells me,” she said.

You frowned. You had just said you hated her, that she was arrogant, and a bitch and she was… She was thanking you? It had to be the fucking university soap that smelled like bathroom floor with pee all over it. You had smelled it and you were now hallucinating.

“I’m so done with all those fake friends telling me how funny and clever I am. I know I’m fucking funny and clever, I don’t need a reminder of it,” Kang Seulgi kept saying. “I’m arrogant, and I’m a know-it-all because I know it all and I take pride in it and I take pride in fucking other people up because of that.”

You blinked a few times. You were never going to wash your hands with that fucking soap ever again, let alone smell it.

“That’s what I need a reminder of, because I sometimes forget how much I can fuck people up with my words and actions. Like this morning, for example, when I told Mr. Kwon how you all plotted against him and his subject yesterday through the group chat.”

And that’s how you met Seulgi, an arrogant bitch and a know-it-all, but also, the funniest and kindest girl you had ever met. That kind girl was just hidden beneath layers of arrogance and beauty – and designer clothes – that Max and you slowly took off – you’re obviously talking about the layers of arrogance and beauty here, not about her clothes. You fell in love with her ability to brighten up your mood even in the cloudiest days, and with the way she always told you the truth, even when it hurt.

You guess everything started on your first day of university because, if your old alarm clock hadn’t stopped functioning, if you had tidied up your dorm the day before, if that barista hadn’t broken up with her boyfriend, it you hadn’t missed the bus, if you hadn’t arrived late to your first day of class and bumped into that asshole, you wouldn’t have met Max, and you wouldn’t have met Seulgi, your main source of support through your university years.

. . .

In the blink of an eye, it suddenly was February and your first final exams were over.

With Seulgi’s help – because she still was a know-it-all and the most intelligent girl you knew – you passed all your exams. You struggled a bit with Mr. Kwon’s subject because that first exam fucked you up so badly, but you still passed.

“No…” Seulgi sighed for the tenth time as she tried to explain something to Max. “It wasn’t in 1491, Michelangelo finished the Sistine Chapel in 1481.”

“So what?” Max pouted. “Why do I need to know the date of the year in which Michelangelo finished the Sistine Chapel?”

“Why the fuck are you studying History then?” Seulgi asked.

“Because she didn’t know what career she wanted to study, so she flipped a coin to decide which career she would study, and History was the chosen one,” you said in a bored tone as you scrolled through your Twitter timeline. Max had already told you the story of how she chose History as her career a thousand times, so you knew it even better than your own.

“Not all of us are passionate about History, okay?” Max said. “Respect that.”

You shook your head as Max and Seulgi kept arguing about Michelangelo and his divine Sistine Chapel, an incredible work of art.

“Speaking of works of art…” Seulgi said in her usual devilish tone that made your eyes snap up from your phone and look at whatever – or whoever – had caught her attention.

You followed her eyes until you found a small group of boys walking through the doors of the library and towards an empty table not far from yours.

You rolled your eyes as you recognised the boys.

“Seulgi… You have no solution,” you sighed, focusing on your phone once more and laughing at the video of a dog barking as if it was Beyoncé. “Look at this dog.”

Max leaned towards you and grabbed the headphone you were handing out to her so she could watch the video that was playing on your phone and she laughed lowly at it, the both of you ignoring Seulgi and whatever she was saying.

“Never mind,” you both heard her say before watching her standing up and starting to walk towards the table in which the boys were sitting at.

“Seulgi!” you whispered as you eyed the librarian from the corner of your eye – you didn’t want her scolding you once again and kicking you out of the library.

But Seulgi was way too occupied with her new mission to pay attention to your hushed calls of her name.

“Oh God…” Max whispered, letting her head fall onto her hands.

You shook your head as you observed your friend placing both of her hands loudly on top of the table, startling the boy who was her target: Park Jimin.

She had been crushing on the boy ever since the first day she had seen him at campus. “Look how handsome Park Jimin is.” “Look how nice he dresses.” “Look how good his hair looks today.” “Look how hot he is.” “I can’t help but think of dirty things as I look at those plump lips.” Park Jimin this, Park Jimin that…

And, even though Seulgi had told you it was nothing but sexual tension what she felt for him, you knew it was a little bit further from that. You could see it the first time she approached him at the cafeteria and returned to your table with sparkling eyes. You could see it every time she spoke to him or every time you walked past him in the corridors.

Kang Seulgi, the cold and heartless queen who wasn’t looking for a relationship, only no-strings-attached flings, was catching feelings for Park Jimin, the sweet – yet hot – boy every girl drooled over at campus.

Him and his group of friends weren’t exactly the typical group of boys who spent their university days drinking at random parties and hooking up with every girl on campus. They were more on the laid-back, chill group of cool and handsome guys side, the ones who ignored drama and gossip. But still, you could see through that chill façade that made all the girls crazy for them, and the further away you were from them, the better.

You kept observing your friend. She grabbed a strand of hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail and started playing with it, twisting and untwisting it around her finger as she giggled and spoke with Park Jimin.

After what seemed like an eternity, Seulgi walked back to your table and sat on her previous seat with a smirk on her face.

“Girls, we have plans for this Friday night,” she said, winking at Max and you.

. . .

“It isn’t fair,” you protested, stepping out of the taxi while glaring at Seulgi, who was impatiently waiting for Max and you to get out of the taxi.

“Oh, c’mon…” Seulgi said, rolling her eyes. “As If you had anything better to do.”

“Yeah!” you protested. “I had something better to do!”

“What?” Seulgi asked, daring you with her feline eyes.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “Watch the new episode of Criminal Minds, duh.”

Seulgi rolled her eyes and grabbed your wrists, dragging you towards the bar, pub, club… Whatever it was.

“What’s this place?” you asked, looking at the neon lights that hung above the front door with judging eyes.

“A bar.”

“Hey! Thanks for waiting…” Max said sarcastically, running to catch you both up.

“Sorry, I was so excited to enter the pub that I couldn’t even wait you,” you said, with equally as much sarcasm as your friend.

“It’s not a pub, it’s a bar!” Seulgi protested.

“It’s leviosa, no leviosá,” Max joked, teasing Seulgi as you both laughed.

Finally, you entered the bar – which looked like a pub and not like a bar, to be honest.

The first thing you could see was a neon sign that said Verse – just like the one above the front door outside- hanging from the wall. A security guard asked for your ID cards before you walked through two thick velvet curtains.

Immediately, Hip-Hop music filled your ears along with the voices of the people that were sitting at the different tables of the bar. The lights were dim, and it smelled like beer and smoke.

From the walls hung all sort of Hip-Hop posters. Pictures of Jay-Z, Kanye West, Nas, Dr.Dre, Eminem… filled the glass shelves behind bar counter. The bartenders mixed drinks and poured beer on big glasses. People spoke animatedly while sipping on their drinks and sitting at the black leather couches spread all over the bar.

In the middle of the room, a round scenario was empty, only a stool and a microphone on it.

“Hey!” you heard a soft voice say amongst the noise of the bar.

The three of you turned your heads to find Park Jimin waving at you. He was smiling, his eyes forming two small slits as he held a big glass of beer with his vacant hand.

Seulgi glared at you both as you started approaching the group of boys.

“Don’t say anything I wouldn’t say,” she said to Max and you through clenched teeth, smiling at Park Jimin as if she hadn’t just threatened her two best friends.

You looked at Max and smiled devilishly just to tease Seulgi.

“Sure,” you shrugged.

“Trust us,” Max said, winking at you.

Throwing a last glare towards you, Seulgi greeted Jimin with a hug, they boy’s hands lingering on her waist more than they should have.

You glared at the boy, warning him with your eyes. But either he ignored your silent threat or he was to stupid to get it.

“These are my friends,” Seulgi introduced you to Jimin, though she had already introduced you to him a couple of times. “Max and Y/N.”

“Hi,” you and Max politely greeted him, too politely for Seulgi’s liking.

You were plotting something behind her back, she was sure of it.

“Hey, nice to meet you,” he said, sending you one of his bright smiles. “Lemme introduce you to my friends.”

You followed him to a small table surrounded by two black leather couches. The table was full of empty glasses of beer and some jars.

“Hey guys!” Jimin announced. “These are Seulgi and her friends, Max and Y/N.”

The three of you smiled awkwardly as Jimin introduced you to Seokjin, Hoseok and Namjoon, the last one sending you a dimpled smile that nearly sent you flying against one of the leather couches. You hadn’t seen them around campus. But he then introduced you to Taehyung and Jungkook, the ones you always saw with the shorter boy.

Seulgi quickly sat with Jimin on a more secluded couch, and Max, being the social butterfly she was, started playing Clash of Clans with Taehyung, Hoseok and Jungkook, leaving you alone on a couch, taking small sips from your drink as you glanced at the dimpled boy out of the corner of your eye.

“Hey,” he greeted you once the other boy, the one named Seokjin, disappeared with a girl. “Y/N, right?”

“Yeah, and you were… Namjoon?”

“That’s my name,” he said, sending you another one of those smiles. “So, you know Jimin?”

“Not really” you said, shrugging.

Seeing the doubt in the boy’s eyes, you went to explain yourself.

“We go to the same university as Jimin. Seulgi and him have spoken a few times,” you quickly explained, not wanting to get into much detail about it.

“Oh,” Namjoon nodded, taking a sip from his beer. “And what are you studying?”

“History of Art.”

“Whoa, cool.”

“Yeah,” you smiled.

“I’ve always loved art, and history too, so the two of them combined… It must be so cool to study that.”

“It is,” you nodded.

Why couldn’t you articulate more that two words each time the handsome boy spoke to you?

“I will ask you to go with me to a museum one of this days and give me a tour.”

“Okay,” you agreed. “But it won’t be free.”

Namjoon arched a brow and you averted your eyes from him shyly. Was he flirting with you? Were you really flirting back with him? Whoa.

“I’ll invite you to have dinner afterwards then,” he said in a playful tone.

“Sounds good as long as there is good food involved,” you answered, still not being able to look him in the eye, afraid he would see your reddened cheeks.

A man stepped into the empty stage suddenly and started checking the mic, making Namjoon and you turn your heads towards the stage and stop flirting with each other.

“Hey, hello… Can you hear me?” the man said.

“Yeah!” the crowd cheered.

“Okay!” the young man said animatedly. “How are you feeling tonight!?”

The crowd screamed something that sounded like “great!”.

“The week has finally ended and what a better way to start the weekend than with a free mic night!” the man screamed through the mic.

“Yeah!”

“Who’s ready for tonight?!”

The crowd kept cheering as the man introduced the names of the participants of the rap battle. You had never been in a place like that, and you were enjoying its cheerful and chill atmosphere.

You rested your back on the back of the couch, clapping when the crowd did and cheering when the crowd did.

“Okay, okay,” the man said. “Our first participant of the night is the King of tongue technology himself. We’ve had the pleasure of hearing him before and we can’t wait to hear him again tonight! Suga, ladies and gentlemen!”

The crowd clapped and cheered like crazy, and you followed them, clapping as you observed a small, dark-haired boy stepping into the stage

“What’s this?” you asked Namjoon, raising your voice a bit above all the noise. “Some sort of competition?”

“No, it’s a free mic night,” he said. “Whoever wants, can step into the stage and rap. You can sing too, but since this is a Hip-Hop bar I don’t think you would be very welcomed…”

“I wasn’t planning on stepping into the stage and singing, but thanks,” you laughed softly.

The boy who was climbing on the stage, was wearing a black hat on top of his head. It was one of those hats old people use when they go fishing, and you were sure you would have hated it had it not been for the style with which the boy was wearing it. Style? Swag? What was the word? The hat and his black fringe blocked the view of his eyes and nearly half of his face, as the lights casted shadows all over it. Still, you could glimpse his plump, rosy lips and his round features. His small frame was covered by baggy clothes that looked too big for him. A black hoodie and ripped jeans.

The crowd went silent as that boy named Suga cleared his throat.

The music started playing, a loud bass followed by the electronic sounds of a keyboard, and then, a voice. It filled the entire room and it made you swing your body to the rhythm unconsciously.

It was as if you had suddenly been bewitched and you couldn’t control your movements, only the voice could. It was deep, strong, powerful… It was hypnotizing.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off the boy, not even when you felt Namjoon leaning towards you.

“That’s Yoongi,” Namjoon whispered in your ear. “He’s another friend of us.”

You could only nod at his words, as you were still too mesmerized by the boy’s voice to be able to form any coherent words.

Each movement, each word… trapped you more and more until you found yourself sitting on an empty room. Namjoon had disappeared, the rest of the people had disappeared, the tables, the leather couches, the posters on the walls… Everything was black, dark, except for the bright lights that lit the stage in which the boy was pouring his soul onto every word.

You could hear his raspy voice on the highest notes. You could hear his anger, his emotion, his passion, and they were all so vivid you felt as if you could reach out and touch them.

