#inkspots too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

the-demon-of-a-thousand-eyes · 4 months ago

Text

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒟𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝒶 𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐸𝓎𝑒𝓈 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 40 Sight a Proposal, Plans Go Awr-Eye

Pairing: Alastor x F!OC (Theia, The Demon of a Thousand Eyes)

Chapter Summary: You, Alastor, and Ombre get your dance to 'We Three' by The Inkspots, Alastor gives his proposal speech, and friends get to give their congratulations. Even 'Uncle' Noctua makes a surprise appearance. It's not the only surprise in store, however…

Word Count: 8.7k

Warnings: Implied Cannibalism, Alastor talking for fucking waaaaay too long, kidnapping

A/N: I haven't finished writing 43 and I suspect I might never complete it, but I will give you all what I have left, and at the end of the chapters in the notes, you can find what my initial plans were for this story, as I've had it for quite some time. Find me in the after chapter notes for an explanation as to why I have decided to leave this story as a mostly WIP despite knowing the entire story's ending.

It’s late into the afternoon by the time you’ve finished your postponed meal at the cannibal café with Alastor, and you feel quite full and satisfied. A complete twenty minutes later, and the two of you are in the town square. The sun is low in the sky but it’s not dark enough for the streetlights to come on just yet. Every part of the square is still covered in those bows of red ribbons with the black lacy overlay topped with an eyeball bead. They stare at you from every street lamp, bench, tree, and hydrant.

In the gazebo, there is a full piece band, and they’re ready to play any song that you choose. Alastor, remembering your request for ‘We Three’ by The Ink Spots, relays the message to them, and pulls you into a waltz.

The three of you are gliding simply, Ombre about your shoulders as usual, with just a simple box step over and over again and you let him lead, always will let him lead if he’ll let you follow.

Your gaze is locked on his as Ombre begins to murmur the words in your ear, singing the song with which you’re so familiar.

“We three, we're all alone

Living in a memory

My echo, my shadow, and me

We three, we're not a crowd

We're not even company

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He pulls you into a dip and you sigh with a smile on your face, pleased to meet him nose to nose once more as you come back up again to continue the simple box step.

“What good is the moonlight

The silvery moonlight that shines above?

I walk with my shadow

I talk with my echo

But where is the one I love?

We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

He leads you into a spin and you know it’s coming long before it begins. You know his steps before he takes them, and you’ve learned the way his body directs you. As Ombre’s voice speaks the words spoken in the song, you shiver and nearly swoon as Alastor pulls you close to spin you gently in a circle.

“‘We three, we're all alone. Seems like we're livin' in a memory.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

We three we ain't no crowd.

Fact is we ain't even company.

That's my echo, my shadow, and me.

You know I been wonderin'

what good is the moonlight

that silvery moonlight that shines way, way up above?

Yeah, I walk with my shadow, I talk with my echo, but where is that gal that I love?’”

The look in Alastor’s eyes tells you that the gal is right in front of him; it’s you, and your eyes are full of love and devotion. He starts you both in on a simple box step again as the song continues and Ombre starts to sing again,

“We three, we'll wait for you

Even till eternity

My echo, my shadow, and me.”

Alastor spins you once more, and then as you meet him, he kisses you fiercely. As you break apart, Alastor murmurs, “While that song reminds you of us, nostre fiancé, it reminds us of you.”

Then the clapping begins, and you notice the whole town plus all the guests Alastor had invited have all gathered around the edges of the dancefloor, waiting for you to finish. You flush at the attention and wave.

Alastor summons his microphone, and declares, “Thank you all for joining us for this momentous occasion. Due to unforeseen circumstances—”

“—that honestly should have been foreseen given the nature of how the two of us work—” You cut in, and Alastor chuckles then continues,

“—my dear Theia has already accepted my proposal.” A round of groans before he waves them down. “Now, now, before we get all upset, my dearest has already agreed to let me give the speech I had written and she will say yes again so as to not upset all of you who took the time to make your way out here tonight. We both sincerely apologize for ruining the surprise but are grateful you came to enjoy the party and the festivities nevertheless!”

