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furashuban · 3 years

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As High As The Moon Above

The first work so far of a Hilda AU I’ve written centered around Kaisa and Johanna but as childhood friends (which I’ve titled the Spellbound AU)! Hope ya’ll enjoy!

Pairing: Sketchbook Ship (Kaisanna)

Words: 5.5k

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33556615/chapters/83380660

Summary: Kaisa must practice casting a new spell before her next training session with her teacher, Tildy. In response, her best friend Johanna, unbeknownst that Kaisa is training to become a witch, offers to take her along on a camping trip outside the wall of Trolberg to help her concentrate.

A cart of books strolled and squeaked through the halls of the Trolberg library. The keeper of the books went about their business reshelving heaps upon heaps of returned literature, glimpsing every aisle they passed with most having little to no visitors browsing the shelves. They eventually spot a girl in a black cardigan and purple dress, complimented by her short black hair, muttering as she struggled to return a single book into a column two spaces above her head. The librarian lets go of the cart to approach the tiptoeing visitor.

“I can help with that, Kaisa,” they offered warmly. “Please, allow me.”

“No, that’s okay.” The girl spoke in a heavy Nordic accent. “Almost got it…” She grunted again before successfully sliding her book through the shelf. “There.”

The librarian noticed a stack of other books carried around Kaisa’s arm as she walked away to the next aisle. Thinking that she would turn down her assistance if she offered again, the librarian simply grinned and nodded, returning to her cart to reshelve on their own.

Kaisa was now at the second floor with her books. One might think she was merely volunteering to aid in the librarian’s duties, but in truth, she spent half the day at the library to read as many books as she possibly could. Some were finished cover-to-cover, others she only read half way through, but promised to come back for until she was absorbed enough to borrow and reread them home; only in the library could she bring herself to finish a book in its entirety.

She made it to the end of the second floor’s hall where a bookshelf had a column within reach, as well as space between other books, which luckily for Kaisa was meant for all the books on her pile alone, and slid every book into it at once before heaving a sigh of relief.

Onto the next stack she could gather, thinking to herself. But out of nowhere, a feeling of suspicion coincided with her imagination and stood frozen before the bookshelf. Kaisa began pulling out books slightly and placing them back a second after. She hummed, now peering behind the gap between the walls and bookcase and ran her hand through the edges, all the while someone new was walking towards her direction.

“…Oh, there you are!” another person’s voice spoke jubilantly behind her. “Almost thought you left already, been looking everywhere for you.”

Kaisa turned around; the voice was all too familiar. In front of her was a girl the same age as she was, brown hair that tied into a ponytail and wearing a Sparrow Scout uniform. She smiled as she stood, bringing excitement to Kaisa’s heart.

“You’re back from your badge work!” her whole face lit up.

“Yep! Just earned my Geology Badge today, so that’s one more to my sash and for the ceremony.” The Sparrow Scout explained proudly.

“Stolt över dig, Johanna.” Kaisa applauded. “And the badge ceremony is soon, right?”

“Well, it’s only a month from now.” Johanna pointed out. “Actually, I was hoping you would be able to come and attend, if you won’t be busy, of course.”

Kaisa reached for the brunette’s hand and held it up with both her palms. “I would not miss it for anything.” She guaranteed excitedly, making her best friend blush and glance away overjoyed.

“…So, um, what have you been up to?” Johanna asked. “…apart from reading that is.”

“I was looking for secret doors in the library.” Kaisa explained, turning back to the bookshelf. “There must be whole other rooms with more books hidden in the shelves somehow.”

Johanna walked closer to the colossal shelf of literature and helped inspect with Kaisa. “Have you tried pulling every book like it was a lever?” she suggested, also wanting to be inquisitive of rooms behind the library walls.

“Almost all of them, yes.” Kaisa nodded. “Do you think this might be the wrong shelf?”

“Personally, the library is already kinda big on its own. It’ll take ages to find where the right one is.” Johanna admitted. “But hey, if we don’t find them, you can always add them when you become the future librarian.”

“You know…” Kaisa turned back to Johanna. “That’s exactly what I’ll do…!”

Johanna had known Kaisa’s dreams of being the keeper of books for as long as she could remember. She enjoyed visiting the Trolberg library just as much as anyone else, but she never met anybody who treated it like it was their own home the same way Kaisa did. One could write a fairytale of a girl who lived here, she thought at one point, and wanted to be the protagonist adventurer who would come to befriend her. That idea came back to her briefly as she faced an enthusiastic Kaisa, and for that reason, she giggled quietly; the fairytale might actually be true.

Before the two girls could continue their conversation, a figure stood over and caught their attention. They looked up on a woman suiting a long, sophisticated gray dress and a decorative hat reminiscent to what witch’s wear.

“Oh, hello Arch Sorcer…I MEAN Tildy…” Kaisa stammered. “What brings you here…?”

The woman smiled warmly at the girl to reassure her tension. “Nothing much, my dear.” She spoke in a gentle tone. “Just came looking for a book to bring home and all.”

She peeped over the closest bookshelf and quickly skimmed through it before pulling out a novel that read The Skeleton Whisperer on the cover. “Ah yes, this will do.” she said. “I suppose you’re here continuing extra work on your training.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Kaisa gave a half smile. “I just finished, but I can continue if you insist that I do…”

“No need to stress.” Tildy assured. “I know you’ve worked quite hard today. Catch your breath and continue your studies tomorrow.” She turned her attention to Johanna. “You and your friend deserve the time to respite.”

The sorceress-in-secret kneeled down to Kaisa and whispered on her ear. “Also, I couldn’t help but overhear your suggestions on secret rooms,” she continued. “I think it’s a great idea. We’ll talk about it with the Committee next time we head down the tower.”

And with her borrowed book, the mysterious woman walked onwards. “Adieu, children.” She said before making her way downstairs with her borrowed book.

“See you soon madame Pilqu…Tildy, I mean.” Kaisa also bid farewell.

“I thought you were just here waiting before we could hang out.” Johanna expressed.

“I was.” retorted Kaisa. “But I tried catching up with some studies, too, for when I meet with Tildy again.”

“Who was she anyway?” asked Johanna. “She seemed very…enigmatic, sort of, but sweet.”

“She’s my teacher.” Kaisa answered. “I took up her apprenticeship long ago, but I’m not allowed to talk about it too much...”

Johanna could fathom; never once had Kaisa talked about any apprenticeship before. She now looked distressed once she saw her teacher was here, stroking down her locks to the point her bangs nearly covered her eyes. The Sparrow Scout could feel her frown forming by seeing Kaisa’s own, now wishing to know much about this part of her friend’s life she had not known previously.

“Do you not get along with her, Kaisa?” asked Johanna.

“Oh, she’s actually really nice to me, kind of like my farmor.” she replied. “It’s just that…Well, I don’t know…” she paused, squirming from hesitation. She said it herself, she was not allowed to talk about her sessions with Tildy, whether it was what she was being taught or what she was even learning to become. But she knew Johanna will be left with loads of questions if she did not reveal much about her apprenticeship starting now.

Kaisa sighed, maybe she did not have to reveal a lot of the truth to Johanna if she really wanted to explain her vexation. “So, look, there’s this sort of… “routine” we’ll call it, that Tildy is letting me practice until next week.” she continued. “As usual, I need to prepare by studying a lot first, but it’s hard to actually practice where I live. There’s not enough privacy to do the routine with my mum around, and if I don’t get it right when I meet Tildy, well, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint her…”

Almost instantly, Johanna brainstormed the perfect solution to Kaisa’s ordeal. “Wait a sec, Kaisa, I know exactly how you can practice.” she beamed. “But the catch is, I might have to accompany you the whole time.”

“What do you mean?” Kaisa asked.

“I’ll be going camping this weekend!” clarified Johanna. “My parents allowed me to go so I can prepare for my camping badge, but what they don’t know is that I plan to settle outside the walls.” she extended her hand and swung it across. “I’m going as far away from the city as I can, remote into the wilderness, and maybe just close enough to my grandad’s old house if I’m lucky. And to top it off, you can come with me!”

Kaisa’s face went white. “So you’re saying I should I join you…in going outside the walls?”

“Yep, exactly!” Johanna expressed. “Think about it, there will still be time to prepare and see your teacher after you’re done practicing in the trip, and no one else can find you practicing in the wilderness. Besides, it’ll be fun with just you and me in the outdoors!”

“Oh, I don’t know, Johanna…” Kaisa faltered. “I could…But it sounds a bit risky. And you would still be around when I start practicing, so that’s still a problem for me.”

“Well, it’s no worries then,” the brunette reassured. “It was just worth the suggestion, but I understand.”

A bit of quietness befell for the two girls. Kaisa glanced away and envisioned Johanna’s planned escapade outside the walls. Maybe letting her leave while being the only person to know about it was not such a good idea. Anything could happen in the wilderness, and Kaisa shuddered to think what harm would come to Johanna when she could have personally protected her the same way she would if they camped together.

Kaisa returned to glancing at Johanna. “Promise me you will not tell anyone about my training…?” she said.

Johanna gasped and smiled all at once. “Don’t worry, you can trust me.” she swore.

Kaisa grabbed hold of Johanna’s shoulders. “Johanna, no one can ever know about what I practice.” she continued with visible anxiety in her complexion. “I will get in trouble, and it will be worse for you, and something bad will happen to both of us somehow.” her voice became twice as strained and her grip slowly tightened. “Jag kan inte förlåta mig själv…!”

“Kaisa, listen, it’s going to be okay…” Johanna’s tone was light and calm, guiding Kaisa’s hands to let go. “Look, I may not understand everything about your apprenticeship or your routine, but your teacher said no need to stress. Well, I’m saying it too.” She elevated her posture. “I promise as your best friend to not only help you, but to also never tell a single soul of our adventure, nor what I’ll see regarding your training during it.” She finalized with a Sparrow Scout’s salute.

Kaisa grinned, feeling relief course through her mind. “Thank you.” She spoke softly. “I’ll stop worrying now.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” Johanna chuckled. “The park’s waiting for us. We’ll talk more about our trip there.”

Every day went by slowly for Kaisa, but the weekend finally came for her and Johanna to head out into the wilderness. However, even the hours of the day went by just as slowly when she waited for the Sparrow Scout to come by her house. She was in her room filling her pack with her own essential needs that were instructed for her to bring in a camping trip. The only thing not packed in her luggage was her wand with an amethyst pommel, which she kept hidden under her cardigan.

Whether it was going to be in the camping trip or when they were older, Kaisa knew that Johanna was going to discover she was a witch this whole time. The vague routine she said she hoped to practice was in fact a spell which of course involved her wand, an incantation and some magic. She trembled at the fact that there was no point of return in continuing to hide the truth from Johanna after the library visit. It was not just that there were punishments and compromises to a witch’s identity being revealed, but would her best friend still even want to be friends with someone who is capable of influencing the paranormal like her? Even if she had doubts of her own strength, would just being a witch-in-training be enough to scare her and split their friendship apart?

It made Kaisa’s head spin and groan every time. If there was one thing she hoped to do as a witch, it was the power to predict other people’s choices and wishes, that way she would never have to endure the pain of overthinking about the company in her present or future ever again.

Behind her, a knock on the window thudded twice. Kaisa quickly turned to see Johanna on the other side, no longer in her uniform but rather in a red and blue flannel above her overalls while her long, swaying hair spilled down her shoulders, waving her hand with the brightest smile on her face.

“Ready for our camping trip, Kaisa?” she asked, her voice softened from the glass pane.

Kaisa rushed to open the window. “Am I supposed to jump out through here?” she asked back, realizing Johanna did not stop by the front door.

“Mhm.” The brunette nodded. “We’ll be much faster exiting the walls with this route.”

“My mum’s not even home,” Kaisa pointed out. “It wouldn’t matter as much.”

“Does she also know you’re heading out today?” Johanna diverted.

“Yes, of course she does.” Kaisa answered.

The brunette gestured to leave. “No time to waste, then.”

Kaisa chuckled and shook her head in amusement. While hurrying to take her pack, Johanna made room for her to climb out and reclose the window, then rushing as fast as they could into the city’s portion of the forestland to avoid attention.

One of the exits out of the walls was just nearby, and the pair made it with nothing stopping their way. No traffic of vehicles driving into the city, no guards surveilling the entrance, just a mere traffic stop standing dormant on the gate to halt anyone from entering and exiting. Quickly, the two girls ran like the wind, hoping they were not spotted by Bellkeepers and citizens in general, finally ending up in the outside world to trek on their own.

“We still have a long way to go,” Johanna said. “The perfect camping ground should be yonder…”

Johanna continued walking a few paces, but Kaisa stopped to look back at the gate to Trolberg still nearby. She could feel her eyes welling up and her heart pounding out her chest as every second of her fear grew. Not often was she outside, but the wilderness was a whole new scenario that she wished she prepared more for. She did not want to leave for Johanna’s safety, but it was so easy for her to feel afraid in these surroundings. The Sparrow Scout herself looked back and noticed Kaisa frozen in uncertainty.

“Hey, we’ll to be okay,” Johanna hurried to comfort her best friend. “I promise I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything hurt us in this trip.”

Kaisa whimpered and stared back at Johanna. The anxiety etched on her face was contagious to the brunette and stung her heart, but she forced a smile and sneakily grabbed Kaisa’s hand.

“I’ll hold onto you the entire time we’re out here, that way we’ll both feel safe,” she entangled her fingers with Kaisa’s.

Something sparkled in Kaisa’s eyes when she saw her hand grasping her best friend’s. She did not say a word, but a warm smile finally carved on her face and was enough for Johanna to know that she will be okay. The two pressed on, Johanna remained ahead while Kaisa was behind her, their hands still holding and keeping them close together.

They hiked a chartless trail among the forestlands where the leaves changing color from summer to fall was ever so present, and the sunshine beamed infinite rays of its light through the trees trying to cover it. Kaisa was lost in thought, appreciating the view of the forest; she turned her head in all directions and felt a wave of reassurance with every view, made even more so with Johanna taking the lead as she hummed a tune. Seeing she was still holding Kaisa’s hand, the witch-in-secret recalled what Johanna had said earlier about protecting each other, something she could not stop thinking at all, but wanted to address as casually as she could.

“Hey, Johanna…” Kaisa called.

“Yes, Kaisa?”

“Do you ever think humans could become familiars?”

“You mean like the ones witches have?” Johanna asked back. “Well, I’m not sure… It would be pretty neat if they could, though.”

“I agree,” Kaisa said. “It wouldn’t be common, but talking with a human familiar would sure feel like less work.”

“Yep,” Johanna retorted. “Wait just a minute…” her tone grew wary.

Kaisa gulped, feeling nervous of what Johanna intended to say. “Y-Yeah…?”

“Imagine if one us became a witch’s familiar!” Johanna’s eyes lit up.

The corner of Kaisa’s mouth quirked up and giggled, mostly out of relief. “You’d actually want to become one?”

“Sure, why not?!” Johanna replied. “Think of all the cool spells you get to help a witch out on. If I was a familiar, I would never ever leave their side, constantly aiding them…kind of like I am with you!”

The girl behind her blushed. “That’s good to know…” she whispered, hoping Johanna would not turn to see the glee on her reddened complexion.

Miles and miles of trees and rivers were wandered through by the duo until they grew eventually tired. When both the sun and sky glowed a warm tinge of orange, the time came to build their camp, far away from the nearest residence of Trolberg.

“Right, this should be good, I think,” said Johanna, letting go of her pack and rummaging through the compartment holding her tent. “Can you help build the tent with me, Kaisa?”

“Can do.” Kaisa nodded.

The land which Johanna and Kaisa settled in was a flat and grassy plane surrounded by the corners of the forest in a crescent shape. Beyond the breach of the crescent was more verdant terrain which stretched onto the large gray mountains ahead. It was the perfect camping ground to pick for those beginning to camp out on their own, and both Johanna and Kaisa wasted no time hoisting their tent cloth and holding it together with ropes, stakes and rods.

Having practiced building a tent back home and during Sparrow Scout activities, along with having Kaisa’s assistance, Johanna finished constructing the tent for the two before the sun was even down.

“Don’t worry, it will be more comfortable on the inside than it looks on the outside.” Johanna spoke, wiping away a drop sweat on her head.

“I think it looks comfy already.” Kaisa said. “Well done!”

“Couldn’t have done it without your help, though.” She pulled Kaisa closer to her, making her chuckle.

Their belongings and sleeping bags were settled in their tent, and a bonfire was built by Johanna with foliage and twigs to give them warmth. It was as though her retreat needed for her camping badge had already happened if one could realize the adeptness of which she put together the camp, but her days as a Sparrow Scout had in fact prepared her for fun, spontaneous trips in the wilderness.

Until the sky totally darkened, the two kept themselves busy with conversations of the week they had after seeing each other in the library, which new books they have read, and enjoyed cups of hot cocoa from a tin canister Johanna packed along. With all the goings-on being enjoyed since they left Trolberg, Kaisa almost forgot that she intended to continue her witch training while she was camping with the brunette. The scene in the tent surrounded by the orange light of the lantern, filling the air with laughter and merriment, was all Kaisa and Johanna could ever hope to cherish together, but it was best that the witch-in-secret began her training as soon as she could.

“Okay, Johanna, I should probably start now.” Kaisa said, rising from her spot in the tent.

“Alright, good luck!” Johanna cheered. “If anything bad happens, shout as loud as you can to call me.”

Kaisa stepped out of the tent. Immediately, another wave of fear coursed through her mind and made her quiver in place by the tent’s entrance. She was overthinking once more; what if a Troll was out and near to the camp? What if there was a Barghest on the run? Every monster from every folklore that she had ever read could be out to harm her and Johanna in this hour. She withdrew her wand from her cardigan and clenched it tightly with both hands. Kaisa reminded herself that even if danger was nearby, she would be first to protect Johanna like she hoped she would, and Johanna will do the same if she herself was threatened.

She took small steps away from the tent, far enough that Johanna would not notice any magic ensuing. A full moon was rising, and Kaisa looked up. It captivated her, and her ability to use magic should be as strong as ever, she thought.

Taking a deep breath, it was time for the levitation spell.

“Bara fokusera…” she spoke to herself softly. “Gå så högt som månen ovan….”

Soon, she closed her eyes and opened her palm, holding it upwards by her chest. The tip of her wand glowed a purple spec of light and atop her palm, then twirled it in circles over and over. She whispered an incantation that Tildy taught her, being just one sentence of incomprehensible words to non-witches, and repeated it again until the whole spell was set in motion. As the wand circled more and more, sparkles exuded out from nowhere until a purple aura sheathed the outlines of her physique.

“As high as the moon above…” she whispered.

Suddenly, Johanna exited the tent to sit by the campfire. Kaisa was out of sight, but the brunette did not plan on finding her no matter how much she wanted to see this “routine” she was practicing. The concentration and privacy which her best friend said she lacked was all that mattered to Johanna. She spread her hands around the warmth of the blaze, but even before she could fully respite, she heard the leaves rustle in the forestland ahead. The brunette looked up and squinted at nothing but silhouettes and darkness.

Leaning in a bit forward, she finally realized what was apparently coming forward. It was a large, bulky figure; its eye glowing in a nearly strong luminosity of white. Johanna’s heart was racing, there was no way it could be what she thought it was. But as the figure revealed more of itself among the forestland, it was indeed the worst possible thing for the camping trip: a large Troll rummaging through the wilderness.

Johanna yelped, but quickly covered her mouth to avoid getting the Troll’s attention. She got up from her seat by the fire and hurried to find Kaisa’s training spot, panickily whispering her name. To her relief, she found her just standing still behind the tent, but immediately froze out of a whole different feeling of concern.

Kaisa’s eyes remained shut and muttered to herself while a big spark of light glimmered above her hand, holding and swirling her wand evenly. She seemed to be in her own world now, completely detached from the surroundings around her. Johanna failed to approach or even say a word to the witch as she realized how apprehensive she felt towards what was happening. When she thought she had enough to be confused about, she looked over her limbs to realize that a purple aura glowed around her body. Her feet began to rise up slightly from the ground and glanced ahead to see that Kaisa, despite maintaining the same posture, was also levitating; terror now overtook Johanna’s face.

Then, Kaisa stopped her wand from spinning, and her open hand stretched high into the sky. The two girls continued lifting up ever so slowly from the ground, their feet could reach the tip of their tent, and soon they were as high as the top of a tree. Johanna flailed her arms and legs sporadically when it seemed like they soared upward enough, still too afraid to ask Kaisa what was going on.

The witch opened one eye to see how far up she was, then the other to realize Johanna in front of her. Her pupils shrank in a state of fright and her jaw went slack. Out of all the mistakes she had expected to make, picking up Johanna with her own spell was the last yet most severe one she could ever think to fall through.

“Oh no, oh no no no no…!” Kaisa whimpered. “I…I did not mean to…!”

Johanna shushed and pointed downwards to their campsite. As Kaisa gawked down, her pulse stopped to the sight of a Troll peeking into their tent. It drew back to find out no one was inside, then turned to the fire and stared at it for a while. It finally took a seat, emitting a large thud on the ground like a single-second quake upon resting.

Kaisa looked back at her best friend in fear, letting her eyes ask what on earth they should do now. Johanna fathomed, nodding to reassure that they were probably safer up in the sky, and gestured both her hands lightly to signify holding them in place with whatever Kaisa was making them float with.

The witch fought to keep it together. Her breath was instable and the palm holding her wand began to sweat. If she could focus long enough and ward off the wish to descend back on the ground, all the while halting to recite her incantation which helped her concentrate, she could try having her and Johanna stay hovering in the air for as long as she wanted.

Kaisa’s expression hardened and pointed her wand towards Johanna. She swung her arm backwards in a single quick motion, causing Johanna to gasp as she floated over to the witch. Kaisa gave the brunette a tight embrace, one so warm and protective that it felt inescapable to be let go from.

“Please, don’t be mad.” Kaisa could only bring herself to plead. “I did not focus that well. I could have done even worse to us had I---”

The tension felt within Johanna was lost to Kaisa’s voice and embrace, and her eyes closed, hugging her best friend back. “It’s okay, Kaisa.” she interrupted. “Just that…this…is a lot to take in…” the conversations about witch familiars and training with privacy all made sense now.

“’I’m sorry…” Kaisa nestled her face onto Johanna’s shoulder. She looked back down at the campsite and saw the Troll keeping warm with their fire, motionless like the rock that it was. “We are going to be up here all night…”

Johanna let go from their embrace so she could face Kaisa, still holding onto her shoulders. “Do you think there is a way we could get the troll to move out?” she asked.

“I’m not sure if I am able to…” Kaisa admitted. “Not unless we let it know where we are.”

Johanna looked back down; the Troll did nothing, only seemingly entranced by the fire as it gazed on it. She thought about how she wanted to warm herself earlier, and her eyes dilated upon realizing what the Troll only seemed to want as well.

“If it’s not the troll we can do something about directly, we’re just going to have to take out the fire.” Johanna said.

Kaisa caught up with the plan. “I got it.” she nodded. “Leave it to me then.”

With her wand still at hand, she pointed the tip towards the campfire and concentrated on hitting anything but the Troll or their tent accidentally. The easiest thing she could bring herself to do with magic was release a streak of energy from her wand, and she hoped that blasting the campfire with her specific sort of ammunition could take out the fire and bid the Troll farewell.

Deep breath…Eyes locked…The light on the tip of Kaisa’s wand glowed purple once more until it grew as bright as a star, then it hurled down from the wand in high speed. Barely a second later, the energy from Kaisa’s magic crashed into the campfire, exploding into a gradient of purple, white and orange, and nothing but a gleaming mist blanketed a portion of the camp. The Troll got up in shock, fists tightly clenched and glaring in all directions to search for what threatened it; Johanna and Kaisa watched from above in hopes it would not look up.

When the mist quickly dispersed, the Troll looked down on the rubble of wood which used to be the campfire keeping it warm. It hummed a deep, disappointed tone, and stomped the ground so stridently that the two girls in the air could almost feel the tremor. No one appeared to be around it for miles, hence the Troll finally made its way back to the forestlands to search for another source of warmth in the wilderness.

“Yes, it worked…!” Johanna expressed.

The witch breathed a sigh of relief. “Do you think it will come back?” she asked.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t.” Johanna answered. “We’ll leave the campfire be, we still got the tent to keep us warm.”

With all the exhilaration fully coursing through Kaisa’s mind, the purple aura around her and Johanna faded away. They only had a second to see the spell had worn off before being weighed down by gravity, screaming and falling from the height of a two-story building before Kaisa raised her wand to reactivate the levitation spell. The two of them gnashed their teeth and their eyes shut tightly, just before peeking around to see they were hovering only an inch above the ground.

Kaisa allowed the spell to cast off, and the glow of her wand and from their physiques dissipated for the last time tonight. She and Johanna dipped onto the floor with their backs flatly lied down, groaning when they picked themselves back up.

Johanna felt unsure if anything she had just experienced after leaving her tent was even real. She stared at Kaisa hiding her wand away, then at all the leftover mist and sparkles on what used to be their campfire.

“Kaisa…this whole time…you were a…” Johanna’s eyes lit up.

Kaisa sighed. “Surprise.” she giggled tiredly. “I’m sorry I kept this secret from you, Johanna. I really could not say anything.”

Kaisa’s breathing was concise and hasty. All of a sudden, she collapsed on her knees and held the ground to keep her up. To Johanna’s shock, she hurried to carry her back up and wrap her hand over her shoulder. The energy used up to perform the levitation spell took a toll on the witch-in-training. It was unlike anything she had ever accomplished before.

As soon as they entered their tent, Johanna laid Kaisa down on her sleeping bag and pillow. The Sparrow Scout grabbed a canister of fresh water and filled the cap almost to the brim, bringing it over to the witch and allowed her to drink as much as she needed.

“Thank you.” Kaisa whispered, closing her eyes and lying back down.

Johanna kept staring upon Kaisa in a near unconscious state, hoping she could still listen to her before she inevitably fell asleep. “Look, Kaisa…” she spoke. “…I know your spell did not work the way you wanted when I showed up, but you did save us from the Troll in the end. I really should be thanking you…”

A corner of Kaisa’s mouth lifted. However, the soft grin on her face was short-lived, “But now I will never get the spell right on time…” she lamented, feeling the exhaustion overtaking her slowly.

Johanna had so many questions she was dying to have answered, if only she could ask them now. In any case, witch or no witch, Kaisa was still the same best friend Johanna had since forever, and while she knew she could never make her magic and identity known to others, she could not wait to be there for Kaisa the next time she trained to become a witch.

“We don’t have to leave after tomorrow,” Johanna said softly. “We can stay out here for as long as we need until you perfect your spell, and I won’t ever leave your side.”

#hilda the series #hilda netflix #sketchbook ship #fanfiction #my works #hilda librarian #johanna hilda #kaisa hilda #tildy hilda #kaisanna #spellbound au

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maybankiara · 4 years

Text

PHONE SWAP (DREW STARKEY)

12: THE MORE THE MERRIER

summary: Addie Mallory is just your average economics student when she meets Drew Starkey at her local Target in Atlanta. This is where the story is supposed to end – a short meeting and a picture to go – except Drew accidentally leaves with the wrong phone, and the story begins, instead.

w/c: 3k

a/n: all questions and complaints to be sent to my po box, thanks

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Me | 6:12pm Hey! Do you know where most people are meeting up?

Winnie O’Connell | 6:12pm I’ve got no clue but Holden Wes and Marea are coming to mine at 6:30 and we’re leaving a little after 7, Wes isn’t drinking. You can come with us!! The more the merrier 🥰

Me | 6:13pm That sounds great!! Thank youuu

Winnie O’Connell | 6:13pm No problem girl ❤ Winnie O’Connell | 6:13pm You remember where I live right?

Me | 6:14pm Yep! I should be there a in 25-30

Winnie O’Connell | 6:14pm Can’t wait to see you!! 😘

Me | 6:15pm You too 😊

◇

Addie leaves the flat looking—hopefully—decent enough for a night out with colleagues. She’s aware of the fact that all these people have been on a fair share on nights out together by now, and she’s not entirely sure about the dress code, but she went with what seemed the most appropriate – a deep, dark green tube top and a matching high-waisted skirt, with a stylish leather jacket Marianne let her steal for the night. She managed to stuff all her belongings into the jacket’s pockets, even the strawberry-scented tinted chapstick that Marianne forced to take, even if her lips are too dark for the chapstick’s light pink to make the slightest difference.

The Uber picks her up and leaves her at Winnie’s address shortly after forty past six, just like she planned. Addie stands in front of the tall, expensive-looking building feeling insufferably small, despite her height and the platform shoes that are currently making her stand even taller. She smooths out the nonexistent creases on her skirt and tells herself she’s freaking out over nothing, then rings the bell.

Winnie lets her in within a moment and a minute later, the elevator has taken her to the top floor.

Addie stands in front of the entrance door, and hesitates.

The first and only time she’s ever been to Winnie O’Connell’s apartment was on the very first week of the internship. Their bosses were still trying to see whom Addie would work the best with, and Winnie was the first who had a case that involved economic matters that Winnie, as a recent lawyer, couldn’t do on her own. They spent the evening at hers, working through the case until they cracked it with enough Indian takeout to keep them going.

Winnie might’ve been the first person to offer her friendship, yet Addie refused it in favour of a strictly professional relationship she’d deemed necessary to work on that case, and any other. She’s lucky that Winnie doesn’t hold grudges and didn’t even act as if it was out of the ordinary when Addie asked to join one of their nights out.

Finally, with a deep breath, Addie knocks.

Winnie opens the door with a bright smile on her face. She’s taller than usual, sporting a pair of high heels that are a few inches taller than her usual attie, combined with a little black dress that accentuates her curves in all the good ways; Addie’s first thought is that Marianne would like this dress. Her second thought is that she nailed the dress code.

‘Addison, hi!’ Winnie pulls her into a tight hug, smelling of a warm floral perfume. ‘I’m glad you’re here, we’re just about to start a little drinking game.’

Addie smiles. ‘That sounds great.’

The girl moves to the side and lets her in. The door shuts with a click and Winnie’s heels make nearly the same sound across the wooden floor as she leads Addie into the apartment. She stops at the end of the hallway, right where it expands into what Addie recalls to be a massive living room.

‘I’ll just go and grab you a drink,’ says Winnie. She steps through the door on the side, closer than the living room, and Addie catches a glimpse of a silver, minimalistic kitchen. ‘The others are in the living room.’

With that, Winnie enters the kitchen, and Addie makes her way into the living room.

‘ADDISON!’

Her lips stretch into a large, toothy grin at Wes Tucker’s voice, enlarging as her eyes fall upon the boy. Wes is someone a person can’t help but notice – cheerful and always making a point to be the loudest in a room, with a talent for accomplishing the most by doing the least. He’s also yet another person whose friendship Addie refused, yet it doesn’t seem to matter to him, either.

He’s giving her one of the biggest smiles she’s ever seen on him, and he looks casually elegant in a simple black t-shirt and jeans. ‘We’re all very happy you finally decided to join us.’

‘Well, it was about time, right?’