The song came to an end too fast for your liking, and suddenly all lights were back, Namjoon was by your side again and everyone was on their seats, or standing up, clapping. The posters were back, the tables, the leather couches… But your eyes could only stare at the boy who was now putting back the mic on its tripod and waving at the crowd awkwardly.

You clapped, still in a daze. You were a huge lover of music, of Hip-Hop specifically, but you had never felt like that while listening to any song or anyone rapping.

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Namjoon said, looking at you with his eyebrows raised, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, he is…” you whispered, your cheeks turning red because you had been caught red handed.

The boy stepped out of the stage and greeted a couple of people on his way towards your table.

As he arrived, Namjoon stood up, just like the rest of the boys, to greet and congratulate him. You stood up too.

“That was amazing man!” Namjoon said, punching the other boy in the chest with one of those stupid greetings boys use.

The smaller boy returned the gesture, and you silently observed behind the shadows how he took off his hat… And all the magic disappeared.

You had seen that face before. It was way sweatier than when you had first seen it, but that permanent scowl on his features and that hunched figure… You would have recognised it anywhere.

Ever since that fatidic day you bumped into him and spilled his iced americano all over his Stranger Things t-shirt, you hadn’t seen him again, nor around campus, nor around anywhere. And really, you weren’t expecting to see him again – or wanting or hoping. Not at all.

You gritted your teeth as you contemplated him, wondering how someone who had just rapped like that, with so much emotion and passion, someone who was being hugged by friends and being congratulated, could still look so grumpy and annoyed.

“Man, this is Y/N,” Namjoon said, pointing at you with his hand as you gave him a quick nod of the head as your greeting.

His dark, small eyes fell on you and you saw recognition washing over the pale boy’s features before they returned to their usual impassible-angry-annoyed self.

“Hmm,” he simply nodded, before turning around and facing his back to you, turning his attention to the other boys.

“Err…” Namjoon said awkwardly, seeing the blush on your cheeks – mistaking it as an embarrassment blush, when it was an angry one. “Forgive him, he’s still high from his performance.”

“Sure,” you shrugged, sitting back on your couch and taking a long sip from your beer.

. . .

You rolled your eyes again as you walked down the corridors of your History of Art building. Again. Because Seulgi was speaking about Jimin. Again.

Wasn’t there a topic that had nothing to do with Park Jimin and his friends? Apparently, no.

Sure, they were nice, and Namjoon looked like he was an interesting guy, but you would rather drown in bitter iced americano than see that Yoongi guy once again.

He was boring, unpleasant and rude, and you had to refuse the urge to spill another drink all over him as he stood all Friday night on his phone, rudely ignoring you and your friends.

“He’s just the sweetest,” Seulgi kept saying.

“He’s the sweetest because he knows he still doesn’t have you in the palm of his hand. Once he has you all over him, he won’t be that sweet, believe me,” you said in a low tone of voice, a bitterness hidden behind your words.

“Whoa, you’re moody today. Didn’t you sleep last night or what?” Seulgi asked, looking at you with wide eyes.

You shrugged. “I just don’t get it. They are normal guys, nothing out of the blue, why are you so obsessed with them?”

“I had fun with them,” Max added.

“Yeah, and they were nice to us, they even paid for our drinks.”

You rolled your eyes. Again.

“So, if a guy invites you to a few drinks he automatically wins your heart?” you said, looking at Seulgi.

“Hmm… Yeah? Not everyone invites you to a few drinks these days,” she said, arching a brow. “Why are you like this all of the sudden? I thought you liked Namjoon?”

“And I did, he was cool, but that doesn’t mean I want to marry him and bring his children to this world.”

Now, it was Max and Seulgi’s turn to roll their eyes.

“I guess you won’t be coming to my party on Thursday, then,” Seulgi said.

“Why would I miss your party?” you asked, frowning.

When had you missed one of your friend’s parties? It wasn’t that you loved partying, but you did love a good party at a good house.

“Because I’m inviting them all.”

“What? Why?” you dramatically cried. “Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s my party and I choose who I invite and who I don’t.”

“And you’re choosing those boys over me?”

“No,” Seulgi simply shrugged. “I’m just inviting you both.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “That’s unfair, you’ll be paying attention to the boys and I’ll be left alone.”

“You can talk to Namjoon, I see future in there,” Max chimed in, winking an eye at you.

. . .

“I see future in there,” you mocked Max’s voice as you walked towards your next class, books clutched under your arms and your eyes fixed in the screen of your phone. “They’re choosing a bunch of boys over me, their best friend…”

You were grumbling under your breath like an old woman, but you just couldn’t believe that Seulgi was throwing a party and that she was willing to let you out of it because of Jimin and his friends. Fuck Park Jimin and fuck his stupid friends.

So absorbed in your own thoughts and checking your Instagram feed, which sucked a bit lately, you barely had enough time to sense a body approaching you with no intentions of dodging you.

The collision was unavoidable, and you clashed harshly against a body no bigger than yours.

As your books fell to the floor, you felt a cold liquid soaking your jumper.

“Ouch,” you said, looking at your books on the floor helplessly.

Lifting your eyes from the mess on the floor, you gasped as your eyes found those tiny, angry eyes that belonged to Min Yoongi.

“What’s wrong with you?” he spat, his empty cup of Starbucks in one hand as the other pulled from his white hoodie.

Who wears a white hoodie while drinking coffee anyways? It’s like he was asking for it, provoking the stains. Pff.

“With me? What’s wrong with you?! You get lost in the feeling each time you drink iced americano and don’t pay attention to where you’re walking or what?”

“Yeah, I do!” Yoongi said brusquely as he looked down at his ruined hoodie. “Fuck, I’m wearing this hoodie for the first time!”

“Well, what a pity,” you shrugged, crouching on the floor to collect your coffee stained books.

You could sense Yoongi’s glare from your crouched position on the floor. You opted for ignoring it and checking how damaged your books were.

“Aren’t you going to apologize or something?” he angrily asked as you stood up.

“No,” you simply said, shaking some coffee off one of the books.

Yoongi looked flabbergasted, and angry, really angry. If he was waiting for you to waste your time in apologizing to him like you had done the first time, he could sit and wait.

“Well, rude.”

“Aren’t you going to apologize or something?” you repeated, mocking his tone.

“No.”

“We’re even, then,” you said, nodding, with the intention of running towards the toilets to clean your jumper – which you were also wearing for the first time, the dark stain on its front making you want to cry – but you would never admit that in front of Min Yoongi.

“We’re not even!” he said once you had started walking away.

Rolling your eyes, you stopped dead on your tracks and turned around to look at him.

The scene almost made you pee yourself on the spot.

There he was, powerful – yet small – Min Yoongi, piano teacher by day, underground rapper by night, standing in a pool of spilled iced americano, with an empty cup in one hand, a huge stain on his oversized white hoodie, and a scowl over his soft features. You had to keep a straight face and nod towards him.

“I’m not giving you any money again!” you said back. “You clashed against me just like I clashed against you!”

People looked at the two of you as they passed by your side, staring weirdly at Yoongi, and ever weirder at you.

“I hadn’t even started drinking my americano, and I need coffee to function during the day!” he answered.

You shrugged and faked a look of pity.

“So? Go buy yourself another one,” you said, starting to lose patience because you were going to arrive late to class.

Yoongi scoffed, as if he couldn’t believe what you had just said. “I would, but I only brought five bucks with me this morning and I spent them all in that coffee and a muffin.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you buy in Starbucks, you become poor.”

“I’m being serious. You spilled my coffee, for the second time. You owe me.”

“I gave you money last time I spilled your coffee, and you nearly spat on it.”

You didn’t know if it was Yoongi’s glares or the glares of the people that passed by and that winced every time you two screamed at each other from opposite sides of the corridor, but you ended up missing your Prehistorical Art class and going with Min Yoongi to Starbucks to buy him another iced americano.

“There you have it,” you angrily said, handing him his large iced americano – he couldn’t buy a small or a medium one, no, he had to buy a fucking cauldron of coffee.

He didn’t even thank you, as he grabbed the plastic cup from your hands and took a large sip, all while still glaring at you. You grabbed a straw and followed Yoongi towards one of the tables at the back of the cafeteria.

“Why are you following me?” Yoongi said, taking a seat on the nicer and softer armchair, leaving you to sit on the wooden, hard, and uncomfortable chair.

“Well, excuse me but because you so desperately needed your coffee, I had to skip class, and I’m not going to sit around doing nothing, so I’ll drink a warm chai tea latte, thanks.”

Yoongi grumbled something under his breath as he just stared blankly at the ice cubes floating around the dark liquid in his vase.

You observed him, the scent of your hot tea relaxing you. Maybe that was why you decided to start a conversation with Min Yoongi.

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked, taking off your coat and relaxing on your chair.

Yoongi lifted his eyes from his coffee and looked at you with questioning eyes. “It depends.”

“Can I or can I not?”

“Go ahead,” he ended sighing.

“Okay,” you cleared your throat, trying to add some intrigue to the situation. “Why the heck are you drinking iced coffee in the middle of February?”

It was brief, but you swore Min Yoongi was struggling to keep a straight face. However, he swallowed saliva and returned to his usual poker face.

“Because I want to.”

“Okay… Rude,” you mumbled, taking a long sip from your tea.

You winced when the liquid went down your throat. Fuck, Starbucks, is it necessary to serve your beverages boiling?

You both kept drinking your respective beverages, an awkward silence surrounding you both. Your eyes were focused on the table as you thought about how different you and Min Yoongi were from each other. You only had to look at your drinks to realise it.

While he was a cold, dark and strong iced americano, you were a warm, sweet and soft chai tea latte – or so you wanted to think.

The clearing of a throat brought you out of your comparisons.

“Err…” Yoongi awkwardly said. “So… You study at university?”

You looked at him with wide eyes. Was he really trying to start a conversation…? With you? Was he drinking coffee or pure whiskey?

“No, I just enjoy walking around campus and spilling people’s beverages all over their clothes,” you answered sarcastically.

Yoongi scoffed and leaned his back on the armchair he was sitting on, clearly putting distance between you both.

“Gosh, I was just joking,” you said, laughing softly. “Don’t you have a sense of humour, Min Yoongi?”

“I do have sense of humour, I just choose whom I show it to, and whom I don’t.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically.

“Okay, since you clearly don’t want to show it to me, I’ll answer your question like a boring person would. I study at university, yes.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, taking a sip from his iced americano.

“And you?” you asked, already knowing the question, since Namjoon told you about Yoongi on Friday night.

“No, I’m too old for university.”

“I have to agree with you in that.”

Yoongi glared at you, but you simply sent him one of your best smiles.

“I was joking, again, I tend to joke a lot, but I always forget you don’t,” you added. “It’s never too late to study or do anything you really want to do.”

“And what are you studying?” he asked, clearly trying to change the topic.

“History of Art,” you answered, swirling your straw around the paper cup.

“Ah, cool,” is the only thing he said before silence surrounded you once again.

Not being able to bear awkward silences, you said the first thing that came to your mind and kept talking about your life as if Min Yoongi was an old friend and you were just catching up.

“But, if I’m being honest, that’s what my mother wanted me to study since she’s a history teacher,” you said, your gaze lost in the magical beige colour of your chai tea latte. “I always wanted to be a writer and publish my own series of books… Like J.K. Rowling or maybe George R. R. Martin. Just something amongst the lines of fantasy. You know, create my own world, somewhere I could immerse myself into, evade from reality in it and let people do the same. Then create its characters, their stories, maybe invent some language for them and just show it all to the world”

“That’s ambitious,” Yoongi said, looking at you intently.

His eyes were piercing into yours with so much force you were starting to think he wasn’t that cold and uninterested boy any more. You noticed they weren’t as dark or small as they seemed, and that they had a lively shine you had never seen before, but that he used to keep bottled up in the depths of his poker face.

“But impossible, too,” he added, averting his eyes from yours and returning to his I-don’t-give-a-flying-fuck persona.

“Well, thanks,” you sarcastically said, his words somehow reminding you of your mother’s.

“You’re welcome. It’s the truth,” he simply said. “In five years, you’ll thank your mother for making you study a degree.”

He quickly finished his iced americano, making some uncomfortable and loud noises with his straw. Leaving the empty cup on the table, he stood up from his seat.

“Well…” he said. “Enjoy the rest of your tea.”

And just like that, Min Yoongi left the cafeteria after practically inviting himself, leaving you with a wallet four bucks emptier, a nearly cold chai tea latte and a stain of iced americano on your new jumper. Oh, and a crushed dream.

. . .

You usually enjoyed Seulgi’s parties the most. They weren’t too crowded, nor were they too loud. Seulgi’s apartment wasn’t too big, but it was far better than your single room at the dorms of Max parents’ house.

Instead of getting pissed drunk, people focused more on meeting new people, talking and playing nerdy board games – which, you must admit, you were a huge fan of. There was always pizza and mojitos involved, and soft music played on the background.

But that night, you weren’t specially enjoying yourself.

Sitting on the couch and taking small bites from your four-cheese slice of pizza, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the group of seven boys standing around Seulgi’s kitchen island. As you glared at them, a bitter feeling filled your whole body.