When Alastor is done with his announcement, he pulls you into his arms for another searing kiss. In the distance is Charlie, Vaggie (with her new eye) standing beside the princess, Angel, Husk, Sir Pentious, and Niffty at their feet. You see Rana, a small gathering of imps, one of which you recognize, a hellhound, and not far from them, you think you might see your ‘uncle’ as well.

Alastor manifests a piece of paper, winks, then begins. “Long before I met you for the first time, Rosie talked about you constantly, talked about the strange woman with so many eyes and a penchant for eating them. When she insisted I come to meet you, that you’d become incredibly depressed, of course I came at her behest. I’d longed to meet you, intrigued by the woman she’d spoken so highly of on so many occasions.

“You fascinated me from the moment you introduced yourself, deliberately choosing an alias instead of your real name, and announcing it so distinctly as such. You were just as witty as I’d anticipated, and amusing to boot. Conversation with you was easy, despite your reluctance for it, and you spoke as if you knew of me, despite the fact that you’d claimed to never have purchased a radio. At least you hadn’t said you preferred TV.”

The crowd laughs as tinny canned audience laughter escapes from his microphone; he winks, and then continues, “When Rosie spoke of redemption, it wasn’t that you didn’t believe in such nonsense, in fact, you made it quite clear you believed it could be possible, but that it never could be for you. While one could assume this was because of the choices you’d made, from what little I understood of you from what Rosie had said, it seemed to me it was quite the other way around. Your actions were dictated because of the impossibility of your redemption, not in spite of it.

“Needless to say, I was entranced. You were an enigma wrapped inside a riddle, and I wanted to understand your secrets. Perhaps a little too eager, as Rosie knew as well as I that you had many you were refusing to share with the world, and as you came to the hotel, I was curious not just of what your secrets entailed, but who you were underneath that cool exterior and near-perpetual smile you chose to wear.

“When you told our Angel Dust in confidence that the smile you wore is something you’d picked up from watching me ‘all these years,’ I was stunned. We’d only just met, and yet you seemed to know so much more about me than I’d ever anticipated. I teased you about it, but you were quick on the uptake, and banter seemed to flow between us as if we’d known each other for decades.

“Calling you ‘dear’ and ‘darling’ started as a joke. Something to tease you about, ruffle your feathers. I liked to watch you flush, see your interesting reactions. Back then, I didn’t understand why. Now I can tell you it was because I had the first inclination of budding attraction in all my life or death.

“Our first date was truly on accident. I had wanted to impress you, take you to the fanciest restaurant here in Cannibal Town, but I’d forgotten that Tourniquet is known for being a place exclusively for couples.” The proprietors of Tourniquet whistle at being mentioned, and you give them small smiles as they do so. Alastor then continues, “Not only was our conversation interesting and the meal delicious, you continued to intrigue me when you pushed back against my insistence to pay for the meal and somehow coaxed me into agreeing to take you to see my radio tower and to another meal together, with the threat that if I refused, that you’d tell Rosie I’d taken you on a date.

“While technically true, I was trapped, caught with the realization that I’d done so on accident, but with the knowledge that I still wanted it to be one. When we made our way to Rosie’s afterwards, as had been the plan, she saw through us immediately, as to be expected.” Your eyes find Rosie in the crowd and she smirks. You giggle behind your hand as Alastor continues, “You kept your end of the promise you’d made even though you didn’t have to; no deal had been struck. I threw caution to the wind when I saw you debating over choices that required refrigeration. I wanted you closer to me, so I had Niffty move your things to the suite beside mine.

“On the way back, when you saw that knife in the window, I knew it met the criteria for exactly what I’d described. It was somehow perfect for you, as if it had been made with you in mind, despite its location in a random innocuous shop window. A knife, sheath, and belt all adorned with eyes of gold and silver—it had to belong to you. So I took you inside, and purchased it. Calling you ‘dearest’ was a slip of the tongue, but seeing the way you responded, it felt like I’d done something right.