‘Fuck yeah. Now get here, we’re about to play Charades and Holden needs a partner since Marea’s sitting this one out.’

Addie’s gaze drops to the girl sitting at the furthest end of the table, a phone pressed to her cheek and lips stretched into a slight smile. She waves at her, and Marea’s smile increases just a little, as she speaks to whoever’s on the phone. Addie doesn’t think it’s Italian (which Addie is pretty sure is her native language). With her dark locks and matching eyes, slightly tan skin, and a sharp jaw, she looks on edge and filled with kindness at once.

A chair screeches. Addie turns her head, and her eyes meet Holden’s.

‘Hey,’ he greets, flashing her a set of impeccably white teeth. ‘You ready to get this started?’

She nods, letting her face relax and shoulders drop. ‘Let’s get it on.’

‘Great!’

Addie takes a seat where Holden’s pulled the chair out for her, right next to him. Winnie comes a few seconds later and gives everyone a new round of drinks, which Addie suspects isn’t their first nor second, either. They clink them together (‘To the internship!’) and get started with Charades.

The sweetness masks the taste of alcohol, and Addie goes through her drink quickly. Marea leaves the room the moment they begin playing because Winnie is the one acting out in the first round, and the petite brunette holds a lot more vocal power in her than Addie would’ve guessed. When they finish, Wes high-fives her as they count the cards, and threatens Addie and Holden with fire in his eyes.

Addie laughs, and for the first time in three months, feels like she’s finally experiencing the full offer of the internship.

It’s her and Holden’s turn, and he offers her to pick, so she panic-chooses guessing. He groans and she learns soon enough that Holden isn’t the best at miming. The sand is out of the hourglass, and both of them are out of breath.

They’re still faster than the other two, winning the round.

Holden wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, shaking his head as he gives her a smile. ‘That was a lot.’

‘Mhm,’ says Addie. ‘The only reason why we won is because they’re worse, not because we’re good.’

‘Ouch. Let’s see if you’re any better.’

She ends up being better, after all, or it’s just the initial awkwardness of being partners outside of their workplace finally going away. Addie guessed they would make a good team, given how well they get along at work, but it’s still nice to get a confirmation. Also, Holden offers to buy her a drink when they get to the bar as an apology for doubting her, and she can’t really say no to that.

At the end of the day, Addie is just a girl who likes boys, and Holden just so happens to have swapped his usual three-piece with a navy blue t-shirt and a pair of fitted black jeans, losing some of the office stiffness, too. He’s more at ease than she’s ever seen him, with eyes that tell the intimacy of an inside joke, and there’s something oddly charming about him.

Her hands move a stray curl out of her face and she focuses back on Wes and Winnie, who are shuffling the cards, and she feels her breath flutter as she exhales.

i’ve been single for way too fucking long.

For the rest of the game, half of Addie’s focus remains on the boy sitting next to her. They get through a few more rounds, getting better each time. She’s aware of how close their knees are, of the bittersweet scent of his cologne, of the way he seems to pick up on her mannerisms quickly and easily enough to turn the game into child’s play.

Marea comes back a little before they’re supposed to leave. Wes leads them to his car, a silver Subaru, ordering Marea in the front and the other three in the back. The car’s big enough for them to fit comfortably with Addie in the middle, but not enough for them to not be touching.

Addie doesn’t budge for the entirety of the ride, but neither does Holden.

The bar where they end up meeting the rest of the people from the internship is located in the northern part of the city. It’s full of people roughly their age, drinking beer straight out of the bottle while playing pool or watching others sing karaoke at the back – basically, as Marianne would say it, it’s the “American bootleg version of an honest-to-god English pub”.

Their table is in-between the lousy bunch sitting at the bar and the loud bunch playing pool. Addie slides into the booth with Nadia to her left, and Mark and Diego a little further. The ones sitting beside them are the ones she doesn’t really know, as they’re from a different department, and neither they nor are among those few who travel from one to another given the occasion. Addie checks the time on her phone, seeing she’s got a text from Marianne, but chooses to ignore it for the time being.

Holden slides into the booth next to her, thigh against thigh. Addie feels her skin shiver where his knee brushes hers, and she takes an ice-cold beer out of his hand and nearly downs it in one go.

‘Damn, Addison.’

The bottle thunks on the wooden table and Addie taps the runaway drops out of the corners of her lips. It doesn’t miss her notice how his eyes follow the movement. ‘It’s Addie. For friends.’

‘Okay then, Addie,’ says Holden, grinning. His finger points at the phone that’s still showing her lockscreen – that undisputably dumb-looking photo of Drew one of the cast members took back when he had her phone. ‘That your boyfriend?’

Addie slides the phone back into her pocket. ‘Nope. Just a friend. Haven’t got a boyfriend.’

Holden nods as if he’s mulling the information over. His eyes light up and the corners of his lips tug into a playful smile. ‘Are you as good at playing pool as you are at Charades?’

‘Only when I’ve had more than two drinks.’

‘Well in that case, I can go get you the—’

‘IT’S CHUGGING TIME!’

Both of them are startled by Raiden’s announcement and about two dozen beers being slammed on the table. Next to her, Nadia laughs and makes a comment about how the next morning is going to be difficult, and Diego retorts by calling a pussy, to which Nadine informs him that technically, he isn’t wrong.

Addie nearly bursts into laughter. Nadine hears and then asks for her opinion on the matter, and Winnie ends up being included, too, until the entire group is discussing the weight of “dick” and “pussy” as insults.

Raiden tells them to pick partners. Addie goes with Nadia, Holden with Winnie, Wes with Marea, Mark with Diego. Raiden instructs them to intertwine their arms at the elbows, which Addie and Nadia do with ease.

Nadia bobs her head. ‘You ready?’

‘I was born for this.’

In the end, they end up being nearly the last for all three turns, because as it turns out, they’re not that good at this. But it’s a good laugh, and Addie feels like Nadia is someone she might get used to.

The realisation that the only thing they all have in common is the firm they intern for irks her mind a little. She knows that there’s people who get along with everybody, but the idea that there’s a dozen people bonding solely over the fact that they have a love-hate relationship with their job and bosses and actually making long-lasting connections is baffling.

Just... humans. Humans are baffling.

And Addie is starting to feel her five drinks.

She ends up leaving Nadia to go to the bar with Holden, who gets the two of them a drink each. He’s got a mouth made of honey and he talks Addie into playing pool with ease, except she gets Winnie and Wes to tag along, too.

Addie slams two sticks on the table. She’s not usually this confident, or this cocky, but one look at the curve of Holden’s lips is enough to get her to raise her chin high, bump shoulders with Winnie, and say, ‘Y’all are about to get smoked.’

The boys laugh. When it turns out that Winnie is indeed a master at pool (‘It’s a family sport, really’), they don’t laugh anymore.

Addie bends over the pool table, the stick between her index and middle finger. The alcohol is making everything fuzzy and smooth so it’s taking double the concentration – but Winnie says she’s got it, so she’s got it.

The stick glides between her fingers. The last coloured ball shoots into the side, then another side, until it shadows into the hole in the middle.

‘SMOKE THIS, BITCHES!’ shouts Winnie, raising a fair few eyebrows around them, and whispers a “sorry” hushed with a giggle.

Wes sighs. He puts one end of his stick on the ground and the other underneath his chin, eyeing Holden with disappointment. ‘We could’ve played better, dude.’

‘What can I say.’ Holden shrugs, taking the balls out from under the table. He throws a glance at Addie, wearing the same face he usually does when they figure out how to go on about a case. ‘I’m used to having a different partner.’

Winnie chuckles. Wes groans. Addie rolls her eyes.

‘Cheer up, big boy,’ says Addie. She comes from behind him and takes over what he was doing, aligning the balls into a perfect triangle. His stare is burning into her back, but she doesn’t budge. ‘Ready to lose another one?’

‘No, actually.’ he says. ‘Team switch up?’

‘Ugh, really? Wes?’

Despite Addie calling his name, the tall boy edges to Winnie, making a grimace. ‘Nah, I’m with Bradfield on this one. I’ve got a better chance at winning with Winnie. Ya know.’

The pun—intended or not, doesn’t really matter—earns him a light smack on the chest from Winnie, who ends up agreeing to the new teams.

Addie sighs. ‘Fine, then. Holden?’

‘Yes, Addie?’

She comes closer to him, leaning close enough that she’s sure he feels her breath on his cheek, and stage whispers, ‘We’ll get ‘em just like we got ‘em in the Charades.’

Both Wes and Winnie begin to protest so Holden slings an arm around her shoulder, as if protecting her from it all. Where his gentle fingers touch her briefly, Addie’s skin chills – she can only hope he doesn’t notice her shiver.

‘Hell yeah,’ he says. ‘Just you wait.’

His arm disappears from her shoulder and he’s over the table, pushing the stick, and the game has begun.

Addie’s head is beginning to spin a little, and she’s aware that she’s not aware of everything that’s happening.

Some time and two rounds of pool later (that they both still lose, because they’re the worst pool players she’s ever witnessed), they decide to try out clubbing. Mark drives Diego and Mareahome, Nadia leaves with Raiden (whom she has apparently been hooking up with for as long as they’ve both been a part of the internship). That leaves Addie, Holden, Wes, and Winnie with people whose names Addie didn’t catch – she blames it on her fuzzy mind being unable to hold onto any coherent thought.

The club’s lights are dim, and they’re all kind of dancing together. She’s mostly with Winnie, until Winnie leaves to chat with someone who’s just bought her a drink, and Wes is making out in the back of the room with a boy he met back at the bar, and it’s just her and Holden.

Addie and Holden.

He smiles, as if reading her mind, and takes her hand just to twirl her around, watching her gleefully as she throws her head back and laughs, freely. His hands travel to her sides, and soon they’re all she can focus on – their slight tug pulling her close, her hips swaying to the rhythm.

Addie knows it’s going to happen before it happens. Even under the dim neon light of the club’s dance floor, she sees Holden’s eyes flicker to her lips, before looking back at her eyes with a question. They look nice – deep and blue and full of something, and the lights reflected in the m are bright and blue and red and yellow, and that’s all a part of the reason why Addie tilts her head to the slide, her eyes flickering to his lips, now.

Holden leans in. Addie does the same.

His lips taste like beer, not honey. Surprisingly, he doesn’t taste like a mistake, either.

◇

Virgin Mary | 8:21pm so how’s it going?? Virgin Mary | 9:47pm I’ll just assume you’re having a great time 😂 Virgin Mary | 9:49pm anyway just remember to be responsible and don’t do anything super drastic from what you'd do when sober!! love youuu

Me | 00:22am i kissed holden Me | 0:22am or he ksised ke Me | 0:22am were gonna gi to his

Virgin Mary | 0:23am OK HOLD UP THAT CONSTITUTES AS DRASTICALLY DIFFERENT FROM NORMAL Virgin Mary | 0:23am how drunk are you

Me | 00:23am very

Virgin Mary | 00:23am where is he

Me | 00:24am talking to wes

Virgin Mary | 00:24am do you want to shag him

Me | 00:24am yes

Virgin Mary | 00:24am drunk?

Me | 00:24am yes Me | 00:24am no Me | 00:24am fuck Me | 00:25am shit

Virgin Mary | 00:25am do you want it to be a one night stand

Me | 00:26am wtf n0 Me | 00:26am ok ill just call an uber

Virgin Mary | 00:26am let me know how it goes!!!

Me | 00:31am wes is dringing me home Me | 00:31am be there in twenty or twentybfive

Virgin Mary | 00:32am I’ll wait up on you

Me | 00:37am thanks marinanen Me | 00:38am youre my best friend and i loge you dko kych

Virgin Mary | 00:40am lmao I love you too gal ❤

Me | 00:49am ❤❤🤡❤❤❤

Virgin Mary | 00:50am you know what... I don’t want to ask 😂😂

Me | 00:53am were here

Virgin Mary | 00:53am omw!!

◇

13: EVERYTHING GOES WELL

tagging. @jjmaybanksbaby @taiter-tots @sacredto @snkkat @drewswannabegirl @yeslifeofateen @rudypnkw @stfukie @x-lulu @drewstarkey @butgilinsky @solllaris @hyperactive2411 @chasefreakinstokes @surferkie @jroseron @k-k0129 @starlightstories

#drew starkey #drew starkey fic #drew starkey fanfiction #outer banks #obx #phone swap series

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thran-duils · 3 years

Text

Watch Me Burn (P.7)

Title: Watch Me Burn (Part Seven) Summary: Fem!Reader x AU!Cas. Fem!Reader x AU!Sam. This fic was inspired by both parts of “Love the Way You Lie” by Eminem & Rihanna. Castiel and the reader are toxic for each other and keep falling back together until the reader moved away. It’s been years and now she is back home, waltzing back into Castiel’s life. She is determined to do better this time, to make them work, but outside forces as well as the scars the two have left on each other weave their way into their reconciliation. Will they be able to overcome the past and new threats to their sustainability? Words: 3,076 Warnings (for the fic in entirety): Extreme angst, domestic violence, smut, unprotected sex, dom/sub dynamics, BDSM trust breaking, fluff, language, alcohol abuse, !!! eventual !!! happiness

Chap 6 || Chap 8 || Fanfic masterpost || Masterpost (mobile)

Sam walked in with Dean and you locked eyes only briefly before turning your gaze back to Castiel.

“He’s here. Longer hair,” you said quietly, barely audible above the music. Castiel threw a glance in his general direction and cocked an eyebrow. “I know, I know.”

“He’s coming,” Castiel warned you quietly, before saying at a normal volume to not arise suspicion, “This should be a fun night though for you guys.”

Suddenly, Sam was at your side. He had switched his jacket out for a button up cardigan over his dress shirt, his tie gone. It made him stick out in this bar, but you knew that was his attempt at dressing down.

“What are you ordering?” he asked you, leaning in close. You guessed he was purposely ignoring Castiel; he was good at making people feel invisible.

Castiel was staring at Sam, a piqued expression that only you would be able to recognize. It was not exactly a tight-lipped smile but close to it.

“Uh, I haven’t yet. I was just talking to Cas,” you said, gesturing at him standing opposite the bar.

Turning his attention to Castiel, Sam gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Sam,” he said, holding out his hand. “Worked with Y/N back in Austin.”

Castiel, thankfully, knew to play it cool. He reached out, taking Sam’s hand in turn, giving it a shake. The two of them held on a couple seconds longer than necessary, eyes piercing the other.

“I’ve heard,” was all Castiel said calmly in return.

You did not miss the slight raised brow Sam displayed at Castiel’s comment, no doubt wondering how much Castiel knew. He brushed the comment off quickly though.

“What are you going to order then, Y/N?”

“Probably a double whiskey with diet,” Castiel answered for you, throwing you a small smirk. He picked up the glass and went to work without waiting for you to confirm. It was your go to, that was correct. But you knew he was trying to prove a point to Sam by not even asking you. He knew you better, he wanted Sam to know that.

“Hmm. Whiskey,” Sam said surprised, rising his brows in surprise. “Far different than all the Paloma’s I’ve seen you down. Too many too count.”

Castiel snorted, drawing Sam’s attention. “What? Was she trying to get wasted? Y/N can’t handle her tequila very well.” He placed your whiskey in front of you.

Giving a small nervous laugh at their surreptitious shots at the other, you said, “Yeah, that’s true. But I paced myself.”

“Sometimes,” Sam quipped. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him and he chuckled. “Sorry. Right, you never got drunk. Ever.” He winked at Castiel across the bar. “I’ll take a Tom Collins.” You made a disgusted face and Sam chided you, “Yeah, yeah. I know. You hate gin.”

“Thanks,” Sam told Castiel. “I’ll see you at the table then, Y/N.”

Sam turned and left your side. When you met Castiel’s eyes again, he cocked a brow.

“I have a lot of questions,” he told you before walking off to take someone else’s order. You waited for him to return after a few minutes and cut in quickly.

“I know, I know. He’s pretentious.”

“You could say that again. What is he even wearing?”

You laughed a little and said, “That is him – and Dean, to be honest – trying to be casual. I can assure you.”

“So… not what I would expect from you.”

“There’s probably a reason why it didn’t work out.”

“I can think of a couple reasons, actually,” Castiel responded, throwing a glance over at where your coworkers were sitting.

Snorting, you nodded in agreement, “I know.” You took a drink of your whiskey and raised your glass half heartedly to him. “Here goes nothing. I can’t promise he will behave himself, but I’ll do my damndest to stay away.”

“Don’t think that’s possible with the seating arrangement at the table now. Looks like the only empty seat is next to him,” Castiel said sounding sour.

“Of course,” you muttered, turning around, and seeing what he said was true. You forced yourself to walk towards the table.

Playing it cool, you thanked Sam when he pulled the chair out from beside him to allow you to sit down.

“I ordered a couple of baskets of fries for the table and some deep-fried pickles,” Charlie informed you. “I told everyone that the burger is solid but if they are looking to be adventurous, that tater tot pizza is also good.”

“How much did you eat last time you were here?” Dean asked jokingly.

“Oh, shove it. I’ve been here a couple times with Y/N. It wasn’t all in one shot,” Charlie returned. “Thankfully, they live upstairs and I was able to crash on the couch one time! Don’t judge me, Tara, it was on a Friday!”

Tara held up her hands, “I wasn’t going to. I know you’re responsible.”

“Upstairs?” Sam questioned you.

You nodded, “Yeah. The floor above. It’s convenient.”

“Very,” Tara agreed and then asked, “But, do you not get sleep sometimes?”

“It’s fine most of the week. Fridays and Saturdays are a little wild, but I’m used to it. It’s nothing new. I’ll finally fall asleep in the early morning and can sleep in.”

“I would indulge so much in bar food, I would probably gain fifty pounds,” Charlie joked.

“Same,” your coworker Sahir agreed, raising his glass to which him and Charlie took a quick drink.

“I make sure that doesn’t happen. I meal plan,” you assured her. “It’s one thing I had to set right when I moved in. He was eating like absolute shit. I told him no one really likes quinoa, but his body will thank him.”

“Ew, gross,” Charlie said, her nose scrunching. “I hate quinoa.”

“It’s a power food, Charlie,” Sam told her.

“Don’t care.”

“I gotta agree with Sam and Y/N. Although, still with you, Charlie. I don’t like it but sometimes you gotta suck it up and play chess, not checkers, with your health,” Tara chimed in.

“Exactly!” Sam agreed. He turned his attention to you and asked, “You still on that 5 on, 2 off?”

He was referring to the exercise program you had been on while in Austin. One that he had strongly encouraged to get yourself in shape, something that was extremely personally important to him. You knew you could never be as fit or healthy as him and had tried to please him for a while.

Shrugging, you said, “More like… 3 to 4 on… maybe one of those days being yoga only. To keep flexibility.” Charlie snorted into her drink and you cocked your head. Sahir and Jennifer laughed as well and you demanded, “What?”

“Just… I make everything sexual,” Charlie laughed.

“Jesus, Charlie,” Tara said, but smirking despite herself.

Charlie apologized whilst laughing.

The food was delivered, more drinks, and even more jokes shared. Sam was leaning in close the whole time, his eyes roaming freely and Castiel was most certainly keeping an eye on you across the bar. You tried to stay straight up, not leaning yourself towards Sam while still maintaining a calm demeanor. Sam, outwardly, was not seeming to notice.

Your attention was drawn to the door as you saw Aspen walk in and you suppressed the urge to roll your eyes. All you needed tonight was her flaunting herself around Castiel when you were already high strung. You knew it was normal for her to go to the bar for a drink, but you knew it was Castiel she was aiming for.

Sam’s arm slipped around your shoulders, drawing your attention back.

<> <> <>

“Hey, Cas,” Aspen chirped, leaning on the bar.

Castiel greeted her and asked how she had been since he had not seen her since the first night Y/N had come back. He was not surprised considering the air in which she had left in.

Holding out her credit card, Aspen said, “My regular, I think, to start out.”

When she looked back was the moment Sam’s arm slipped around Y/N’s shoulders. He pulled her towards him, close in proximity. Aspen rose her brows in surprise and looked back at Castiel who was placing her drink down in front of her.

“Wow, uh, who’s with Y/N?”

Castiel’s gaze moved over to the table and his jaw tightened when he saw Sam’s arm around her. Y/N was forcing a smile as she spoke to him.

“Coworker,” Castiel answered tightly.

“Oh…” Aspen trailed off, throwing another look over her shoulder. “All of them coworkers?”

“Yes.”

“They close…?”

Castiel pierced her with a stare and said, “I’m assuming you want your tab open?”

Aspen switched gears, nodding. “Yep. I’ll be here awhile. Maureen agreed to drive me home… if need be.”

“How kind of her,” Castiel chuckled lightly, purposely ignoring her insinuation.

<> <> <>

“Remember when Larson fell down those stairs outside The Outlook?” Sam asked you, his fingers pressing into your shoulder.

“Unfortunately,” you answered, smiling, trying to keep yourself from jerking away from his embrace.

“You tried so hard to get him to stop drinking. I mean, we all did. But it did fuck all to stop it.”

“Was he injured?” Dean asked, raising his brows.

Sam laughed, “Surprisingly, no! I don’t know how he just tucked and rolled, like his body was reacting defensively even in his state. The man could barely order a new drink. And that’s when the bartender was like, ‘nope, no more’. And cut the whole group off because they were afraid someone else would order him a drink and give it to him. Ruined our whole night. Well, momentarily.”

You stiffened then. That night was the first night the two of you had hooked up. That was the sole reason he had brought it up.

“The night continued after that for the rest of us after we got his drunk ass to bed.”

You noticed Castiel approaching the table. Thinking he was going to table touch, you asked Charlie quickly, “You want a refill?”

“Duh,” she said and then noticed Castiel. “Oh, hey! Perfect! Can I get a refill?”

Castiel gave a curt laugh and said, “When I get back. I’m on break. Y/N? Wanna come outside with me?”

“Oh, yeah,” you said quickly. You saw Sam watching you out of the corner of your eye as you pushed your chair back, his arm leaving you, and grabbed your jacket. “Don’t you need your coat? It’s chilly.”

“I’ll grab it on the way out,” Castiel responded as you came up to him. His arm slipped around you, guiding you away from the table. His hand was tight on your waist, protective.

Castiel did not take you outside. Instead, he led you to the back room and you followed his lead, a weight pulling down inside. You knew he was not pleased with how he was acting. As soon as he closed the door behind the two of you and locked it, he turned to face you. Getting in your face, he did not miss a beat.

“He’s been laying his hands on you all night.”

Throwing your hands out in defeat, you said, “I’ve tried skirting away, Cas. I can’t do that too much without making a scene though.”

“You’re not trying hard enough.”

Your mouth fell open.

<> <> <>

“Charlie,” Maureen greeted approaching the table, two shots in hand as Tara, Sahir, and Jennifer went out for a smoke.

Charlie straightened up, a smile on her face. “Oh, hello! Maureen, right?”

Maureen nodded and said, “Just spotted you across the bar and thought I would pop by to say hi. We did have a good few rounds last time!”

Smirking, Charlie said, “I kind of remember.” This caused Maureen to laugh, as well as the other people at the table.

“I just thought I would bring this over for you. Rum, right?”

“Oh, yeah. You got that for me?” Charlie asked surprised.

Maureen nodded, “You bought me one last time and I did not reciprocate. I hold pretty strong convictions about that. Speaking of which, I saw Y/N and Cas leaving out the back. He’s not off work yet, is he? He still owes me a shot since someone spilled mine at last call last time I was here, and I won’t be able to cash in without him.”

Charlie shook her head, “No, he went on his break and asked Y/N to go with him.”

Maureen snorted, “I wouldn’t be surprised to see them come back flush.”

Sam’s jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“They always had their ways in the past.”

Charlie let out a laugh, “Oh, do tell.”

“Just leaving to go… relieve themselves.”

“Maybe we should not pry into our coworker’s business,” Sam advised Charlie sharply.

Charlie stumbled a little at his change in demeanor, “Oh… right.”

Maureen smirked at Sam and said, “It’s not quiet business in this bar. Castiel has owned this bar for years… him and Y/N are old news. Them being back together scared a lot of people. It was a nightmare half the time to be honest. But… they seem to have grown up. Sigh of relief there.”

Sam straightened up at this comment. “How do you mean?”

“Just drunken fights, a couple cop calls. Break up, break off. They were young and stupid. Can’t say I wasn’t the same myself.”

Charlie was the one now becoming uncomfortable for her friend. “Oh, well… I mean, the past is the past.”

“The past does inform the future,” Sam quipped, and Dean nodded in agreement.

<> <> <>

You snapped, “I told you what happened between us and where he stands in my company. He’s not just some… schmuck! He’s a junior partner!”

Shaking his head, Castiel said, “Junior partner or not…” He trailed off, beginning to walk forward, forcing you to go backwards. “He needs to know where you stand with me! You apparently need to be reminded too.”

Castiel turned you around in a swift movement and pushed you chest first into the wall, pinning an arm behind your back. You gasped his name, trying to look back at him but he kept you firmly in place.

“I am just reminding you who you belong to,” he growled into your ear.

Your breath shuddered, feeling his hands grasp the hem of your dress, yanking it up to your hips. Slipping his fingers into your underwear, he stroked your lips.

“I pay attention to you, Y/N. I treat you right,” Castiel breathed as he played with your sex. “I dote on you, angel. Don’t I?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered.

You keened as he worked you up, fingers slipping inside to caress you. You pressed back against him, begging for more. His grip tightened on your wrist, holding you more firmly in place and you stilled your movement, following his direction. You stood there, letting him rile you up, biting your lip.

“Look at you… so needy,” he said breathlessly. You could hear the want in his voice, feel his fingers move more freely, coated in your arousal. He leaned forward to be closer to your face. “Are you needy, angel?”

“Yes, sir. Only for you,” you told him obediently, giving him pleading eyes.

Castiel kissed your temple and praised, “I know, baby.”

Pulling away, his fingers left you to pull your underwear down and you kicked them off in tandem. His cock slid in easily in your wet folds. He sighed in content, his hands gripping your waist as he fully seated inside you.

“That’s my girl,” he purred.

His fingers dug in as he drove into you, taking you against the wall. You stayed sturdy, holding on. He drove up sharply into you again and you bit down on your cheeks.

Kissing up your neck, Castiel demanded, “You gonna do better for me? Let them know who you belong to?”

“Yes,” you said.

“Angel, don’t make me have to work harder for this,” he warned, his breath hot on your neck.

“Yes, sir.”

“Mhm, you’re not saying that with too much conviction. You’re too quiet,” He squeezed your nipple hard, causing you to keen loudly before burying your face into the wall, fingers digging in beside you. “We can do better than that, can’t we?”

His fingers closed in around your jawline, pulling your head to the side, you following his movement obediently. He wanted your mouth exposed, your noises to be heard.

You nodded quickly, saying louder, “Yes, sir!”

Castiel drove deep and quick, bouncing you against the wall. “I know you can do better. You’re so beautiful. I love hearing you scream for me.”

“I belong to you!” you declared, knowing damn well anyone walking outside the room could hear the two of you. He was jeopardizing his place of work for this. What rumors would fly of people being railed in rooms in the bar. “Fuck me, please! Let me cum!”

Castiel laughed, nipping at your ear. “Angel, you can’t help yourself, can you?”

His speed increased, his hand falling from your face to come to your nub, circling fervently. He praised you, laying sloppy kisses along the side of your head. You whimpered as you came undone beneath his hand, your legs shaking with your orgasm. Castiel held you upright, allowing him access to finish himself.

Panting, you settled against the wall, basking in the coolness of it against your hot skin. Castiel pulled away eventually, leaving you exposed behind. The cool air was welcome, and you continued resting to regain your grounding.

When you had the strength, you reached for a roll of paper towels to clean yourself up. And then pulled your underwear back up, straightening out your clothes.

Turning to face him, you found him looking well put together again, beside his hair. He was trying to tame it, running his hands through it.

He eyed you and informed you, “I’m not losing my temper with him because I know how much you love your job and how important it is to you.”

You took this in, nodding. He was telling you this for a reason. In the past, he would not have hesitated to make a scene without care for consequence.