There they were, your two best friends, who had denied you when you had asked them to play Twister with you, ignoring you as they laughed at whatever story Hoseok was telling them. They had obviously chosen boys over their best friend, and that was against the world’s rules.

The thoughts swirling around your mind kept making you more and more bitter, to the point where it looked like you could stand from the couch at any moment, grab a knife and stab each one of them.

But then, your eyes landed on a dark figure slumped on the kitchen counter, apart from the rest of the group. A beer in hand, a black hat darkening his features and another one of his oversized hoodies, Min Yoongi observed the group in front of him with an equal bitter expression.

Scoffing you finished your slice of pizza and stood up to grab another one.

“Y/N!” You heard your name being called just when you were stealing a piece of bacon from another pizza and stuffing it in your mouth, your free hand holding the other two new slices of pizza you had grabbed.

Without moving from your position, you turned to look at the place where the sound of your name had come from.

You found Seulgi waving at you, smile wide as ever.

“Hehe,” you faked a laugh when a girl that was grabbing a slice of pizza looked at you weirdly. “Just grabbing some slices for my friends.”

The girl raised her brows and then, turned her attention to the pizzas. Awkwardly, you took advantage of the situation and walked towards the group of people formed by your two friends and the other seven boys – all of them looking at you.

As you arrived to their group, you placed both slices on a napkin and continued to munch on them.

“Hey,” you greeted them with a nod of your head, smiling softly when you looked at Namjoon.

While the rest of them greeted you back, Seulgi grabbed you by the arm – acting as if she was just giving you a friendly hug – and pulled you towards her.

“What are you doing?” She asked you through clenched teeth, while smiling to the rest.

“Eating pizza,” you answered, knowing fully well that wasn’t what she was asking you. “You want some?”

You shoved the pizza in Seulgi’s face and she quickly slapped your hand – and the slice of pizza – away.

“I don’t want your fucking pizza,” she growled, pulling you even closer to her. “All I want is for my best friend to act like one.”

“Oh, sorry,” you feigned concern. “Am I being a bad friend for not kissing the floor these guys walk on like the rest of you are doing?”

“Yeah,” she said, ignoring your sarcasm. “Why can’t you act around them the same way you act around us. You look like a cold stuck up bitch, when you’re far from that.”

“And why would I want to act cool in front of these guys? I owe them nothing.”

“But you owe me, your friend.”

You sighed and looked at her, who was looking back at you with puppy eyes.

“Fine,” you ended up giving in. “But just because you’ve invited me to that sushi place I like so much… Next Saturday. Yeah, I think I’m free then.”

“What? I haven’t invited you to any… Oh, oh!” Seulgi glared at you when she realised what you had just done. “I hate you.”

“And I hate your boyfriend’s friends,” you shrugged.

“He’s not my boyfr - “ she said, raising her voice and turning everyone’s attention to you. “I’ll call the restaurant tomorrow and book a table for two.”

“Nice!” You clapped, already thinking about those delicious avocado maki.

“Book a table just for two? And what about me!” Max protested, she had clearly overheard your conversation.

“You can FaceTime us, that restaurant is expensive as hell and I’m not inviting anyone else.”

Max kept protesting, but eventually, they stopped paying attention to you and you were finally left alone with your two slices of pizza. Caressing the delicious melted cheese with your fingertips, you let yourself salivate at the sight of the food in front of you.

“Hey,” you heard a voice saying, making you lift your gaze from your beloved pizza.

As you looked upwards and found Namjoon’s eyes staring into yours, you saw a dark shadow moving behind the taller boy. You almost laughed at the thought of Min Yoongi always looking like a dark shadow luring around, but you kept a straight face and observed how Min Yoongi’s features hardened as he stopped to look at the two of you, then he gave a sharp turn and walked away from you.

Was it possible that he had tried to approach you and talk to you?

Nah, he had probably been mad that you were blocking his way. That’s all.

“Hey,” you smiled back at Namjoon.

“I didn’t even know you were here.”

“Yeah, I was just eating pizza over there,” you said, pointing towards the couch where you had previously been sitting on.

Namjoon laughed softly and nodded his head towards your slice of pizza. “I see,” he said.

“It’s the best thing about Seulgi’s parties, you want some?” You asked, offering him your other untouched slice of pizza.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, accepting the slice you were offering him and devouring it in just a couple of minutes.

A silence filled the space between the two of you as you ate your pizzas. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence or an awkward one, it was a friendly one and you felt comfortable in it.

“Anyways,” Namjoon said, breaking the silence. “How’s your week been?”

“Boring,” you shrugged. “The only day I did something other than going to class or the library was on Monday.”

You paused when you remembered what had happened on Monday, and why you had broken your routine and went out for one of your beloved chai tea lattes.

“Oh my God,” you said, laughing as you remembered the incident with the iced americano and Min Yoongi. “I spilled Yoongi’s coffee all over his hoodie once again, and he made me go to Starbucks and buy him another one.”

“Wait, what?” Namjoon said, confusedly looking at you. “You spilled Yoongi’s americano all over him?”

“Yeah.”

Namjoon burst out laughing and you soon followed him.

“He must have gotten mad like hell!”

“He did,” you said in between laughs. “But the other time was worst, to be honest.”

“What other time?”

You frowned. “On the first day of uni, I was running late and I bumped into him and spilled his coffee all over his t-shirt. He was an asshole, basically.”

Namjoon laughed even harder.

“You didn’t know?”

“No, he didn’t tell us anything.”

“Oh,” you murmured.

“Don’t think too much about it, Yoongi never tells us anything,” Namjoon said as he observed your confused expression. “But now it makes sense, why he treated you so coldly last Friday. He holds grudges over everything, but he doesn’t want to show it. He’s probably still bitter over it.”

“Well, he acts like a five-year-old kid, then.”

“He’s a nice guy, though, I just don’t know why he acts this way when other people are around. When it’s just the seven of us, he’s the coolest guy, really laid-back and funny.”

“Funny? Min Yoongi? Are you sure we’re both talking about the same person?”

Namjoon laughed at your words and you followed him.

“Wait until he gets comfortable around you, and you’ll see.”

You looked around the room and spotted Yoongi sitting on one of the couches, the same one you had been sitting on previously.

“That’s if he ever gets comfortable around me…” you thought to yourself.

It looked as if he felt out of place, his beer still on one hand as he looked around the room with bored eyes. For a moment, you felt your heart swell at the idea of the lonely boy.

As if sensing someone was staring at him, Yoongi turned his head towards you and his sharp eyes found yours, but you quickly averted your eyes from him, too shy to hold his gaze.

“And you? How was your week?” You asked Namjoon, ignoring that feeling in the back of your neck of being stared at.

. . .

You were biting your lip, doubtfully looking at Yoongi’s figure slumped on the couch.

You weren’t one to approach guys first, but something about Yoongi dragged you in, made you want to know him more, better, discover what was under all those layers of cold façade and indifference.

You had been chatting with Namjoon most of the evening, and you were having a great time, but you couldn’t help it, your eyes searched for a certain small boy every two minutes. You wanted to blame it all on the alcohol, but you hadn’t had any, unless four-cheese pizza had some vodka topping.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Namjoon had announced after finishing your last round of The Wolves.

The rest of the people had stood from the small circle you had formed on the floor of the corridor and they dispersed, leaving just you and Namjoon. But now that Namjoon had also disappeared, you were left alone.

It was your last chance. The boy was alone, you were alone, and no one was paying attention to either of you. You would regret it later if you didn’t approach him, you knew it. But you would regret it even more if you approached the boy and he ran away…

“Stop being a coward, Y/N,” you scoffed to yourself.

Slowly standing up from the floor, you started thinking about the pros and cons about approaching Min Yoongi. Namjoon had told you he was actually cool and funny once you got to know him better, weren’t you also like that? People usually misjudged you and thought you were distant and cold, but once you started being comfortable around them, you started being yourself and they… Well, they eventually thought you were distant and cold, but also funny and nice. Plus, you had seen him trying to approach you in the kitchen when Namjoon greeted you, you were pretty sure you hadn’t made that up.

“Fuck it, he’s just a boy,” you encouraged yourself. “You’re just trying to be friendly with him… For Seulgi.”

And taking a deep breath, you walked towards Min Yoongi. You were tired of liking boys, and because of your shyness, insecurities and fear of being rejected, never approaching them to just regret it later when you were alone, in the dorms, eating pop-corn and watching old episodes of CSI Miami.

Hey, it’s not that you liked Min Yoongi… You just wanted to approach him.

“Hey,” you said, smiling at Yoongi as you took a seat by his side on the couch.

The boy lifted his eyes from the screen of his phone and looked at you. You saw a flash of surprise in his sharp eyes before they went to their usual uninterested self.

“Hey.”

“By any means, you don’t happen to have an iced americano around here that I can spill all over your clothes, do you?” You joked.

Yoongi just stared at you with that same bored expression.

“No.”

You frowned as his eyes went back to the screen of his phone. What was wrong with that boy?

“Relax, I was just kidding,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.

But the mood was as thick as those mirrors they use in interrogatory rooms. Those bulletproof and soundproof and everything-proof mirrors. You frowned, confused by the change in Yoongi’s behaviour. Sure, he wasn’t the funniest person you knew, but the other day at the café he had seemed… Nice.

“Don’t you wanna play The Wolves?” You asked, trying again.

“Does it look like I play that stupid game?” He answered brusquely, not even tearing his eyes away from his phone.

You felt something inside you deflate. Maybe it was your pride, maybe your illusions, maybe the fact that you had been brave enough to approach someone for once and you had been slapped across the face… Either way, fuck the mood and fuck Min Yoongi. You had tried to be friendly with him more than you had ever tried with anyone else, and each time, he had been rude to you. Fuck him.

“Oh, sorry,” you answered, your tone now bitter and harsh, just like his. “I forgot you’re an underground rapper, you’re too cool to play The Wolves,” you mocked him.

Yoongi finally looked at you, but his eyes were a bit aggressive as they stared at you. Your nostrils flared as you held his gaze.

“What do you want?” He spat.

“I just wanted to be friendly with you because Seulgi asked me to be friendly with Jimin’s friends, but I see it’s impossible to be friendly with someone like you,” you spat the word ‘you’.

“Phew,” he dramatically said. “You finally realised it.”

If looks could kill, Min Yoongi would have died that night, on Seulgi’s couch, under your cold glare.

“Well, if you insist on having coffee with me, it’s a bit difficult to realise anything.”

“I didn’t want to have coffee with you, I just wanted you to buy me another coffee, because you spilled the one I had bought for myself. It’s not my fault you misunderstood everything and followed me to my table.”

You went to answer something, the first thing that had come to your mind, but you bite your tongue. It wasn’t worth to waste any saliva on Min Yoongi. Your cheeks were crimson red, and your skin felt hot from humiliation and anger. While you were fuming, crumbling down, Min Yoongi looked so calm and composed. You guessed you had been wrong, he had nothing behind those layers because he was all those layers. He was distant, cold and rude.

“You’re right, I misunderstood you then, but I don’t tend to make the same mistakes twice,” you said, standing up from the couch as composed and relaxed as you could.

But your ego – which was a bit big, let’s be honest – had been damaged, and it was making your body tense and slow as you stood before him. Damn, that’s why you never approached guys first.

“Don’t misunderstand me now, Min Yoongi,” you spat, looking down at him from where you stood. “Go fuck yourself.”

And with that, you turned around and disappeared from the rapper’s sight.

. . .

That night at Seulgi’s apartment would just be the beginning of your stormy ‘relationship’ with Min Yoongi.

After that first Friday, and the meeting at Seulgi’s party, meetings at the bar became a routine for your group of friends and the other seven boys – unluckily for you and Yoongi. You would finish your classes after three, meet with Namjoon at the library to study for a while, and go to the bar where the rest of the boys, Max and Seulgi would be waiting.

At first, you weren’t too fond of that new routine, but one Friday passed, and then two, three, four… And suddenly, four months had passed, and summer holidays had begun.

You started liking Seokjin’s dad jokes, Hoseok’s loud screams of excitement, Namjoon’s random facts about life, Jimin’s clumsiness – and the love glances he threw Seulgi’s way – Taehyung’s weird but unique taste in clothing and Jungkook’s unending energy. And suddenly, you had started calling them ‘your friends’ and not ‘Park Jimin’s stupid group of friends’.

Of course, you couldn’t say the same about Min Yoongi.

He was still cold, rude and boring. He always looked bitter and uninterested, and every time you would say something out loud – whether it was something funny, anecdotic or random – he would scoff and avert his eyes hastily from you. You, of course, wouldn’t stay quiet and would sent some snarky remark his way, which would lead to an unceasing battle of snarky comments and rolls of eyes – to the point where the rest of the group was so used to it that they wouldn’t even try to stop you anymore and would continue minding their own business as you two argued.

That summer, you fled home to see your parents and spent all summer holidays there, bathing in the warmth of the sun and nature of your hometown.