“Then we went up to my radio tower, and somehow, it all fell apart. As part of our arrangement, I was allowed to ask you a question, and if you refused, I could choose another. I was greedy and curious, wanting to know about the powers you’d so eagerly kept to yourself as part of your deal with Vox, so of course that was my first question, which you immediately shot down. Then I asked you about what you’d been thinking about before you’d discovered the knife, and you turned sour when I asked you if you’d been thinking about kissing me.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out harsh and cruel, but as I’d told Rosie not an hour before, I was terrified at how I might respond if you showed real interest in me, had real interest in me. I wasn’t supposed to start finding you more interesting than your secrets, but you are quite funny when you want to be, and you expressed genuine interest in my work, and my mother, and even my choice of food, despite it being unpleasant or even unpalatable to others.

“You grew cold with me, bitter, and pulled away from my side, talking of how you should have known it had just been a ploy for you to reveal all your secrets, that it was a trap and you had nearly fallen inside it, going so far as to insinuate that Rosie might have had a hand in it herself.

“You told me I didn’t have to pretend to have interest in you to learn your secrets, that bringing something to the table as equal trade for a deal would have been sufficient, but I was too stunned to answer. It was then, in that moment, as you told me I didn’t have to pretend that I realized I wasn’t, and it was seemingly already too late. When you spoke of keeping your agreement with me, about sharing a meal and even taking the knife’s first victim in front of me, I grasped at them like they were the key to survival, already drafting versions of an apology in my head.

“The next evening, when you were so inebriated you could barely stand, waxing poetic and using so many puns I could barely discern your meaning, you found me of all people in that hallway, collapsed in my arms and I carried you to your room, had Niffty dress you, wrote you a letter, and told you how utterly captivated I am by you. Little did I know that you were fully aware of it the whole time, aware that I was apologizing to you as you lay unconscious, thinking you were asleep.

“I had Ombre look after you but only from a distance, as you’d been so careful to include them in your insistence for space, not knowing that they too, were hurting, perhaps even more so, as they’d known from the beginning that they were intrigued and fascinated by you, and I was the one slow on the uptake for once.”

Everyone chuckles, and he gives a sheepish smile as Ombre rumbles amusement as well, then he continues, “So when Ombre appeared on the awning above you as you left to go see your dear friend Rana and you encouraged me to appear, I did so, and you called me ‘Al’ again, like you’d done before. I didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, why you were suddenly alright with me, as if the events of two nights prior had never occurred, even as I called you Theia, respecting your boundaries and wishes, even as I saw that you winced when I did so. As you walked away, my thoughts were focused on continuing to draft that apology letter, revising and editing it over and over again in my mind.

“When the day you’d planned to make the meal we were to share together arrived and you’d told Niffty you needed an apron and oven mitts, I nearly broke at the thought of seeing you in one, all dolled up for me and serving me a meal.” He says sheepishly.

Angel calls out, “He fuckin’ bleated! Twice!”

The crowd laughs, and Alastor, a blush on his face, continues, “While we were on uncertain terms, I’d do anything to appease you, anything to give you what you wanted and needed, so when I saw you sit on the floor, I made my move, coaxed you to a chair, and went off in search of a very specific apron and oven mitt set, with trivets to match. I had it designed out of fabric I found, and was pleased it only took half a day to complete. Afterwards, I put on the suit I’d had my tailor perfect days prior, and prepared my room for our meal—our second date.

“I will never forget how you looked in that moment. You stole my attention and my breath in an instant. I have a detest for cameras, but then, in my room with you looking the perfect picture of a nineteen-thirties housewife, I wanted to capture your image to look upon at my whimsy, to never be rid of that wonderful display you’d chosen to make just for me. Then that dress, that little housedress changed before my very eyes into something stunning and elegant, and I thought once again that I’d lost my mind, even as you told me that I could call you those pet names that I so longed to call you again. I didn’t understand of course, but you said I could, and I would, had longed to call you them from the moment you’d told me to stop.

“Then I tasted the meal you prepared. The best meal I’ve ever eaten in my death. It reminded me of my mother, of the care in which she’d put into her meals, but it tasted like us, like a future we could have together. I didn’t understand why you were so easy and open and honest with me after our gross misunderstanding only two nights prior, but I accepted your explanation that I’d forgotten my rather embarrassing first draft of the note, riddled with little pet names and affections for you that I knew I had to leave out. You asked me about what my intentions were, and I was flummoxed, unable to answer.