Coming closer, he cupped your face, pulling you in for a long, deep kiss. “Now that we’ve got that out of our system… we ready to go back out there?”

~~~

CASTIEL FOREVER TAGS: @willowing-love @perseusandmedusa @greenappleeyes @afanofmanystuffs @earthtokace @shikaros-blog @marisayouass @splendidcas @stixnstripesworld

#castiel x reader #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #sam winchester x reader #my shit

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athenaquinn · 4 years

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A First Ink-counter || Luce & Athena

TIMING: July 13th LOCATION: Ink Inc. PARTIES: @divineluce and @athenaquinn SUMMARY: Athena decides to get an important tattoo. Luce provides much needed refreshing conversation.

Her parents didn’t have to know about everything she did. Certainly they didn’t know about her fake ID and maybe one other thing, and so they didn’t have to know about this, either. Athena wasn’t planning on letting them see what she was getting anyhow. If her brother refused to come home, she’d make sure that he didn’t entirely break away from her. She hadn’t been apart from him for more than a few hours throughout their entire life, and so perhaps a tattoo of the constellation with his namesake would do the trick. She had a picture printed and folded neatly in her purse and enough money to pay in cash, unless the tattoo came out to over a thousand dollars. But what she was asking for was small, and so she figured it wouldn’t cost too much. Better to not leave a paper trail though, she knew her parents well enough for that. She pushed open the door to the shop and took in a deep breath before going up to the receptionist. “Hello. I have an appointment with Luce, I believe?” She gave a small tug at the edge of her shirt. She knew that in her white shorts, nearly new Converse, and pastel purple shirt she didn’t exactly look like she belonged in a tattoo parlor, but this was important to her, and after all, she was far tougher than she looked. Besides, anybody could get tattoos. To assume only one sort of person could probably wasn’t the best viewpoint to begin all of this with, but she had to be quick to judge in most situations. She sat down in a chair in the waiting area and pulled out her phone, only looking up when she heard someone else come into the room.

Taking a sip from her coffee cup, Luce glanced at the clock on her laptop and let out a quiet swear. Fuck. She had an appointment. After spending the last few weeks not coming into work, it was weird getting back into the swing of things. But, she had bills to pay-- big fucking bills from the extended stay in the hospital. So she needed all the appointments she could get. Adjusting her ponytail, Luce hurried out to the main lobby. Looking around the shop, she saw a young woman sitting down in the waiting area and approached her with an extended hand. “Athena, right? I think we talked a while ago about tattoos. I was surprised to see the booking-- in a good way.” She said with an easy grin she often used with clients, meant to set their mind at ease and help calm them down a bit. “C’mon back. I’ve got the design drafted up for you and we can see how you like it.” She said, escorting the girl into her room of the shop. “This is gonna be your first tattoo, right?”

When the woman stepped out and called her name, Athena shook her head for a moment, before nodding. “Yes! I remember now!” She took in Luce’s look, before looking back down at her lap. “Can’t say I knew how to dress for this occasion, but hey, doesn’t look like you’d kick me out for this, right?” She stood up, brushing her hands against her shorts and began to follow Luce to the back room. “Yes please, I think reviewing things can often be helpful!” Was her voice a bit too forced? Probably, but she wanted to make a good first impression, especially since this was important to her, and for all that she had no personal experience with tattoos, she did at least know that they were permanent and when having someone put something permanent on your body, being on their good side was the way to go. At Luce’s question, she offered her a small smile and gave a shrug, “that it is - though I can’t imagine what would’ve given that away.” She moved so that she was standing next to Luce. “I’d love to see what you have drawn up. I know it’s a fairly simple design, but hey, at least it’s not a simple wave, right?”

“Hey, we get all kinds of people in here. I’ve had people roll up in sweat pants and other folks who came in full business suits. Besides, if any of us gave a shit about what people thought about our appearances, we’re be in the wrong business.” Luce laughed as she gestured to the seat in the middle of the room. It had been awhile since she’d been back in, but her room was just as clean and organized as always. She needed to update some of her designs on the pinboard, but that was a continual work in progress. “Since it was a pretty simple one, I drew up a couple. Had a lot of time on my hands to really make this pop.” She said and pulled up the three different designs she’d made. One of them featured dotted lines connecting the entirety of the constellation, another had a backdrop of watercolors behind it, and the final was a very minimalist take on the constellation, with only the bow connected. “Eh, everyone starts out a virgin. In my experience, most people who get their first tattoo come back and get a second one in about a year. Once you’ve got the bug…” She shrugged and gestured to the dark sleeves on her arms. “So, what do you think of these?”

“That’s fair. Though the image of some of the businesspeople I’ve seen around town in here is one that doesn’t quite compute.” Athena gave another shrug, “but that’s totally true, it’s just still nice to see. Doesn’t always happen.” She sat down on the seat that Luce had pointed out and twirled the ends of her hair around her fingertips. How odd it was to be nervous about something like this and yet be willing to run and fight any sort of creature in a second. “I appreciate the dedication that you’ve already put into this. She looked at the different design choices, taking her time to take in the drawings. “You’re a great artist, I’m glad I was able to book you.” She dropped her hair from her hands and looked up at Luce. “I think I like the one with the little dots in between everything. It feels like just enough, but not too much - not that the one with the colors is bad at all, I just don’t necessarily want to be overly flashy right now.” Athena nodded, “well, that much is true. Can’t say I plan on getting more as of now, but hey, sometimes I surprise myself.” She bit her lip. “So, should I lie down? Sorry, as I said, I’m new to all this. Just tell me what to do.”

“Eh, sometimes they’re people who are just passing through. Don’t judge a book by its cover and shit, you know?” Luce said as she let Athena look over the different designs. It really wasn’t a big deal. The design was super minimalist to begin with so it was easy for her to come up with a few different ideas off the top of her head. Besides, she didn’t think the tattoo would take much longer than a half hour. “Thanks. I do good work.” She nodded at Athena’s choice. “Sounds like a good call to me. Nothing wrong with colors, but I personally prefer black and white myself.” She gestured to her own arms once more. “You can hang out for a second-- Gotta print a stencil. Then, we’ll figure out placement, that might take a couple tries to get it situated. And then we’ll get started on it. You mentioned in the booking you wanted it on your ribs, right?” She asked as the stencil was printed out.

“Of course.” Athena nodded. “Well, if it’s good business for you all then I am glad you are able to have it.” She continued to listen to the other woman, “yes, I don’t want anything too flashy - at least not for a tattoo.” Not when it was as special as this one was. Besides, it wasn’t like her brother was flashy, and honoring him should be similar. Subtle, but well thought out. Or at least she hoped so. “Of course, and yes! I see that!” She glanced down at Luce’s tattoos. “Well, you pull it off well. Can I ask, what made you interested in this? Both getting your own and having this as a profession? If I may ask, of course.” She nodded at Luce’s words. “I’ll stay right here, don’t worry about it!” She nodded, again perhaps with too much enthusiasm, but she didn’t think Luce would mind too much. “Sounds good - and yep! Sort of on the side of my ribs,” Athena pressed her hand against the outside of her shirt. “Though you know best, so once we get to the positioning, I’m open to advice.”

“Thanks.” Luce nodded in response as she looked over the stencils that had printed. One was slightly larger than the other-- one would cover most of the girl’s ribs, the other probably half. Then again, she was guesstimating. “How big we going?” She asked holding the two up for Athena to look over. “It’s totally your call on placement. At the end of the day, it’s your body, your tattoo. I can give you an idea of what would look good in my opinion, but you get the final say. That said,” She said “You’re also going to need to take off your shirt soon. Depending on how high up on your ribs you want it, I can give you pasties.” Luce said, no stranger to nudity when it came to her work. It was part of the job. Lots of girls wanted rib tattoos, or sternum tattoos. And more than a few guys wanted thigh tattoos for some fucking reason, which meant she’d been way too close to way more dicks than she ever wanted. Circling back to Athena’s question, Luce shrugged. “I was an art student at UMaine for a bit, but I dropped out after I got my first tattoo. Figured out that tattooing was more my speed and Ulf offered me an apprenticeship. Never really looked back after that.”

“Of course.” Athena bit her lip at Luce’s question. “I think the smaller. I like them both, and it’s not like this’ll always be super visible, but I think a bit smaller is more what I’m up for.” Smaller was more intimate, more connected - her brother was hardly one to make a big statement about anything, and if she was doing something in his honor, it should represent him, shouldn’t it? “I’d like advice on placement, but I think on the side of my ribs might be good. Up to hearing your thoughts on the matter. When in doubt or in experiencing something new, I’m of the belief to refer to the expert.” She gave a small shrug. “I sort of expected as much.” Luce was pretty, and she wasn’t fae at least, and if this was the way tattoos worked, it meant that she’d likely be able to hide it easily. She pulled her shirt over her head, brushing her hair over one shoulder as she looked over at Luce. “Oh, I’m at UMaine now - Senior come fall. Hey, I know someone else who’s going to trade school, I think that you should do what you want, and clearly you do a killer job here.” She offered the other girl a small smile. “Ulf’s the owner?”

“Sounds good to me on all counts.” Luce said as she tossed the other stencil in the trash and waited patiently for the girl to get herself situated. With an analytical eye, she mapped out the positioning with the space available, taking into account how the lines would draw the attention of the casual observer. “Yeah, you’d think more people would take that approach right? But, for some reason, people think they know better than me. Who cares about my experience, huh?” She said as she applied the stencil to the girl’s skin. “Hm. Check it out in the mirror and let me know what you think.” Luce said with a nod before leaning back against her desk. “Thanks. And yeah, Ulfric. He’s a good dude. Owns the shop, gave an apprenticeship, does tattoos too.” She said with a nod.

“I’m glad.” Athena kept glancing over to Luce, trying to take in the entire room, It was a natural habit that she’d had for as long as she could remember. Survey the scene, make sure you know what you can use in case you run into trouble. It was why she’d survived that werewolf attack on her and her brother’s eighteenth birthday. Quick thinking and a knowledge of what was around her. “You’d think, but people are idiots a lot of the time.” She rolled her eyes and let the woman place the stencil against her skin. “You don’t have to worry about me thinking I know better than you. I’m decent at interior design, but I’m not super great at other forms of art, but hey, we can’t all have it all, right?” She held onto the stencil and hopped off of her seat and went over to the mirror. It looked good - situated just on her ribs. She hadn’t had an exact placement in mind, just within a certain area - and this fit the bill. Good enough to keep hidden even in the couple crop tops she owned, and personal, private. Nodding at Luce’s comments, she turned to walk back over. “Seems like a nice combo of things to have and be. By the way, placement’s perfect. Just tell me what to do next. I can pull my hair into a ponytail if need be, I know it’s a bit long.”

“If that isn’t a fucking mood.” Luce laughed and grinned. “Glad to hear it. That kind of thinking will get you far in life. Sometimes it pays to watch and learn and let the professionals do what’s best. I mean, like… from a learning perspective.” She said as she prepped her tray of tools, grabbing fresh gloves and supplies from her rolling toolkit. “And hey, who knows. With practice, you could get better. No harm in trying, right?” She said as she gestured to the chair. “I think your hair should be fine. If you could lie down on your other side, we’ll get this thing started.” She said, snapping on the gloves with a smile. “A constellation, though, huh? Any particular meaning behind it?”

“Such a mood,” Athena grinned. “Right - I mean, I want to be a doctor. It’s a pretty huge yikes if I don’t listen to what others want to teach me. Especially given that I might want to do surgery. No amount of books will teach me that - I need to learn from those who understand the field. I have respect for those who know more than I do.” She gave a shrug at Luce’s next comment. “Very true. I think trying is always of use. Maybe I’ll go pick up a sketch pad sometime soon, we’ll see.” Athena nodded at Luce’s request. “Alright, I’ve got scrunchies and hair ties just in case.” She moved to lie down on the opposite side and bit her lip at Luce’s question. Saying yeah, it’s for my twin brother who sort of might hate me but who is my other half might not fly so well. “I’ve got a friend who meant a lot to me who was super into astronomy. Plus, there’s sadly no Athena-specific constellation, and so this one suits me well.”

“A surgeon? Smart girl. That’s pretty cool.” Luce replied as the machine in her hand began to buzz. “Alright, let’s get this thing started. If you need to take a break or something, just let me know.” It was a small tattoo, with hardly enough detail to warrant all that much time to get what Athena wanted, but you could never be too careful tattooing virgins. She’d had a girl pass out on her once while doing the tiniest fucking scribble of her life. As the tattoo machine buzzed in her hand, Luce continued to talk while she worked, “Ah, that’s cool. I don’t know much about astronomy, so I wouldn’t know if there was one or not. This is the hunter guy, right? Orion?” She asked.

“I like to think I am at least sort of smart. Thank you.” Athena took in a careful breath as Luce began the tattooing process. At least the scars on her body were faint and primarily on her legs.”I’ll be sure to let you know, but I played field hockey in high school. I doubt this’ll hurt more than any of that did.” She did her best to stay as still as possible. “I’m hardly an expert myself, but well, when you have the sort of name I do, you kinda have to know at least some other Greek mythology, and by default you get thrown into astronomy. Especially when you’re like me and sometimes just read textbooks for fun. Or if you get too caught up in curiosity.” She took in another deep breath as Luce continued, the buzzing on her ribs feeling stranger more than anything else. “Yes. One of them. Placed into the stars by Artemis in some stories of mythology.”

“Ah, don’t sell yourself short. You thinking about med school soon? What with senior year rolling up and stuff?” Luce asked as she continued to follow the stencil. It was a pretty easy tattoo and hey, at least she was getting paid. Field hockey. Weird fucking sport, considering it was a rough and tumble kind of deal and yet all the girls had to wear skirts and shit. Not that she’d ever minded. She’d been with a few different field hockey girls before. “Makes sense. The default Greek myth stuff. Can’t relate to the textbook thing, though. I’m not big on books.” She said as she dipped the tip of the machine into the ink once more. “Artemis…” Luce nodded, “That’s the moon lady, right? I did a tattoo of her a while back-- something with her like, turning a dude into a deer and making his dogs eat him? The lady who wanted it was metal as hell. Turned out to be a cool tattoo.”

“Yep! Planning on taking the MCAT and applying this year. We’ll see where I end up.” Athena continued. “At present, I’m interested in otolaryngology, immunology, or medical genetics, but I suppose I’ll have to see.” She felt her cheeks grow a bit warm - it wasn’t even as though the other girl was giving her any sort of big complement, but there was something incredibly satisfying about having someone who was a mostly stranger still compliment her. “Yeah? I think Greek myths can be super neat - an interesting way of understanding the way they understood the world. Oh? Well, hey, not everyone is. I’ve got a -” she scrunched up her nose, not wanting to bring up Ariana, not really properly knowing what she was, “I know someone else who’s not big on reading, but they’re into audiobooks.” She glanced down at the tattoo as it was forming under Luce’s steady hands, “Yes, she is the moon lady,” something I wonder if I would’ve been named after her in another life, “oh? That’s super interesting! You really do get all sorts of fascinating tattoos around here, don’t you?”

“Dope. Good luck with all of that. Sounds like you’ve got a lotta cool shit in your future.” Luce said, the specific fields that the girl rattled off going right over her head. She’d gotten through high school with a solid C grade and lasted 8 weeks in college before dropping out-- medical shit, outside of tattoo aftercare and specifics on how to avoid blood poisoning were completely out of her wheelhouse. Which suited Luce just fine. Let doctor people do doctor stuff, she’d stay in her lane with her art. “Yeah, myths and stuff like that are pretty cool. A lot of art draws from greek myth so I’ve studied some of it, but eh. That was a while ago. I’m not exactly interested in being the next Raphael.” She said as she wiped away some droplets of ink with a paper towel. “Around here? Depends on the day, but I’ve got a few cool ones under my belt.” She tilted her head to one of the framed art pieces on the wall, an intricately woven black and white mandala that featured motifs of flowers, circles, and other geometric shapes. “That’s my preferred style. I had a client who came in, didn’t know what he wanted, saw that, and had me turn it into a stencil. Got it done on his calf then and there. It was pretty cool.”

“Thank you.” It was nice, how easy it was to talk with Luce. Athena had never been someone who found talking to others difficult (heck, she’d been the one to initiate conversations for others, even), but it was still nice to fall into a balanced conversation with strangers. Especially ones that at least seemed human, for all intents and purposes. “Eh, being the next Raphael is overrated anyhow. He’s neat, he made some great art, but trying to be him? Overrated.” She grinned at Luce, before following her gaze. “That’s amazing!! Sorry to have mine be a bit boring, but it’s just something I’ve thought about for a while, and for all that I can sometimes be bright and bold, I also appreciate simplicity. Hence the sort of minimalist tattoo.” She glanced down at Luce’s work. “Thanks for being so careful. I was sort of nervous this was going to hurt more than it has been. But again, maybe all the sports prepared me for this. What’s a tattoo compared to an elbow in the ribs?”

“Oh, big mood. I’m not exactly interested in being some repressed painter. And besides, portraits and sculpting aren’t my thing anyways.” Luce said as she wiped the tattoo clean. It was such a simple design, it really wasn’t going to take much longer. Leaning back, she took a look at her handiwork with a critical eye. It was exactly what Athena had requested, so hopefully it would go over well. “It was a fun time. And hey, it’s meaningful to you and that’s what matters. Doesn’t matter if it’s minimalist or something more intricate. Art’s art.” She replied. “I’ve got a light hand, which helps for this sort of thing. But yeah, you’ve been taking it like a champ.” Luce said with a grin of reassurance.

“Right? That’s so fifteenth century.” Athena grinned. “I think it’s good to know about all sorts of art. It’s wonderful how skilled you are.” She glanced over to Luce again, watching the woman as she stepped back and began examining the tattoo. Athena glanced down at it. “Well, from what I can see, it looks better than I expected, so I think this is a win. Thank you - you do have a wonderful and steady hand for this, and I appreciate the endorsement. Means a lot.”

“Exactly. I’m a modern gal, I’m not about that old shit.” Luce smiled in return before shrugging. “A lot of people say that tattooing isn’t art. Those people are wrong, it’s an art, it’s just a different kind. Which is why I look into other stuff outside of just tattooing. Acrylic painting, oils, charcoals, stuff like that.” She said before putting a small wrap over the tattoo. “No worries, I’m glad you like it. It’s always nice to do something that people appreciate, you know?” She said before grabbing one of the aftercare kits from her work station. “There’s a little hand out in there that has information for you to look back on, but keep the wrap on, wash it with unscented soap every couple hours, and no baths, pools, or hot tubs for two weeks until it’s healed. Other than that…” Luce peeled off her gloves and tossed them in the trash before offering her hand to Athena. “I think it turned out really well.”

“I can appreciate history but I don’t want to be like that, right?” Athena gave a small shrug. “Same class of people who say cheerleading and dance aren’t sports. I never did them, but they are valid sports.” She allowed Luce to wrap up her tattoo and flashed her another grin. “I agree. It’s best when someone’s able to appreciate what you do, and I know I super appreciate this.” She glanced down at it. A way to have a part of the most important person in her life next to her always. With her, always. “Thanks!” Athena grabbed the kit and nodded along to Luce’s description. “I’ll be careful and so long as I can still shower, I’m all good.” She grabbed Luce’s hand, pleasantly surprised at the lack of rash the silver rings caused against her now bare skin. “I agree. Should I decide to go wild and get another, I know which gal to call.”

“Right? Ah well, fuck what people think, you know? Sometimes you just gotta do what you want. Who cares what other people think?” Luce said with a nod, though she knew it was easier said than done. She’d lived by that motto for a long time, but… there were times when it would have been simpler to just go along with what other people wanted. Pushing the thought from her mind, Luce gave a thumbs up. “Yeah, definitely shower, just be gentle when you’re cleaning it. The print out has everything you’ll need and feel free to call the shop if you ever have any questions.” At the young woman’s firm handshake, Luce smiled in response. “For sure, for sure. But yeah, great working with you. They’ll ring you up at the front. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon.” She said with a wink as she began to clean up her work station. She remembered being like that, getting her first tattoo and then coming back for more. Ariana was that way, Luce mused, thinking about the tattoos the girl sported. Maybe she’d see more of the both of them in the future.

#wickedswriting #c luce #chatzy #a first inkcounter #// i love cal #and i loved this so much #this was a fascinating interaction and i am deeply intrigued by this

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ohnoyoonoh · 4 years

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should haves | based off of sunflower by harry styles, like the meaning. | jaehyun angst | requested | a/n: i assumed how you wanted sunflower to be used in like the meaning, which i researched about. if you’re not satisfied with the story, please message me!

a photo-book was always a good way to reminisce memories. people say to live the moment, but jaehyun was the type of person to live the moment and capture it to relive the sweet memory once again.

he started the photo-book, once he received a polaroid as a christmas gift. he remembered when he started. he started exactly the first day of the new year. he thought it would be fun to take a picture of something everyday. then, he realized that taking one every day wasted precious film, but he also grew bored of capturing his cacti and little things in his apartment. despite the circumstances, his subjects evolved from the succulents placed in his home to himself or maybe his food to someone worth while.

jaehyun flipped to the next page after reaching the pictures that started to be filled with your presence. he chuckled, as one of the pair of polaroids were you and him covered in flour. that day was filled with joy as you both tried to make a homemade brownies after he found a recipe online that worked out with his best friends. he remembered that you only agreed because you didn’t fully trust him as he burnt the meal the last time he tried to make food.

“so we’re going to need three cups of chocolate chips,” you read the recipe on your computer before looking at him which he nodded. he searched through the drawers and cupboards to find the measuring cups and spoons. as he rummages in a drawer, he perked up his head, “babe, i don’t think we have measuring spoons or cups.”

meanwhile, you were busy taking out the other ingredients that were listed but stopped after hearing him. he squatted quietly as you pondered upon the subject. he watched your facial expressions change quickly as you thought of how to answer the statement. he understood your delayed response as it was rare to see a home-cooked meal made by the two of you. jaehyun typically just ordered not wanting to tire you out. “maybe, we can just eye it.”

“or we can just use the metric system,” he offered an option by pulling out the scale.

“yeah, we can do that, too. i don’t know to convert between the systems, though,” you scrunched your face. he could tell that you didn’t want to take the unnecessary steps to convert the measurements.

“i guess, we’re eyeing it then,” he said, putting the scale back into its place in the cupboard. relieved that you both didn’t needed to put extra effort into measurements, you started pouring the dry ingredients that needed less first in the bowl. “jae, can you get the flour?”

jaehyun hummed, as he opened the cupboard to reach for the flour. he didn’t realize that the bag wasn’t secured all too well as he tipped the bag over before grasping it tightly. his way of collecting the bag of flour didn’t end so well as the next thing he knew was that your work-space was covered in flour. his eyes widened, “oh. i’m so sorry, baby, i didn’t realize that bag was open.”

he wasn’t sure what to do since wetting a paper towel to clean up would cause another mess to deal with. flour mixed with water would make the mixture gummy and can stick to the surface. he knew that situation a little too well, when he was cleaning up after making a birthday cake for you. the white powder was all over the floor, but you. you were caked in the flour, he couldn’t help but chuckle at how silly you looked and managed to still looked cute.

“it’s okay, can you get me a damp paper towel? so i can wipe my eyes, i can barely open them. i also don’t like the taste of the flour,” you asked.

“yep. i’m sorry, baby,” he rushed to get what you needed but actually went to grab his polaroid camera as it was the perfect moment to do so.. you reassured that he was fine that it was just an accident. as he came back, he went to retrieve what you needed he made sure to not get any splatters of water near the floury mess. as he turned around to hand you the paper towel, he was faced with powder all over his face. he lightly coughed as it got into his mouth, still handing you the paper which you gladly took to wipe your face. needless to say, jaehyun had other plans in mind as he grabbed a fistful of flour and threw it at you, caking you in even more flour if that was even possible.

“oh, it is on, jung jaehyun.”

the flour battle extended from a portion to your kitchen to the entirety of it. jaehyun started the dramatic music, but he must have forgotten that he has his music on shuffle by default. the music determining where the little flour war started to go in terms of the fighting’s moment. the songs became the songs that you both enjoyed. the battle slowly progressed to you both laying on the ground, making snow angels. basking in the fun while it lasted, you didn’t want the moment to end.

“i couldn’t want you more, kissing in the kitchen like a dance floor,” jaehyun sang as he held your hand, pressing his lips to back of your hand. he wanted this moment to last, and he remembered the camera. without any comments, he quickly got up to grab it which was still on the counter. you watched him hop up before laying back down with the device in hand. he held it out, already perfected the angle to capturing the photo due to the amount of polaroids he has taken with you.

“that day was great. i remembered when johnny and doyoung caught us laying there laughing our heads off. doyoung yelled at us like there was no tomorrow,” jaehyun laughed. doyoung chewed their heads off for wasting the flour, but he confessed that he disliked that you both didn’t start later enough to where johnny and him could have joined. turning the pages, he finally reached the dried out sunflower which he was reminded to water the plant. he stood up from his sitting position on the floor, grabbing the water bottle and fed the sunflower. he smiled, it was pretty, the petal strong.

once he finished, he returned to the book, the page was dedicated to the little date that you had at the sunflower field. he always wanted to go to one, despite knowing full well, his allergies might start acting up.

“are you sure you want to have a date here? i don’t want you to get sick or anything,” you pushed the stray strands in front of his face to the side, joining it with the rest of his hair after you saw him trying to blow the pieces away. you stood at the entrance of the field, and he knew you wanted to make sure that he was committed into entering a world full of possibly allergies. the last time you visited a flower patch, he sneezed all week. but he didn’t regret going to it, though.

“yep, plus i’ve been wanting to go here,” he said. he smiled as dramatically did a spin, taking the scenery. taking the first steps into the field, he turned and stuck his hand out to you, “leggo.”

a warm feeling grew inside when you slipped your hand into his, which he started walking you through the beautiful garden. the stroll through the tall stocks of sunflowers left you both in awe. it was magnificent to see the golden petals, and you couldn’t get enough. despite being the same type of flower, they each looked different. each having a different characteristic.

“babe,” he called your name.

“hmm?”

“do you know why the flowers are facing us?”

“why?”

“when the sun is out, they face it.”

“mmm.. that’s nasty, i’m gonna go throw up,” you laughed at his cheesy pick up line. jaehyun enjoyed telling cheesy lines even if it makes you smack in the arm sometimes. he pouted, knowing it’ll get you to respond to his joke. you replied to his joke. “i’m sorry, bub. yes they do face the sun, because you are the sun.”

his pout turned into a big grin, dimples poking out. he shook his head, “no, you’re the sun. no going against my word. i said it first.”

you rolled your eyes, “fine. i lost this time. i will win next time.”

“and i said, no matter how hard you try, i somehow still win,” he grinned. “i was better at pick up lines. but they were full of cringe. you always made fun of yourself when you thought of the cheesy lines to say. and then when we got home, i started sneezing like crazy. i ended up having allergies. even when you knew you were right, you never made me feel bad by saying i told you so.”

flipping to the next page. the last page. the last polaroids. you holding the gift of ear pieces he given you. a picture of you two with some nctzens and the members holding a sign that said will you marry me. another image captured everyone standing in front of the busking crowd. finally you two standing in front of the eiffel tower. the day jaehyun asked you to marry him is one of his favorite days. the perfect opportunity was when nct had visited paris for a couple of things on their schedules. he used your bucket list to his advantage and chose the point of how you wanted to do a busking. it took awhile for the approval to do one, as the managers needed to get the male a permit to do it. he’s never been so jittery when hearing the result of his plan. he had multiple, but he wanted to knock something off of your bucket list. “ah, the busking. you were so nervous about singing because you only ever did it when you’re scrolling through social media or playfully doing so when it was a karaoke night with the boys.”

“jae, i don’t know i am really nervous. the only times i ever sing is like when we’re at our apartment and it’s just you. or when it’s karaoke night with the guys,” you said as jaehyun led you through the streets of the city of love. he chuckled as you commented how you didn’t feel the romance in the air, as you expected it to be but sure was pretty. he listened as you compared paris, saying it different from the korean streets but shared similar feelings. the only difference was it shared a little bit more diversity among people.

your hand in his, he squeezed it to reassure you, “you’ll be okay, baby. you shut everyone else out when you get so into the song so well. plus, the boys will be there, too. they’re part of your number one fanclub.” reaching the destination, you see the members already performing and gathered a small crowd. it grew bigger bit by bit. the live sound from the band made your heart race more but also somehow made you calm down. it was exhilarating to say the least. you always enjoyed buskings similar to these. watching them back in korea was something you did when you and jaehyun ran errands and always made sure to reach the time the singing buskings would start. the tune of pandora’s box grew louder as you neared the make-shift venue. jaehyun quitely sang the song as he led you to where the managers were waiting for you both .they helped jaehyun put his ear-pieces on, adjusting the box into his back pockets. the managers handed him another box, revealing to be your own set of ear pieces.

he showed you the ear pieces, taking it out of the box. you observed the ear pieces, reading the engraved words. you laughed, seeing that your inside joke landed as the design. you jokingly told jaehyun that if you were an idol that you would get a design on your earpieces that it would say be quiet, don’t cry on one and the other with i just want some milk. in your words, “it’s such an iconic line for teenage jaehyun.” you given him a side hug, showing your appreciation towards the ear-pieces even if you were going to only use them this one time.

jaehyun helped you prepare for the performance, straightening the wires making sure they didn’t get caught within your undergarments. he slipped the clip onto your waistband, adjusting it so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable as you sat in the chair. “you ready, love?”

“yeah, a little nervous but just as we practiced.” you nodded your head. you both waited for the song to end. he wasn’t going to join them for a song wanting to prepare as much as he can before the proposal. the busking venue the managers chosen was cute. there was a white blanket hanging behind them, which projected videos and pictures of the boys. the idea showing the members first as they performed and it subtly transitioned to your memories together as you done your songs were entirely his idea. he knew that you kept a pile of sd cards lying around with the vlog material that you had, along with the pictures. you enjoyed capturing the moments as he does with his polaroid. he left his thoughts after seeing that the boys finished. johnny patted jaehyun on the back. jaehyun took your hand in his once again, staring at you with a small smile. he awaited your response, wanting to know your final response to performing. you nodded, confirming that you were ready. he walked towards the two chairs, letting you pick which one you wanted to sit in. some of the members cleared the leftover chairs, creating a space just for you two. he thanked them with a head bow, donghyuck and mark shooting a thumbs up that everything was ready to go. johnny manned the computer that was connected to the projector, prepared to start the video when it was the right time.

jaehyun handed you a microphone, and he introduced the two of you. he knew how hard you’ve been practicing ever since that he told you that the managers were able to make the busking happen. you worked hard for a straight month. he was sure that you could debut as an idol if you wanted to.

exactly how he said, you immersed yourself into the song well that you forgot that you were singing to a crowd. it was just you and him. it felt so nice to sing your heart out to someone, knowing that they’ll treat it well. you were the one who jaehyun wanted to spend the rest of his life with. he was sure of it. he couldn’t help but stare at you as you sang your verses. he certainly was whipped for you. well in the words of mark. he watch you smile as the second song ended. opening your eyes, you met them with jaehyun’s. the crowd cheering you both before he spoke again, “i got a little surprise for you.”