The beginning of your second year was much different from the beginning of your first year.

The night before, you prepared everything so your alarm clock sounded at seven AM, your clothes were are neatly folded inside your wardrobe and ready for you to pick them, your shower ran properly – with warm water – and you had breakfast in a different cafeteria you had discovered with Namjoon the year before after a long morning in the library. Because of all that, you didn’t run towards your first class, and you didn’t storm into the History building like you had done the previous year.

That morning, you didn’t bump into a certain grumpy boy and you arrived early to class.

593 notes · View notes

thehuggamugcafe · 6 years

Text

The Charlatan: Transfer Student III

OOC: So, I seem to be in the mood to put you through the mill this afternoon, dear reader. My apologies for that in advance.

I hope to be especially busy today, so I hope this will tide you folks over until I post other things. Anyway... I’ve talked enough, I think.

Let us start the game together, shall we? Please indulge yourself, my dear customer. Enjoy. ☕

Part 2 is here. https://thehuggamugcafe.tumblr.com/post/174898453922/the-charlatan-transfer-student-ii

No sooner had the barely-there smile touched his lips, it was gone, replaced by a frown as his brows pinched the slant of his gray eyes.

“Have you been told? A customer of mine and your parents know each other, and—”

Sojiro stopped in the midst of his spiel, breathing a sigh. Quietly, going by the irritated look in his eyes, the annoyed scowl that pinched his lightly aged face, he seemed to view it as too much of a hassle to explain himself to you.

You couldn’t help but silently wonder why he was so distant with others, but you knew better than to push your luck by voicing your curiosity. Sojiro Sakura was your caretaker for the next year, and if you so much as toed the invisible line, or worse crossed it, he would throw you out and you knew where you’d end up. A cell in juvie hall.

“Well, not that that matters. Follow me.”

You waited until his back was turned and he began walking until, finally, you decided that following his example was a good idea. Halfway up the stairs to a somewhat spacious attic, a question rolled off of your tongue and past your lips before you could stop yourself.

“Um, excuse me... There were a lot of police officers on my way here. Did something happen? Was there an accident, maybe?”

“Huh?”

Sojiro stopped on the staircase, eyeing you critically for a few moments before he breathed an all too familiar sigh, one of mild frustration.

“Police officers...? Accident...? It’s not my business, and it’s not yours either, kid.”

It was as though answering you wasn’t worth his time, and again, you couldn’t help but be reminded of how distant, how cold his attitude was. Your first impression of him wasn’t helped by the fact that he called you a kid, either.

When you ascended the final step, your (e/c) gaze quietly took in the sight of the attic as Sojiro proclaimed, “This is your room.”

A dusty wooden shelf was on your left, right next to the staircase landing, filled with bags of what you assumed to be old belongings. You made a mental note to try to avoid from tripping over it in the morning from now on. Bulky trash bags, a ladder, a potted plant, a small heater, a few empty plastic containers, cardboard boxes that were taped shut, a fan covered in cobwebs, and a shelf littered with musty old books cluttered the left-hand side of the room. An old work bench sat in one corner of the room, directly across from an old mattress with a (f/c) sleeping bag, clustered with old books and covered by a plastic sheet.

Next to the workstation, there was an old couch, and next to the couch were more old books on top of and underneath the rickety-looking table. You spotted more cardboard boxes that were taped shut, two laundry baskets, raggedy-looking cloths that hung from the lines that dangled from the attic beams, and a dim yellow white fluorescent glow shone from a few lit light bulbs. Lastly, your eyes landed on a box set in the middle of the attic room, your room for the next year, and you knew it was your belongings from home.

You glanced back at Sojiro as he addressed you with a stern-sounding “hey,” and a look to match.

“Are you listening?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.” He paused to raise a hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. “I’ll at least give you sheets for your bed.”

The lukewarm stare he gave you caused a chill to dance up and down your spine. You felt very much like a child expecting to be scolded by his or her parent, and you felt like you were walking on egg shells. It was looking more and more like the next year would be... difficult with Sojiro Sakura, to say the least.

“Hm? You look like you want to say something.”

“...It’s big,” you muttered, casting one last glance around the attic.

“It’s on you to clean up the rest. I’ll leave after locking up each day. You’ll be alone at night, but don’t do anything stupid. I’ll throw you out if you cause any trouble.”

You opened your mouth to thank him, but his voice—and the no-nonsense stare he had—stopped you from speaking so much as a word.

“Now then... I got the gist of your situation: You protected some woman from a man forcing himself on her, he got injured, then sued you. Right? That’s what you get for sticking your nose in a matter between two adults. You did injure him, yeah?”

Sojiro paused, breathing a sigh through pursed lips as he stared at you, long and hard. “I guess appearances aren’t everything.”

You swallowed a gulp, a mound of saliva that felt like it was the size of a tennis ball. Instinctively, you felt a hand curling to a fist, a fist that shook, trembled with irritation as your eyes hardened.

“W-Wait a minute, that was all just a... I... I mean that I—”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Sojiro abruptly cut you off with both a stare that cut through you like a hot knife through butter, and sharp words that rolled off of his tongue.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to anyone. I am in the restaurant business, you know. Anyway,” he paused, withdrawing a cigarette package from one of the pockets of his barista apron.

The flap was opened, and a faint hint of raisin made itself known to you as a tobacco-stuffed cigarette was removed. The middle-aged man put it between his lips as he took out a lighter, and with a flick of his thumb, a small reddish orange flame danced on the windscreen. The small flame touched the end of the cigarette, and soon, a huff of gray smoke was breathed into your face.

“And now that you’ve got a criminal record, you were expelled from your high school. The courts ordered you to transfer and move out here, which your parents also approved. In other words,” he paused, his lips curling as he smiled, but it wasn’t a pleasant smile, “they got rid of you for being a pain in the ass.”

He breathed a second huff of smoke, watching your expression as the gray white smog filtered by you, around you, and wafted throughout the dusty attic.

“Behave yourself for the year. If nothing happens, your probation will be lifted.”

“...A whole year,” you muttered, more to yourself than to your caretaker.

“Your sentence lasts until next spring, right? That’s why you’re gonna be here for the coming year. Cause any problems, and you’ll be sent straight to juvie.”

The middle-aged barista crushed the smouldering butt of his cigarette into the edge of the shelf on the left of where you both stood.

“We’ll be going to Shujin tomorrow.”

“...Shujin?” you asked, blinking owlishly.

“Shujin Academy—the school you’ll be attending. We’ll introduce ourselves properly to the staff there. There’s rarely a place that will accept someone like you, you know.”

By someone like me, he means someone with a criminal record, even if it is a false charge!

You said nothing, deciding it was wise to bite the inside of your cheek for the time being.

“...Yes, sir,” you replied, your soft words earning a quiet, long winded sigh from Sojiro.

“What a waste of my Sunday... Your luggage arrived earlier; I left it over there.”

Your eyes fell on the cardboard box that was just behind him, nodding once.

“...I’ll leave it to you then, kid. Oh, and you heard what I said, didn’t you? Cause me any grief, and I’ll toss you out onto the streets like the troublemaker you are. Got it?”

“...Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good. Make sure to go to bed early. I won’t be the one looking after you if you get sick because you stayed up too late.”

“...Yes, sir. Good night.”

You watched as Sojiro turned on his heels, the soles of his white shoes clicking as he descended the attic stairs. Your eyes did a slow, thorough sweep of the attic, breathing a sigh as you set your schoolbag on a table on the right-hand side of the attic stairs.

“This is gonna take me a while...”

It took some time, but finally, you collapsed on what was to be your bed for the next year, your hands resting on your interlocked palms, fingers linked together. The lumpy mattress shifted, quietly groaning in protest as your weight was added to it. By the time you had finished cleaning the attic that probably hadn’t seen a feather duster in years, it was early evening. The distant caws of a crow reached you through the rickety window that blew a cool, crisp spring breeze into the room through a crack in the opening, whispering across your face as you breathed a sigh.

Your (e/c) gaze stared up into the ceiling, lazily eyeing the support beams as thoughts rushed through your mind.

Arrest... Trial... Criminal record...

The inebriated voice of that man hissed its way into your head, like a snake winding its way through grass. It was as prevalent as it always was when you thought back to that night. You could still remember the way he glared at you, eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed with intoxication, pressing a hand to his head injury as he spat angrily at you.

“You little bitch... I’ll sue!”

Back then... On that evening... I wasn’t in the wrong. I know I did the right thing.

That was what you told yourself over and over again, but it was a sobering comfort, albeit a bittersweet one. You helped a woman who was in clear need of aid, and what had you gotten in return as thanks?

A slap to the face and angry words, courtesy of your mother.

The sneering lips and haughty stare of your older sister.

The wide, watery eyes and worried glances of your little brother.

The quiet, concerned stare of your father, softly whispering assurances that everything would be okay in the end.

Your friends abandoning you.

Your classmates and the faculty staff eyeing you critically, as though you weren’t the person they once knew anymore.

Your high school expulsion.

Your false criminal record.

Being labelled as a delinquent, a no-good problem child, and on top of everything else, you would be stuck in Tokyo for a whole year.

Still, I couldn’t just let that go.

You remembered you had to go home early on that day. Your father had called, saying your grandfather had been hospitalized for a sudden heart attack, and your cram school teacher had given you the green light to leave early.

“Just get in the car!”

You remembered stopping, flicking a glance down a separate street, pursing your lips as you paused, listening.

“Stop it!”

“How dare you cross me...!”

You moved instinctively, but not away from the sound of quarrelling voices, no.

You moved to where they were coming from.

“Stop it! Let me go!”

The closer you approached, the more clear their voices were. It was a man and a woman, the latter being grappled by the former as the man snarled intoxicated words at the woman, his words slurring noticeably.

“No!”

You remembered the way the woman struggling, doing her best to get away from the man, but for every inch she tried to get away from him, the closer he yanked her back to him with a large, masculine hand wrapped around her forearm.

“Don’t give me that shit...”

“Ow! P-Please, stop!”

She’s in danger. I have to save her!

You remembered how your heels clicked over the asphalt, your schoolbag bumping against your clothed back as you jogged closer. The driver-side door of a car was left open, a car which you assumed was the man’s vehicle, ready to shove the helpless woman inside at any moment.

“Tch... What a waste of time. You think you’re worth causing me trouble? Huh?”

“I-I’ll call the police!”

“Heh, call them if you want! The police are my bitches. They’re not gonna take you seriously.”

“No... Stop...”

The distant wailing of police sirens made you look up the street, and so did the drunken man. He clicked his tongue in clear annoyance.

“Someone called the cops, huh? Get in the car! Incompetent fools like you just need to shut your mouths and follow where I steer this country!”

Suddenly, the hairs raised on the back of your neck as the woman’s eyes fell on you, and the man followed to where she was staring, honing his gaze on you.

“What’re you looking at? Get outta my face!”

You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You watched as the man took a few steps, his balance was questionable as his eyes leered at you through the orange-coloured lenses of the glasses that sat upon his nose.

“This ain’t a show! Get lost, missy!”

Turning back to glare at the woman over his shoulder, his voice spoke volumes of the irritation he felt.

“See? This is all because you’re so damn slow! Get in the car!”

In the here-and-now, you felt a hand curling to a tight, white-knuckled fist. Your jaw became set as your lips pursed, your brows pinched the slant of your eyes as you stared—no, glared—up at the ceiling.

You breathed a huff and a sour mutter of, “That scumbag,” feeling your eyes sliding shut. You were in the throes of dozing off—that is, until the be-be-beep of your phone pulled you free from the attempt of falling asleep.

You hummed as you withdrew your cellphone from the pocket of your cotton pyjama pants, blinking as your eyes fell on a familiar red and black icon that took the shape of an eye.

It’s that weird app again. Your eyes focused on it, sensing a dizzying spell of feeling lightheaded gripping a hold of you, washing over you. It was slow, gentle, but potent simultaneously, lulling you into a sense of security, of warmth.

“That’s... weird. I deleted it this afternoon. It’s so creepy,” you mumbled, blinking your heavy eyes.

You tried, you honestly and truly tried to resist, but your eyes slid shut, and you fell into the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness.

The clanking of shackles yanked you to full alertness, breathing a shallow gasp as your eyes shot open. Groggy, your eyes watched as a chain lazily swung back and forth, the chilling sound of metal hitting a padded wall resulted in a powerful chill to worm up and down your spine, a shudder that shook your shoulders. The soft but steady noise of water dripping into a toilet was heard directly across from you, echoing all around wherever it was that you resided now.

Wherever this place was, you knew one thing for certain.

This isn’t Leblanc’s attic.

The feeling of cold metal surrounding your wrists, the telltale sound of chains clinking together made you look down, and a similar sensation of icy steel circling your calves earned a second, more thorough glance at yourself. Your quiet suspicions were confirmed; your hands and ankles sported thick metal shackles. Moreover, you wore a white and black striped prisoner’s uniform, clothing that was strangely complimented by the simple pair of raggedy sneakers you wore.