“Just as I told you then, I had no idea what I wanted, was so focused on apologizing to you, on telling you that I just wanted you to no longer feel disdain for me, that I didn’t even conceive of the notion that you already had long moved on from forgiveness. The words you spoke, telling me that it was alright that I wasn’t sure what I wanted, that you’d let me have whatever I was willing to offer you no matter what that might be and at whatever pace that I wished nearly broke me again.

“When the meal was over, I gave you the candied eyes I’d bought, and you spoke words that hurt my heart at the very notion that you would think so lowly of yourself. I was determined to explain to you that if anyone else had said those words that I would gut them at your feet. Those words still hold true to this day. No one should ever say such things about you, ma très chère, least of all yourself. I must have made you uncomfortable, which upset me, but then you moved on to discussing how your first kill with that knife of yours would go, and I was fascinated when you told me you were aroused by the idea of killing someone in front of me. Of course I was fascinated. Arousal had never been something that enticed me, intrigued me, even as I yearned for you in ways I had never understood.

“So the next morning, after I’d escorted you to bed, you decided to be a little minx and turn on the radio. Of course I came to you, lured like a sailor to the rocks, and you coaxed me into breakfast after I coaxed you into dancing with me, and we spent the morning in the ballroom, dancing a lovely foxtrot to a song I’d never had the pleasure of dancing to while I was alive. Afterwards, I saw you off with a smile and affectionate kisses everywhere but your lips. I was starting to become acclimated to your touch, to touching you, and I have always been grateful that you allowed me to take things at my pace.

“When I came back to the hotel after tracking down your future prey, Niffty told me she found you in Angel’s room, and I didn’t even mean to, didn’t need to, but I found myself jealous. When you told me that it had just been to see his pet pig, that you’d been in there as his friend because of course you were. You are good to everyone around you—even to me—I grew bitter, furious, furious I no longer had a justified reason to be upset, and somehow, impossibly, you understood, spoke French to me, and broke me in an instant, broken for the first time of many.

“Yet even as you broke me, shattered me to pieces, you were careful with your precision to put me back together, carried the pieces of me that fell into your lap and took me to my room in the blink of your eyes. You let me hold you, communicate with you in a way you’d designed so that I didn’t have to speak, didn’t need words, and you curled into me in a way that just felt right. You told me about how your powers work, showed me how they work, told me that you saw how I took care of you that night when you were drunk, heard my apology and confession from my lips. I was shaken, to be sure, but pleased to know that you had heard it, for it had always been genuine. I encouraged you to tell me about how your deals work, since you’d been so eager to tease me with the notion before, and then you told me words that nearly broke me to this day.

“You told me that when you made a deal with me, that you’d mark me, leave me with a gold eye with a silver iris, that you’d put it under my chin, so that anyone who looked up to me would know that I was yours. I will always be yours, bien-aimée, but in that moment, right then and there, I knew I wanted to be yours. So of course I kissed you, my first kiss to anyone besides my own mother. It was awkward at first, but you seemed to understand what I wanted, and helped make it better, made it perfect, just like you.

“Not long after, on that rooftop in front of your prey, you told me your name, let me carve it into your victim, then unleashed your demon form and I almost broke a third time. I didn’t know how much better it could be with you, but seeing you in your true form, two stories tall and shrieking, hungry and out for blood, was the best spectacle I have ever witnessed. You are radiant, ma beauté monstrueuse, and I was entranced, captivated, and aroused for the very first time as I watched you watch me as you slayed that sinner. Of course I made love to you for the first time that night, soaked in your victim’s blood. You were perfect, are perfect.

“I wanted your mark on my skin, and jumped at the chance to have it when you said I had to keep your name a secret. Of course I did.” He intertwines his fingers with yours and the deal glows once more. “I wanted everything with you, would have it in a heartbeat, but Ombre insisted, they wanted to be a part of this too. How could I say no? They had known from the start that you were the one who would be perfect for us both. The least I could do was give you the ability to understand them too, even if no one else can understand them.