the countless nights he stayed up to complete the video were surely worth the loss sleep, as your reaction was worth it. you may have cried, but it was worth it. the boys and the fans that helped him were overjoyed to hear you utter yes. the crowd at the busking also cheered again for the successful proposal. he grinned, remembering the loud claps and whistles that were for you two.

a tear dropping onto the page covered your smiles.

jaehyun wiped it off, but he couldn’t stop the incoming tears that soon fell onto the page. now he was here without you. he knew it was his fault. it was all his fault for you leaving him. he should have tried harder. he should have done something. he knows if he tried harder then that you would be there with him. he should have done better with the first argument you had. he should have listened to you and taken the time off from work. he should have learned from the first argument. he should have committed time to you more. he should have done it right the first time. he could have prevented these should haves and you would be right here with him.

but now here he is. he hoped to fix everything by watering the plant just like how he did with the sunflower earlier. now the given attention was a little too late as the sunflower finally let go all of its petals.

“Sunflowers just died Keep it sweet in your memory”

#jaehyun angst #nct fanfic #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun scenario #mmm this is nasty #did not like that ending #i will go back to this scenario one day and do it again #bc i think i can make it better #aight #privéiest requests

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bymoonchild · 5 years

Text

Microwave (Mis)adventures (M)

Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, slight angst, smut / college!AU, roommates/housemates!AU, enemies to lovers!AU, Warnings | Explicit language, lots of sarcastic banter, pillow-humping, masturbation, kitchen blowjob (!!!), eating out, fingering, creampie, cum-eating, unprotected sex Word count | 20k

Out of all things to be afraid of, Jungkook, the seat-stealer of your 8am class and annoying housemate whom you despise with every fiber of your being, chooses to have a phobia of microwaves, but he loves buying microwaveable food – because come on, they’re irresistible – and you somehow find yourself getting dragged into his microwaves (mis)adventures. Cue chaos, sarcasm-laced banter and an unplanned romance.

After attending college for a good three hellish but somewhat fun (only because you live to torture yourself) semesters, there are six things that you think you’ve mastered.

Sleeping at 6am and waking up just on time for your 9am the next day and ready to kick some ass.

Relying on coffee – a true college student’s lifeblood – to survive the day.

Pretending that you have your shit together – people around you think you have everything under control. You’re part of your faculty club, the editor of your school’s publication and also on the freaking dean’s list and have an immaculate GPA to maintain.

Being a bitch because college has a lot of dumb people and you don’t understand how there are so many people with just one brain cell, that is almost close to none.

Making lists because checking off each task from your list is as satisfying as sleeping in on a Friday.

Making routines and sticking to them.

So If there’s any skill that you’ve mastered, it should be these few, though it’s highly unfortunate that you can’t list any of the aforementioned skills in your resume. Skill number six is also your pet peeve and you just abhor, detest, loathe, fucking hate it when your routine gets all screwed up and just about everyone around you knows how anal you are about following your routines and you won’t hesitate to throw hands if something goes awry.

You’ve never imagined that you would actually be throwing hands until you see some stranger occupying your usual seat at your 8am lecture, for fuck’s sake. You’re not being territorial. There’s no such thing as assigned seats in college, but after the first week or so, people just got in the habit of sitting in the same spot – it’s like an unspoken decision. But your favourite seat is taken. Rudely taken by a mob of dark hair who’s casually scrolling through his phone.

The nerve!

As if on cue, your vision flares red and your mind sorely screams at you to throttle him. Look, you’re not a convulsive human being and you’re definitely not that big of a bitch (at least not without a reason), but you spent the entirety of last night sorting out your team’s editorial calendar and making sure that everything is under control and you had to drag yourself out of bed at 7 in the morning with hardly any shuteye. You’re high-key regretting every single decision you’ve ever made and definitely not in the friendliest of moods to deal with a seat-stealer.

So you stalk over to your usual seat, storming louder than usual with your bitchiest expression that you’ve been training since college started.

“Excuse me,” you clear your throat, eyebrows raised tauntingly at the boy in front of you, who is settled way too comfortably in your seat.

“Hi…?” The brunet stares at you unblinking, as if rummaging through the compartments of his brain for an inkling of a name or memory of you. “Do I—”

“You’re in my seat,” you cut him off curtly, impatience evident in your tone, barely giving him any time to register what’s going on.

“W-What?”

“This,” you point unabashedly to the chair he has his butt comfortably on, “is my seat.”

Something about his expression changes and his eyebrows start to crease, as though he’s starting to fathom what the heck is going on.

At that, you frown back harder, all eyebrows furrowed and tightened jaw muscles.

“But we don’t have assigned seats in college?” The latter challenges with a tilt of his head, arranging his features into a look of deep confusion.

This only prompts you to roll your eyes in disbelief, a flash of annoyance flitting across your sharp features. You’d like to think you’re not a bitch, at least not without a god damn reason and having your seat stolen during an 8am lecture is a good enough reason.

“Yeah? I’ve been sitting in this seat for the past eight weeks, so your argument is invalid.”

You riposte, not minding how lecture has long begun and the students around you are gaping apprehensively at the commotion you’re brewing up instead of listening to the professor. You try your best to ignore the burning gazes on your back.

He remains silent, but his eyes are lit up as though he enjoys riling you up.

“Um look—”

Biting down on the inside of your cheek, you scrunch your eyes closed, trying your best to resist screaming in lecture as a burning sensation climbs up your throat.

“Can you just, I don’t know, move? I’m already having a bad morning and I don’t need a seat-stealer to add to my hit list.”

He gawks at you for a few seconds to see whether you’re pulling his leg about adding him to your hit list and wanting him to move, but raises his hand in mock surrender when he realises that you’re actually serious.

Giving you his most I-don’t-give-a-fuck-anymore shrug, he mumbles while grabbing his bag, “Okay, fine fine. Geez, it’s just a seat.”

You wait as he moves out of the seat, before sliding into your seat promptly and you find your entire body relaxing out of instinct.

“You’re very welcome, by the way,” the stranger retorts with the same sarcasm that you very much do not appreciate, given your already rotten morning, but it doesn’t match up with the mirth lurking in his voice and grin on his lips.

“T-Thanks,” you mumble under your breath, unsure of whether he caught it, but you have better things to worry about like catching up with the lecture and trying your best not to have a breakdown because your morning routine just got fucked with.

Turning back again out of instinct, you see the boy shoot you another weird look before moving to the back of the LT.

You feel your heart skip. In anger or something. You look away, appalled by the audacity of him – how he can still look at you in the eye when he just did the most despicable thing on earth.

For the next two hours of lecture, you find yourself incapable of concentrating, mind invaded with thoughts of that seat-stealer. You’re not sure where he has moved to, too caught up in basking in your own internal pit of resentment and memorising every detail of the seat stealer’s cute face so that you can punch him the next time you see him.

Wait…

Cute?

As the overused saying goes, it’s just a bad day, not a bad life – and honestly, you really want to believe in that cliché encouragement. With the same lack of vigour from this morning, you head back to your apartment after class and desperately hope that none of your housemates would be home because you could really use some peaceful alone time.

You share an apartment with three other friends – Namjoon whom you met through the student union (he’s the Vice President and you work under him as the editor of the editorial committee), Sooyeon aka your best buddy who unconditionally puts up with your angsty ass and Jimin, Sooyeon’s loverboy who’s part of your school’s dance crew.

But instead of coming home to peace and comfort, your eyes land on someone whom you’ve never expected to see again the very moment you push open the door. Let alone in your fucking house.

The boy, too, seems to be appalled by your appearance. “Hey, you’re—”

You point at him exasperatedly, mouth agape. “Oh my god, you’re the freaking seat-stealer!”

Your surprise is initially mirrored on the stranger’s face, but he recovers it quickly and even chuckles at your histrionic outburst. “Wow, nice to meet you too?”

For a good thirty seconds, silence and thick tension pervade the air as you smoulder with rage and confusion, until the boy begins to speak up again.

Scratching the back of his head, he chuckles dryly, “I swear I’m not here to steal your seat whatsoever.”

“Then what the heck are you doing here—shit, are you the new housemate?”

“Yep,” he replies pompously, emphasising on the ‘p’.

He sees you freeze up, how your eyes twitch a little, before you unabashedly blurt out a “fuck my life”, entirely disregarding your new housemate.

“Namjoon could have warned me beforehand about having a seat-stealer as our new housemate. Seriously.”

“Um,” he ignores your blunt cavil and extends out of his hand with a small smile. “I’m Jungkook.”

You gawk at his hand, affronted that he thinks you’re down for a fresh start because your day has been ruined because of his stupid ass who decided to take your seat.

Look, it does not seem that deep, but it is, in fact, that deep.

Everything has gone downhill after your encounter with the seat-stealer. After lecture, you planned on heading to the canteen to grab food before your next class which you had a mini-quiz for, but due to the little fiasco during lecture which involved the unapologetic seat-stealer, you had to stay behind after lecture to clarify the content that you missed out with your professor, and then you missed the bus and couldn’t get to the canteen in time. In the end, you had to do your test hangry, so you definitely have every single right to be angry.

It is just the utmost unlikely of tragedies to meet this Jungkook dude twice in a day, and now he’s your new housemate? Fuck no.

“And you are…?” He grins awkwardly, hand still hovering in mid-air. His large, almond eyes regard you with keen interest, but you choose not to relent.

“Getting the fuck out of here.”

You spit, spinning on your heels to thunder down the hallway and retreat to the comfort of your room. But before you slam the door to get the boy away from your sight, your conscience stops you.

Come on, you’re not that mean to leave him there without giving him the Pep Talk. That would be the least you could do. He should take that as your warm welcome and the last interaction you two would ever have.

“So um, Jungkook, right? We have a few rules here. First off, don’t leave your trash out in the living room, throw them in the bin or recycling bin if you need to. Secondly, label your food in the refrigerator properly. Thirdly, I’d appreciate it if you don’t talk to me. Ever. Okay, yeah that’s all. Thanks, bye.”

The words taste bland on your tongue and the distaste is plain as day on your lips as you slam the door behind you, leaving Jungkook standing in the middle of the living room, staring blankly at your door like a lost child.

Behind him, the door clicks. Jungkook turns around and sees Namjoon at the entrance. Finally, his savour.

“Hey hyung!” He greets a little too excitedly.

He first met Namjoon at a music festival, in which the older was in charge of. At that point in time, Jungkook was a freshman and had just joined the dance crew (which was considered a feat for a freshman) and he had the chance to talk to Namjoon, in which he found him a really passionate and capable leader. When he found out that Jungkook was looking for an apartment in his second year, Namjoon being the wonderful gentleman he is, offered him their empty room – they needed someone to occupy the last room and it’s always better to have someone they know than a rando from the streets.

And that’s exactly what happened. Exactly why Jungkook is standing in the middle of the living room awkwardly after being cursed at by a girl who is not only attractive to him, but also sardonic and sharp-tongued. And he just had to steal her freaking seat during lecture.

“Sorry kiddo, got caught in traffic. I see you’ve met the wrath of Y/N?”

“Y/N…” Jungkook repeats to himself, but laughter pokes its way across mirthful eyes and tinted cheeks, displaying his bunny teeth in their full glory at the memory of your aggravated face.

“She’s normally not like this, I swear. I don’t know why she’s so pissy today,” Namjoon shrugs as he removes his shoes. He then walks past Jungkook and ruffles his hair.

“Maybe because I got on her bad side when I took her seat during lecture this morning?”

“Oh, that explains it. She doesn’t like… changes. She’s very anal about sticking to her routine.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

“She’ll get over it soon, don’t worry.”

“It doesn’t seem like her hatred for me will end any time soon though.”

He pats Jungkook on the back, as if another way of wishing him luck. “Anyways, welcome to our humble abode! We have a few rules—”

“Oh, Y/N already went through them with me.”

“Great! My room is just beside yours, you can just pop by whenever you want, but I’m mostly not home. We have a cleaning and errands roster by the fridge, I’ve added your name to the list. Enjoy your stay, yeah?”

At Namjoon’s last sentence, your face pops up at the forefront of Jungkook’s mind. You’re intriguing, he would say. Very intriguing. Well, looks like it’s going to be one fun hell of a semester living and breathing in the same confined space as you. That, he can’t wait.

It has been a tough two weeks living with Jeon Jungkook. He has come ramming into your life like a bulldozer, obliterating what little peaceful routine you’ve cultivated. Within the first two days, every fiber of your being has come to a consensus: you hate Jungkook’s guts.

It’s as if he’s designated to cross paths with you to ruin your life. The very fact that you’re sharing a roof with him makes your blood boil and nerves shake with animosity and the number of times your subconscious has proposed strangling him with your bare hands is almost unhealthy.

But to your ultimate dismay, your other housemates have no qualms about accepting Jungkook – the impudent, cocky, dogmatic jerk who does not hold an ounce of consideration in his bones – and making him part of the gang.

You, on the contrary, aren’t going to be deceived by his façade.

So you refuse to acknowledge his existence or give him the time of day. While it is almost impossible to fully avoid him because he does live in the same apartment as you, it still doesn’t stop you from not thinking twice about walking away in the opposite direction or pretending to be on your phone to avoid any potential social interaction with him when he’s in the proximity.

Despite your reluctance, you do learn a few things about Jungkook from just pure observation or from your other housemates who, for a fact, can’t shut up about him. He’s a second-year Computer Science major, with a second major in narcissism and sarcasm (but he’s nothing compared to you), is in the dance team with Jimin, and is also a passive-aggressive and cocky jerk and proud anime weeb.

He’s also very diligent. Diligent in pissing you off, that is.

Thus, you’ve taken every liberty to flip him off whenever you could and it’s not as though your housemates are oblivious to your ongoing heated war with Jungkook – they just choose not to care, also because they find your discord with him very amusing. It’s their daily entertainment. But they’re mostly unbothered because Jungkook is causing misery to no one else in the apartment except you.

You’re his only target.

Which is weird because you like to think that you have a daunting presence which keeps most people away, accompanied by a temper too intolerable for people. But Jungkook, with his one brain cell, is unlike most people and seems to have a penchant for riling you (and only you) up, leaving all proper etiquette aside and pissing you off at the utmost degree. It’s either he’s plain dumb or lives to torture himself. Possibly both.

Last Thursday, you came home to a battlefield, a war between a growing pile of dirty clothes strewn all over the living room (you’re pretty sure your housemates have started using one of the shirts as a rug) and takeout containers scattered all over the kitchen counter and living room. And all these were caused by the one and only Jeon Jungkook – who else would be this inhumane? Even Namjoon, the messiest person ever, cleans up after himself, or at least has learnt how to after living in a shared apartment.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is incorrigible. But what you can’t understand is that he seems delighted to witness the consequences of his filthy tendencies.

Whenever you vociferate his name, he’s always carrying a smug and amused grin despite your evident irritation.

He’s watching an anime on his phone on the couch when you stomp up to him and call him by his full name with your nastiest scowl. You usually try to be civil with him for the sake of your housemates, but your patience grows thinner than a thread every day, especially when he shoots you a cocky smirk, “Yes, Y/N?”

Eyes ablaze with smouldering anger and fists jammed sharply into the flesh of your hips, tightly gripping onto the final shreds of your sanity, you say between clenched teeth, “Tell me – why are your things lying all over the living room? Do you or do you not have a fucking room?”

“Of course, I do,” he replies impassively, eyes still glued to his phone, engrossed in watching whatever’s captivating enough for the blockhead.

Picking up a sweatshirt that hasn’t been watched in perhaps a month for good measure, you snarl, “What the fuck are you? A barbarian?”

He looks up from his phone for the first time, the right corner of his lips curled into a lewd smirk.

“Probably not that ugly – have you seen my face, Miss Grumps?”

“You’re so full of yourself I might just barf at your face. And for the record, you’re not that good looking.”

“Really? I’d beg to differ.”

“The only begging you’ll do is at the doorstep when I finally kick you out of this apartment if you can’t learn to clean up after yourself.”

Satisfied with your riposte, you hurl his clothes that you’ve dutifully picked up from all corners of the living room at his direction, but he catches them all with just one hand without even batting an eyelash. Damn dancers and their quick reflexes.

“What? Impressed?”

“Hey look,” you assert, throwing your hands in mid-air and Jungkook’s eyes follow accordingly, staring blankly at them. “Look at all the fucks I give.”

His face drops when he realises that he’s been punked. “You’re fucking Satan’s child.”

You raise your eyebrows, mirth dancing in your orbs. Giving him a contemptuous round of applause, you dispute, “I’ve been called worse. Try harder.”

He doesn’t even need to look at you to know what kind of glower you’re boring on your face. It’s as if he has that distinctive expression of yours mesmerised and embedded in his memory.

“Is that a challenge?” The smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Only if you don’t come crying to me when you lose.”

Jungkook doesn’t respond and for a moment, you think you’ve got the upper hand. But your eyes gradually narrow to slits as he continues to make no inclination to acknowledge you. You realise that he has increased the volume of whatever shitty anime he’s watching.

Fucker.

As you gape at him incredulously, the gears in your mind spinning, there’s an unfamiliar prickle in your chest: competitiveness. You want him to bow down to you. You’re hungry to win.

So given that skanky attitude of his, you, of course, have to retaliate by annoying the shit out of him as well. For one, you decide to drink his beloved banana milk, slurping generously on his endless supply for the next few days. The dude has two full cartons in the kitchen and you don’t want to know why.

When he comes confronting you, you show him exactly no fucks given.

“Where’s my banana milk?”

“Up my ass, bitch.”

“What the fuck? That was my last one!”

“Oops, couldn’t help that I was thirsty!”

By the anger that undulates from his pinched features, you don’t know why the fuck, but you have this wholesome sense of satisfaction knowing that he got his comeuppance. You’ve won this time and you want to continue to win.

Oh, it’s on, Jeon Jungkook. It’s on.

After the banana milk incident and many more that should not be mentioned, it is a known fact that Jungkook and you are profoundly contentious with each other and should never be allowed in the same room for everyone’s sake. However, God knows what went through your housemates’ minds when they thought it would be a good idea to call for a compulsory movie night. You couldn’t even excuse yourself from it without bearing the brunt of Sooyeon’s annoying pleas.

“Look who we have here – Y/N!”

You hear your name being slurred out on purpose a few inches above you. Looking up from your phone, you frown when your eyes land on your favourite nemesis, frowning in an instance.

“Fancy seeing you here!” Jungkook grins smugly and you desperately want to wipe that smirk off his face.

“Bitch, I live here.”

“Well, aren’t you just unapproachable today.”

“And yet you are here,” you scowl back.

“Well, I am something else, aren’t I?” He smirks slyly with a victorious blaze flaring in his eyes. “Especially when you have the temper of a volcano that hasn't erupted in, say, a million years.”

The crease on your forehead grows and you click your tongue loudly when Jungkook settles himself comfortably in front of you on the floor. He even turns around to shoot you a guileful smile.

“You’re a walking pest. The fucking bane of my existence. The devil incarnated,” you leer and he takes everything in with an amused and sinister grin before turning back to the TV.

It’s not even halfway into the movie when Jungkook and you come into conflict again. You’re just minding your own business, watching Iron Man for the umpteenth time (you swear they only played it because of Jungkook and his obsession) when the said boy suddenly turns around and sneezes loudly. Directly at your face. He even has the audacity to laugh at your scrunched up expression.

“Oh, sorry?” he chuckles, tilting his head slightly.

“Sorry?” You flare up at him, throwing a pillow at his face. “You’re not fucking sorry!”

At your outburst, a blanket of unease drapes the atmosphere and causes the attitudes of your housemates to go sour. Jungkook looks at the others who are all equally as shocked, except for Namjoon who looks like he’s enjoying what he sees because he is casually shoving a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Um okay? Then I’m not sorry?”

Huffing in disbelief, you clench your fists, tampering down the exceptional vexation that is tying knots around your throat, “Wow! And you’re taking it back now?”

Jungkook frowns, now completely exasperated and throws his hands in the air. “What the fuck do you want me to do? Make your mind, Miss Grumps.”

You gawk at him in disbelief, pointing to yourself while a humourless laugh escapes your lips, “Grumps? I’m not grumpy!”

“Wow and I’m not hot.”

“You’re definitely not!”

“Not only are you grumpy, you’re blind as well!”

“Guys, stop it!” You hear one of the guys shout, but you’re too blinded by anger to turn to look at them.

“Hey Y/N, calm down,” Sooyeon whispers, pulling you away from Jungkook.

A surge of adrenaline through your limbs urges you to lunge forward and tackle him to the ground. But due to the choking rage that thickens at the back of your throat, you can’t seem to scream out coherently. Instead, an incoherent garble of insults escapes from your mouth.

“Jungkook, stop it – you’re going to drive Y/N mad,” Jimin pipes up from the other end of the couch, but has no real intentions of making Jungkook stop. The latter shrugs casually and turns back to the TV screen, leaving you fuming silently behind him. If looks could kill, Jeon Jungkook would be dead by now.

By the end of the first month living with him, you’re definite that if there’s anything illegal you could do in your lifetime and get away with it, it would be to assassinate Jeon Jungkook with your bare hands.

Jungkook has done a lot of stupid things in his twenty-one years of living, like any other dumb kid on the block. He has a full list of shall-not-be-mentioned past experiences because they’re really that absurd. Like climbing his neighbour tree and falling asleep till the next morning (and only realising that he had fucked up when a police car came to their house because yes, his parents called the freaking police to find the missing kid) and playing ghostbusters at an allegedly haunted warehouse with his brother (he caught a glimpse of a woman in white and thought he heard pained cries – and that was his consolation prize).

So, he is proud to say that he is a man with no fears, or at least he likes to think that he is, because he knows that everyone else thinks that way too. He’s that designated friend who will catch your insects for you, go bungee-jumping without any hesitation and walk through a haunted house without screaming at all. He’s conquered all the possible fears little by little over the last twenty-one years of his life… Well, except for one.

At 3am in the morning, he’s standing in the middle of the kitchen and staring at his one and only fear. He shudders at the thought of going near it and he doesn’t know if the churning in his stomach is due to his fear or just plain hunger – or both. He just needs to heat up his frozen pizza with the—

Oh.

The microwave.

The main source of his nightmares when his stomach decides to throw tantrums in the middle of the night. It’s the one fear that he has never been able to overcome because there’s always someone at home to help him microwave his food. If he’s at the convenience store, he’ll beg the staff to help him with it and he’s used to doing that – he’s proud to say that this mere desperate act has thickened his skin and boosted his courage.

He halts in his tracks, staring blankly at the contraption, frozen pizza in hand. Well, he could just fuck it and eat it as it is, cold and sad but he could only imagine the countless of toilet runs following it. So no, thank you – he needs to heat up his pizza and he needs it ASAP before he faints from hunger. But as soon as he reaches out to the device, memories of his childhood trauma that he has been avoiding like the plague hit him square in the chest and he grimaces.

He sees red waves of anger and hears roars of malice. Flinching, he takes a step back, fingers hovering over the open button.

His stomach grumbles in retaliation. He stares at the refrigerator, contemplating whether he should whip up a simple dish instead of eating yet another microwavable junk (no offence to his beloved pizza), but decides against it when he opens the refrigerator for the nth time that night and gets reminded of how it contains not a single item that could be categorised as real food. There’s literally a carton of beer, a small pathetic stick of butter and a tub of kimchi, courtesy of Jimin’s mum. Well, he could just eat the entire tub of kimchi if he’s really that fearless.

He’s really this close to eating his pizza cold until–

“What are you doing?”

Jungkook jumps out of his stupor, gasping unabashedly and almost drops his precious 10-inch pizza on the floor. Whirling around, he sees the bleary-eyed you propped against the entrance of the kitchen and he trips over his words at your sudden appearance.

“Oh, h-hey Y/N…” He replies, but it sounds more like a squeak.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

His mouth does a weird, nervous thing that is probably supposed to be a smile but looks more like a wince.

“Once again, I live here.”

You gawk at him and the gears in your brain start to question the little remains of his own. You’re this close to biting his head off, but decide against it. Let there be peace tonight.

Shutting his eyes, he wants nothing more than a bottomless black hole to open up before him and suck him in for good to avoid exposing his vulnerable side to you. Even a stranger could tell that you see him as an abomination – yes, you’ve made it that obvious – and he’s more than sure that the wrath of the sleepy you is tenfold worse than your normal contemptuous self.

“What are you doing?” You repeat, because are you really interested in knowing what Jungkook’s up to at 3am? Not really. You have better things to tend to, like making your fifth cup of coffee of the day and tending to your paper that’s urgently due in less than three hours.

“Well, the plan was to eat my pizza but I’ve got to heat it up,” he manages to sputter out, still grabbing onto his frozen cling-wrapped pizza for his dear life like a fool. As though you’re out to steal his food.

“And…?”

“And…”

“What?” You hiss in annoyance, squinting your eyes at him and he takes a few steps back from you.

To be honest, you don’t even know why you’re talking to him. You should be cooped up in your room and smashing away at your keyboard, but you’ve been watching your stupid housemate stand idly in the kitchen for at least a good seven minutes, and he doesn’t look like he’s capable (or that he even has the slightest of intentions) of heating his pizza up. Well, maybe he likes his pizzas frozen and hard… Totally no judgment though.

“Can you… Do you mind…” He mutters under his breath, staring hard at the ground and avoiding all eye contact with you.

“What?”

“Um, I-I’m afraid of it.”

“Of what?”

Slowly, he inches his head upwards and for the first time that night, he locks eyes with you.

“The microwave,” he mumbles under his breath and you manage to catch it, but you question whether you’ve heard it correctly.

Your mouth opens and then snaps closed. You repeat this in your state of stupefaction as your brain tries to process everything and a disbelieving “what?” floats through the appalled expanse of your mind.

He grunts loudly and buries his head in his cling-wrapped pizza. “For fuck’s sake. I’m scared of the fucking microwave.”

“W-What? Why?”

“I’m scared that it’ll explode?” He asserts, looking away from you again.

“Okay…” You inch closer, eyebrows raised teasingly, sarcasm laced in your voice, “So you’re making me microwave your pizza so that if it explodes… it’ll be on me—”

“W-What? No! Of course not! I just—”

A grumble from his stomach cuts him off curtly and he freezes like a rabbit caught in a snare.

Stifling a laugh, you tongue along the inside of your cheek, mulling over the proposition. Seeing how his eyes are glassy with desperation, you take his food from his grasp, stuffing it inside the microwave without hesitance.

He backs away and cowers meekly near a cupboard when you close it shut.

You prop your chin on your hand as you quietly watch the microwave roar to life. Behind you, Jungkook watches how your eyes follow the rotation of the plate in the microwave. Maybe because he’s starving and it’s late and he’s not thinking straight, or maybe it’s because he’s surviving on countless of bottles of Red Bull, but he thinks you look pretty like this, especially when you’re not being sarcastic or lashing it out at him. He appreciates how you don’t ridicule him further for his phobia.

His little jump at the beep that signals that his pizza is done doesn’t go past your notice. Swiftly, you take out the plate and hand it to him. His hand brushes you gingerly when reaching for it and he beams when his pizza is finally not frozen and sad-looking.

“Wow,” he chuckles dryly, “I didn’t think you would help me.”

"Bitch, I may be Satan’s child,” you grit, mocking his words, “But I’m not that horrible of a person to let you starve. Or eat frozen pizza for that matter. Give me some credit, will you?"

“You want some?” He mumbles with his mouth full.

You stop to consider for awhile, but decide to fuck eating healthy.

“Well, if you insist.”

“I didn’t. But go ahead.”

At that point, Jungkook’s stomach grumbles for the nth time and you cannot help but grin at how dumb he looks. He laughs in return, flaunting his bunny teeth and then scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“Sorry, just a little hungry.”

"It’s okay. At least you’re not eating it straight from the freezer.”

“Hey, I was really… desperate.”

Both of you don’t realise that you’ve spent at least five minutes standing in front of the microwave, bantering with each other. For god’s sake, Jungkook still hasn’t even taken a second slice, too occupied with teasing you.

“I’ve got to… go back. My paper’s due in," you check your watch, "Fuck, 2 hours."

With a pizza slice shoved in his mouth, he laughs at your fumbled self and mutters something along the lines of good luck and a thank you.

“Yeah, whatever,” you reply lamely, brushing him off.

You return to your room with a smile curled up on your lips. But you swear that that doesn’t at all dull the disdain you have for him.

After that incident, Jungkook has become a ghost. Not in that way, but he and his mop of raven black hair start to appear literally fucking everywhere in your view, haunting you like the plague, as though his mere presence in the apartment is not annoying enough already. Whether you’re queuing for food, getting your daily dose of caffeine or rushing for class, he’s somehow always nearby much to your dismay. The Computer Science block isn’t even near your faculty, so you have no idea why he’s hanging around the places you frequent. He’s a bug, you swear.

Whenever you see him, he always has a grin on, which is neither snarky or cocky but you can’t deny that he naturally carries an aura of natural confidence, which amazingly moulds into palpable cockiness whenever you’re around.

You don’t ever acknowledge him, though sometimes he will throw himself on you, begging for your attention to piss you off further.

Like how one day after lecture, you’ve bumped into someone on your way out of the LT, causing the person to drop his books. You’re about to apologise because it’s only everybody’s natural instinct, but your face falls when your eyes land on the culprit’s face. Jeon fucking Jungkook.

“Y/N!” He gasps dramatically, voice laced with faux-enthusiasm, “What a great coincidence!”

Rolling your eyes, you huff as you grab his books and shove them into his chest, “You did that on purpose.”

“Now, why would I do such a thing?” He chuckles boyishly.

“Why are you even here?”

“To bless you with my presence. Oh and the last time I checked, we don’t have assigned spaces, or seats for that matter, in college. I can go anywhere I want.”

You open your mouth, clenching and releasing your fists to tamper down the vexation that is threatening to escape your throat. You’re cracking your brains for a witty riposte, but all you say is, “Shut the fuck up.”

You know you’ve lost the fight.

Shooting him one last glare, you whirl on your heel, storming away from him and out of the building. Though the chilly autumn air is welcoming, heat sits high on your cheeks.

You’re angry. Fucking livid. You feel hopelessly tormented by his stupid grin, his stupid almond orbs and stupid, stupid smirk.

With no better place to obtain advice and vent till your mouth runs dry, you’re grateful when Sooyeon and Jimin ask you out for dinner and you spend the entire night ranting about the very bane of your existence, in hopes that they will show you the light on how to deal with that pest.

“He’s fucking annoying. Like I don’t understand how someone can be this childish. He’s in college, for goodness’ sake! But he’s… so fucking immature like how the fuck!” You cry out as you stab your fork into another fry.

“I honestly don’t understand why you hate his guts,” Sooyeon says. “He’s really not that bad…”

“Sooyeon, how could you!” You place your hand against your chest in mock offence. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“She’s right though. Jungkook’s one of the most affable dudes I know and he’s not a fuckboy,” Jimin shrugs, biting into his burger. “He’s not that bad, really.”

You mull over every single interaction you’ve ever had with him. Besides the usual squabbling in the apartment, you don’t have that many non-heated (read: civil) interactions with him, but they all fill you with anger and anxiety.

Your friends don’t understand shit. They will never understand how it feels to be Number 1 on Jeon Jungkook’s hit list.

“He literally hates me.”

“No, he doesn’t. Why don’t you give him a chance?”

“We are just polar opposites all right. Incompatible. It’s like he’s born to ruin my life.”

“He told me that you helped him with the microwave the other night?”

“He told you?”

“As a passing comment.”

“Right,” you clear your throat as your brows furrow, “Dude, how bitchy do you think I am?”

“Out of 10? Maybe a solid 12,” Sooyeon teases.

“Fuck you.”

“I said what I said.”