The lumpy mattress you sat on shifted as you tossed your feet on the floor, the worn footwear scuffing over the floor as the soles made contact. You drew in a breath as he sat, back curved as you pressed a hand to your head, trying to assess the situation.

Where am I? How did I get here? Is this a dream?

A soft snicker caught your attention, and you blinked, your head pointing an askance on the cell door. A smirk curled the lips of the noiret, standing at around 5’11’’, the warm onyx iris of his right eye observing you. He wore a standard warden’s uniform. A crisp blue shirt and a black tie, black dress pants covered his legs, and black dress shoes shone with a mirror polish. Finally, a warden’s cap sat atop his head, bearing a golden V, and the black eyepatch that covered his right eye also bore a golden V as he breathed a second chuckle. It was a noise that was surprisingly pleasant to hear, but...

You watched as he shifted, making way for a carbon copy of himself. This young man appeared to be just like him. The same frizzy black hair, the same onyx iris that coolly eyed you, the same clothing, the same eyepatch covered his left eye, but unlike his look-a-like, he seemed to be more stand-offish, more level-headed. The two noiret, obsidian-eyed wardens shifted, turning sideways as your gaze fell on a rather... odd-looking man.

The first thing you took notice of was his abnormally long nose, and how his wide, bloodshot eyes ogled you in silence. He was dressed in a way that reminded you of a butler, or perhaps a servant of a higher being. A crisp black tailcoat, a white shirt, a black tie, black leggings, and black dress shoes. A grin eternally pulled at his lips as he raised a hand covered by a white glove, appearing to greet you.

For a moment, and only a moment, silence prevailed where you lingered, but finally, the man spoke.

“Trickster... Welcome to my Velvet Room.”

#persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 au #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #reader #akiraxreader #ren x reader #akiraxreaderxren #ryuji sakamoto #morgana #ann takamaki #yusuke kitagawa #makoto niijima #futaba sakura #haru okumura #goro akechi #PART 3 IS UP!#FINALLY!

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exhuastedpigeon · 6 years

Text

Winter Storm Stiles Sterek || Teen || 2K Stiles isn't looking forward to weathering his first snow storm on his own, then he meets a handsome stranger at the grocery store who might be able to help.

The thing was, Stiles wasn’t build for winter. He grew up in California, the winters had been relatively mild in D.C. the three years he’d lived there, he went to grad school back in California, and he’d gotten his PhD at Duke; he wasn’t bred to handle the snow and bitter cold. So naturally his first winter as an associate professor at Brown was one of the worst winters the East Coast had seen in 100 years.

Naturally .

He wasn’t bitter about it, but he was bitterly cold and he definitely didn’t know how to drive well in the snow, but he was managing. Or at least he thought he was handling it until they closed the school because of the weather and his coworkers were talking about their emergency candles and propane heaters, about having stocked up on food they could cook without electricity and having cases of water in case the pipes froze.

That was when Stiles realized he was in over his head.

Read on ao3 or

“Do you have electric heat or gas?” Allison, his favorite professor in his department, asked as they walked to their cars through the freezing campus.

“Gas?” Stiles guessed. His gas bill had been way higher since the winter kicked into full gear so he figured it was a good guess, “Yeah, gas.”

“Well that’s good at least,” She tugged her scarf tighter around her face, “Get some bread, peanut butter, oranges, maybe some other veggies, and other stuff that won’t go bad if the power goes out. And don’t forget water.”

“And beer?”

“And beer,” She confirmed with a laugh, “I’d go straight from here to the store, hopefully we’re still early enough that there will be stuff left. I’m lucky Lydia’s last class was at 9 and she went for us.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Stiles bumped her shoulder, “Brag about how great your wife is while I’m still painfully single.”

“I told you I could set you up with our friend that teaches at Providence,” Allison reminded him for the millionth time, “Just say the word.”

“I’m not that lonely yet, I have Cat.”

“Okay Audrey,” Allison laughed and got into her car, “Text me if you have any questions about surviving your first winter storm. Make sure your flashlight has batteries!”

“Thanks,” Stiles waved as he got into his own car, grateful that his new Jeep had four-wheel drive as he pulled onto the already snowy roads.

The parking lot at Whole Foods was a disaster. Stiles parked as far away from the store with the clearest path to the exit as possible, figuring it was better to brave the cold and snow than deal with everyone else driving on the same slick pavement.

By the time he made it into the store he had seen almost three accidents and decided that his parking choice had been the right one. He grabbed a cart and headed into the store, making a b line toward the bread.

He was glad he did, because there were only a few loaves left. He grabbed one and tossed it onto his cart, avoiding eye contact with the guy who had been reaching for the same loaf. He didn’t need anyone’s attitude right now, he needed peanut butter.

The store was out or nearly out of a lot of the basic stuff that Stiles would have normally bought, like eggs, milk, and Lucky Charms, so he settled for almond milk and knock off Marshmallow Stars before he grabbed a case of water and a case of IPAs.

Allison’s voice was in his head reminding him to get fruits and vegetables as he tossed chips and salsa into his cart. He frowned, but made his way back to the fresh produce to grab some apples and a bag of carrots.

“Nope,” A voice said behind him as Stiles grabbed the last bag of baby carrots from the display, “You took the last loaf of actual bread, you don’t get the last of the carrots.”

Stiles turned and his jaw almost dropped, the guy standing behind him looked like he’d walked off the pages of GQ, his pea coat unbuttoned and scarf hanging around his neck, his stubble artfully shaped, his eyes a kaleidoscope of colors.

“You snooze you lose buddy,” Stiles almost winked, but this guy was about his size and even though Stiles was in pretty good shape for 30, he didn’t want to risk getting his ass kicked at Whole Foods right before a storm, “There are some radishes still.”

Hot-angry-face glowered as Stiles tossed the carrots into his cart and moved on toward the apples. As if the guy could sense where Stiles was going next, he grabbed the last bag of granny smith and smirked when Stiles glared, “You snooze you lose.”

“That’s just mean,” Stiles looked at the apples longingly, “What if I gave you half my bag of carrots.”

“And half that loaf of bread,” The guy added quickly.

“Fine.”

“Great.”

“Awesome.”

“I’m Derek,” He stuck out his hand, “I would say I’m sorry about this, but I was here for the last big storm and I lost power so I need the bread.”

“I’m Stiles,” He shook Derek’s hand, “I’m from California and the thought of more than an inch of snow makes me want to learn how to hyberate through the winter.”

Derek laughed as they walked toward the checkout, the line was at least ten people long, “Then I’d avoid Upstate New York. I taught in Buffalo for a couple years and we got six feet of snow in four days one November.”

“Holy shit,” Stiles shuddered at the thought, “I’m guessing they closed school?”

A laugh escaped Derek’s mouth, “They didn’t close the college where I was teaching in time and a bunch of commuter students ended up having to sleep on cots in the gym. I lucked out and took the subway before that shut down too.”

“Jesus Christ I’m never going to Buffalo,” Stiles muttered, moving up as the line moved, “I got my PhD down in North Carolina and we had an inch of snow once and everything shut down for two days.”

“You’re kidding,” Derek laughed again. When he wasn’t accosting Stiles over bread and carrots he had a great smile, “My sister lives in Argentina now and she refuses to visit me in the winter because she hates the snow.”

“So, do you think the power will go out?” Stiles asked after a beat, not wanting the conversation to end.

“If we’re lucky it won’t, but mine went out during the last big storm,” Derek said with a little frown, Stiles had the urge to smooth out the line that it put between his eyes, “It sucked.”

“I’m not looking forward to being alone for this,” Stiles admitted for the first time. He knew that he should have taken Allison and Lydia up on their offer to stay with them, but he didn’t want to interrupt their chance at some quality alone time.

“Maybe - ,” Derek started, then stopped, looking down.

“Maybe what?” Stiles didn’t let himself think that Derek was going to suggest they weather the storm together, but he hoped.

“It’s dumb,” Derek pressed forward, “But maybe we could take on the storm together? We are sharing bread and carrots after all.”

“That makes sense to me,” Stiles grinned and Derek grinned back, “Uh, could we possibly make it my place? I didn’t leave enough food out for Cat.”

“Sure,” Derek nodded and added, “My last name is Hale by the way, if you wanted to make sure I’m not a murderer. My sisters tell me I have murder face.”

Stiles pulled out his phone and texted the name to his buddy Danny who worked for the FBI, “Mine’s Stilinski, and I warn you, when I was 17 I found a dead body in the woods, sometimes that article pops up when you Google me.”

Derek laughed, “Good to know.”

A minute later Stiles phone buzzed with a text from Danny telling Stiles that the guy was clear besides some speeding tickets and that he better hit it since he was hot . Stiles sent him a wink, “You’re all clear on my end. I will gladly weather this storm with you Mr. Derek Hale.”

Derek’s smile was electric, “You better not eat more than half the bread.”

“I would never.”

Thirty-five minutes later they had made it safely to Stiles house, “It’s not much yet, but it’s home.”

“Did you move recently?” Derek eyes the boxes in the corner of the dining room.

“Uh, back in August,” Stiles blushed a little, “I’m a professor over at Brown and they keep us pretty busy.”

“It’s January,” Derek found the kitchen light and they started to put the groceries away, “We can finish unpacking it if you want, we have the time.”

“Or,” Stiles countered,” We could make one of these shitty frozen pizzas, binge watch Black Mirror, and get to know each other.”

“Or we could do that,” Derek ran a finger up Stiles’ arm, making him shiver, “Can I borrow sweats?”

“Pants can be optional,” Stiles blurted out and then covered his mouth. He thought he had gained control over his word vomit around attractive people, apparently, he had not.

“Maybe in the bedroom,” Derek stepped closer, “But for now it’s cold and I’d like to cuddle on that couch, each shitty pizza, and get to know you a little better.”

“Okay cool,” Stiles blushed again, fucking hell it was like he was back in high school and Lydia had asked him to be her lab partner all over again, “I’ll just – I’ll go get those.”

When Stiles came back down, wearing his own pair of sweats and a sweater, Derek was sitting on the couch with Cat on his lap, “Did you name her after Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”

“It was my mom’s favorite movie,” Stiles scooped her up and handed Derek the pants, “We used to watch it every Sunday night when she got sick. When she died I couldn’t watch it for like five years, but now I try to keep up her tradition.”

“That’s nice,” Derek changed and Stiles averted his eyes, “My mom loves My Fair Lady.”

“Another classic,” Stiles nodded sagely, sitting on the couch about two feet from where Derek had been sitting. When Derek sat down he sat closer to Stiles, “So, Black Mirror?”

“Sure,” Derek kicked his feet onto the table, “And then you can tell me what you teach.”

“Political science,” Stiles flipped the TV on and found the Netflix app, “With a focus on foreign relations, especially intergovernmental cooperation.”

“My friend Ally teaches polisci at Brown, do you know her? Argent?”

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles laughed and Cat jumped off him, surprised, “Do you happen to teach at Providence?”

“I do, why?”

“Ally and Lydia have been trying to set us up for months,” Stiles laughed again, “And I kept saying no.”

“Wait, you’re the new guy they keep talking about?” Derek was laughing now too.

“What are the fucking chances,” Stiles was half tempted to text Allison and Lydia, but he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

“It looked like we were just meant to meet, huh,” Derek leaned closer to Stiles, his breath ghosting over Stiles cheek.

Stiles swallowed, “Looks like it.”

Then they were kissing and Stiles was mentally kicking himself for not meeting Derek sooner. When they broke apart Derek’s eyes were still closed, but he said, “This is going to be so much better than being snowed in alone.”

Stiles nodded in agreement, kissing Derek again. They didn’t stop until the timer beeped and they went to check on the pizza, and then they didn’t stop until the pizza was cool enough to eat.

Two days later temperatures were still subzero, but they were out of beer, so Stiles and Derek ventured out to the store again, this time holding hands. They ran into Allison and Lydia who invited themselves over to Stiles for store bought lasagna and boxed wine.

Allison and Lydia passed out on the couch around midnight wrapped up in several blankets and snuggled together. Stiles and Derek on the other hand, well they found different ways to stay warm.

Also on ao3

#sterek #eternalsterek #eternal sterek #sterek is eternal #stiles stilinski #derek hale #sterek fic #sterek fluff #stiles x derek #stiles stilinski x derek hale #strictly-chaotic #scruffysterek #homemadesterekpie

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xottzot · 6 years

Text

2018-09(AUG)-26th--August--Sunday---no rain--utter despair without being with dear Fliss--woke up around 4am and considered suiciding.

Overnight it was VERY cold, even with the gas heater on, and even being under the blankets, and with poor dear Sam and poor desar Max on the bed with me cuddling up close because it was so damned cold...and because dear Fliss is not with us as they also used to cuddle up with her closely too and kept her warm.

Poor Max is still in a lot of pain,

I was bleeding last night. Quite a lot of blood from such a small wound. It was entertaining to watch how much blood came out of me...but I had to stem the blood flow because it was messily covering everything and the poor dear dogs were starting to lap at it wherever it fell.