“The next morning, we ate breakfast together; you broke me again, put me back together, showed me what the rest of the hotel was up to, and coaxed me into inviting you to the Overlord meeting. We made a laughing stock of the Vees once more together, learned some valuable secrets, and discovered a flier seeking you in a way that had you in a panic. I took you back to our rooms, and you called it ‘home’. It broke me to see you like that, but it also felt like I was taking you home, taking you back to the place that the three of us shared.

“You left me with a note the next morning, and it scared me at first. I thought you’d left forever, that you’d decided that this wasn’t enough, and I nearly screamed. You can never leave me, Theia. The deal we made prevents that, but in that moment, I was terrified, terrified you’d changed your mind, terrified that flier had sent you packing, running. Ombre, for that is what you named them, reassured me that you would return, that you had simply woken before I’d arisen and that you were participating in the day’s activities.

“When you returned to the hotel, I could tell that something was plaguing your mind, that you felt like something was weighing on your heart, but Niffty, our dear sweet Niffty, had decided that Boring Closet Stuff was to be explored. You seemed eager to have something distract you, and I was pleased to be in close proximity to you, even as I saw the new eye on your skin as soon as I’d set mine on you. I didn’t mention it, thought it best to wait, as Niffty led us into the mysterious room and all the fascinating objects inside. I collected that book that fell from the trap door and into the tunnel to the side, and I could never have known then how valuable it would become.

“We sat and shared time with Niffty in her little Hidey Hole, and you were eager to explain that you’d made a deal with me when Niffty asked about the eye underneath my chin. When she’d assumed we’d gotten married and you’d said it was more of a promise and she’d said it was like a proposal, I reassured her that it would be far more grand.” He looks up from the paper and into your eyes for a moment. “It was then that I had already started planning this evening.” Then he returns to his script, this love letter he drafted to you to read aloud to all of Hell.

“That night, you told me who you are, how you came to be Theia, the one who eats the eyes of her enemies, the one who takes charge and steals the gaze of anyone who sees her in an instant. You told me of the filth of a man who you rightfully removed from life after what you discovered he’d done to your friend, and you did it so creatively, I might add. I understand why you did what you did, Theia. I removed filth from the streets myself when I was alive. You told me of the curse that plagues you, and we vowed to remove it, even as we hadn’t yet discovered that it truly is a curse. The three of us made love for the first time that night: Ombre, you, and myself, and while you slept, Ombre and I poured over the book we’d discovered.

“We knew your whole story, the story you hadn’t shared, but perhaps you were unable to let your lips form the words, scared to say your family’s history. We were going to tell you what we found when you awoke, but a terrifying nightmare had you rising far earlier than anticipated. When you told me that it wasn’t a nightmare, that you see the true events that take place in Hell and gave me a perfect example of an event I already was aware of, I held you as you made sure that our Angel Dust was safe, that he and Husk were alright, together and happy. I reminded you that no matter what happened you were not to blame for the actions taken by another, and certainly not one as horrific as Valentino.”

Your perfect vision around you refuses to deny you the look of shock and what you pray isn’t pity on Angel’s face. Husk takes and squeezes one of his hands. I’m glad one good thing came out of that horrible night, you decide as Alastor continues. “We coaxed you back to sleep, and in the morning, your dear friend Rana was eager to call you. We had a lovely talk, and we joined her and Rosie for tea. You had a surprise visitor, that with your impeccable eyesight, you saw before any of the rest of us did. Ombre and I would have lost it if it weren’t for Rosie and Rana. You terrified us, disappearing without a word like that. When you returned, we were so grateful, so joyful to know that you were alright. You spoke of a family member you hadn’t seen in years but were happy to be reunited with, and we were pleased to know that not all of your family was terrible, that you had someone in your life who treated you with respect.

“Afterwards, we discussed what I found in the book, about your curse, about the angel that performed it, about Boring Closet Stuff again, and about the possibility that you could be pregnant. You were panicked, crazed, dazed, and furious. You threw caution to the wind and announced that you would tear Valentino apart for what he’d done to Angel, and that you wanted me to watch you do it. Of course I said yes, as long as I was there to keep you safe, could watch the show. What a show indeed. You never cease to impress. It’ll be days before he respawns but when he does, I look forward to watching you do it all over again.