“I may be a heartless bitch, but I wasn’t about to let that boy starve. He just… looked so dumb standing in front of the microwave, okay? I just had to help him.”

“Who knew you had a nice bone in you?” Jimin shoots you a look and the humorous quiver of his lip is unmistakable.

“I’m nice, okay…” A little affected by their teasing, a bitter undercurrent cruises beneath your words.

“Aww sweetie, you’re nice, okay?” Sooyeon pats you on the back, “Though you act like a bitch, your heart is pure. If only people saw this side of you more often.”

Call yourself competitive, but this streak between you and Jungkook is impossible to be wiped out. He still tries to rob you of your seat in lecture and make your life a living hell with his stupid pranks and lack of proper social etiquette.

Nobody is actually surprised when the two of you come bursting through the doors during lecture at 8 freaking am for the nth time. Even your professor stops shooting you two a look that screams “what the fuck are you two on again”, but what’s more important is that you manage to reach to your seat, yes, your seat before Jungkook could beat you to it. And he spends the next two minutes scrambling to find one in the crowded LT. You can’t explain how satisfied that makes you feel.

Towards the end of the lecture, you find yourself lifting your eyes and turning towards Jungkook’s seat, only to find him already gazing directly at you. You twist your lips, rolling your eyes disdainfully, and shoot him a cold-eyed stare that has most people cowering. But Jungkook of course, is not like most people, and just stares back at you stubbornly, his gaze piercing.

You try your best not to break the eye-contact, but it’s hard when there’s a heat simmering under your skin, tinging your cheeks a translucent pink.

“You win,” he mouths out.

You stick out your tongue at him, who reciprocates your childish antics and soon, both of you fall into a contest of who can make the ugliest face. Jungkook starts to change up his retaliation strategy, flaring his nostrils and crossing his eyes and you have to stifle your laughter throughout the lecture.

When lecture finally ends, he’s about to pack his bag when he hears the telltale sound of a camera shutter and he whips his head around absent-mindedly.

“D-Did you just take a photo of my face?”

“And if I did…?” You shrug, waggling your eyebrows.

“Delete it, Miss Grumps!”

“Pay me, bitch.”

He lurches for you and hooks an arm around your neck in a headlock, hunching over your torso and nestling your face against his stomach as you squeal out of surprise. The students around you stare at the both of you blankly, confused as fuck.

Do you guys… like or hate each other?

“Fuck off, Jeon!”

“Pay me, bitch!” He mimics in a pitched voice to mock you.

You refrain the urge to screech, but there’s a wide grin playing on your lips. There’s a strange tightness in your chest – your heart is swelling and you can feel it swell everywhere, the tightness fluttering throughout every vein in your body.

To your housemates’ relief, the intensity of your discord with Jungkook has decreased tremendously and you no longer have a strong desire to bite his head off, but old habits die hard and he’s still up your ass.

He’d be the reason why the shoes at the entrance are always a mess, why the toilet seat is always up (at least he cleans up, thank god), why your cereal is always finishing so fast, and also the only reason why all your snacks are now on the highest shelf and you’re not exactly the most vertically inclined. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose.

“Jeon Jungkook!”

“Yes, Miss Grumps?” He answers from behind and you whirl around, only to shriek when you see a shirtless Jungkook in front of you, hair still damp from his shower, and rivulets of water snaking down his collarbones and down to his bare torso. He is adorned in only a pair of low hanging sweatpants that show off the ripples of his toned chest and arms and the trail of soft hair down his navel.

“What are you doing?” You screech at him.

“I just came out from the shower and you called for me…?” He replies in confusion, but the smirk that plays on his lips doesn’t escape your notice.

“Why the heck are you not wearing a shirt? Do you not have enough white shirts to wear?”

“Why? Like what you see?”

“I might just have to gauge my eyeballs out.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, grumps. And for the record, I could never have enough white shirts.”

You huff, rolling your eyes. It’s really hard to not stare at his body, or drink in the view (you’d rather die than admit that he is fucking swole), but you remind yourself of the reason why you called him in the first place.

Pointing to the highest shelf which is painfully out of your reach after rummaging through the kitchen cabinets like a squirrel in November, you glower, “Can you kindly enlighten me as to why the heck are all my snacks up there?”

With a faux-innocent expression, he chuckles dryly, “And why do you assume I know the answer to that?”

“Because no one in this apartment is as annoying and childish as you and your shrivelling one brain cell.”

“Really? I’d say that you’d make an equally strong contender.”

A taunting smirk inches its way onto the edges of Jungkook’s lips and you want to sock him in the face and wipe that vicious smirk off his lips.

“Next time if you need help, a please would be nice.”

“I wouldn’t need help in the first place if you stopped putting my snacks on the highest shelf.”

Shrugging, Jungkook uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height. You draw in a furtive breath, painfully aware of how his frame looms over you, trying to ignore the weird feeling in your belly, but the sheer tactile sensation that sends a chill down your spine is electrifying.

As he effortlessly reaches towards the highest shelf, you realise that his face is so close to yours that you could memorize the flecks of amber in his dark orbs, the curve of his mouth, the long eyelashes that frame his sparkly doe eyes, the little mole under his lip and the tresses of smooth hair falling into his eyes.

As if on cue, his eyes land on yours. A stunned silence encompasses the space between you, sitting heavily in your lungs. He stares at you with a scrutiny that has you breathless, like he is drinking every inch of you in.

A softness settles into the lines of Jungkook’s face, but it disappears instantly when his lips quirk in the corners.

“Now, what would you do without me?” He teases, his voice is deep in timbre and so quietly convinced that it permeates through every last ounce of irritation and you feel a flutter in your chest.

You don’t reply.

Jungkook continues to drink in the sight of you and the closeness of you. Heart thumping away, you suddenly find Jungkook’s hands on your waist, startling you out from your trance. He then leans closer towards you until the tips of your noses are brushing against each other.

A blush blooms over your cheeks and snakes furiously down your neck when the sudden intimacy of the moment draws upon you. His eyes are soft and there’s a wisp of a smile on his pink lips.

A witty comeback stays bubbled in your throat at the proximity and you forget how to speak. You swear that he can practically hear the gears in your brain turning frantically because right now, you can only think about how his touch on your waist burns, how ticklish his breath is on your face and how warm it feels to be pressed up against his broad frame.

“You’re very welcome, Y/N.”

Drawing in a furtive breath, your hands fly up to shove him away. How could you think that Jungkook was decent? He’s practically a living devil.

“Y-Yeah, whatever.”

“Geez, when will you ever start being nice to me?”

His eyes continue to search through yours, but you refuse to give him the time of the day. You just wonder why he always looks at you like that, with the annoyingly bright glint in his eyes.

“When you stop being annoying.”

“But I will never stop annoying you.”

He pinches your nose and you freeze once again, warmth scattering over your skin in the rise of gooseflesh at the sudden contact.

His words are laced with a hint of ardour, but he does his best to conceal it as a small smile appears on his lips. “Good night, grumps.”

“Nights,” you mumble under your breath as he retreats back into his room.

Gaping blankly at Jungkook’s bedroom door, you raise a hand to rest on your cheek as warmth continues to flare in the full of your cheeks, tipping your ears pink.

Back in the quiet confines of your bedroom, you spend a lot less time completing your work as you should, and a lot more daydreaming about firm arms and twinkling eyes. You can’t deny that he has really pretty eyes. And a nice bod, if you might add.

You think back to the smile that he flashes you. His smile isn’t one of those sarcastic ones that he wears when he’s challenging you, but a genuine one that makes the stars in his eyes come to live, waving to you with their little glowing hands.

This is not good.

The warmth at the pit of your stomach never leaves – it has wholly decided that it’s here to stay. As long as Jungkook is involved.

A loud, piercing siren jolts you out of your sleep and you grouchily turn to glare at your clock. The luminous numbers of 3:19am scream at you and it takes every ounce of your being not to scream back at it.

“Fire drill, guys!” One of your roommates – you think it’s Jimin but everyone kind of sounds the same with hoarse voices at 3am – shouts over the shrilling pain. “Get your asses out of your beds!”

Groaning loudly while making a mental count of the minutes of precious sleep you’re about to waste, you pull yourself out of bed and rush out of the dorm without fumbling for your jacket. That’s a very bad decision, you realise, because it’s fucking freezing outside.

Amidst the sea of blur faces, loud groans and unabashed yawns under the moonlight, a particular back catches your attention, alongside the dishevelled bed hair and long limbs clad in a bright yellow jacket. You squint your eyes at the particular colour of the outfit and you realise that it’s a fucking Pikachu sleeping set.

And it belongs to none other than Jungkook.

“Jeon,” you grumble beneath your breath.

He does an absentminded turn and gawks blatantly at you, before breaking into a chortle, doubling over.

“What the fuck are you wearing?”

Me? Your eyes trail down to your pyjamas and you freeze for an infinitesimal moment, as if paralysed when your old and worn-out Pooh Bear shirt and pink floral pants come into view. Really, what the fuck are you wearing. Considering that this is hell week, you haven’t had time to breathe, let alone have time to do laundry, so you could only settle with your old Pooh Bear shirt.

Biting back your embarrassment, you hiss, “What the fuck? At least I’m not wearing a Pikachu sleeping set.”

“Hey, don’t you dare insult my precious childhood friend like that.”

He feigns aggravation, but the expression on his face is a cross between amusement and endearment, and the way it makes your heart soar terrifies you.

“You’re impossible,” you let out a hearty laugh.

At this, Jungkook feels a little warm inside his chest. He kind of wants to hear this laugh more and often. Believe it or not, even in your sleepy state, he thinks that you look lovely.

He opens his mouth, ready to continue the banter, but someone calls your name from behind and you turn away from him.

“Y/N!”

“Oh hey, Jooheon.”

You have Ethics class with him, but you’re not that close for him to come up to talk to you. Heck, you didn’t even know that he stays in this block.

“I can’t believe they have a fire drill at this timing. That’s like… illegal.”

Beside you, Jungkook has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Jooheon notices that the latter’s loitering awkwardly around you and glaring intently at him, but chooses to ignore his piercing stare.

“Right, so um, you needed something?” You ask, cocking your head slightly.

“Oh no, just thought I’d say hi. You look cute in your PJs.”

Even though this is Jungkook’s first time meeting this Jooheon dude, he already decides that he doesn’t like him. Not even one bit. Jungkook’s usually great with psycho-analysing people at first sight and there’s something immediately off about Jooheon. He can feel it in his bones.

He continues to glare intently at Jooheon and then he realises that the jerk is blatantly staring at your boobs. You’re not wearing a bra and your worn-out Pooh Bear shirt does nothing to hide your nipples that are now perky from the cold.

“So Y/N, do you want to go out—”

“Y/N!” Jungkook screeches on cue, causing you to jump in shock.

You jerk your head at your housemate’s sudden outburst and thank god for him, because you don’t really want to listen to the end of Jooheon’s question. Jungkook’s doe-like eyes, which are notably round like a deer caught in the headlights, are now narrowed angrily and the deep crease between his eyebrows mars his honeyed skin, further accentuated beneath the hazy yellow lamplight.

“What—”

You’re about to ask what’s up with him, before he cuts you off by grabbing hold of your wrist, tugging you away from Jooheon’s predatory gaze.

“For fuck’s sake Y/N, c-can you please?”

“What?”

Jungkook strips himself out of his oversized hoodie and unabashedly throws it over your head as you scream at his abrupt antic, struggling to rid yourself of his hoodie.

“Just keep it on!” He seethes in conviction, wrestling the hoodie down on you and you realise that it smells so potently him.

“Why?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he whispers sternly in disbelief, teeth clenched, as his gaze slips southward from your face. His arms fold indignantly over his chest in rage and you blatantly ignore how the lean muscles of his biceps peek out of the sleeves of his thin white shirt.

“O-Oh… Right. Shit, sorry.”

You flush from the tips of your ears down your neck. Your fingers start to pick at a frayed thread of his hoodie under the weight of his intense starry-eyed gaze. Lowering your eyes, you stare at how your frame is drowning in his hoodie and think about your dear Pooh Bear smiling underneath the soft cotton. It looks big on you, but it makes you feel so warm, causing a tingling warmth of sweet honey gold to reach even to your own fingertips.

“Keep the hoodie on till we get back,” he mutters, his raspy voice echoing with timber, rich and velvet.

He settles his arm around your shoulders, guiding you back to your other housemates. You ignore how tall he is beside you, how protective he is over you, how gallant you thought he was when he just tugged you away from Jooheon. You ignore how his signature scent wafts through the air. It’s a comforting, homey that rests softly on your nose.

As you walk to your apartment with Jungkook and the rest with his arm still around you, a subconscious smile pulls at your lips until your cheeks ache and you don’t care if people think you’re on crack for smiling so widely at 3am after a fire drill, because the sound of your erratic heartbeats echoes louder than any siren.

Vines are entangling the hole in your heart, buds sprouting on the outskirts.

Your heart is blooming.

And you don’t know how to feel about this.

It’s a Friday night, which means that you, being the homebody you are, have holed yourself in your room, content with a cup of hot tea and your laptop, while your housemates are out partying and having a life.

You’re on the way to the kitchen to refill your tea when you pass by Jungkook’s room. His door is left slightly ajar, though the room is dark and your footsteps come to a halt. Jungkook normally leaves his door shut, while the others like to keep it open regardless of whether they’re in or not. Curious, you slowly walk towards the door, peeping in through the side of the door frame.

And the view that lies upon you leaves you in utter shock, rendering you speechless. Your jaw drops, your mind losing all semblance of focus while your train of thought diminishes like an exploded lightbulb.

The room is pitch dark, except for the moonlight filtering through his gossamer curtains. But you can see Jungkook clearly. On his bed where he lies. Bare thighs caressed by his fluffy blankets, boxers tugged down to his ankles, and thighs spread apart.

You know he is swole, but damn seeing his naked body in its fullest glory? Fuck. For the longest time, your eyes linger on the very harsh lines and sculpted muscles of his hard toned thighs. You’ve never mentioned this to anyone, too ashamed, but you do know how to appreciate nice thighs. And Jungkook’s? The bomb. Hella thick. But your eyes almost bulge out when you realise the very reason why he has his head tossed back and eyes shut closed.

He’s jerking himself off.

Gulping to yourself, your very first instinct is to pretend that you didn’t catch him in the act and simply go back to what you wanted to do in the first place – to refill your tea, but your eyes can’t seem to look away from his hand that’s tightly gripping around his throbbing length, which peeps out every now and then as he pumps himself vigorously.

Your eyes trail up to his golden skin, his chest that’s glistening with beads of sweat and the hazy expression on his face and then southwards again to the popping veins on his arms, his sculptured abdomen and even lower, to the line of hair and veins trailing towards his aching length. Caressing his slit with his thumb, he spreads pre-cum all over his tip and continues stroking his dick at a fast pace.

You can’t even count how many times you’ve cursed within the last minute, your mind a clouded, salacious haze.

What’s dirtier than your subconscious thoughts of wanting to suck Jungkook dry and be fucked by him into the next century is the hoarse moans and sweet whimpers escaping his lips, reverberating through the room. The lucid squelching and sticky sounds from his hand and wet dick are absolutely sinful, but so, so tantalising to your ears and wetness starts to pool between your thighs.

He suddenly sits up and throws his boxers on the ground and for a moment, you think that you’ve been caught red-handed and quickly hide behind the door. But instead, he grabs his pillow and positions it underneath his crotch, slowly rocking his lips against it. Within the slightest of seconds, he starts to grind against it, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment. His teeth even sink into his bottom lip to suppress the moans threatening to escape his lungs with each grind.

"Oh god, Y/N," he whimpers, once more looking down at his pillow between his legs, precum smeared all over the pillowcase.

You freeze.

What the fuck. Did he just moan your name?

You’re supposed to oppose to this, scream at him for getting off to you. But at the sound of your name, a primal instinct has been instigated deep inside you, lighting up a hungry flame within you. You shouldn’t be eavesdropping to Jungkook getting off, but what the fuck. The way he’s moaning your name so keenly, as if it’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world, spikes goosebumps along your arms. His moans are so hot and filthy that you’re panting softly at the increasing volume of his honey-dipped voice and you can’t help but rub your thighs together.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants, grabbing the pillow closer to him so that he can buck against it better. “Babe, fuck yeah.”

As he continues to moan louder, heat travels through your body in electric arcs, paralysing you and tensing your muscles.

He’s suddenly arching up and you watch as his hands go back to wrap around his cock. He pumps himself faster and sloppier than before, determined to reach his climax. After a few seconds, he stutters before letting out an ardent groan, enjoying the waves of pleasure that deafens all of his senses. You watch with wide eyes as he milks out spurts of cum onto his clenched abs and pillow, still moaning your fucking name unabashedly.

Chest rising and falling in quick succession, a stupid hazy smile then plays on his lips and heat returns to simmer under your skin, tingling your cheeks a bright cherry red. There’s this insinuating urge coursing your veins, causing your pussy to quiver in need. Your panties are all soaked.

Fuck.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to sit on his dick.

Let’s be honest here: there have been some changes in your relationship with Jungkook. He has been occupying more and more of your mind. The memory of him in his bed with that fucked-out smile of his keeps resurfacing in your mind like a bad heartburn. It has you weak in the knees. You can’t stop thinking about his face. And his fucking dick. And him dry-humping his pillow.

You can’t stop thinking about Jungkook and him stroking his dick, coming while moaning your name for fuck’s sake.

You don’t stop repeating the scene of his hand around his dick going up and down until you hear it: the scraping of a key inside its lock. You listen to the familiar sounds of Jungkook kicking off his shoes on the floor, and then two seconds later, he’s appearing in the entryway to the living room, his charm already so damn loud in the stillness of the apartment.

At the very sight of his face, the many lewd images of your housemate flash before you. You grimace at the taunting visual, suddenly remembering that you were nearly overcome with your desire to lick every inch of his golden skin and suck his aching dick.

This is going to be awkward.

Sensing that you are extra quiet because you’re not barking at him about god’s knows what, he saunters over to the living area where you are mindlessly scrolling through your phone, “Hey, you okay, Miss Grumps?”

“Yeah, just… tired,” you croak awkwardly.

“Don’t you have classes till 7pm?”

“You remember my schedule?”

“Y-Yeah? You always come back late on Thursdays.”

“O-Oh right,” you mutter. Your other housemates remember your class schedule and it’s totally normal so that they know when to expect you, but somehow it’s different when it’s with Jungkook.

“Decided to skip class today. Wasn’t feeling well.”

A look of concern flashes across his face. Dropping his bag on the floor, he walks towards you and presses the back of his hand on your forehead, worry burning at the edges of his regularly-cocky tone. “A-Are you okay?”

Your face burns at the touch of his skin and you tense up instantly.

Sensing that you’re all flustered, like there’s a fire in your stomach and the sparks are floating up into the darkness of your eyes, he jokes, “You’re not extra grumpy for someone sick. That’s strange.”

“Shut it, would you?”

“Alright, I take it back.”

He pauses for awhile, looking at you up and down before adding, “Is that my hoodie?”

Tilting your head slightly, you instantly look down and gawk at your outfit. You’re wearing your favourite black Puma hoodie – what is he going on about? You are wearing your hoodie… except that it’s 2 sizes larger.

You bring up your sleeve to smell the fabric and then it hits you. A familiar and refined homey scent, mixed together with your honeysuckle perfume. The familiar awakening tingle shoots down your spine once again.

“Oh my fuck, shit I’m sorry,” you proceed to tug it over your head.

“It’s cool, you can keep it.”

“What? You don’t want it back?”

“What? I-I mean, it looks good on you.” There’s an uncharacteristically softness that invaded his velvety voice, “So keep it.”

You look up at his face. You can’t place his expression exactly – it’s a combination of amusement and endearment, but the way it makes your heart pitter patter terrifies you. It’s like you’ve just been drenched by a downpour. A downpour of something you’re not sure you understand or ready to understand.

You try to pretend that you haven’t been nuzzling your nose into the hoodie the entire day because it smells like home. You’re just frightened of how much you’ve grown to adore it.

Jungkook doesn't know if there has ever been a thicker or a more dense tension hanging in the air around the two of you and it only seems to be getting heavier with each bated breath. He has a difficult time trying to develop a grasp of diction as he stands in the doorframe of your room, gripping the doorknob with a bit more force than usual, staring at the girl before him.

He finds you hacking away on your laptop, surrounded by mountains of papers and highlighters sprawled all over your desk. He knows better than to disturb you when you’re deep in concentration, but he has accidentally bought too much food and figures that he could share some with you.

Jungkook realises one thing: no matter what you’re doing, he always finds himself sneaking glances at you. He likes watching how your eyes narrow when you’re concentrating, your little mannerisms – like the little pout on your lips when you’re keyboard smashing and how you tend to crack your knuckles when you’re stressed. He doesn’t even know he has taken in all of your little habits and registered them into his brain, but what he knows is that: his eyes always search for you, no matter where and when. Whenever your eyes light up with a smile to match, he feels as if he might as well be caught on fire.

He hasn’t called out for you yet, because he knows that you love to drown yourself in loud music when you’re studying so he stalks over to your desk and gently taps you on the shoulder.

You jump slightly when you feel a hand on your shoulder and sigh loudly when it’s just Jungkook and his stupid wide grin.

But your eyes soften at this smile. His doe eyes are crescent-like whenever he smiles – they’re always so bright and expressive with a mesmerising, enticing gleam.

“Have you eaten?”

Removing your earpiece, you shrug, trying to maintain an unfazed expression, “All I had today was coffee and stress.”

Jungkook gives you the bitchiest eyeroll and brushes off the sarcasm – he probably has grown jaded to it by now.

“I bought take-out for us but it’s cold now, so…”

You suppress the smile that threatens to play on your lips and nod. He doesn’t even need to say it explicitly – you know exactly what he’s inferring.

“We definitely need to stop eating take-out and microwavable food. That shit be nasty.”

You two walk down the corridor to the kitchen in comfortable silence, arms brushing against one another. He turns to look at you quietly and gets so distracted by how otherworldly you look that it takes him a moment to hand you the food in his hand.

Nobody is hogging the living room – Sooyeon and Jimin are on a date and Namjoon is probably asleep like a log. The windows in the living room are left open and the chilly air is welcoming, embracing you two in a comfortable silence; in your private alone-time.

After heating up the food while Jungkook sets the table (which just includes getting banana milk for both of you – he doesn’t mind sharing them with you now), you settle down on the seat opposite him and soon become fall into a comfortable conversation. Of course, it includes your usual bantering.

“So… when did you start, you know, having a phobia of microwaves?”

He raises an eyebrow before letting out a slight chuckle, “When I was 6… I put an egg in the microwave.”

“You did what?”

“Yeah, I stupidly did that. The egg exploded and it was loud and so scary and I got scarred after that incident… So yeah, I haven’t touched a microwave ever since.”

“But you live off microwavable food, what the heck? Then what about heating up food at convenience stores?”

“I’ll ask the staff or an innocent nice-looking customer to help me?”

“Then how are you going to survive in college? You live in a dorm, microwavable food is basically your life,” you chastise.

“Well…”

“Well?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

His voice is infused with honey and velvet. Something about his tone sets a pit of warmth in your stomach.

You look back at Jungkook and find him already staring back at you. There’s something in his gaze that makes your limbs heavy. It makes you feel trapped and lost in the depths of his eyes, warm and inviting.

“W-What?”

You notice Jungkook’s rapidly drumming his fingers against the table, while chewing on his lower lip.

He’s nervous.

“Um I-I mean, you’re always here for me to annoy! And the guys are here to help me too, so I think I’d survive.”

“Geez, I swear you’re only nice to me because I’m here to save your ass. If the microwave ever explodes while I’m heating up your food, you’re going to pay by taking care of me till I grow old,” you tease as he laughs, giving your arm a little nudge.

You observe how his whole face lights up, how his eyes crinkle in the corners and his smile is so large that his nose scrunches up adorable. The laughter reverberates through the kitchen, bouncing off the walls like bells.

You just don’t know how and when you’ve become so comfortable with his presence, but sarcasm has always been your go-to with him, especially since it helps to cover up how your voice is two tones higher whenever he’s around as of lately. Also, because saying “I hate you” is easier than saying “I actually like talking to you and when you’re not bothering me, it feels weird like there’s something missing in my life” and “your laugh is actually really nice, can you laugh more often”.

Jungkook’s feet are still beating rhythms into the leg of the dining table, his hand mindlessly stirring his long-cold noodles. He feels a little ridiculous to be happy about eating with you, especially now that the conversation has dialled down to nothing more than chewing and sipping. Every so often, he will glance up at you as he brings his chopsticks to his lips.

"So… How come you’ve been abnormally nice to me lately?"

"Huh?"

"You’re just nicer than usual…?” He trails off, “It’s kind of weird."

"Well, I can kick your shin right now if you want?" You bite with every inch of sarcasm you can muster, but anyone could tell that your tone is fond.

He laughs again, a low, velvety rumble from deep inside his chest and your lips curl up as well. The smile that you give Jungkook over the rim of your bowl is so unexpectedly bright that it makes something bubbly and yellow swell inside of Jungkook and he reflexively smiles in return, bright and honey-sweet.

You can feel Jungkook staring at you, only inches away – staring at you like that, like you’re the light of the moon, like you hold the stars in the night sky with your very palm. So you pretend to be occupied with slurping your leftover broth, desperately trying to prevent your cheeks from igniting under the warm gaze that deftly lights upon you. Maybe that’s why you end up spilling your food, but you spill it half the time on your own anyway.

You jump slightly when the liquid dribbles down your chin and onto your shirt.

“Ah, shit,” you say, quickly wiping away the mess off your chin.

You’re about to ask for a napkin when you feel fingers cupping your face. With the pad of his thumb, Jungkook brushes the underside of your chin. It’s a playful gesture, but also so affectionate that it’s very unlike of Jungkook and you freeze up as if paralysed.

Leaning in, he’s so close that you can feel the flutter of Jungkook’s breath on your face, how it hitches and quickens. You stop fidgeting, eyes focused on Jungkook who quietly wipes away the liquid on your face with his thumb. He’s still staring straight at you without a word, and you see that same soft sparkle in his eyes that does nothing for the wildfire claiming the land of your chest.

Looking into his eyes is like sitting close to a fire that suddenly blazes up. Slowly, you feel a smile growing steady across your face, and even though your heart has been racing this entire time with Jungkook by your side, it manages to beat a little faster.

Jungkook, for the life of him, suddenly realises that he has a huge, embarrassing and debilitating crush on you one fine day and he doesn’t know what to do with that information. It’s opposite of the saying – surprised, but not disappointed.

If someone were to ask him exactly why he has fallen for you, in which nobody would since he is insanely good at hiding it and he has never told a soul, the answer would be simple. Underneath your tough exterior and sky-high walls, you’re so full of love and your heart is more delicate and softer than anyone else’s.

After a full semester living together, you two have grown more comfortable with one another and your interactions go beyond just bantering with each other and eating microwavable food together. On Fridays where everyone else would be out, sometimes you two would watch a movie together and that has become a routine that you guys follow religiously.

Today isn’t an exception. You two are huddled on the couch, sharing a blanket and relishing in the warmth and comfort of each other’s body heat.

Upon coming to a realisation of his feelings, the flutter in Jungkook’s chest has become more obvious and more out of control – his heartbeats are a perpetual merciless staccato rhythm whenever you’re around.

The Avengers is playing on the screen – it’s your turn to pick this week and while he loves Marvel, he pays no attention to the movie because you’re comfortably curled up beside him.

Delirious with exhaustion, you roll over to face him, your body already sinking into the softness of the sofa. You snuggle up closer to him, pressing your chest against his arm and you wonder when he started to feel like safe harbour.

Instinctively, his fingers reach out for yours and he starts to play with them, rubbing circles onto your palm with his thumb. He strokes up your wrist, before bringing your hand to his lips and presses a soft kiss to your hand. You tilt your heads towards his and you can see the flecks of amber in his dark eyes, so warm and soft.

He looks like a dream, tan skin and dark hair, lit golden in the light from the TV screen.

You heart ricochets in your chest, skipping a beat and you feel the need to hold onto something, so you grab onto his sleeve. Eyes tracking over his face, mapping over every curve of his facial features, you feel a smile slowly growing across your face at this intimacy.

Silence hangs between the two of you and you can almost feel Jungkook’s eyes tracing the line of your collarbone where it disappears inside your sweater, his thick and dark eyelashes fluttering just a fraction with each breath.

A cherry blossom blush blooms over his face, crossing the bridge of his nose and spreading over his cheekbones. Jungkook reaches up and brushes the underside of your chin with the pad of his calloused thumb. This gesture, so affectionate and ginger, prompts another smile to creep on your lips.

He lets out a soft chuckle, locking eyes with you as if spellbound by the sparkly glint in your eyes.

“Are you okay with this?” He asks in a conspiratorial whisper, leaning into your space. His voice, deep in timbre and infused with honey and velvet, washes every last rational thought of yours and you feel a flutter in your chest, running through your veins like blossoms of gold.

And you nod without thinking.

In the briefest of moments, Jungkook leans in, palms cradling your blushing visage, and brushes his lips over your grin, so lightly that it feels like you’re swimming in a field of fully-blossomed roses. At the softness of his lips against yours, your stomach coils.

When you feel the supple skin of his lips meld against your teeth, you push back fervently. It's an amalgamation of teeth, mumbled names and unspoken feelings that are coming to a head and finally bursting – absolutely everything you have imagined and more.

Hooking your fingers in the collar of Jungkook’s shirt, you inch closer and you can hear his heartbeats, which almost sound akin to the rush of the ocean in a seashell.

It’s a little less gentle now. He nips harder at your bottom lip, rolling the flesh in between his teeth gently before trailing his lips down your jaw and to your neck. You sigh loudly in bliss when he sucks faint lilac bruises into your skin, as if determined to ensure that they’ll be clearly visible tomorrow and that you’ll curse at him for marking you with spots that even your best makeup couldn’t cover up.

His fingers start to skirt beneath your blouse, tracing circles on your waist and slowly snaking their way up. Even when your tongues are entangled in a hot battle, it is sensual and romantic. It doesn’t help that Jungkook keeps making such sweet, lulling noises, like someone is plucking at his heartstrings, creating a melody just for you. All because of you.

The very thought of that makes your body tingle with warmth from the tip of your fingers to the hollow space of your heart.

Hands wandering south, you can’t help but slide your fingers under his shirt and drag them over the planes of his abs. His body is warm and it’s making your head spin, tugging furiously at your heartstrings too. You want to get his shirt off and see all of Jungkook. Your heart feels like summer rain, warm, light and pattering. You want to melt into him.

Parting from you moments later with swollen lips, he doesn’t break eye contact from you and you see stars in his eyes that shine nothing but ardent adoration and fondness for you.

There is a sharp tug of fear and discord in your chest and you feel your heart drop.

Then everything clicks.

This is wrong. So wrong.

“Jungkook,” you whimper, his name leaving your parted lips in a dulcet whisper. Your heart spikes in your chest and your stomach unravels and knots again. When you let go of his shirt, you feel like you’ve let go of a piece of your heart. You feel like puking.

“Y-You’re someone special to me, Jungkook.”

He feels his soul pitfall into the depths of his stomach, knowing very well that there’s a ‘but’ coming next.

“That’s, um, nice,” he says, feeling his face and throat flush. “You’re special to me too.”

Looking deep into his orbs, you realise this: he has heart eyes for you, like you hold his entire world with your mere breath.

And to be very honest, you’re terrified.

“But I-I can’t, Jungkook.”

There’s a long pause and the silence presses against you, weighing so heavy that you feel like you’re being suffocated. The voice that crawls out of your lungs barely feels like your own and you’re not sure if you mean what you say. The words sting like nettle leaves on the tip of your tongue.

“I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”