And it was VERY COLD outside. And VERY WET with condensation, almost as bad as if it had been raining heavily.

I KNOW YOU DON'T CARE. I'm just painting a mental picture for you of facts.

Shitheads loudly making noise and shit and roaming the streets last night. And of course the next day there was crime shit in the news(s).

Right up until 10pm and then suddenly thugs on the street went quiet and vanished.

Poor Sam and poor Max both became distressed several times overnight from the wandiring shitheads in the streets.

I wish I still had my guns.....

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Woke up well before dawn because shithedas had aoken poor Sam and poor Max and they both thought that dear Fliss had arrived here...and sodid I. - After they came back inside from doing their ablutions outside, here were VERY heavily depressed. I had to call poor Sam away from him looking out forlornly and terribly so sad. Then I fed them. And once again we all went outside again. It was colder still.

I put the gas heater back on for them and me because it was so damned cold. I'll be blamed for that and made to feel like shit.

We went back to bed. Didn't sleep but poor dear Sam and dear Max did. I got up out of bed, still cold, and went to the nearby shop and got a fresh bread loaf, fresh milk and sliced bread. We all had some of that for breakfast.

I was denied going back to sleep again.

I checked the weather report forecast and there is going to be DAYS of VERY heavy rain coming, so this afternoon I've spent hours in pain carefully cleaning up the yard and more so I don't have to do it when it's going be be pouring down with heavy rain. But I'm never given any kudos for any of that thinking. I just get blamed later when it rains. It's ALWAYS my fucking fault it rains and whenever shit-for-brains gets soaked.

I was the only one in the streets today mowing the grass whilst others were drunkenly yelling out and carrying on. Some residents grass height is absolutely huge. The heavy rains to come will only make it all worse. I'm not fucking well mowing THEIR grass for them. Fuck 'em.

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

I initially thought today was Monday because I've had so very very little sleep, and triple short sleeps, and what sleep I had was terrible and with nightmares of me looking for dear Fliss and of her being injured somewhere and nobody let me be anywhere near here or told me where she was. That was some of the nightmare I woke up from.

Welcome to then being suicidal. It's the only thing I've got ahead of me in this shitty fucking life.

Fed poor Sam and poor Max and took them outside and they performed ablutions ALL OVER the damned yard, which I then had to clean up for hours. Went back to bed. Then got some bread. Which I shared mightily with poor dear Sam and dear Max. Then laid down again in pain. Until Poor Sam and poor Max leapt off the bed in a huge panic because some guy walking the streets outside with 4? yappy small dogs were just outside our place and looked like was going to actually come inside the yard. Why? Who knows, fuck knows......

Other dogs all around went ballistic too and poor Sam and poor Max had to be taken outside by me in case they needed to more ablutions (they did), and once again I had to clean it all up AGAIN....and it was then I decided to get up in the cold (but not VERY COLD anymore) and do the yard work which took many hours and has left me in a lot of pain.

It all looks neat and tidy as best it can, far better than all the other places about this hellhole area. But it's all fucking pointless.....

I've had a hot shower, the first one in days since I'm not allowed to have any more because apparently according to the 'great sage' of bullshit and brainlessness, I use too much water....FFS........and that's a fucking lie. -- The COST of water has skyrocketted here and has been implemented but that fool just blames ME for the rising water bill cocts despite us using FAR LESS WATER THAN WE HAVE EVER EVER USED IN OUR TIME HERE IN 50 YEARS OR MORE....

And this is the SAME person that CONSTANLY leaves taps running water ....taps I am ALWAYS running around and turning off. Whenever I've tried to tell him that it's HIM leaving them running, he gets angry, irrattional, and is prone to violence. - Yeah, I'm in fucking shitty hell.

Poor Sam and poor Max have not had their full quota of food. They're abluting far too much outside, which I'm constantly cleaning up. They do NOT go hungry. I feed then some of my food when I have some on the rare times when I do actually eat.

I'm feeling VERY VERY weak and tired and dizzy. I'm going to take something and go to bed and hopefully I can sleep. But will be DENIED sleep because of shitheads outside. ie. there's three sets of tyre burnouts on the street just outside my bedrom window, and then there's the loud motrobikes tearing around at all hours....some come and go through the pedestrian walkway....no police sirens as usual being after them.....the shits use the pedestrian walkways to evade Police....it's common and all the criminals do it.....and it's passed on to others so that it's adopted as being 'normal' at this fucking hellhole area.....

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

Whilst I was trying to go to sleep last night amongst some of that shit going on, I VERY foolishly had dear hopes and dreams of being with dear Fliss and away from this hellhole.

It's been 'fine' weather but very cold the past few days. Rain will replace all that. Heavy rain, thunderstroms and so on. Power outages you name it.

With a bit of luck, some shitheads will get killed by accidents or whatever. But that's never a certainty.

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I think my (own copies) of my legal Will has been stolen by shit-for brains. As well as dear Fliss's Wills. - All my worldly belongings is legally down in my legal WIll to dear Fliss, Felicity Ann Carthew. I made that legal Will many years ago with dear Fliss when she was here with me and imbecile was right off his brain, VERY VIOLENT, and insane. - YEARS LATER....He STILL wanders the house talking to himself all the time, louldy at times, and he sputters and curses and swears and has full conversations with imaginary people in his demented talkings. Since it's all coming out of his own demented head, they of course agree with everthing he says to them. (unlike in real life of course).

Poor dear Sam and poor dear Max are forever upset and on-edge because of this madman. He doesn't care for them at all. and considers them utter pests for getting in his way for walking or just existing near him.

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Getting tired......taking something (repsonsibly) to accelerate myself to being unconscious and to sleep......a sleep I am NEVER EVER ALLOWWED TO FULFILL HAVING.......

So fuck this shitty uncaring world.

I wish I could win Lotto big and restart a life anew with dear Fliss.

I believe SHE IS SUFFERING, but I have no details of other information.

I have been lied about and falsly blamed for all of dear Fliss's terrible mental maladies and physcal problems, and I have become a convenient whipping boy so Fliss's family doen't have to tell anyone ANYTHING in the world the real truths of dear Fliss and of the family themselves.

All THAT was constantly preying, upon dear Fliss increasinly so, in dear Fliss's mind as she was forever trying to battle her demons in her head and body as well as the ones from her family and relations, both real and imaginary, as wwell as at her workplaces where she was also victimised.

I lovingly protected dear Fliss from so much........

But I have been BLAMED and LIED ABOUT for SO MUCH........

All I want to be is reunited with dear Fliss and living a normal proper life without her being persecuted and blamed for every little tiny thing that goes wrong in her life........or our lives together....

But nobod cares about dear Fliss and myself. Nobody want to help. And nobody can help.

And fucking nightmares and night horrors are once more an almost constant state of being for me again. Any and everything I have tried for years to lovingly reuinite dear Fliss and myself has been thwarted and destroyed by others, and all blame smashed down upon me. - All contact with dear Fliss has been destroyed and us both kept from ANY open communication. And this has been going on for so many YEARS......

OH for fucks sake.......NOW THIS is started just before it got dark...a VERY noisy LOUD motorbike (unregistered heap of shit no doubt) has just come tearing out of the pedestrian walkway, road along the roads and to the Koongamia shops where abo kids cheered it on then it returned at speed and went back through the pedestrian walkway to one of the many abo crimnal households in Bellevue there. -- So much for trying to fucking sleep! -- I hold no faith in the Western Australian Police in EVER stopping these fucking shits, and criminals.....THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON FOR SO MANY MANY MANY MANY YEARS.......

With good luck, the fuckers will end up dead in fatal incidents hereabouts or elsehere....it's traditional....and a forever huge source of monetary 'compensation' to the ones who have brought them up to be shitty criminals......

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I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

ALWAYS remember Fliss that I ALWAYS wanted to be with YOU. ALWAYS! - So does poor dear Sam and poor dear Max. They miss you TERRIBLY and they howl for you in their sleep!

Criminals and shitheads rising up again at this hellhole area.....I wish I still had my guns......but I was foolish and 'reponsible' because many years ago I handed them all in to Police for destruction all my legal firearms in with a huge amount of ammunition. - What a fool I was.

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

Dear Cath in Queensland, I miss you too. (you were Fliss's closest friend in Australia).....all her other 'friends' were all over the world...'internet friends'........many were fake friends though......

All my other friends in my life who have all wandered away with their own lives and families....I've missed you all too.

I've missed being surrounded by real people who are honest and can be trusted....not like the scum about this hellhole area.........

I love you dear Fliss and want to be with you.

Oh, and one last thing.....the moment I try to post this entry up online, Tumblr fucks me around and stops me from logging on to my account and demands it send a password to me so I can log in THAT way. - WELL...I'm STILL FUCKING WAITING 40 minutes later!!! -- How many fucking times does this happen...FFS........

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dudeeveryoneishot · 7 years

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i just need to talk real quick about how shitty of a weekend im having because i am super emotional and i have no one to talk to.

I have 3 friends, my friend H is on vacation in seattle washington for the next week and i know hes having a great time but im kinda jealous and i wish he was here. my best friend V moved 20 hours away this summer so I never get to see her and I really miss her. She’s at a party tonight.

My 3rd friend is B, one of my closest friends from high school who i had a crush on for 3 like years split up with his girlfriend a few months ago. then one drunken night a month ago we ended up hooking up. we talked about it afterwards and we became kind of a thing. i went to visit him 2 weeks ago because he is in school 3 hours away, and we spent the whole weekend together and it was really lovely. then the next weekend (last weekend) B came up to visit and he was supposed to be coming to my apartment with 2 of our acquaintances and he bailed without saying anything and spent the whole day with another girl and he ended up fucking her. so then im like heartbroken and feeling really fucked over that he would do something like that to me after we’ve known each other for 5 years.

my mom and dad left thursday and wont be back until sunday so i am on our farm in the middle of nowhere, completely alone. They went to go visit my brother who is in the military and they are all going to the military ball together. my dad is retired military so he could go and my mom is his plus one and then my sister in law is my brothers. i didnt have anyone so i couldnt go and they didnt even bother to ask if i wanted to go and just stay at the hotel for the ball itself. i just feel so left out. i know they are going to be going out to eat and having all kinds of fun together and im stuck feeding the chickens. i havent seen my brother in like 5 months and i wont be able to see him until christmas.

so i was gonna throw a party tonight with B. i was still upset with him but we’ve been friends for so long i wasnt going to cut him off completely and I wanted to have a chance to talk to him in person about what happened. so we invite our entire friend group from high school and a couple others. they all say they are coming so i start getting my house ready. then, 2 hours before its supposed to begin, they all call B one by one and say they cant make it. great.

so im really bummed out. then B and i decide that the two of us and his brother would come to my house anyways and drink and watch stupid movies. He was supposed to let me know when they were going to be coming over but said it would probably be around 8. so i wait. and wait. and i never hear anything. I shoot him a message at like 7:30 asking if they are coming and he leaves me on read. So at 8:30 I call him. I cant understand anything he’s saying because he keeps breaking up. I send him a couple more messages and he doesn’t answer my question. So I ask his brother whats up and he doesnt know either. So I tell his brother to keep me updated. 10:15 rolls around and i havent heard anything so i ask the brother if I should just assume they arent coming and he replies “probably”.

i just dont understand why he would just bail on me like that (like he did fucking last weekend) when we have been friends for so fucking long. like it would have taken 2 seconds to message me and say “hey something came up im sorry we cant come”. instead he leaves me on read and never tells me whether he is coming or not and i’m forced to message his little brother to finally get an answer. like thats so fucking rude. i feel like i have no idea who he is anymore. idk if i’ve always just been purposefully blind to his issues because i had a crush on him and the way he has acted in the past week is just who he truly is or what. I just really need to stop attaching myself to people who I know are selfish and shitty acting and then being surprised when they are selfish and shitty acting

so now im here. completely alone, all my plans haven fallen through. idk im so lonely and upset and i cant talk to H about it because he is super excited about his vacation and in a good mood and I dont want to bother him, V is at a party and drunk, and B is the cause for most of my sorrow and he isnt responding to me. I even tried to message my mom despite our non existent relationship and she said she needed to go to bed about 3 replies in.

and im going to be alone until sunday.

oh and ive got our propane heater thing on and it smelt a lot like gas in here earlier and now im kinda dizzy so im lowkey hoping i die of carbon monoxide poisoning. at least that’s a death that wont make my family look bad or feel guilty. it will just be a horrific “accident”. if my queue runs out and im still not posting, im hopefully dead.

#personal #long rant

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hellojessicabrown · 7 years

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October Recap - Did You Miss Me?

Happy first week of November friends! With the last day of October being Tuesday and no favorites post in sight it's time for a recap! October was BUSY. We had something to do almost every weekend and still had trouble fitting it all in. As a resolve, after a few weeks of silence, I decided that I would take the rest of the month off and hit the ground running in November. Though it was super busy, October is always my favorite and I'm happy it didn't disappoint this year. Here are some of the highlights! The first was on a Sunday and the beginning of the fun we got to have last month. Our friend's adorable little man turned 2. We spent the afternoon at the park playing on the swings and dancing in bubbles. It was such a sweet little sunshine party.