A wave of panic cuts through the pins and needles pricking down your spine as he remains quiet. You half-expected him to make a sarcastic comment or smirk at you for punking you with the kiss. Instead, he’s just staring at you blankly and his vacant expression is an abyss – it’s unnerving.

Jungkook maintains his silence like the moon and the silence in between you continues for moments and moments, as if the world has come to a halt. It’s so quiet that you could hear the erratic thumping of your hearts.

Then he opens his mouth. “Oh, okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats succinctly, sounding more helpless by each second, “If that’s what you want.”

The raw helplessness in his voice fights against the walls in your heart. It’s tearing down the walls, clawing aggressively at them, hopelessly yearning that they’ll crumble down for him.

“I’ll just… give you some space,” he starts to stand up, shoulders drooped low, unable to meet your worried eyes.

When he spins on his heels towards the door, instead of going after him, all you do is gape at his departing silhouette for the longest time and then at the shut door, your heart painfully swelling up to the size of the sun.

You feel your entire world dissolve in slow motion.

Deep down, tucked within a crevice of your heart, you know you want to be as close to him as possible. You want him all to yourself. But you’re unsure.

You’re not sure how to express the depth of what you feel for him or how you’ve grown to love the little things about him. Like how he makes a big pot of coffee and comes into your room to hand you a warm cup every morning, how he sings softly to himself in his room when he thinks nobody is listening, or how he’s always teasing you and making you laugh. How he always looks for you whenever he needs to heat up his food, even when the others are at home. How he brings you peace when there’s a perpetual whirlpool in your mind. When you’re with him, you realise that the weight of the multiverse on you doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

You don’t know how to tell him all these in words and actions and you’re a writer for fuck’s sake. But what you do know is that you never want to see that sad expression on his face ever again.

If there’s one you are especially – and notoriously – horrible at, it would be dealing with your feelings, namely feelings for Jeon Jungkook. Truth is, you hate yourself and you’ve been a complete wreck ever since that day.

“Jungkook.”

Ears perking up at the name, you snap out of your trance and tilt your head upwards. “Wha—where?”

The sound of his name is like blunt nails being hammered into your heart, until the organ is left nothing but a bloody, useless pulp.

“He’s not here, dumb ass. I just thought that saying his name would be more effective than calling your own name,” Namjoon says, giving your forehead a little flick, “I’ve been calling you for the past minute.”

“Oh sorry—”

“You’re whipped.”

“What?”

“You like Jungkook,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly.

You tense up instantly and a deafening silence descends.

Eyes soft and unassuming, he flashes you a soft smile and his face is doing that thing where he gazes at you like you’re made of glass and he can see through your heart and soul. Namjoon, out of all people, knows that a soft and feeble heart is hidden behind that attitude and sharp tongue of yours.

An involuntary sigh escapes your lips and you bury your face into your palms as your suspire lowers into an interminable groan. The uncomfortable, electrifying sensation that you associate only with one name crawls up your spine, like a colony of ants marching on your skin.

Namjoon’s right.

Jungkook has exploded into your life like a firework: bright, loud, and so dearly ethereal. It’s his bright doe eyes and boyish bunny smile that caught you off-guard during your first encounter with him. And somehow or another, he has waltzed his way into your life ever since, seamlessly, like the last piece to your puzzle.

You do notice how your heart becomes all erratic and out of control when he's around. Throbbing, threatening to demolish your steel, collected demeanour into bits. He makes you feel like the female character of a trashy teenage romance novel and as much as you hate the idea of feeling like a 12-year-old, if it’s with Jungkook, it’s fine.

It’s as if you two are meant to gravitate towards each other, fill up the void in each other’s lives and soak in each other’s comforting presence. Ignore your initial hatred for him – you’ve actually grown to enjoy the sweet calm of Jungkook’s presence and company, and even that itself is an understatement. He has planted himself into your life so well that it’ll be freaking strange if you decide to push him out of your life. You don’t think you can’t function properly.

No bathroom singing, no messy sofa, no seat stealer, no microwave adventures. No intimate touches. No bunny smiles or boyish chuckles. No one to make you smile and laugh as though life isn’t tearing you down every second.

You love hearing Jungkook laugh. His laughter is a metaphor that you’ve been trying to pen down for years. And his smile? It’s a radiance of ardent adoration. Utterly beautiful.

And then there’s the other thing – something embarrassing that took forever for you to realise and even longer for you to admit it to yourself.

But you know now and your heart is screaming.

“Yeah, I do,” you whisper back, feeling like the bits and pieces of your brain are coming together.

“You want to date him,” Namjoon raises his brows at your confession.

“I think so?”

“Hold his hand and cuddle together?”

“Yes.”

“Suck his dick?”

“Ye—God, Namjoon! What’s up with your filthy mouth?”

“Dude, don’t act all demure with me.”

“I’m still not talking to you about wanting to fuck Jungkook.”

He rolls his eyes, but the grin on his lips says otherwise.

“But that’s great, Y/N. Took you years to acknowledge your feelings. But just to let you know, the kid has been waiting for you to come back home every night. You should go talk to him.”

No matter what you tell yourself or whatever insecurities you have, there is truth that you’ve always had a place reserved for Jungkook in your heart, nestled between fragile hopes and waning kindness.

The boy makes your heart sing. He’s got a soft, sweet heart, a ripe mango of a heart, yellow and full. In between the bantering sessions and microwave misadventures, you have accidentally and unquestionably very much fallen in love with Jungkook.

But you don’t know what to do.

What you know is that you need to talk to him.

The stillness of the hour makes the walls lurch even more seismic when you open the front door, expecting the apartment to be pitch dark. You assume that nobody would be in the living room at this timing and Jungkook would be holed up in his room watching anime or perhaps at a party, chugging down shots as an attempt to forget you and move on with his life because you’re a heartless bitch and he deserves so much better.

However, the little lamp at the corner is lit up and when you walk towards the couch, you see Jungkook curled up on it, drowning in his big hoodie and looking softer than ever. His left cheek is squished from where he is lying down on the pillow.

You heart gnaws at the sight of him and it hurts even more when you realise that he is waiting for you to return.

He stirs in his sleep upon hearing footsteps and fully jerks awake when he hears your voice.

“Jungkook,” you breathe out, reaching out to caress his face, fingers brushing against the scar of his cheekbone. He slurs in response, turning his face into the curve of your palm and brings his hand to caress the back of your hand, causing your heart to snap.

“You’re back,” he announces breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe it. He stares at you with forlorn eyes and you only spare him a half-second glance before turning away, seemingly disgruntled.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly says.

“What? Why are you—”

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable,” he mutters with a softness that invaded his velvety voice.

“Don’t say sorry,” you reach out to grasp his hand, rubbing your thumb onto his palm, “I should be the one apologising.”

“No—”

“Jungkook – listen,” you settle yourself on the couch beside him, “I don’t know what I want. That’s part of the problem.”

You sigh, “I want something from you, but I don’t know what. I don’t know how to name it or quantify it. I don’t like not knowing what to do.”

Jungkook peers up at you through his bangs, deep in thought and even in his sleepy state, he knows exactly that he never wants to let you go. He doesn’t want to lose you. He wants this.

“It’s okay, Y/N—”

“I’m too cynical, always too sceptical. Too mean for anyone. I’m also a fucking dumb hopeless romantic. I want a lot of things, Jungkook. I want to love… but I don’t know if I know how to? I’m not sure if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he whispers, “I really do. I’m scared too, like really fucking scared. What if I hurt you? What if I don’t love you right? What if one day we might not be the same anymore?”

You lower your head in fear, feeling a ripple of anxiety pass across your chest at the thought of the future and Jungkook swears he can hear the gears in your brain turning frantically.

“But we never know until we try, right? And I… want to try with you. Because it’s with you.”

You curl closer to him, taking in the pleasantly warm and comforting scent of him and he brings you to a warm embrace, pressing little kisses to your forehead.

Silence weaves itself into the spaces of everything around the two of you. It’s comfortable – you feel like you’re finally at home.

It could be due to the fatigue or the way he’s looking at you, so intently, but you find yourself blurting out without a thought.

“Your heart,” you mumble, pressing your hand over his chest and taking in the ghost of Jungkook’s warm breath on your face, “is beating so fast.”

You gaze closely at his visage and drink in the view – his messy bed hair, slightly flushed cheeks, soft pouty lips – and right at this very moment, you can confirm that you’re really stupidly besotted with him. You swear Jungkook has never looked more beautiful than in that moment of him softly gazing at you with a devotion that you can never find in anybody else.

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a soft smile, “It’s always like this when you’re around.”

“D-Did you just flirt with me?”

There’s a tickle that dances across his lips, a sparkle of mirth glimmering in his eyes. “Have been for the past few months, but thanks for noticing.”

A blush paints your cheeks fervently, while your heart is doing a fucking waltz even though it knows shit about dancing, the rest of you nothing but moonlight and air.

“Do you think… you’ll give us a chance?” He whispers earnestly, a tone three notches deeper and your heart gnaws at how gentle and careful he is with you.

Us.

“Jungkook, you have all my heart,” you whisper softly, “You always did.”

The most adorable of smiles slowly forms on his face and it feels like everything stands still around you. You feel the warmth of Jungkook’s palms cradling your blushing features, while he strokes your cheeks lightly with his thumb. A grin moulds on your face that resembles his own.

In that split second where you’re relishing in the ghost of his breath against his face, he leans forward and brushes his lips over yours so gingerly that it’s akin to the caress of a feather. The euphoric feeling of Jungkook’s soft lips on yours directly connects to the bones in your legs and turns them to jelly.

For moments and moments, you swear you could see fireworks and the galaxies splayed out above you.

He feels you softening like clay and relenting to the otherworldly sensation as he traces the tender flesh of your lower lip, the shape of his mouth quieting the chaos in your head. He can taste your heartbeat at the tip of your tongue.

Jungkook slackens his jaw, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazes along your lower lip before instantly meeting yours, tangling for dominance. He can’t resist himself any longer. He wants more of you, needs a taste of what he’s been yearning for so long. He nips lightly at your lower lip and smirks when an unexpected gasp falls from your mouth.

He alternates between licking into your mouth hungrily and sucking on your lower lip and tongue. He kisses you slow and deep, all seeking tongue and teeth, making you into him desperately, all passion and open mouths.

Trailing south, his lips plant a tentative kiss on your jawline and then on your neck. He takes his time, hard muscle of his tongue lapping at your sweet skin, lips sucking until a blossoming bruise begins to form. Your breath catches in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. He feels you lean against him, craning your neck to give him better access to dust lovebites all over your supple skin.

“Jungkook,” you gasp, relishing in the warmth from his chest.

He hums in response, a low rumbling sound that vibrates against your chest and it seems to ignite something in both of you.

You run your hands over Jungkook’s stomach, down his narrow waist and the bottom of his ribcage, your fingers softly brushing against his happy trail. He tenses up immediately and you stifle a giggle, fascinated by the flutter of his muscles as he breathes when you touch a new spot of his body or graze your teeth over his tongue.

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you thought about running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you wrap your lips around his dick.

You want him.

And he wants you too. You can feel it in the way he kisses. How eager he’d be to fuck you dry even if that meant getting caught red-handed by your roommates with his pants around his knees, balls deep in your guts in the fucking kitchen.

“You make me so hard all the time it’s not even fucking funny,” he laughs dryly, looking at you in endearment.

“You know… I saw you masturbating the other night.”

“W-What? When?”

You bite your lower lip at the lewd mental image. “A few weeks ago, you were…”

“What was I doing?” The smallest of smirks starts to tug at his lips. He’s challenging you.

“You were… stroking yourself…”

“And?”

“… Humping your pillow and calling out for me.”

“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, nuzzling his face into your neck, “You’ve got such a dirty mouth.”

“You asked me where you were doing!”

“Did you like what you saw though?”

“I—”

Leaning towards your ears, he lowers his tone and whispers, “You always make me fucking hard, I think I need to punish you for that. Bet you’ll like that, won’t you?”

“Jungkook, what—”

“You got to make it up to me, Miss Grumps. Have a taste of your own medicine.”

“You calling me Miss Grumps totally ruined the mood.”

“Sorry… babe?” He chuckles for a lack of a better response.

You smile again, feeling a ripple of molten and saccharine sweet longing ease its way up your belly at the endearment.

Your eyes track over his visage, his dark eyes glassy with unadulterated adoration and love as he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You can’t hold back the little whimpers that escape your throat and Jungkook ardently swallows every single one, grateful for every single noise you make.

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your collarbones and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids, each breath laboured and potent with lust.

Pressing his lips all over your throat, wet and messy and wonderful, you whimper when he sucks hardly just beneath your jaw that has got you quivering and that only prompts him to suck on it harder.

You don’t have enough fingers and toes to count how many times you’ve thought of this – him planting hickeys all over your neck, or you running your tongue along the tautness of his stomach, or how his jaw might clench when you took him into your mouth.

“Jungkook,” you break out of your trance and whisper, “I want to suck you off.”

Desire ricochets through his abdomen at your dirty words. He can’t believe his ears.

“Where?”

“K-Kitchen.”

He shoots you a look at your response, but doesn’t probe further when he sees a sly smile on your face, eyes clouded with a salacious lust.

He’s even more turned on by this, smashing his lips on yours again, kissing you so fiercely and passionately. Carrying you over to the kitchen with your legs tightened around his waist, he delights in the friction and warmth of your body against his as your lips are still busily entangled in a hot battle.

You push him atop the counter while your hands worm their way to the waistband of his sweat, tugging it down his sinewy thighs and you try not to drool at his rippling thigh muscles.

“You’re so fucking dirty,” he quirks up an eyebrow, his voice noticeably deeper and gruffer, “The guys are going to be so pissed.”

With a sharp intake of air, he tips his head back with his eyes shut. When he reopens them, he sees you kneeled before him on the kitchen floor, eyes dilated with a virtuous gaiety. You palm his length over his underwear without warning, causing him to groan out loud, bucking forward when you inch closer to give his clothed budge a few kitten licks.

The desperation of his situation only seems to increase in severity when you tug down the elastic band of his boxers and slide them off his legs, finally freeing his erection which springs out from its confines, slapping hard against his abdomen.

Jungkook’s much bigger than you expected, his tip angry and red, leaking with pearly beads that dribble down his length and the bulging veins that line it. He is also hard. Very painfully hard and throbbing red, because you are so angelic and sinful all at the same time, and it’s making him really fucking desperate.

“Fucking hell. B-Babe, don’t tease, please,” his entire body shivers when your hot breath passes through to the sensitive skin of his cock. He’s fucking aching with need.

Jungkook’s jaw drops, continuing his string of curses, but the words are instantly replaced with a breathy moan as you press his tongue to his navel, licking down his happy trail teasingly. Locking eyes with him, your fingers gingerly trace the soft lines of his abdomen, lingering over the sensitive flesh above his member and nipping at it, teasing him in ways you could have only imagined before.

Leaning in, you take his dick in your hands – it’s thick, hot and throbbing with need. Eyes still locked with his, you plant a soft kiss at the head in an almost kitten-like fashion and your tongue tingles at the taste of his pre-cum that already accumulated smelting on the saturated expanse.

You’ve wanted to do this for the longest time. You don’t know how many times you’ve thought of running your tongue along the underside his length from the base to head, taking each ridge and curve into account, your head bopping up and down, pleasuring him to no end and revelling his deep, sinful moans.

You look up through your eyelashes, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook has his head tipped back again in pleasure, his irises are gone, eyeballs rolled back in his head as he clenches down at his teeth to hold back his moan.

The very sight sends an electrifying heat down to your arousal. You want to suck him off so badly and make him feel like the man on the moon. So you start peppering light kisses onto the head, before capturing his length into the warm moistness of your mouth, prompting a raspy fuck from him, and hollow your cheeks enough to press against the sides.

Parting away from his tip, your tongue licks the underside of his cock before finding its way to his balls, sucking hard on them and rolling them around in your mouth one by one. Jungkook bucks his lips forward at this as dirty curses erupt from his throat.

“Fuck babe, that feels fucking good,” he runs his fingers through your dishevelled locks, trying his best to stifle his moans.

Upon his reaction, you smile to yourself, continuing to alternate your tongue between his balls and his hard shaft. When you take his cock into your mouth again, you thrum blithely at the fullness of him, opening your mouth wider to take him deeper until you bottom out, nose brushing against the tussock of cleanly trimmed pubic hair at his navel.

“Fuck, you’re so good. I’m so fucking lucky,” he says, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear.

Saliva pools in your mouth as you start swirling your tongue around the head instead, humming in response at how he tastes and feels on your tongue. The vibrations make him shiver, one hand at the back of your head and the other on the kitchen counter. You pop off audibly after a while, hand still working at the base of Jungkook’s cock, fondling his balls.

“Want to fuck your mouth so bad,” he growls and your entire body quivers.

Grabbing his cock, Jungkook repeatedly taps his meat against your cheek, waiting for your permission before he steers it into your mouth again. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps your hair tight in his fist and starts thrusting his dick into your mouth harder than ever, filling you to the brim.

Your jaw slackens while taking in all of him, the tip of his cock hitting the deep back of your throat. You take in as much of him as you can, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as he continues to hit the back of your throat. It’s uncomfortable, but the weight of him on your tongue makes your bundle of nerves burn, your underwear wetter than ever.

“Jesus, you’re fucking good at sucking me off.”

It’s when you hum in pleasure with Jungkook’s cock still halfway down your throat that he lets out something of a wail. His mind is in turmoil and he can’t think straight for the better of him. He can only think about how fucking hot you look on your knees, in between his thighs, giving him the best blow of his life. Eyes hazy and obsidian, he believes that this is the most erotic sight he has ever seen and he’s fucking turned on.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty like this. I’m going to come soon, but I’m not coming unless it’s in your tight sweet pussy.”

“Shit,” you mutter at his filthy talk, pulling back up from his cock to pant for air, but the strings of dibble trailing from his cock to your swollen lips arouse you even more.

“Come on, let’s go to my room before anyone wakes up and gets the shock of their lives.”

He pulls you to your feet, palms smoothing your ass cheeks and smacking each side hard, before he leans in to smash his lips on yours. Fuck, he can taste himself on your lips and in your mouth and this only increases his desire to fuck you senseless. Impatiently, he sweeps you off your feet effortlessly, carrying you bridal style to his room. You try not to stifle at how frantic he is, his red aching cock still hanging out, while his sweats are still pooled around his ankles.

Kicking his bedroom door open, he lies you gingerly on the bed before walking over to lock his door. When he returns with a hazy smile, he lowers his body on top of yours and your hands naturally clutch around his neck. Your heart thumps when you can feel the frenzy of his pulse underneath your fingers.

His fingers secure around your chin, tilting your face up to meet his lips in a kiss, filling you with liquid heat. This one is slow but heated and still leaves you completely breathless. Before you can lick his mouth, Jungkook pulls away from your mouth to slide your shirt up.

You find his fingers carding through your hair as if to soothe your nerves, before they trail down to your neck and over the dark red bruises on your neck from earlier on to rest on your shirt, tapping a rhythm against your chest. You give him a nod and his fingers begin unbuttoning your shirt, delicately ghosting his touch over your breasts and chest so painfully slow that you cry for him to hurry the fuck up.

A satisfied smirk tugs at his lips at each sound of your unadulterated desire and when your shirt is fully unbuttoned, he pulls you up in one smooth movement, tugging it off and tossing it onto the floor.

Sliding a thigh between your legs, Jungkook allows you to rut against him while his hands begin their ministrations, wandering all over your body, inspecting every inch of it, grabbing and squeezing every curve of yours. He bends forward to trail open-mouthed kisses over your bare torso and the knot of lust tightens within your abdomen.

His breath is coming out in warm swathes of air against your skin and you glance down to see his eyes, the slow blinks of his heavy lids that are eyeing your entire body, each breath laboured and concentrated with lust.

His hands rest on your hips as they squeeze and caress your skin each time you whimper his name like a mantra, while he leans forward to your neck again, the ghost of his breath leaving a trail of fire down your throat until they reach your tits.

Tugging your bra down to expose the swell of your breasts, he leans back to watch your face as his thumb darts right over your hard nipple, working a slow, lithe circle around your sensitive nipple before he tweaks the bud in between the pads of his fingers. You feel him lick at your nipple tentatively before he engulfs it in his mouth, sucking it hard while his other hand fondles with your other mound.

It’s a tidal wave, causing wetness to pool between your thighs and you press them together, trying to create some friction or subside the uncomfortable stickiness invading your underwear.

Lowering himself down between your thighs, you wait with bated breath before he starts licking and bestowing kisses on your navel and then down to your inner thighs, leaving you gasping at the sensation of his hot breath dancing across your sensitive skin.

You emit a soft whimper which then melts into a desperate moan when he buries his nose against the cotton of your panties, his mouth teasing your bud through the soaked fabric. Very timidly, you raise your hips, seeking friction, and Jungkook receives you with the same hunger.

“Going to eat you out so well you’re going to forget your fucking name and only remember mine.”

His eyes, hazy with lust, lock with yours and he smirks viciously. The concupiscent blackness you found within them swallows you whole.

Your nerves jitter anxiously, raising tiny bumps of excitement across your skin as his fingers graze over your clit generously. Your body arches involuntarily when he licks a brazen stripe up your folds with his flattened tongue, taking in all of your juices. The sudden invasion of his tongue has you purring in delight.

He edges your clit eagerly, flicking it with his tongue, teasing in circles before he sucks on it roughly and then lapping at it hungrily like a starved man. Gasping loudly, you bring one hand to cover your mouth, your breath stuttering as your other hand goes down to tug hard at his raven locks, your hips bucking forward and into his mouth.

You mewl out loud when he slips his tongue inside your tight walls, fucking you with the flat of his tongue. Just when you think it couldn’t feel any better, he eases one finger into you slowly, smoothly sliding over your soaking wet folds until it’s knuckle-deep inside you. When you throw your head back in pleasure, he adds another finger, pulling his mouth away to focus on scissoring you and hitting all the right spots.

“You like teasing me, don’t you? How about now?”

Without warning, Jungkook begins curling his fingers inside you, spreading your lower lips wide to allow your juices to flow past his knuckles and drip onto his bedsheets. His fingers continue his assault on your pussy for moments and moments, pounding mercilessly into you, the heel of his palm taking its place on your clit.

The squelching sounds of his finger delving in and out of you are melodic to his ears, reverberating through the room. He then brings his lips back onto your clit and the cadence of his tongue on your clit is tantalising, tongue either lapping lazily at your clit or sucking on it ardently.

Adrenaline runs through his entire body, lighting up his nerves like firecrackers. He can’t believe this is happening. “I could eat you all fucking day. You’re so hot, Y/N.”

With the combination of his tongue and fingers furiously fostering your orgasm, you know you’re not going to last for very long.

“Jungkook, please. I’m going to cum soon. Please, please,” you whimper helplessly on his sheets.

Upon seeing your rolled up eyes, parted mouth and arched back, accompanied by the loud moans and cries leaving your mouth, the music of your voice pleading for him, he pulls away from your clit, smiling proudly to himself.

“You’re not coming now. You can only come on my dick.”

You moan disgruntledly at the loss of his fingers and tongue, feeling empty all of a sudden. Shooting him a glare of betrayal, you’re about to scream at him for being a tease, but your eyes widen when you see his flushed skin, plump lips, shiny forehead, your own glistening nectar leaking from his lips and dribbling down to his chin and neck.

And suddenly, you’re tongue-tied, squirming again. The throb in your core is torturous, your entire body is caught in a crossfire as you lie pliantly under Jungkook as his arms cage around you, helplessly soaking his bedsheets.

You want him to wreck you.

He pushes your trembling thighs apart as he settles between them. You whimper when you finally feel the head of his cock prodding at your soaked lips. But he doesn’t enter immediately. Instead, he slaps his cock against your pussy, and the filthy action only turns you on even more, driving your nerves into a frenzy.

It seems like eons when he finally sheathes himself inch by inch inside you, till his cock is up to the hilt, and god, it feels so fucking incredible. The electricity that shoots through your blood is like a drug.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you hiss, threading your fingers into his hair as he groans at the feeling of you surrounding him. He waits for your entire body melts into him before moving. You can only keen at the surge of fullness, clenching around his thick length. Biting your lip to keep yourself from waking up your housemates, you reach up for Jungkook to pull him into another kiss.

With his lips still locked with yours, he fucks you so thoroughly, the agonising roll of his hips hits that sweet spot with deadly accuracy, your body writhing in pleasure.

The warmth of your pussy makes his eyes roll to the back of his head, especially when your walls mould around every ridge and vein of his cock. He loves watching how his cock disappears into you, your tight pussy swallowing it up to the hilt with no difficulty, taking him so fucking well. So he draws his hips back, and you can feel every inch of his heat going with the motion before he swiftly plunges his cock back into you. Unrelentingly hard. Over and over again.

Your back arches at the sensation and wanton desire for more, moaning his name out loud like that’s the only thing you know.

You can feel the need and lust in his thrusts, from the way his fingers dig into your hips and hold you in place, leaving bruises on your skin as he rams himself into you, without even bothering to muffle the sound of his toned thighs hitting the back of yours every time your hips meet. You fucking love this, fucking love how strong his thighs are, how full his cock is making you feel.

Each dirty, fast slap of skin and the momentum of his cock buried deep inside of you only makes the two of you needier. Jungkook doesn’t tease this time, probably not able to hold back anymore, and the bucking of his hips builds up to a fast, animalistic frenzy, plunging his cock into your body. He hammers roughly against your g-spot enough to rock your body forward and back with every thrust, warming your body like sunlight.

He reaches to fondle with your breasts, tugging potently at your nipple before sucking hard on it. Looking up, you see him smiling brightly, flashing his bunny smile and it drives you insane how he can fucking you so good, but still look so innocent at the same time.

“Love you so fucking much,” an enticing lilt caresses the edges of his already hoarse voice, the smile on his lips growing wider. It’s the same fond grin he gives you when he sees you in the kitchen, in the hallways in school and when you’re back home after a long day at school and goes straight to join him at the couch after you two were past the I-hate-you-fuck-off stage.

“Love you, love you, fucking love you.”

A saccharine smile dances in the corners of his lips as he kisses you roughly, the shaken quavers of your moans thaw in the heat of his kisses, as his hands grope your ass tightly, still fucking you so well.

Each slickened thrust is accompanied with a deep roll of his hips so that he is right there inside of you, causing you to feel choked at how close you are. Hazy with ecstasy, you roll your head against the pillow, nails digging deeper onto his back.

With eyes rolled back, your entire body trembles with pleasure as your cunt suctions around his cock, alongside the burning feeling of fire pooling low on your abdomen. You’re clamping down on him hard enough that he’s delirious, his steady pace becoming more frenzied.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Jungkook. I’m coming!”

He leans forward to press a kiss on your eyelids, whispering sweet praises into your ear as he brings one hand to rub the small hard bub unrelentingly to relieve your tense bundle of nerves.

Determined for you to reach your high, Jungkook grabs at your knees, hiking your leg over his shoulder and you let out a cry at the new position.

“You love this? You love it when I fuck you harder?”

You scream out a yes when he taunts you even more, feeling every single ridge of his dick against your walls as he fucks you at a better angle of access. It feels so, so fucking good.

He speeds his hips up so much so that the sound of skin slapping fills the room, almost overpowering your moans. Almost. You don’t even fucking care if your housemates can hear your filthy moans.

“Fuck,” you groan shamelessly when the coil inside you grows tighter and tighter, hotter and hotter. “J-Jungkook, I’m fucking cl-close. Please, please!”

“That’s right,” the smallest of smirks tugs at the corner of his mouth upon hearing you beg and he continues to fuck you harder than before. Fucking you into oblivion. “Come for me, love.”

Beneath his touch, you feel light and heavy all at once, while a white heat pools in your belly. Your body locks up entirely and then dissolves into an erratic series of spasms. Your legs writhe uncontrollably alongside a torrent of ecstasy that splurges from your center, head spinning to static noises and hot moans as Jungkook holds onto your body firmly to help you through your climax.

After your high, Jungkook resumes to move in and out you, while a combination of a hoarse moan and your name is strangled out of his throat from the depths of his lungs.

“Shit, fuck, I’m coming,” his voice trail off and his thighs tense as he slams into you, holding your hips firmly in place. Your small fingers thread through Jungkook’s hair, holding him close and urging him on.

“Come inside me, please. I want you. I want your hot cum.”

He lets out a deep moan, his face burying into the crook of your neck and shoulder as he rides out his orgasm, moaning and whimpering into your ear as he releases deep into you, spurts of warm cum filling you so full and spritzing your walls white. He ruts into you until your pussy milks him for all he’s worth.

He can feel his pearly cum oozing out of your clenching entrance, slipping down your trembling thighs. He doesn’t pull out just yet, dick still nestled inside of your tight walls, wanting you to feel full with his cum. When he finally pulls out, he collapses on top of you, planting kisses all over your face before nuzzling into the warmth of your neck.

Still trembling with the power of your orgasms, the both of you stay like that for a few minutes, just catching your breaths and enjoying the swims of your heads in a comfortable silence.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breaks the silence with a chuckle before sliding down between your legs again.

“W-Wha—”

Prying your legs apart, his eyes land on your pussy that’s dripping with his cum and he lets out a guttural groan at the dirty view. He gives your clit a chaste kiss and your hips buck up into his face as he gathers his juices onto his tongue, tasting the otherworldly mix of your juices.

“I’m cleaning you up, babe.”

Flushing red like summer cherries with a hazy smile dancing on your lips, you whimper. “H-Ho—”

He cuts you off by diving right back in to lick a stripe up your slit and you jolt, both legs trembling and breath hitching in your throat. Soon, he has his face buried deep in your cunt again, lapping at your cunt and even throws both of your thighs over his shoulders to keep you from slamming your legs shut.

It’s so fucking filthy. And so unbelievably hot.

When Jungkook pulls back with his spellbinding smile, licking the leftover juices on his lips, you feel as though you might come for the second time. He surges forward to meet your lips and your head spins from tasting the sweetness of your juices together.

He places another tender kiss to your forehead before settling onto his back and you naturally roll yourself over, nuzzling snuggly into his warm embrace.

It’s a cuddle fest in the middle of the bed arms thrown over each other, legs entangled despite the remaining sweat and love juices. Jungkook is grinning hazily at you, breathless, and he feels his heart do a fucking waltz. He sure can live with this.

When morning arrives, the sun is shining through a different window than you’re used to and you’re not your bed. The air is orange and the sunlight that bounces off the bedroom walls is nothing but welcoming. Rubbing the heels of your palms into your eyes, you see fragments of dust in the air, whirling around like snowflakes.

Beside you on the bed is Jungkook, who’s sleeping soundly, with dishevelled locks and swollen lips and the rise and fall of his chest comforts you more than you’d ever know.

At this, the memories of last night come rushing back to you almost immediately and your heart gnaws at how real this is. You look around Jungkook’s room. You see the few pictures on his wall and you spot one with you in it, sending your heart ricocheting even more furiously in your ribcage. There’s a fire within you that’s made of soft, satin embers whenever you think about him.