The 14th rolled around and we were off and running to Chuck E Cheese's by 10am for another sweet little boy's birthday party. This birthday boy was super excited to be turning five! He melted my heart when Chuck E Cheese came out and he grabbed my hand so we could run to him. My whole dang heart guys! What's even better is there are two more siblings that have my love too. We are so rich in this family's friendship.

Tuesday the 18th was a fun day for me at work. We had media content day that we will be using soon. I got to ride in this cart for one of the shots... October 20th I took the whole day off work. I had a doctor's appointment at 8am and we had a wedding to attend at 3pm. When I returned home Jeremy and I decided to up our coffee game and get a Chemex. If you don't know what it is I highly suggest looking into it. I will add a post later this month on the things you need for it and how to make good coffee with it. Our friends happened to have closed on their house a few days before and we had time to spare so we dropped by. I got the tour of house and Jeremy helped put together the outdoor furniture. We had decided to leave by noon to be able to go home and get ready for the wedding. On the way home we stopped at Firehouse Subs and got lunch. I had the Philly Cheese steak on wheat. YUM! By 2:15 Jeremy and I were ready and headed off to a wedding. The beautiful little ceremony took place at Lemp Mansion in St. Louis. It was a gorgeous space. The wedding was for the daughter of our good friend Zina, who Jeremy worked for when he started out in IT. Since we don't attend many weddings I took this as an opportunity to dress up in something I normally would not wear. After the couple were officially married we helped set up the reception with the bride's mom. Back at the mansion we had a couple glasses of red wine with meats and cheeses and then it was time for the celebration. A little more red wine and dinner and Jeremy was ready to go home. (He had been trying to keep up on shots with the bride's mom, bad idea). We were back in the car and headed home by 7:30pm. Jeremy had a restless night and I was ready for some good coffee and breakfast the next morning. We went to our favorite, The Mud House. It happens to be one of our favorites for the coffee. They use Blueprint Coffee which has amazing flavor. A caramel mocha latte and Southern Breakfast were my choices for the day. We slowed down the excitement until Wednesday the 25th when we attended our first Blues game of the season. Even after they traded our favorite players I can't get over how much I love hockey. We had amazing seats, it was beer stein night and we beat up on the Flames winning 5-2. Have you met AVA yet? She's impressive. Thursday was my friend Katie's birthday and I had a gift to drop off on the way to volleyball playoffs. I always use her as my creative outlet. Her sons quilt, tshirts made with my silhouette and now this fun door mat. Jeremy helped me with the spray paint after I cut the stencil out with my silhouette. Not too shabby for my first attempt. Thankfully Target still had 3 left when I went searching for them. Better priced than Amazon too. Now I can't wait to make mine! I just can't decide on what I want it to say. I'll share once I decide. On Friday the 27th I left work at 3pm and headed home to pack the car for camping. We had reserved a campsite at Hawn State Park a month in advance and even though temperatures were only going to be in the 30s, we were going to stick it out. We arrived at our campsite by 5:30 and got the tent up as quickly as possible. By 7pm we had a fire going, steaks cooking and a drink in hand. Once we had our fill at dinner we headed to the tent to turn on the space heater and get comfortable. When morning arrived I was ready for coffee but the little camp stove wasn't having it. Jeremy built a fire and boiled our water that way and made breakfast sandwiches for us and scrambled eggs for Ke$ha. After breakfast it was time for hiking and we had all day. The hiking at Hawn State Park is extremely entertaining. Rocks, inclines and water make your trek a little bit more rough. We went a total of 7 miles and made it back to the campsite by 2:30pm. During the hike we were warm but as we got back it started to get really cold. A man came over to us with lighter fluid to get our fire started quicker. It's cheating in our book but I was not going to argue this time, I was cold and willing to suck it up for a quick fire. Jeremy and I had lunch close to 3pm and guzzled down coffees. Ke$ha took this time to roll around in the dirt. We sat around reading and playing the Switch until we retreated to the tent about 8:30pm. As much as we love to camp, we also love to pack up early on Sunday morning and get home to enjoy the rest of the day. Once we packed up (faster than we ever have before) we got on the road home. We stopped for coffee at Starbucks and then unloaded the car while Ke$ha stayed in the yard. She had a blast laying around in the dirt and we were not about to let her in the house before her bath. Once the house was in order we packed her back up and took her to a self grooming station at Treats Unleashed. With the dog clean we could head home and take our showers. While Jeremy cleaned up I went out and vacuumed my car. Husky hair and camping dirt do not a clean car make. I was happy to get cleaned up and ready to carve pumpkins. Jeremy and I always try to do pumpkin carvings that are hard and stressful. This year, we turned on It's the Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown and settled on faces. They turned out great! Mine is the first. And here is Jeremy's. After we carved pumpkins I also roasted the seeds. We started doing this 2 years ago and love the little tradition. I did cinnamon brown sugar and season salt with pepper. Last but not least was Halloween. Jeremy's aunt inspired me to make my own shirt and I had to do ghost elbows. So stinking cute! I was so excited to get home. Every Halloween we do a bonfire in the driveway, play a movie with the projector on the big window of the house and pass out candy. I was headed home to grab Jeremy so we could get a pizza from Aldi and get on with our festivities. Unfortunately we ended up having to order pizza and skip the bonfire because I got into an accident on the way home from work. A girl cut across two lanes of traffic in front of a semi truck and hit me. Thankfully the damages are not too horrible and no one was seriously injured. The little kids helped perk up my night afterwards though. My mother in law brought my nephews over and my cousin brought her littles over as well. So cute right!? Starting this first week of November I am going to make it a point to do a recap post every week. There will be much more that I share, especially starting November 15th after I get a new phone with a decent camera on it. I would really like to try vlogging too. Let me know in the comments content you would like to see and I will happily oblige.

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sketchbookexplorer-blog · 7 years

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In 2015 I moved to the Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. A city steeped in history and culture, and endowed with architectural splendour. Since then, I have explored many of the city’s famous and hidden wonders, sketchbook in hand. I want to capture the heart of Prague, like the artist explorers of the past.

So, let me show you the historical capital of Bohemia, through my artwork. See Prague through the eyes of an artist.

Map of Prague

Explorer east of the Vltava river (The Old Town Square, Wenceslas Square, The Jewish Quarter, Vysehrad…).

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ipad Painting – ‘Prašná Brána, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Au Gourmand, Prague.’ Great little cafe, restaurant, patisserie and boulangerie. Elegant tiled walls, and mosaic tabletops. They make a mean peppermint hot chocolate. The sketch was tough, since everybody moved and left soon after I began.

Quick Sketch. ‘Knihovna Akademie Library, Prague.’ A hidden beauty in central Prague. Only open during weekdays, this library is part of the Academy of Sciences. Seek it out.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Rybka, Prague.’ Cool bookstore, cafe and bar. It has the quirky bohemian feel of somewhere Hemingway might have hung out.

Quick Sketch. ‘Prague Christmas Market.’ Stunningly beautiful market, especially at night. Try the hot wine, and watch the Christmas tree musical light show. Drawn from outside a cafe – saved from the cold by an outdoor heater and a hot chocolate. Markets are held in a number of locations throughout the festive period, with the largest, and most impressive, being in the Old Town Square.

Quick Sketch. ‘Rotunda of St Martin, Vysehrad Castle, Prague.’ This rotunda is one of Prague’s oldest buildings, dating from the 11th century. It sits in the tranquil grounds of Vysehrad Castle.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafedu, Prague.’ View from inside Cafedu as the sun dips. Great student cafe near the National Museum – the building in the drawing.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Nona, Prague.’ View of a great spiral staircase in Cafe Nona. The cafe is in Prague theatre’s ‘New Stage’ – a 1980s ice cube shaped building, incorporating four thousand blocks of glass.

Quick Sketch. ‘Kare Cafe, Prague.’ An artistic decor store and cafe. Sip, snack and shop, all to the sound of electro jazz.

ipad Painting – ‘The Globe Bookstore Cafe, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Rotunda of the Finding of the holy cross, Konviktska, Prague.’ This 11th century rotunda church is the oldest of three rotunda churches in Prague. It’s located at the centre of the ‘Urban Cross’ – a Dan Brown-style cross marked out by the churches of old Prague.

Quick Sketch. ‘Kavovarna, Lucerna, Prague.’ A great retro cafe bar, just off Wenceslas Square. The cafe can be found inside the art nouveau Lucerna Palace passageway, built in 1920 (also home to the Lucerna Theatre, Lucerna Cafe, Lucerna Music Bar, and a giant statue of King Wenceslas riding an upside-down horse, hanging from the ceiling – apparently the artist meant to mock the equestrian statue at the top of Wenceslas Square).

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Kavarna Adria, Prague.’ The view of some of Prague’s stunning architecture from the rooftop terrace of Kavarna Adria – also a beautiful building. Watch the sun go down and the streetlights take over.

Quick Sketch. ‘Naplavka, Prague.’ View of one of the boats moored along Naplavka – Boat Klotylda Hotel. Great area of the river, especially for bars and live music at night. It’s Prague’s own cobbled-beach / pavement, and stretches from the Palacky Bridge to the Vyton tram stop.

Quick Sketch. ‘Vzorkovna, Národní, Prague.’ Vzorkovna is great alternative grungy club. A dark maze of vaulted rooms and passageways, inhabited by a resident Irish wolfhound, with a Mohican.

ipad Painting – ‘Cafe Louvre, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Chapeau Rouge, Prague.’

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Obecni Dum Cafe, Prague.’ Sketching under stunning Art Deco lights, while listening to the sounds of a grand piano.

ipad Painting – ‘Cafe Nona, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Obecni Dum, Prague.’ Also known as the Municipal House, this is a truly stunning building / concert hall / ballroom / restaurant and cafe.

ipad Painting – ‘Slavia Kavarna, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Můj šálek kávy, Prague.’ A cool and very busy cafe in Krizikova. Light airy interior with a painted brick mural, bookcases, and a log fire burner.

Quick Sketch. ‘Corner of Brehova and Maiselova, Prague.’ View from a cafe in the Jewish Quarter.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafedu, Prague.’ Great and very busy student cafe. Friendly staff, and of course study friendly.

ipad Painting – ‘Cafe Rybka, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Adria, Prague.’ A spacious Art Deco restaurant and cafe. The building has an amazing Deco exterior facade. This was tricky to draw, since most of the people left, or moved, straight after I began drawing them.

ipad Painting – ‘Cafe Imperial, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Wenceslas Square, Prague.’ Old tram car used as a cafe. Also known as ‘Vaclavska Namesti’, Wenceslas Square is one of Prague’s main squares. It is named after Saint Wenceslas – patron saint of Bohemia. Some buildings at the Museum end of the square were destroyed during the Prague Uprising of 1945.

Quick Sketch. ‘Vysehrad Castle, Prague.’ View from one of the park areas of the 10th century castle. A great sculpture of a Slavic warrior couple looking upon the spires of the Basilica of St Peter and Paul. The castle’s grounds hold the oldest buildings in prague, such as the Church of the Virgin Mary 870. It was once a rival for the seat of Czech sovereign power with Prague Castle. The castle’s cemetery is home to the graves of famous Czechs, including Antonin Dvorak, Bedrich Smetana and Alphonse Mucha.

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Naplavka, Prague.’ Prague’s waterfront. When it’s sunny, this place is packed, during the day and after dark. Come join the partygoers, dog walkers, joggers and cyclists.

Quick Sketch. ‘Dancing House, Prague.’ Also known as Fred and Ginger. There is a restaurant on the seventh floor, with stunning views of Prague. This is the view from the Potrefena Husa bar and restaurant. The Dancing House was built on the site of a house destroyed in 1945, when American bombers apparently mistook Prague for Dresden, due to radar malfunctions – 152 tons of bombs were dropped on Prague, killing 701.

Quick Sketch. ‘Charles Bridge, Prague.’ Bookended by two fairytale towers, and lined with statues, this 15th century bridge connects Prague Castle to the Old Town. You’ll often find it crammed with tourists, artists, and musicians.

Quick Sketch. ‘Grand Cafe Orient, Prague.’ An elegant Art Deco cafe and restaurant, within a short walk from the Obecni Dum and the Powder Tower. Sketched to classics played on a grand piano.

Quick Sketch. ‘La Boheme Cafe, Prague.’ A cool little arty cafe. It has a great selection of drinks.

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Costa Coffee, Národní Třída, Prague.’ A nice coffee shop, with pleasant staff, and a mean chocolate tiffin. Good view of a busy tram stop – ideal for people sketching.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe de Paris, Hotel Paris, Prague.’ Art nouveau cafe, with wonderful organic lighting design and artwork.

Quick Sketch. ‘Národní Kavárna, Prague.’ A cafe and restaurant with over a century of history. It’s classically decorated with chandeliers and b&w photos. Great window seat alcoves.