You can still remember the moment you first laid eyes on Jungkook – how you were clouded with anger about the boy who stole your seat during lecture. Who would have ever imagined that you’d be here in his bed, hopelessly in love with him.

Jungkook starts stirring awake in his sleep when he feels a sliver of warm sunrays permeate the thin skin of his eyelids. When he fully opens his eyes, he’s met with the sight of a beaming you (he thinks that you outshine the sun, but he decides to keep those thoughts to himself) staring straight at his face.

Your smile doesn't falter or diminish when you’re caught, but only increases, as a soft good morning leaves your lips, while the tip of your tongue tastes of honey sweet and last night’s dalliance. He mumbles a good morning back, planting a kiss on your lips and the two of you look at each other.

This is something. To be seen by another human being. To be vulnerable and transparent with no filters. To be transparent. This something is love. Love that’s easy. Like a liquid or gas. Love that finds its way in. Love in its simplest form. Love that the two of you understand.

“Breakfast?” You card your fingers through his locks, before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Only if you help me with the microwave.”

From the warmth of your caramel eyes, to the tender slope of your nose and to the apple of your cheeks, his eyes soften at the sight.

“Actually… Maybe I should do it instead,” he adds, his chocolate brown eyes flicker from you to your fingers, lacing your fingers with his.

“Huh?”

“Well, I can’t let the microwave explode on you, can I? I’d never bring any harm to you.”

“Dude… That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” you grin, humour colouring the corners of your mouth.

“I poured my heart out to you and you think this is the sweetest? Geez. And you just dude-d me after I fucked you so good last night?”

“Shush, love is a willingness to sacrifice.”

A summer-night silence which lay for a thousand miles envelopes the two of you, both of you just enjoying the swim of your heads.

Jungkook breaks the silence, voice softer than ever, “I do, you know?”

“Huh?”

He reaches for your hand and brings it up to his lips, pressing tender kisses on your knuckles, with the little stars glistening in the velvet night sky of his eyes, “I do love you.”

But before you could respond, a beep comes from your phone and you instinctively reach out for it.

[From: Namjoon]

[12:37] for fuck’s sake… the walls are thin in this humble abode fyi

[12:37] our poor ears…

[12:37] you guys went from figuratively fucking each other up to literally fucking each other

[12:37] as least you guys… are happy and not trying to kill each other

[12:37] happy that you all have found love uwu i can cry right now

“Fucking loser,” you mutter as you hand Jungkook your phone to view the incoming messages. “Namjoon’s onto us. This is so embarrassing.”

“I think we were a little too loud last night.”

“And whose fault is that?” You tease with a waggle of your eyebrows.

“I’d take credit where it’s due,” he laughs and you don’t miss the glint of mischief that hides underneath the flutter of his eyelashes as he engulfs you in another tight embrace.

You think you like this, maybe a little too much: your head on his broad chest, his chin on your head as you lie snug in his arms, fingers interlaced, heartbeats as one. You adore how perfectly your body fits in Jungkook’s calming embrace, how he holds you like you are his world, not too tight and not too loose. Like you hold the stars in his eyes in place.

“You make me weak, Jungkook,” you murmur softly like the way a snowflake would fall, lips hovering over hips.

He hums in response and presses a kiss to your forehead. Brushing your hand gingerly over the latter’s jaw, a smile flutters on the edges of your lips with utter adoration, with a love so blazingly radiant that it rivals the intensity of the sun.

Pressing your lips onto Jungkook’s, you whisper, deciding to dismantle the high walls of your heart for good, “But I love you. So much that I don’t mind being weak with you.”

Note | Finally.... it’s up. A big phat uwu, everyone!! 45 pages on word doc. It has been a long, insane ride writing this – I think I started in August after posting Set On You. For my lovelies who’ve been waiting for this fic since forever, thank you for waiting and expressing your excitement for it! I love you guys so much :( I’m such a slow writer sksdjsdsdsd and I don’t know why my fics are always so long – it’s like I have so many things I want to write and I can’t leave out any scene?? Formatting it on this site takes up like an hour,,, but wbk.

Thank you for reading this and if you enjoyed it, hit that like or reblog button or/and hmu in my inbox/dms! ♡ Merry Christmas and have a great 2019! There will be more fics to come (probably shorter ones... pl0x)

Also, I added my thigh kink for you Ash uwu @jiminspjm

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sassy-starker · 5 years

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Welcome To The Neighborhood

This took me a bit since I was setting up my dorm and starting classes.

This is a mob boss!Tony AU mixed with a coffee shop AU!

TW: guns, blood, violence Tony Stark was a name to be feared. Everybody knew who he was, for he practically ran the entirety of New York, but nobody knew what he looked like. It was better for the man if they couldn’t recognize him but still feared him.

Tony Stark was a rich mob boss who could get anything he wanted, so why the hell was he currently living in a shitty, run-down apartment in Queens? Well, that’s a story and a half.

People were beginning to look for Tony, wanting to find out who he is so they could possibly take him down, which was impossible, but it was still a threat. So, he consulted the most loyal men and women he had and they came up with a plan.

Tony Stark was currently Will Garner, a writer who was barely scraping by and lived in a run-down apartment in Queens. It was the perfect disguise.

Tony assumed that nobody in the apartment building would try to greet him and give him a banana bread to welcome him like people did in suburbs and TV shows, and he didn’t mind it in the slightest. Luckily, he was almost right.

Keyword: almost.

Three days after Tony moved in, there was a soft series of knocks on his door. It was around five pm, which felt awfully late for someone to come over to his apartment. He dragged himself off his couch and slugged over to the door, ready to tell someone off. When he opened the door, though, any thoughts of telling the knocker to fuck off were completely gone.

In front of Tony stood a young man with curly brown hair, glasses, and a bright smile on his face. He was holding a platter of cookies with plastic wrap over it.

“Hi! I’m Peter Parker! I just wanted to welcome you to the building.”

Peter Parker might have been the most wonderful name that Tony had ever heard. The boy spoke quickly and quietly, adding more to the attractiveness of him. Tony didn’t have a chance to say anything before the man spoke up again.

“I meant to come by earlier, but I’ve been taking extra shifts to scrape by,” Peter explained sheepishly. “I was able to get my hands on some ingredients, though, so I made an assortment of cookies because I wasn’t sure what you liked.”

“Thank you, Peter,” Tony said, cutting off his rambling. Peter gave him a small smile that Tony returned.

“Just thought it would be nice to welcome you, uh . . .” Peter started but trailed off, waiting for Tony’s name.

“Will Garner,” Tony told him smoothly and without missing a beat.

“It’s nice to meet you, Will,” Peter said and handed the platter over.

“Do you want to come in? We could just chat and get to know each other. I haven’t really had a chance to meet anyone since I moved here,” Tony asked while motioning inside.

“I’d love to,” Peter replied with a blush painting his cheeks, “but I have a shift in a few minutes and really have to get going. We could always meet up later if you’re okay with it.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter smiled again and turned around to head out, but before he reached the staircase, Tony called out, “And, Peter?”

The young man turned around and looked at Tony.

“Thank you for the cookies.”

+++

A week later and Tony still hadn’t had a chance to sit down and talk with Peter. Every time he saw the man, he was heading out to a shift at wherever he worked or Tony himself was going out to a meeting with the higher-ups in the mob who knew where he was.

Tony was walking back from one of those meetings, tired as hell because it had gone on until it was eleven. Now it was nearing half-past eleven and he needed to just get back before he collapsed of exhaustion. His eye was caught, though, by a little coffee shop about two blocks from his apartment. Making a quick decision, he walked inside.

The coffee shop was small and cozy. There were couches toward the back of the store and almost all of the seats were armchairs. Everything was mismatched in a way that made it stand out without feeling out of place. The shop was warm and smelled of fresh coffee and vanilla. Nobody was at the counter, but there was a bell with a small sign written in chalk that read ‘ring for service’.

Tony rung the bell as he looked at the menu and the display case of pastries. When someone walked out and he glanced up, he saw Peter Parker in the flesh.

“Peter,” he said with a smile, surprising the boy, “I didn’t know you worked here!”

“Oh, hey, Will!” Peter greeted cheerily. “Yeah, I’ve been working here for a few years to save up for college. What are you doing out this late?”

“I was working on my novel and decided I wanted to grab some coffee, so I wandered around a bit before I found this place,” Tony told him, the lie easily rolling off his tongue.

Peter gave a soft laugh and asked him what he wanted to order, to which Tony replied, “What would you suggest?”

“If you’re looking for something strong, then I would suggest the Snapdragon blend, but if you’re looking for something more light and sweet, then I’d say you should go with the Lily Latte.”

“I think I’ll go with the Snapdragon,” Tony decided and reached into his wallet to pay, but was interrupted by Peter.

“It’s on the house,” the boy said, turning around and beginning to make the coffee.

“Are you sure?” Tony asked him.

“Completely.”

Tony leaned against the counter as Peter made his drink, letting silence fall over the cafe. The smell of the blend wafted through the shop, making the air feel warm and full.

“So, everything here is named after flowers?” Tony questioned, breaking the silence.

“Yep!” Peter answered with a smile, handing over the coffee. When their hands touched briefly, his face turned red, which made Tony smile a bit. “My friend’s dad owns the place and started it up when I was fifteen. My friend, his dad, and I had been brainstorming themes and I came up with the flower idea. He started it and I got a job. Been working here ever since.”

“It’s nearly as cute as you,” Tony told him nonchalantly. It made Peter’s face turn a darker shade of red. “Do you wanna sit with me and finally get around to talking? It doesn’t seem like it’s super busy at the moment.”

“Uh, sure,” Peter replied. “I’m just gonna make myself something to drink first. Make yourself comfortable. As the boy turned around to start working on his own beverage, Tony began to look around for a good place to sit. Eventually, he decided on the couch near the back of the store. He plopped himself down and waited for the boy. When he finally lifted the mug to his mouth and took a sip of the coffee, he thought he was in heaven.

“Peter, this might be the best coffee I have ever had,” Tony told him seriously when the boy plopped down in the armchair next to the couch Tony was sitting on the corner of.

“You’re just saying that,” Peter replied with a blush before taking a sip from his own mug.

“I am dead serious, Pete.”

The next while was filled with chatter and getting to know each other. Tony found himself actually telling the truth about himself when it came to things he liked and his inner problems. Of course, he had to lie when it came to his career and his heritage, but he was as truthful as he could be in the situation. When the clock on the wall began chiming to announce that it was five am, Peter took his and Tony’s mugs and walked back behind the counter to wash them, the mob boss following him and leaning over the counter to keep him in his line of vision.

“My shift’s over and my replacement for the morning shift will be here any second, so I’ve got to get back home to sleep before my next shift,” Peter told Tony as he dried the mugs with a towel and put them back on a shelf. Tony couldn’t help but note how all of the mugs were mix-matched just like the rest of the shop.

“We can walk back together,” Tony replied. Peter smiled at him and the two began to leave. As they walked out, a woman walked through the door in the same uniform Peter was wearing. The two baristas greeted each other and that was the end of it.

Peter and Tony walked back to the apartment complex in silence, basking in each other’s company. When they got into the building, they climbed the stairs until they reached the third floor, which was where Peter’s apartment was. Peter unlocked the door and opened it, but turned around before he walked through.

“Thanks for stopping by the shop today,” the younger man said before going up on his tiptoes to be able to reach and kissing Tony on the cheek. Then, with a bright blush and no more words, he walked through the door and closed it behind him.

Tony stood in front of the door, frozen with shock. Slowly, he lifted a hand to the cheek where Peter had kissed him and smiled. He turned around and climbed the stairs up to the fourth floor, going into his own apartment and collapsing onto the couch. He was on cloud nine. He fell into a dream-filled sleep that he didn’t wake up from until the afternoon.

+++

“Are you even paying attention, Tony?” Natasha asked him with a glare. She was sitting right next to him at the conference room table that also had all the higher-ups sitting around it. Tony snapped out of his daydream and turned to her.

“Of course. Why?” he asked, feigning innocence.

Natasha sighed in exasperation and gave a roll of her eyes. Everybody else watched the interaction go down without a word.

“Seriously,” Steve spoke up with a serious voice, “what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Tony assured him, but it didn’t really convince anybody at the table.

“I know that look,” Rhodey chimed in an annoyed tone. “I know that look and that is a dangerous look.”

“What look?” Sam asked him, confusion laced into his voice.

“The look,” Natasha answered with a tired and annoyed glare at Tony.

“I don’t have the look!” Tony defended.

“You have the look and denying it only makes it worse,” Rhodey told him.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky cut in, “but what’s the look?”

“The look that Steve had when he first started hanging out with you,” Natasha explained, turning to Bucky.

“Wait,” Bucky said, making everybody turn to him. “Are you in love, Tony?”

“I’m not in love!”

“You’re in love,” Rhodey said conclusively.

“Who is it?” Steve questioned with a mischievous smile.

“Nobody!” Tony replied with a glare.

“You’re not leaving until you tell us who it is,” Bucky told him, mimicking Steve’s smile.

“I cannot believe I let all of you be my higher-ups,” Tony groaned, putting his head down on the cold table.

“Tell us! Tell us! Tell us! Tell us!” Sam began to chant, Bucky and Steve joining in. The entire group began to chant it, pressuring Tony to speak up.

“His name is Peter, okay!?” Tony finally shouted, lifting his head up from the table and throwing his hands into the air in exasperation. “Are you happy now?!”

“What’s his last name, Tony?” Natasha interrogated.

With a sigh, Tony answered, “Parker. His name is Peter Parker.”

Natasha pulled her laptop out of her satchel. It looked inconspicuous enough, but it was equipped with gear and equipment powerful enough to hack the pentagon. She began to search through files about Peter Parker, wondering if there was any dirt on him. Tony glared at her all the while.

“Peter Parker, age 21, born in New York. His parents died in a plane crash and left him to his aunt and uncle. Uncle died when shot during a robbery. Aunt died of a heart attack. He still lives in the apartment that he was raised in,” she read off to the room. Rhodey, who was sitting next to her, grabbed the laptop to read for himself.

“He had no affiliations with any gangs or mobs. No criminal record. He was top of his class and valedictorian but never went to college. He currently works at-”

“The Vanilla Orchid,” Tony said, cutting him off. “He’s been working there since he was fifteen to save up for college. He wants to go into chemical engineering. He’s a genius in science and in the kitchen.”

Everyone looked up at him in shock, wondering how the man knew all of this information.

“He likes the color yellow,” Tony continued, “but also loves green. Not lime green, but the kind of green you would find on leaves in a rainforest. His favorite time of year is early spring because he likes to watch the snow melt away and the flowers start to bloom. He’s never been out of New York but has always wanted to go to Venice. He likes wool sweaters, but can’t afford them, and prefers realistic fiction over any other genre. He uses watercolor paints when he can afford them and always, always, carries a polaroid camera with him.”

“How do you know so much about him?” Steve asked in bewilderment.

“We hang out when he has night shifts and it’s not busy at the cafe,” Tony told him with a shrug.

“You really like this guy, don’t you?” Rhodey asked Tony softly.

“Yeah,” Tony told him with a soft smile. “Yeah, I really do.”

“Go get him, hoe!” Sam told him while pumping a fist in the air. Everybody laughed and got back to the meeting.

+++

For the next month after Peter kissed Tony on the cheek, the two had been dancing around each other. They flirted when they hung out at the cafe and dropped slight hints in their text messages. Tony would constantly compliment him in an effort to see him turn red and stumble over his words. Peter always seemed embarrassed by how he reacted to the sweet words, but Tony had assured the young man that he found it cute.

It had been a month of staying up all night at the cafe and talking on the phone and good morning and goodnight texts. It was sweet and Tony was just falling deeper and deeper in love with Peter, which is why he decided to finally invite the younger man to his apartment.

Tony and Peter had arranged for Peter to come around at one pm so they had time to hang out before Peter’s afternoon and night shifts, but enough time for Peter to sleep after his shift that went until five am. Tony had been rushing around to make sure that any clues of who he truly was were hidden away and kept secret. Of course, he made sure that he had some weapons hidden around every room in the event that someone found him, but he wanted to be sure that Peter didn’t see them.

At one pm exactly, there was a knock on Tony’s door. When he opened it up, he saw Peter holding a container of brownies, presumably homemade. He was wearing a wool, pastel purple sweater and a pair of white jeans along with black ballet flats. He was smiling that bright smile and had a faint blush painted across his cheeks.

Tony moved aside to let Peter in and shut the door behind the boy. Peter set the brownies down on the kitchen counter and turned to Tony.

“How’s the novel going?”

Tony laughed and sat down on the couch, motioning for Peter to join him. The younger man sat as close to him as he could without their bodies touching.

“The novel’s going well,” Tony told him, lying through his teeth. “I’ve been going back and editing some bits to make sure that the chapters I’m writing now are making sense. I want to make sure there aren’t any plot holes. How’s the cafe going?”

“Really well, actually,” Peter told him. “We’ve been getting a lot of customers! It’s busy, but that means more money going into the cafe and more tips.”

Tony gave a small laugh at that.

The two began to talk, discussing anything and everything in the world. Tony asked Peter about colleges he would like to go to and Peter asked Tony about his writing. The two teased each other about small things, unafraid to joke about each other.

A little over an hour after Peter came over, they started hearing voices outside the door. The two looked at each other at first but brushed it off as a neighbor having some people over, but when the voices didn’t go away, they became suspicious. Dread began to build up in Tony’s stomach, having a feeling about what was happening. He pressed a button on his watch to alert his higher-ups of what was happening and then turned to Peter.

“I need you to hide in the bedroom.”

“Tony, I-” Peter started.

“There’s no time!” Tony cut him off urgently. “You have to hide!”

“Tony, I know what’s-” Peter tried again.

“Please, Peter!” Tony pleaded, motioning him to the bedroom. Before either could say anything more, the door was kicked in. Men and women in black suits entered, pointing guns at Tony. Tony had already grabbed a gun that was secured under the coffee table, though, and was ready for it.

It was a standoff and everyone was silent . . .

Until a gun was fired toward Peter.

The young man moved out of the way in time so only his shoulder was grazed. Before Tony could even fire, Peter pulled out a gun from the waistband of his jeans and fired at the woman who had tried to shoot him, a bullet going right through her heart. Everyone stared at him in shock and Peter took the opportunity to fire. He shot three more people dead, bringing everybody back to reality.

It was Peter and Tony versus the six that were alive. The two were quick to dive behind the couch. Tony popped up and surprised the intruders, shooting two of them dead. The rest tried to fire, moving forward, but Tony ducked and Peter shot up, killing another. The two crawled across the floor and took cover under the kitchen table. Tony stopped for a moment, watching Peter, who crawled out under the other side of the table, shooting two more, one in the head and one in the chest. With only one left, Tony crawled out from the other side and shot him in the leg, bringing him down before shooting him in the head.

The apartment was silent.

“Nice shot, Tony,” Peter laughed as he crawled out from below the table and stood up, blood still running from his shoulder. He slowly dragged himself to the kitchen, set his gun down on the counter, and grabbed a dishrag, holding it over his shoulder and applying pressure in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

Tony crawled out, too, cautiously making his way over to the kitchen, too. He gave Peter a wary stare, eyes dropping to where he was holding the rag on his shoulder.

“How did you-” he started, but Peter cut him off.

“You’re not as slick as you think you are,” he told Tony with a joking tone. “Think about it. Tony Stark goes on radio silence the same day that Will Garner moves into the apartment building. The t-shirts that Will Garner wears are expensive as all hell, and yet he claims he’s an author who is barely scraping by. Will Garner never talks about his writing unless prompted and then immediately steers the conversation away from it. Will Garner had never published an article online and, according to government records, does not live in Queens, New York. And that’s how I knew that you, the so-called ‘Will Garner’, is, in fact, Anthony Edward Stark, famed mob boss that controls the city.”

“You are-” Tony stopped and collapsed in a stool at the breakfast bar with a sigh. “I underestimated your smarts and ability to figure shit out. Though, I thought you would have been running away by now.”

“I fell in love with Tony Stark,” Peter told him with a soft smile as he looked down at his feet, “but he was just under the name of Will Garner. Same person, just with a different job.”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly call it a job,” Tony joked, making both of them laugh. Peter opened his mouth to say something more but was interrupted by five people running in, all with guns in their hands and ready to kill. When they entered and saw all the dead bodies on the floor, they pointed their guns at the one person who they hadn’t seen before: Peter.

Peter put his hands up in the universal ‘I surrender’ position, causing the dishrag he was holding on his shoulder to fall to the floor.

“Guys! Guys!” Tony yelled, turning their attention to him. “This is Peter Parker!”

“And how do we know he isn’t with them,” Steve growled with suspicion. Natasha and Rhodey, though, lowered their guns.

“Maybe because I’m not dead and am currently bleeding,” Peter sassed with a roll of his eyes.

“And possibly because he took out seven of the men out,” Tony added on with a glare at Steve.

Bucky, Steve, and Sam lowered their guns, watching as Peter bent down and picked up the dishrag again, placing it back on his shoulder. Tony turned away from his team to face the injured man.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, scanning his body for other injuries.

“Just a graze on my shoulder,” Peter reassured him, “but it’s kinda bleeding a lot.”

Tony looped Peter’s arm, which was the one without the blood running down it, and put an arm around his waist, helping the stumbling boy out of the apartment and down the stairs, his higher-ups following them. He thanked whatever deity was out there that none of their neighbors were around. He helped Peter into the car and everybody else piled in quietly, looking on as Tony laid the boy down on his back and rested his head on his lap, keeping the rag on the boy’s shoulder and gently running his fingers through his hair.

+++

The last thing Peter remembered was Tony helping him into a car and laying him down on the leather seats. As he groggily woke up, he found himself in the softest bed he had ever been on. He looked around and realized he was practically drowning in pillows and he was in a canopy bed, the sheen curtains closed around him.

The next thing he realized was that he was dressed in silk pajamas and his shoulder was patched up. He slowly sat up, trying not to injure his wound any further. He blinked to get used to the natural light of the late morning streaming in through the tall and grand windows in the large room with its high ceilings. He looked over to see Tony dozing on the other side of the large bed. As Peter sat up completely and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the mob boss began to wake up. Peter turned around to face him.

“Are you feeling better?” Tony asked him as he sat up and made his way over to sit next to the younger man on the ledge of the bed.

“Well, I’m not bleeding and don’t feel like I’m going to pass out,” Peter replied jokingly, “so I’d say I’m feeling better.”

Tony laughed and stood up, offering his hand to Peter. He pulled the younger man up and let go of his hand so they could stretch.

“Let’s get you some breakfast,” Tony said and began to walk away, but Peter was frozen.

“Wait, breakfast?” Peter questioned worriedly. Tony turned around to him. “I missed my shift at the cafe! I didn’t even call in. Shit.”

“You were just involved in a shoot-off between two mobs and almost got shot but you’re concerned about missing your shift?” Tony questioned with bewilderment in his voice.

“Yes!” Peter exclaimed.

“Don’t worry,” Tony told him, voice returning to soft and comforting. “I called in and told them that something had happened. It’s fine.”

The tension in Peter’s shoulders was released and his eyes filled up with relief. He gave Tony a sincere thank you and then let the man lead him down to the kitchen.

Tony couldn’t help but watch Peter’s amazed eyes and excited face as they walked through the halls. He marveled at the beauty of the mansion with its chandeliers and marble flooring, having never seen somewhere so nice before.

“What would you like?” Tony asked him once they reached the kitchen. He motioned to a barstool at the breakfast bar, an invitation for Peter to sit down.

“I’m not really sure,” the younger man replied, furrowing his brow and biting on his lip as he tried to think about what he wanted.

“How about pancakes?”

The two men talked and laughed as Tony moved around the kitchen, making chocolate chip pancakes for the two of them. Any tension in the room that had been caused by the afternoon before disappeared as they made conversation.

Finally, Tony set down a plate of pancakes in front of Peter. As he turned away to go and grab his plate, Peter spoke up.

“Hey, Tony?” he muttered with shyness laced into his tone.

“Yeah?” the mob boss asked, turning around.

In a bout of courage that Peter had been trying to work up, he leaned forward and placed his lips on Tony’s, giving a short peck before pulling away.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered, his coffee-brown eyes meeting Tony’s whiskey eyes.

Without a word, Tony rushed forward and captured the younger in another kiss, every word they had ever shared melting into each other as they met their lips together like a tulip before it blooms.

And everything was okay at that moment.

#starker #starker fic #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #coffee shop au #mob boss!tony #mob boss au #this took me way too long #but im proud of it #go me #tony stark/peter parker #pro starker #axiwrites

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b-listbadboy · 4 years

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Castlevania Season 3 was disappointing

(Spoilers for Castlevania Season 3, if you haven’t seen it yet it’s out now on Netflix. I suggest watching that first before reading this review)

I won’t say it was an awful season by any stretch of the imagination but man was it a drag to get through.

Almost nothing of significance happens for the majority of the season and the things that did happen felt extremely off and weird. 10 episodes, 25 to 30 minutes each, and every single one except for the fucking TWO LAST EPISODES were spent dicking around with a mystery that had little to do with anything from season 2 beyond a really out there twist that I’m sort of iffy on. Top that off with a lackluster arguably stupid ending to leave us off on a needless cliffhanger, and that’s the magic remedy that will leave me feeling pretty damn frustrated.

The best parts, in my opinion, were with Isaac’s massive undead crusade he was waging throughout his journey for revenge, and Trevor and Syph’s interactions with each other as well as with the little villagers. Isaac’s arc going from a servant of Dracula to slowing evolving into the master of the damned felt genuine, intriguing, and badass! I really wish he was the next main villain instead as it makes sense thematically. He carries out Dracula’s nihilistic views of humanity in a similar but now more direct way and that can lead into something really intriguing. However, for some reason, this season left him and his whole journey on a back burner, and virtually everything else that is implemented into main villain role fell flat on its face execution wise.

For example; The new vampires of this season are Camilla’s three other empress sisters, and while they do have a plethora of personality at the very least, that kind of comes at a cost of the main threat being extremely diluted. We go from this hurting sympathetic undead overlord with the power of an anchent GOD, to a couple of wicked sassy sisters who just wanna eat people forever? It’s a bit lame of a progression from what we once had, we know Vampires like to eat people that’s nothing new or exciting. There’s no real twist to it besides it being “led by women in the dark ages” and granted that makes sense here since it IS the dark ages, but come on we literally just had arguably the BEST adaptation of friggin’ Dracula! This shouldn’t be all they got moving forward from that.

Now, I have ZERO issue with the main antagonists being female or even two of the four sisters (not by blood don’t worry) being a lesbian couple. I hate that I have to emphasize this, hell I often defend Cinder Fall in RWBY more than anyone in the fandom at all despite her issues as a complex and sometimes flat out badly written character. However, The four of them in this season have the most basic of plans that it seems arbitrary status quote fluff at best. It felt like just because it’s Castlevania, we HAVE to have the vampires as the villains. Even though in the games the Belmont’s were literally fighting werewolves, dragons, skeletons, and the GRIMM REAPER??

Therefore, the sense of urgency and tense calculating plans of ‘survival vs extinction’ is completely gone. And yknow in a way, I can kinda initially SEE that working in a sort of “Empire Strikes Back” esque plot. Yknow, with Alucard and the gang go around cleaning up Dracula’s leftover horde only for Isaac or even Camilla to have this huge vengeful comeback of dominance? But there’s no one exactly “striking back” or even taking any kind of immediate initiative after Dracula’s death. It’s been MONTHS after the whole event and no one seems like they really care about that world changing event from the last two season’s. Everything is fine and dandy, no one has a single worry in the world! How enthralling...I miss Godbrand 😑

Besides the plan the four empresses have as well as Issac’s revenge, which I hope will both be more explored in season 4, no one really has any goal to warrant THAT kind of length of a season. This is more of a Netflix problem that I have with most of their shows and it’s one of the reasons why I don’t like watching them. Almost every singe show Netflix produces now, feels the need to overstuff itself with needless filler that gets us really nowhere until the very end where it SUDDENLY all comes together. But because of the nature of binge watching and considering how Netflix wants to desperately keep their subscriptions in fear of intimidating competition, they make these shows 12 episodes long with HALF HOUR OR MORE amount of filler content that’s supposed to satisfy us cause it’s “cute”?! No, stop this shit! Granted, Castlevania wasn’t nearly AS bad as the live action shows, but honestly, what exactly was shown to us that couldn’t have been reduced to like 5 solidly paced episodes focused on one or two plot lines ONLY like before? It worked perfectly back then, why change what ain’t broke?

As much as I don’t like the immediate rush of Trevor and Syph’s out of nowhere sexual relationship, I didn’t overall mind it too much since they still somewhat felt consistent. Their characteristics play off very nicely with one another and it’s pretty easy to see the chemistry between the two....HOWEVER I’M STILL GONNA COMPLAIN ABOUT IT SO HERE WE GO!

I get that they were setting them up as an endgame ship of the series, there’s no denying that, but they start fucking for what feels like (to the audience) two days after and I think that’s a bit ridiculous! Even if Alucard states that it’s been at the very least a month worth of time since the events of Season 2, there’s no real physical signs showing that statement to be true. Hell, Trevor’s beard and hair remains the same despite a HUGE passage of time where it would naturally grow out to indicate said time passing by. But both him, Syph, Alucard, and damn near everyone else looks the exact same as last season. So for all I know it could have been like a week since Season 2 and that to me doesn’t feel exactly earned. The Season 2 finale didn’t explicitly leave off Trevor and Syph officially a couple, they felt more like partners in crime more than anything else. Not to say that there wasn’t any chemistry there to develope INTO a relationship GRADUALLY, but going from a little spark of interest to the immediate jump of them sleeping together naked all comfortably as if they’re a goddamn married couple is a STRETCH! Even Trevor himself thinks so too so don’t jump down my throat about not being immediately swooned by the shipping fanservice given to us. I don’t dislike them as a couple at all, in fact I think their dynamic is cute! However, I would have also liked to have this couple feel natural and earned. They most certainly do not feel earned this way, at least to me.

Oh god, then there’s this out of nowhere sexual tension between Alucard and his new two recruits from another region hinted at in the previous season? Mind you, Alucard was doing literally NOTHING throughout the entirety of Season 3. Yep, literally the ONE DUDE WHO BASICALLY KILLED DRACULA gets about fuck all story progression afterwards out of the three. But what they DO give him are these two new vampire hunting student’s who look identical to one another (no racial they just literally look like fraternal twins) so I assumed they were either siblings or a couple, which makes it REALLY WEIRD WHEN THEY BOTH FUCK ALUCARD OUT OF NOWHERE?! I’m NOT making this shit up I promise! What makes even less sense is that it was really just a ploy for them to steal the Belmont knowledge of killing vampires to show to their people who have been enslaved. Which of course ends with them being killed so it really makes this entire conflict in his character damn near pointless besides “sad vibes check”, but here’s the thing...why didn’t they just keep doing training with Alucard?? There were virtually no downsides to having him teach you how to kill Vampires to save your village from being enslaved, he was teaching you both very well and gave you like the eternal knowledge of how to kill literally EVERY MONSTER and even let you live in the castle FOR FREE, food and wine included! What was the turning point for them to want to kill him all of the sudden? Cause he’s a vampire?? THEY FUCKING KNEW THAT ALREADY!!! Why was is suddenly not a problem at first but then coincidentally a problem now? If they wanted to use this to somehow depict this notion of “Oh my dad/Dracula was right humans are the worst” mindset, trust me, it was better conveyed with Isaac. These twins side plot not only made no sense, but also felt unjustified for Alucard to be an emo boi. I get that it’s supposed to be symbolic of him going through the same issues that both of his parents went through, but none of that really showed how bad human’s are. Just that those two twins didn’t think things through apparently. So the point of Alucard having this odd character convenience shift feels by the numbers cliché, and most importantly CHEAP.

It really makes no sense to me why they’re adding so much of this filler for such a long time, especially with some of this filler being oddly sexual. I don’t mind honest depiction of sex between consenting adults of course, but it just felt so misplaced and awkward at parts where it showed itself. I felt like I was reading a mediocre fanfic of Castlevania instead of the actual show itself! Granted, Season 2 had somewhat of a similar dilemma but the lull in between was still showing the character specifically doing things to further the story along. Towards the end, it gave us a way more satisfactory closure of that saga with Dracula that felt natural and well earned. This season however, felt like they were scrambling with different ideas here and there and didn’t know which to go with. Alucard training new recruits in his castle, Trevor and Syph figuring out an estranged (and BORING/GENERIC) cult of Dracula’s plan, Camilla setting up an army with her fellow sisterhood of evil vampires to gain ultimate power, Hector surviving captivity by using his wit and charm, Isaac raising up the dead for revenge on his deceased master, a new character introducing an all new world to the lore of Castlevania as we know it, all of these interesting concepts and ideas that could easily make up for a good season alone! And instead of focusing on one or two ideas to develope into something natural, they ended up saying “FUCK IT! Fucking I dunno what to- WE’RE DOING ALL OF IT I DUNNO!” and mixed the whole thing in a blender of different flavors that don’t necessarily blend together well enough for a tasty satisfactory meal. It just ends up being a mesh of okay at best, and gross at worst.

IN CONCLUSION, Castlevania Season 3 had a rocky start, an okay middle, and a kind of cool end. There was definitely some cool and exciting ideas implemented in here, but not enough to warrant that lengthy amount of time that Netflix seems to love to give to most of their TV shows. Sometimes less is more, and all that shiny cool glitter isn’t necessarily going to turn out to be gold. I’ll give this season a 5/10. It’s not the worst I’ve ever seen but it certainly could’ve been a lot better.

P.S. “Who Do Ya Voodoo” from Dead Island is Isaac’s new theme song, you can’t convince me otherwise.

#castlevania #season 3 spoilers #spoilers #unpopular opinion #review #netflix castlevania #critique

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comicgeekscomicgeek · 4 years

Text

Their Hero Academia: Funeral for a Friend

Presenting the next raw and unedited chapter of my on-going, next-gen, My Hero Academia fic, Their Hero Academia!

Earlier chapters can be found here Note: This installment takes place during the same week as the previous few post-Internship chapters

Tuesday

“Welcome home, Himari,” Eri said, as Kota opened the door to the young girl’s bedroom. No, not just a young girl. Their daughter. Three years old, with purple skin, pointed ears, and darker purple hair, her parents lost in a Villain attack and not even a distant relative to claim her.

They’d spent the better part of the year preparing to adopt her, getting to know her in short visits. It had been a long process, but they were both Pro-Heroes (albeit it teachers, rather than active in the field) of good reputations, with references ranging from Deku to All Might. The approval process had been rather simple when it came down to it. That she was a doctor and Kota highly trained in first aid was likely another factor in their favor.

“It’s so big!” Himari said, her eyes lighting up. “I don’t have to share?”

“All for you,” Kota assured her, bending down to her level.

Himari gasped and threw her arms around him. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

Eri could understand her joy. The foster system was by no means terrible, but far from perfect and still far too overburdened. The room was decently sized, but to the small girl, it must have seemed like a palace. The colors were mostly pink, Himari’s favorite according to the conversations they’d had, and there were plush versions of some Pro-Heroes, including a well-worn and much loved “Deku-Bear” that Momo had made for her as a child.

“We got you a lot of things we thought you’d like,” Eri said. “But if you want something different, we can try that too. We’ll help you everything all set up in the morning, okay? But right now, it’s getting late, and you need to sleep.”

She nodded rapidly, like a bobblehead doll. “Okay!” Himari looked back and forth between them rapidly. “Can we… can we read a story first?” There was so much need in that little voice, so much crying out for a little time, a little space to call her own. It practically broke her heart.

Eri smiled. “I don’t see why not,” she said. She went over to the small bookshelf and selected one of the books there. “All Might Goes to the Farm. This was one of my favorites when I was a little older than you…” Of course, she hadn’t learned to read until she was nearly seven years old, so she’d had a late start on that. But the All Might Goes to line of books were best sellers to this day, so hopefully they’d do the trick.

So they got Himari ready for bed, with new night clothes, helping her brush her teeth, and finally settled her into the bed. Eri set on the edge, book tilted so they both could see, as Himari reached out and put her arms around her.

She could feel her heart melting already.

***

Later, Eri plopped herself down on the couch, Kota joining her a moment later. He put an arm around her and gave her a small squeeze. “So, we did it. We’re parents.” To her, it sounded equal parts pride, happiness, and fear.

“We did,” she agreed, leaning against him. “Think we’ll get it right?”

“I think we’ll do the best we can,” he said. “And we’ve got lots of people we can turn to for advice too.”

Neither one of them had had what could be called a normal childhood. Kota had been raised by his aunt and her teammates on a nature preserve. She’d been tortured and experimented on for years, before being rescued by Deku and adopted by Dad and later by Mom. And as much as she loved her parents, they were hardly the most conventional of individuals, especially Dad.

Certainly, she’d had a mother. But she hadn’t had a mom until Mom had married Dad, and that hadn’t been until she was twelve, though Mom had been “having sleepovers” for years before that. So despite all the books she’d read, she didn’t have much of a firsthand perspective on what a mom was supposed to do for a young child.

She hoped she was up for it.

“Aunt Shino and the rest are coming down a couple days before the funeral,” Kota said, “so they can meet Himari. Uncle Yawara promises he’ll keep Aunt Ryuko down to a dull roar. I have my doubts.”

Eri laughed at that. “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” she said. “Dad’s coming by for breakfast tomorrow. And Mom’s coming down later in the week. She’ll get to know her whole family before too long.”

“How mad is he that we kept it a secret we were going to be adopting?” Kota asked. He was, to this day, incredibly scared of Dad. Which, given the numbers of times Dad had tried to put the fear of him into Kota when they were dating wasn’t surprising.

“Not at all,” Eri said. “He already knew. I don’t know how, but he already knew.”

Kota’s mouth opened and closed a couple times before he shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

“He did say we did a pretty good job though. He’s just that good.”

Kota just laughed. “Yeah, that’d do it.”

They were parents. Of a beautiful little girl, who might someday call her mom. It had taken her a while to feel safe enough with Dad, and had taken a lengthy explanation from Deku and Mirio as to just what a dad was, before she’d felt comfortable calling him that. Himari could take all the time she wanted, as far as she was concerned.

She hadn’t been this afraid in years. But she’d also never been happier.

***

Wednesday

Nemuri felt a splitting headache coming on and took her glasses off to rub her eyes. There was a frightening amount of paperwork involved in keeping U.A. running, much of which accumulated itself on a daily basis. However, as if he had been sensing the end was near, Nezu’s paperwork prior to his death had been completed in its entirety. It didn’t surprise her in the slightest. There was very little that had been able to surprise him.

She wasn’t unused to the paperwork. She’d been the Vice-Principal for many years now, ever since Nezu had suggested she put her interpersonal skills to work there, rather than in the classroom. Another correct decision from him and, again, unsurprising. But now, with him gone, the thought of dealing with twice the mountain of paperwork until a new Principal could be found simply made her brain ache.

They still didn’t have a clue who that would be. She certainly didn’t want the job. She was happy with her current position. And if she was honest, the Hero Public Safety Commission wouldn’t have allowed it anyone. While U.A. was, technically, a private institution, they received enough of their funding from the Commission for them to have considerable influence over policy. And she’d butted heads with them often enough over the decades that they’d never have accepted her, even if she wasn’t quite as “R-Rated” as she used to be, trading her flashy costume and dominatrix gear for a sensible if not completely modest suit jacket and skirt. She kept the boots though.

She never had quite forgiven them for giving in to pressure from “concerned citizens” and getting laws passed on just how naked a Hero could be, though. Definitely none of their business!

She was tired. The stress of the Nomu attack over the weekend, the death of Nezu, and the need to provide the children with some measure of structure, normalcy, and for those who had been involved, the counseling they needed, had all taken its toll on her. And she hadn’t seen Hizashi since Saturday. She really needed… release, but that didn’t look like it was coming anytime soon.

The door to her office opened and her secretary poked her head in, her pink hair the texture of cotton candy piled high on her head. “Vice-Principal Midnight?” she asked. She looked worried.

Nemuri looked up. “Yes, Hironaka?” she asked. Her headache was definitely starting to kick in. Whatever was going on, she had a sense it wasn’t going to be good.

“There’s some men here from the Center for Quirk Research. They want to talk to you.”

A deep, sinking feeling settled in her stomach. “Did they say what it was about?”

Hironaka frowned. “They said it was about the Principal’s…” she stumbled over the words, “remains.” The way she said it made it clear she was repeating what they had said.

Yep, there was the headache.

Fortunately, they’d anticipated this. “They’re still outside the gate?”

“Just like you asked. I said I’d have to get your approval to let them in.”

“Good,” Nemuri said. “Tell them we’ll meet them by the fountain in the main courtyard.”

She pushed back from her desk. “Time to round up the boys.”

***

Technically, it was the boys and the girls, but that didn’t have quite the same ring to it. But they’d anticipated this and made plans for it. Each of the staff she’d asked to meet her out in front of the fountain was chosen carefully for this specific meeting. Herself, of course, in her role as Vice-Principal. All Might, as the elder statesman of their faculty and profession, even with his Quirk long exhausted. Shota, for reasons which needed no explanation. Skyline, Figure Sk8, and Hopper had all been invited because they could all annoy the fuck out of anyone, and because they were all more than capable of kicking significant amounts of ass if the situation called for it. And Hawkeye, just in case things got rough.

“Is this really a good idea?” Skyline asked. “I mean, I like messing with authority figures as much as the next guy, but...”

“Shut up,” Shota said, giving the American-born Hero a glare. “You’re here to be the ugly American, not ask questions.”

“Ooouch,” Figure Sk8 said, putting an arm on her friend’s shoulder. She reminded Nemuri so much of Tensei when she smiled. She and Mic had never had children of their own, but she loved the girl, and the children of other friends, like Eri and Kota, like family. “He’s got you there, Skyline.”

“They’re coming,” Hopper said. His tongue shot out and licked his eyes.

Just two of them, fortunately. One was a balding and officious looking little man, the other a bruiser easily as tall as All Might, who looked like he had been stuffed into his suit for the express purpose of intimidation. Against normal people, it might have worked. But against seasoned Pro-Heroes like them?

Not a chance in hell.

The men stopped in front of them and presented their ID’s. Shota took both and examined them, pulling a small device from his scarf and scanning them. After a moment, it beeped and flashed green and he nodded. “Genuine,” he said, handing the ID’s back.

“I am Professor Kudo,” the balding man said by way of introduction. His eyes lingered warily on the assembled group of Heroes. This clearly wasn’t how he had expected this to go. “And this is Ueno, one of our security agents. I am here on behalf of the Center for Quirk Research.”

“We’re aware,” Nemuri said, not bothering to disguise the irritation in her voice.

The others were hanging back, letting her take the lead in this, though none of them appeared relaxed. Hawkeye kept one hand on one of her pistols in a show of dominance, maintaining eye contact with Ueno. In a showdown between the two, Nemuri knew who she’d put her money on.

“And you’re here for…” Nemuri prompted, her finger tracing circles in the air to tell them to get on with it. The sooner they stated their preposterous claim, the sooner she could kick them out.

Professor Kudo reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of paper. “Ahem, yes, I, ah, have a document here authorizing us to claim the late Principal Nezu’s body.”

They had known this was coming. In life, Nezu had been a lab rat before finding his freedom. He had fought long and hard to prove his worth and “humanity” and gain the acceptance of the government, the Hero Commission, and the public at large. He never spoke about his past beyond the most basic details, though All Might and Recovery Girl knew more than some. But what was known as that he had suffered greatly at the hands of humans who had thought him nothing more than a curiosity to be studied.

As one of the rare animals with a Quirk, beyond the horned horses sold as unicorns to the mega-rich, it stood to reason someone would want to cut him open after his death. They’d had to log the details of his death, of course, there was no hiding that… But the thought of what these people wanted still burned.

“Let me put this in words I’m sure you’ll understand,” Nemuri said. She made a gesture with her right hand and her riding crop dropped into it from its storage spot in her suit jacket. She took a step forward and smacked Kudo’s hand with it, making him cry out in alarm and drop the document.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Kudo stumbled back in surprise. “You can’t… I have the proper authorization! Signed by the director himself!”

Behind him, the giant Ueno tensed.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Shota said, “don’t.”

“It’s a lovely day,” All Might said. “It would be a shame too to spoil it with violence.” Nemuri wasn’t worried about him if things got rough. Even in his seventies, he was still more powerfully built than many men, with a lifetime of experience behind him. That his tone carried a slight warning about who would be impacting the violence on whom did not go unnoticed by the men.

Kudo, however, was proving himself to be a very stupid man. “I am an officer of the government! And I have been authorized to claim those remains for research!” He was practically turning purple with fury. “Do you know what we might learn?!”

A crack of gunfire exploded at his feet, forcing him to step back again, bumping into Ueno’s broad form. Nemuri spared a glance over her shoulder and saw Hawkeye had discharged her gun.

“You… you could have hit me!” Kudo shrieked.

“Please,” Hawkeye said, “if I wanted to hit you, I would have. Super-Accuracy, remember? That was a warning shot.”

Kudo looked around, his eyes settling on Skyline, Hopper, and Figure Sk8. “Surely one of you must have some sense?”

“<Sorry,>” Skyline said, switching back to his native English, “<I don’t speak Japanese.>”

Figure Sk8 brushed her white forelock out of her face. “They just keep me around ‘cause I’m pretty. I don’t make the decisions.”

Hopper shrugged. “All the sense in the family went to my older sister. *Croak*”

Nemuri let a sinister smile cross her face. The kind she used to put on when putting the screws to some Villain. “And even if we wanted to—which we don’t—Nezu’s going to be cremated, as per his last wishes. He was a lab rat in life. We weren’t about to see him become one in death too.”

Kudo flushed red with anger, pointing a finger accusingly. “You were told when we contacted you to hold the body for examination! This is deliberate defiance!”

“Oh,” Nemuri said, “have we been… naughty?” She shrugged, tilting her head to the side slightly. “We really do appreciate the warning, by the way. Gave us plenty of time to prepare a proper welcome.”

“You.. you… you…” Kudo babbled, too incoherent to find the right words. “You’ve making a grave mistake. I’ll take this defiance all the way to the highest levels of the government!”

Nemuri looked behind her, getting a small nod from everyone, even All Might, who had drawn himself up to his full height, any of the goofy demeanor he used around civilians completely gone. He had been one of Nezu’s few friends and took the protection of him in death very seriously.

“You’re welcome to try,” she said. “There’s not a teacher here who wouldn’t back up what we’re doing. And I’ve got any number of Pro-Heroes in my rolodex who would just love to hear what you were thinking of doing to our beloved Principal. You know, Pro-Heroes like Ingenium, Shoto, Deku.”

He growled. “This. Isn’t. Over.”

“It is for now,” Shota said. His eyes were glowing and his hair was up. “I recommend you both leave.”

Kudo held his gaze for an impressive two seconds before looking away and starting to walk off. “Come, Uedo.” The giant grunted and followed after.

“Skyline, Aizawa, see them out,” Nemuri said.

When the officials were out of sight, she finally let herself feel the tension she’d been feeling, nearly sinking to her knees. That could have gone much, much worse.

All Might helped to steady her. “You did well, Nemuri. Nezu would have been proud.”

She shook her head. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. But there’s going to be consequences for this.”

“Then we’ll deal with them when they come.”

***

Thursday

“All Might,” Nemuri said as she entered the teacher’s lounge. The school day was over and she’d already made certain that the other teachers had cause to be elsewhere. Shota was, predictably, curled up in his sleeping bag in the corner. One of these days, he was going to have back trouble from all of that.

All Might looked up from the videos he was watching from the day’s Heroics classes. 1-C by the looks of it. She could see Yoru Kan, their former fellow teacher Vlad King’s young daughter, and Haya Tanaka, the girl with the Comet Quirk who’d crashed into the 1-A dorms early into the term, protecting a “bomb” from other students in the class.

The start of the term felt like a lifetime ago. The Quirk Virus seemed to have vanished as mysteriously as it had first appeared, with no one the wiser to its origins, no matter the investigative power they had thrown at it.

“Battle trials, eh?” she asked. “I’m glad to see you finally learned not to start the classes with that.”

All Might gave her a sheepish grin. “Yes, well, live and learn, I suppose… What can I do for you, Nemuri?”

She took the seat next to him. Super-Ball’s, judging by the decorations. There was a picture of his husband, a man with a minor ice Quirk who worked as a bartender, if she remembered correctly, and stack of selfies, inscribed “From your friendly neighbor bouncing ball.”

All Might’s own cubicle was filled with pictures of his wife, son, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren, unsurprisingly, and one picture of a pretty, smiling, muscular woman with dark hair. There were also plenty of scribbled crayon drawings, including one where someone older had clearly helped the artist print “Super Mighty Fire Maid,” which, if she remembered correctly, was the current chosen future Hero name of his youngest granddaughter, Mako.

“It’s about the principal job,” she began.

He gave her a kind smile. “Well, if you want this old man’s opinion, you’re certainly more than qualified for it. You’ve certainly got my support if you want it.”

Nemuri shook her head and smiled. “I’m happy with my current position. And we both know the Hero Commission would never accept me, especially not after the feathers I ruffled yesterday.”

“The CQR can’t possibly have that much influence…”

He may have been the former Number One Hero, but All Might was blessedly naïve at times. “Hardly the only thing,” she said. “But that’s definitely a contributing factor. But I’ve been thinking it over and discussing it with some of the others. And I’d like you to take the job.”

It was a little more complex than that, but even with the influence and “recommendations” of the Hero Commission, some degree of autonomy was assured. Selecting staff was one of them. It was the only reason they had some of the teachers they’d had and did.

“Me?” he asked. “I couldn’t…”

“You’d still be able to teach some classes now and then,” she assured him. “And keep tabs on your grandson.”

“I haven’t done that…” He wilted slightly under her gaze. “Nearly as much lately.”

Nemuri sighed. “You’re the best of us, All Might. Even now. With everything going on in the world right now, with Nezu gone, with the mess I just made of everything…”

Of course, she’d had the backing of the other teachers and staff when she’d told them off. But as the Vice-Principal, she still felt it fell on her. “We need to show the world that we’re still U.A. That we’re still strong and capable of going forward. We need to show them we’re still worthy of their trust. And you inspire all of that.

“You’ve more than earned the right to do whatever you want in your golden years, All Might,” she told him. “But I’m asking you do this. For U.A. For the students. Please.”

“You do know I’m absolute rubbish when it comes to paperwork, right?” he asked.

“Then we’ll get you another secretary. Take the damn job.”

Both their heads snapped to the corner of the room, where Shota’s head was poking out of his sleeping bag.

“How long have you been awake?” Nemuri demanded. That damn man was still a ninja. It was insufferable!

“Long enough,” Shota said. “Nemuri makes a convincing argument though. Of course, if we did get shut down and I didn’t have to deal with the kids anymore, I might actually have a chance to get some decent sleep. So do what you want.” He rolled over and was back asleep in seconds.

“There is the matter of my replacement as the first year Heroics teacher, though,” All Might said. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “This is rather serendipitous, actually.”

She sometimes forgot just how smart All Might actually was. “I take it you’ve got someone in mind?”

He nodded. “Yes. He’ll take some convincing, though. And perhaps a bit of time to get fully up to speed.”

Okay, now she was intrigued. “I’m sure we can manage an effective transition plan. But who’re you talking about?”

He told her. She blinked slowly for a moment, then let out a laugh that startled All Might so badly he nearly fell out of his chair. “I knew you had a sense of humor, but…”

He shook his head. “No joke. He needs this. And he’ll be good for the students, ultimately.”

“That’s it,” Shota said, somehow back in their conversation, “I quit.”

“No quitting!” she snapped, fixing him with an icy glare. “If you quit, I’ll give Hizashi permission to hang around with you all day and night.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Don’t test me, Eraser.”

Nemuri returned her attention to All Might. “Well, I do trust your judgement. If you can talk him into it, I think we can make it work.”

***

Saturday

With the funeral on Monday, the staff of U.A. had decided to go drinking. There was a place near campus that Present Mic had discovered ages ago and it had been a tradition ever since. Kukiko Iida watched as Midnight carefully took the contents of the three smaller, brightly colored drinks set before her and poured them into a larger glass. With a look of absolutely concentration, she stirred it with a straw until it turned a color Kukiko was pretty sure there wasn’t actually a word for. What was more worrying was this was the third time and the third combination the older woman had tried tonight.

Of course, given her dad’s stories about what Midnight had been like in her younger days, none of this was a surprise. She apparently got more experimental the drunker she got.

She leaned over to her left and whispered to Samidare, “I will give you five thousand yen if you take that and drink it.”

He gave her a look which suggested he’d rather try lying to his sister. “Not on your life.”

“Coward.”

“I’m twelve years older than you. I will have the hangover from hell if I drink that. And Midnight will kill me if I come between her and her alcohol.”

“Coward,” she repeated, but leaned back over to her right. “What about you, Michael? You want to give it a go? Five thousand yen. Cash.”

Michael Skyline, despite the “stupid American jock” act he often put on to fool others (or to get out of work) was not an unintelligent man. He shook his head, which sent his mane of blonde hair flying. “Not on your life.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about hangovers too,” she teased. “You’re only twenty-eight.”

“And you’re barely twenty-three,” he said. “How can you drink me and Samidare under the table?” He was on his second glass; she’d already moved on to her fourth.

“High speed metabolism,” she told him. “And you’re a coward.”

“But I’m an alive coward,” Michael said.

“They know we can hear them, right?” Aizawa, sitting across from them, asked Hawkeye, who was sitting to his right.

“I don’t think they care,” she replied. Both of them were still on their first drinks, sipping them slowly.

“Stop trying to be a bad influence, Iida,” Battle-Fist said. Kendo Tetsutetsu pinched the bridge of her nose. A gesture, Kukiko noticed, her daughter tended to copy when frustrated.

“Does it count if I’m the youngest one?” Kukiko asked. “Can you influence up?”

“How’s your niece, by the way?” Kukikio asked. “Your sisters were out of the fighting, right?”

“Right,” Samidare said. “Thank heavens for small favors. Tsu and Satsuki were both too far out to get involved. But Asuka’s fine. She got hurt earlier, before the fighting, so she wasn’t involved either. But she’s fine now. Whole family’s fine. What about yours?”

“Uncle Tenya’s fine,” she said. “Uncle Shoto too. The Twins saw a little bit of action and Izumi wore herself out, but they’re good. As long as Momo doesn’t try and use it as an excuse to try and pull her again. Don’t know how long Uncle Sho’ can talk her out of it.”

“Be a shame if she did. Girl’s got a lot of potential.”

Kukiko frowned. “She’s worried about her. Guess that’s a mom’s job.”

Not all the teachers had been able to come, of course. Doc Clock and Water Spout were busy with their new adopted daughter and most of the second and third year Hero teachers had begged off.

“Okay, now this little beauty is complete,” Midnight said, possibly not having heard their attempts at drink thievery. She took a long swig of her drink.

“Well?” FireFox asked, the whiskers of his red panda head twitching. “What’s it taste like?”

Midnight considered this, licking her lips in such a way that both Samidare and Michel suck in a sharp breath. “It tastes like… purple,” she declared after a moment. “Veeeery purple.”

“Nemuri, dear,” a voice from the far end of the table asked, “don’t you think you ought to have some water?”

Midnight made a face and gave the green-haired woman a slightly intoxicated glare. “Why are you here again, Inko?”

Inko crossed her arms. She only had a non-alcoholic fruit cocktail sitting in front of her. “Because the last time you all engaged in these shenanigans, my husband came home drunk as a skunk at three in the morning and trying to sing. So I’m here to remind you all to be responsible.” She used her Quirk and brought her drink to her hand. “And you’re going to be, aren’t you?”

“Yes, dear,” All Might said, looking somewhat nervous at becoming the target of his wife’s ire. In their defense, All Might rarely joined their drinking excursions, claiming it was a “young person’s game” so they might have gotten a little overly encouraging when he did. But hey, they’d made sure he’d gotten home safely, right?

Inko held Midnight’s gaze for a moment, before Midnight let out a huff. “Fine,” she growled. “I’ll drink some water.”

“Thank you, dear,” Inko said. FOOSH!

“What the heck, dude?!” Super Ball, who was sitting next to FireFox, asked. “How about a little warning the next time you set your drink on fire?!”

“Fire make drink good,” FireFox told the Homeroom teacher seriously.

“I’m literally made of rubber! What if I melted?”

“Would it shut you up?” Aizawa asked.

The table erupted into laughter over that.

“I wasn’t joking,” Aizawa deadpanned. An awkward silence followed, as no one could tell for sure if he was joking.

“Ahem,” Midnight coughed, breaking the silence. She stood, albeit unsteadily. “I just want to say… I just want to say…” She frowned, trying to remember the words she wanted. “I just wanted to say thank you. All of you. I know this past week’s been rough on all of us. But we’ve pulled together and pushed forward. You guys… you guys and Mic… you’re my family. And I’m grateful for all of you. We’re… we’re gonna keep going. No matter what.”

She raised her glass. “To U.A. And to Nezu!”

Kukikio and the others raised their glasses. “To U.A.! To Nezu!”

***

Monday

In his many years, Toshinori had attended many funerals. As the Number One Hero, it had been expected of him to pay his respects to his fallen breather. He’d seen far too many fellow Heroes die in the line of duty. Until his son had broken the back of villainy rather decisively, it had been far more common for Heroes to live hard and die with their masks on. Even then, it was still a dangerous profession, and he felt both very guilty and very lucky that he had been able to retire and live to an old age.

There had been funerals where there had been almost no one to mourn for the fallen, like his late Master’s, just him and Gran Torino. Others, like Best Jeanist’s, had drawn Heroes and mourners from across the country, so beloved was the man.

For Nezu, it seemed as if the entirety of Japan had shown up. There were Pro-Heroes, including his son and his family, and many more, many of whom had been students under Nezu. There were police and politicians. There were Support Equipment designers, Agency staff, and ordinary civilians, lawyers and businessmen and others, who had been students in other courses as well; Nezu had done a remarkable job connecting with all his students. There were former U.A. teachers. There were all sorts of current and former police officers, his friend Police Chief Naomasa Tsukauchi among them. Even Deputy Hero Commissioner Hawks was in attendance.

In the courtyard before the main building, a small statue of Nezu had been raised, painstakingly crafted by Pixie-Bob and Cementoss. It depicted the Principal on a pedestal, smartly dressed as always, sipping tea from a cup and looking out over the whole campus.

Principal Nezu

Served XXXX – XXYY

“To go beyond, you must first train the mind.”

Around the statue, present and former teachers, staff, and their families had gathered. Other mourners filled the stands of the Sports Festival, with everything being broadcast on the big screens there.

Toshinroi approached the small podium they had set up, his eyes sweeping over the assembled. Aizawa and Emi, with Young Eri and Kota, Nemuri and Hizashi, and all the rest. Most looked mournful, of course, but Hizashi was sobbing openly, leaning on his longtime girlfriend’s shoulder. His eyes finally settled on Inko and he drew a moment of strength from her.

“Unlike many of you,” he began, “my time at U.A. ended before Nezu joined its staff. I didn’t meet him until I was already an established Hero, though I’m given to understand I may have been one of the first humans he had significant contact with following his… escape. But he has always been someone I could trust, a source of advice and wisdom, and someone I was proud to call a friend.”

He took a breath. “Nezu made no secret of the fact that he was not, in fact, a human with animalistic characteristics, but instead an animal uplifted by the presence of his Quirk. It would have been easy enough for him to have hidden it. Certainly, there are members of society today who look far less like a “human” than he did. No one would have questioned it. But he did not believe in hiding who he was. And he had fought, rather viciously, for his right to exist and live in the world of man. So he would not hide.

“What fewer people know is that before he was a principal, before he was a teacher, before he was a Hero, even before he was a free citizen… Nezu was a lab rat, quite literally. He was experimented on and tortured, daily. It left him with scars, both mental and physical, that he carried with him every day. In those times, he saw deep injustices, firsthand. It made him dedicated to seeing that no one should suffer as he had. He engineered his own escape. He studied human society and law, and successfully argued for his own freedom. And then he set about making good on his promise to do the same by others.

“Nezu was a transformative presence at U.A. As a teacher, he pushed for U.A. to expand its scope beyond the traditional Heroics Courses, reasoning that if U.A. were to produce the best Heroes, then should it not also produce the best Support Designers, the best managers, the best students in general? It was Nezu that pushed for additional academic rigor, transforming it into the institution it is today.

“It is safe to say that there are many Heroes out there today who would not be the successes they are, if not for Nezu.

“And when I was at one my lowest points, the strength that had served me for decades failing and my own health falling apart, it was Nezu who showed me a new way forward. He reminded me that I had more to offer, that I could teach the next generation of Heroes. I wasn’t good at it at first, not by half. But with his guidance and the guidance of others, I eventually confirmed his faith in me. Faith I am not so certain I deserved.

“But he has always made this a place for everyone, student and teacher alike, could reach their full potential, where they could feel safe. There have been many times where there have been students in need, in need of safety, in need of an escape, in need of guidance, in need of someone who actually cared about them.

“Nezu always made sure U.A. would provide. He had no family save for U.A. and its staff and students.

“U.A. is mostly automated, but Nezu knew the name of every single person working here, from the workers in the cafeteria to the teaching assistants, to the maintenance crew. He knew how to make everyone feel valuable.

“And until the moment of his death, Nezu was fighting for U.A., for this country, and for its people. He was working tirelessly into the night, coming up with plans and contingencies for our safety and future.”

Toshinori paused, as a tear rolled down his cheek. He forced himself to go on.

“He had seen the writing on the wall coming for a long time. He had never been certain what his lifespan was, but he knew he was getting older, getting slower, even needing a cane these last few years. But he was determined to use his every last moment for us.

“We can do no less than continue to honor his vision and go beyond.”

Toshinori looked to the statue. “To that end, we dedicate this statue to him. He wished to leave no earthly remains, and we have honored that request. Nezu was neither a religious nor spiritual being, but he understood the levers of faith and the power of mourning and remembrance. We look to his vison to continue to guide us, and hope that wherever he is now, he is at peace and rest at last.”

He walked away from the podium and touched the statue. “I will miss you, my friend.”

***

In a hidden bunker, belonging to the League of Villains, Doctor Ursa looked up from the compound he was analyzing. The day’s news had focused on the death and funeral of U.A.’s principal. It had captivated the League’s leader’s attention.

“A pity,” their leader said.

“Sir?” Ursa asked.

“Nezu was a remarkably intelligent creature. Too heroic for his own good, but I am certain he, of all people, could have been made to see reason. Still… with U.A. in chaos, our plans can continue!”

“Of course, sir,” Ursa replied. “It will still be some time, however, even with the supplies the other members liberated while the Nomu distracted the Heroes.”

Their leader made an impatient noise. “I suppose it will have to do. And perhaps a little more time spent waiting for the other shoe will rattle them more. Our Virus taught them to fear their Quirks. The Nomu attack showed them how fragile their Heroes are. Now… we can show them a different path.”

#my hero academia #their hero academia #fan fiction #fan fic #my writing #mha midnight #mha eri #kota izumi #nemuri kayama #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa #all might

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