Quick Sketch. ‘Boscolo Hotel, Prague.’ Taking a drink from the hotel’s coffee bar in the grand lobby. Impressively ornate hall that wouldn’t look out of place at the Palace of Versailles.

Quick Sketch. ‘The Globe Bookstore Cafe, Prague.’ Hot chocolate with a friend. The cafe is at the back of an english bookstore. Opened in 1993, it often hosts social and charitable events.

Quick Sketch. ‘Bazilika Svatého Jakuba, Prague.’ The 13 century Basilica of St. James holds the tomb of Count Vratislav of Mitrovice, who was buried alive by accident – renovators, years later, found he had escaped his coffin, only to be trapped inside his stone tomb. The gothic church also holds another creepy secret – a hanging 17th century severed arm.

Quick Sketch. ‘Rudolfinum, Prague.’ View of the Rudolfinum from the steps of the University Karlova – Praze Filozofike. This late 19th century neo-renaissance music auditorium and gallery is currently home to the Czech Philharmonic Orchestra.

Quick Sketch. ‘Hemingway Bar, Prague.’ A cocktail bar inspired by Ernest Hemingway. Sketched while drinking one of the author’s favourite tipples – a Hemingway Daiquiri. All to the sound of Electro Swing. With vaulted ceilings and candlelit character, this place is worth a visit.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Louvre, Prague.’ If you want to know what it would have felt like to grab a coffee in early 1900s Europe, this cafe will take you there. It’s over a century old. Previous guests included Albert Einstein and Franz Kafka.

ipad Painting 2 – ‘Prague Christmas Market.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Parizska, Jewish Quarter, Prague.’ View of the Cantinetta Fiorentina. Formely the Jewish Ghetto, Prague’s Josefov (Jewish Quarter) is believed to have been settled in the 10th century. In 1389 it was the site of a massacre on Easter Sunday (approximately 1500 died). It still contains six synagogues, the Jewish cemetery, and the Old Jewish Town Hall. The area now boasts a high-end fashionable shopping district.

Quick Sketch. ‘Prazirna Kavarna, Prague.’ Great cafe in vaulted cellars. Study of the cute cafe dog ‘Kacenka.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Manes Art Cafe, Prague.’ The cafe has a great view of Prague National Theatre. Find it next to the Manes Gallery.

Quick Sketch. ‘Old Town Hall Tower, Prague.’ Evening view of the tower, from beneath a magical canopy of fairy lights – part of the Christmas market. The town hall tower was built in 1364. The tower is the site of Prague’s medieval Astronomical clock, which includes a moving skeletal sculpture of Death.

ipad Painting – ‘Vysehrad cemetery, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Café Colore, Prague.’ A great cafe that mixes old architecture and modern decor. I tried to capture the friendly staff at work.

Quick Sketch. ‘Obecni Dum Cafe, Prague.’ A stunning Art Nouveau cafe. It can be found inside the beautiful Municipal House concert hall. Artists involved in the interior decoration included Mucha.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Imperial, Prague.’ A majestic Art Deco and Nouveau cafe. Egyptian inspired interior. Also great hot chocolates. With over a hundred years of history, it counts Franz Kafka and Leos Janacek amongst its past dinners.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Platyz, Prague.’ Cafe with a massive classical space, a vaulted ceiling, and elegant decorations.

ipad Painting – ‘Parizska, Jewish Quarter, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Rudolfinum, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Cafedu, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Slavia Kavarna, Narodni, Prague.’ Great Art Deco restaurant and cafe, next to Prague National Theatre, on the bank of the Vltava. Opened in 1884, it has a history of being frequented by Czech dissidents, poets, writers and thinkers.

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Slavia Kavarna, Prague.’ Great view from a window seat in Cafe Slavia. Sketched to the sound of a grand piano, as the sun set.

ipad Painting – ‘Vzorkovna, Narodni, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Old Town Hall Tower, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Tynska, Prague.’ View of the spires of the ‘Church of Our Lady before Tyn’ from a back street of Prague’s Old Town. The 14th century gothic church towers 80 metres above the Old Town Square.

ipad Painting – ‘Charles Bridge, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Prašná Brána, Prague.’ Also known as the Powder Tower, this 13th century gothic gate-tower marks the original border between Prague’s Old Town and New Town. It was modelled after the tower on Charles bridge. Gunpowder was stored inside the tower in the 17th century.

Quick Sketch. ‘Vysehrad cemetery, Prague.’ Loads of interesting sculptures and styles, from Soviet busts to metal spiderwebs.

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Prague Christmas Market.’ The fairytale backdrop to a packed market. Another sketch drawn from an outside cafe. Kept warm by a hot chocolate.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Archa Barista, Prague.’ A classy Rondocubist cafe. It sits inside the wonderful Legiobank building, designed by Czech architect Josef Gocar.

ipad Painting – ‘Prague Christmas Market.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Cafe, Prague.’ A stylish open plan restaurant and cafe, that has a kind of New York wine bar feel about it.

ipad Painting – ‘Malkovich Bar, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Tynska, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Chapeau Rouge, Prague.’ A cool bar and club. Thanks to the barmaid Tereza for letting me sketch her.

Quick Sketch. ‘Café Amandine, Prague.’ A charming cafe with Parisian, art nouveau, inspired decor – amazing lights, and nostalgic B&W photos.

ipad Painting – ‘Wenceslas Square, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Havelske Trziste Market, Prague.’ Located near Wenceslas Square, and with a history stretching back to 1232, this open air market is open all year round. It focuses on selling to tourists. If you need a souvenir, pay the market a visit.

ipad Painting – ‘Obecni Dum Cafe, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Malkovich Bar, Prague.’ This hipster bar has the feel of a 1950s lounge. This sketch was accompanied by some great live music.

Quick Sketch. ‘Stairway to Vysehrad Castle, Prague.’ One of the many routes up to Vysehrad Castle – beautiful under a summer’s sun. Great view across the Vltava River of Prague Castle.

Quick Sketch. ‘Old Town Square, Prague.’ Packed with tourists waiting for the astronomical clock to chime – the oldest one still in operation in the world. The square is home to medieval-style markets on both Christmas and Easter.

Quick Sketch. ‘IF Café, Prague.’ A cozy basement cafe, with a vaulted ceiling, and a great selection of hot chocolates and cakes.

Explorer west of the Vltava river (Mala Strana, Kampa, Petrin, Letna, Prague Castle…).

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Quick Sketch. ‘Ouky Douky Coffee, Prague.’ Secondhand bookshop, cafe and bar. Grab a coffee and relax on a sofa, surrounded by books.

Quick Sketch 2. ‘Zahrady Pod Pražským Hradem, Prague.’ View from the terrace wall gardens below Prague Castle. The St Nicholas Church stands proud over the beautiful Mala Strana district.

Quick Sketch 3. ‘Zahrady Pod Pražským Hradem, Prague.’ The terrace wall gardens below Prague Castle. A garden filled with ornate terraces, balustrades and pavilions.

Quick Sketch. ‘Kinského Zahrada, Prague.’ Great view of Prague Castle through the autumn trees of Petrin Hill Park. Drawn from the Nebozizek Restaurant. With parts constructed in the 9th century, and taking up an area of 70,000 square meters, Prague Castle is the largest ancient castle in the world – according to the Guinness Book of Records.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Savoy, Prague.’ A lavish cafe established in 1893. Enjoy a coffee in architectural splendour. Its Neo-Renaissance ceiling dates from 1893.

ipad Painting – ‘Zahrady Pod Pražským Hradem, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Vitezna, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Cafe Jedna, Prague.’ With a gallery style minimalist interior and masses of natural light, this cafe is the perfect place for a coffee after visiting the National Gallery next door, previously home to Mucha’s wonderful ‘Slav Epic’ exhibition.

Quick Sketch. ‘Střelecký Ostrov Island, Prague.’ Overlooking both banks of the Vltava River, and tucked under the stunning Legion Bridge, this island was once used as a training ground for archers. Now the island / park hosts numerous music and food festivals. The island boasts a great view of the golden-roofed National Theatre ‘Národní Divaldo’ – opened in 1881.

Quick Sketch. ‘Letna Park, Prague.’ Beautiful sunny day on Letna Hill, overlooking Prague. This park has great festivals and an outdoor bar – perfect for sunny days and warm nights.

ipad Painting – ‘Waldstein Gardens, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Karmelitska, Mala Strana, Prague.’ Towered over by St Nicholas church, this area is a wonder of architecture. View from the U Svateho Vaclava restaurant.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cross Club, Prague.’ This club is a warren of mechanical moving metal artwork. It has a great metal beer garden for the summer.

Quick Sketch. ‘Klub Ujezd, Prague.’ A cool small bar, filled with quirky metal sculptures.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cihelna, Prague.’ Feeding the birds on the bank of the Vltava. Possibly getting its name from the old Germanic word ‘wilt ahwa’ (wild water), the Vltava river is the longest in the Czech Republic. It flows through Cesky Krumlov, Ceske Budejovice, and Prague, before eventually joining the Elbe.

ipad Painting – ‘Cafe Savoy, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Starbucks, Ke Hradu, Prague.’ Cafe with great views of the city. It’s a beacon for selfies, risking a long drop for a Facebook post.

ipad Painting – ‘Radnicke Schody, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Střelecký Ostrov Island, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Cross Club, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Vitezna, Prague.’ View from just inside a cafe. The trees are shedding pale green buds over the cobbles.

Quick Sketch. ‘Hanavsky Pavillon, Prague.’ Cool Art Nouveau building, overlooking Prague. It makes me think of Jules Verne.

Quick Sketch. ‘Saint Vitus Cathedral, Prague Castle.’ The 9th century castle is the official residence of the Czech President, and home of the Bohemian Crown Jewels. The cathedral holds a stunning stained glass window by Czech artist Alfons Maria Mucha.

ipad Painting – ‘Cihelna, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Kavarna Liberal, Prague.’ A grand bohemian cafe. It has the architecture of a refined pre-war cafe, with the atmosphere of a laid back cultural haven.

Quick Sketch 3. ‘Prague Castle.’ Visitors flocking to Prague Castle on a sunny day. The Easter market is still going on. More selfies being taken than you can shake a selfie stick at.

Quick Sketch. ‘Kampa Island, Prague.’ The locals and tourists enjoying the balmy sunshine. The island is split off from Mala Strana by the narrow ‘Devil’s Stream.’ As well as Kampa park, the island is also home to an art Museum. The island was named by Spanish soldier in 1620, during the Thirty Years War. Kampa – meaning ’campus’ (where the soldiers were camped).

Quick Sketch. ‘Zahrady Pod Pražským Hradem, Prague.’ Entrance to the gardens. The Zahrady Pod Prazskym Hradem is a collection of gardens that lay on the southern slope of Prague Castle.

ipad Painting – ‘Kinského Zahrada, Prague.’

ipad Painting – ‘Klub Ujezd, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Snemovni, Mala Strana, Prague.’ Near a lovely tiny park area. The area is called Mala Strana – meaning “Little Side” (of the river). It’s often also called “Lesser Town.”

Quick Sketch. ‘Prague Zoo.’ Crowds admiring a polar bear. This zoo was opened in 1931, and is considered amongst the top ten zoos in the world.

Quick Sketch. ‘Strelecky Island, Prague.’ A sunbather enjoying a beautiful April day on Prague’s island park.

Quick Sketch. ‘Cukrárna Alchymista, Prague.’ A quirky and nostalgic cafe, with a great selection of cakes, retro music, and a garden. Not to mention the cafe cat, who sleeps in a little cove above a radiator.

Quick Sketch. ‘Radnicke Schody.’ Drew this while sat on some steps in the shade, with a Jazz band playing nearby. Great view of the city.

ipad Paiting 3 – ‘Zahrady Pod Pražským Hradem, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Bella Vida Cafe, Prague.’ Enjoy an amazing view of the city, while people watching, at this riverside cafe. Try some of their homemade lemonades.

Quick Sketch. ‘Trziste, Prague.’ A beautiful passageway near the St Nicholas Church, in Mala Strana. The church tower was used to spy on the US embassy, among others, during the Cold War.

Quick Sketch. ‘Prague Senate Gardens.’ Also known as the Wallenstein Palace Gardens. Beautiful Italian style gardens, with a strange wall of stone faces, and a view of the castle.

ipad Painting – ‘Kampa, Prague.’

Quick Sketch. ‘Waldstein Gardens, Prague.’ View past Hercules statue. The garden’s pond is full of large Koi carp. In 1816 inventor Josef Bozek used the pond to work on his steamship experiments. The original statues in the gardens were stolen by Swedish troops in 1648, as war booty. Replicas were created in the early 20th century. Nowadays, in the summer, the gardens hosts music concerts.

For more travel art blog articles on Prague, and other great locations see – Travel art blogs articles

Artist’s Prague In 2015 I moved to the Prague, the capital of the Czech Republic. A city steeped in history and culture, and endowed with architectural splendour.

#Czech Republic #Prague

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