“That time we made love it was the most ravenous, primal, needy, and desperate I have ever been. I will never forget it and hope to do it again sometime, but not in your current condition.” Both his and Ombre’s hands move to your abdomen in unison, and you let them, placing your hand, your left, the one with the engagement ring, on top of both of theirs. “When Lucifer arrived at Charlie’s discretion, I made sure to keep your distance from him for as long as I could manage, knowing that you feared that if he saw you, he’d insist that you leave the hotel and never return.” Charlie’s face looks shocked and upset. Alastor doesn’t notice as he continues, “I wanted to distract you with killing the loan sharks, and while it was fun, it set you up to be seen by him as we returned. So the time came for us to sit down with The King of Hell about why you were here, about what could be done.

“I would never, will never allow anyone, not even Lucifer himself take you away from us, Theia. You are ours and we will never let you go. When you made that deal with Lucifer to protect the hotel to the best of your capacity, none of us knew you were pregnant, and much less with twins. Lucifer saw the twin souls in you, and I knew, in that moment, that the three of us were to be parents for sure.

“It was upsetting, to see you so terrified of motherhood, but after you allowed yourself to relax, I was grateful to know that you were reassured by Ombre and my abilities to father and rear our children at your side.” He lets the notes disappear back into his shadows, pulls you close, and looks into your eyes as he holds the microphone with one hand and, with his arm wrapped around yours, his other on your belly. “This morning, when you killed the sinner who started Theia’s whole story, you jumped into my arms, told me that you love me so impossibly much and then jokingly asked me to marry you.

“It was a challenge, and you know how I like those. I couldn’t let you just get away with saying that. I had a ring burning a hole in my pocket, even as I knew that Rosie was making sure the town was putting the finishing touches on this little event, even as I knew that all of our friends would be in attendance. So I fished out the ring box and proposed at your feet next to the corpse. I called you by your name, the name given to you at birth, and I asked you for your hand in marriage.

“Now, I will do the same, but I will say the name you chose, the name that matters far more to me because it is yours. Theia,” He says as he drops down to one knee again, simply for the sake of formality, “nostre reine, will you give me the pleasure, the honor, and the blessing of being my wife?”

Tears prick your eyes you didn’t know were coming, for even as you stood and listened to all of these words that he’s been speaking, you never expected your reaction to be like this. “YES!” You declare with a yell as you lean into the microphone, and he kisses the ring already on your finger.

The applause begins as a quiet thudding and escalates into a roar, loud yells and cheers and people jumping. Everyone is thrilled, and so are you. You see everyone deeply moved and overjoyed at the beautiful speech he delivered. When he takes a bow, you hear a click as the broadcast ends, and you smile through the tears that threaten to fall.

One by one, your friends approach you. Rosie first, as hostess, pulls you into a gentle hug, whispering, “Congratulations, dearie. I look forward to the wedding.” You kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Auntie Rosie.” You give her a delighted smile.

Charlie is next, Vaggie beside her, and after Charlie almost picks you up and swings you around, a look from Alastor makes her change her mind. She sets you back down gently, and Vaggie offers you a hug, her arms open. You take it, smiling back at her.

It is a short embrace, and when it is over, she steps away from you. “Congratulations Theia!” Charlie declares excitedly. “When you’re ready, come to me and we’ll start planning your wedding! I already have a few ideas!”

“She has filled pages and pages of a notebook already.” Vaggie says, amused.

You look to Alastor. “Didn’t you tell her just yesterday that you were going to propose?”

“No, nostre reine. This morning, actually, mere hours before you awoke.” He says, amusement in his eyes.

“So much already, why that doesn’t surprise me, Charlie; you’re always full of ideas!” You say easily, a little intimidated by how enthusiastic she is about the idea of planning your wedding.

Vaggie, sensing your unease, coaxes Charlie away, and Niffty runs up next. “When I said we’d talk later, Theia, I didn’t think it would be at your proposal party!” She giggles as Ombre makes room for her to crawl up and sit on your shoulder. She gives you a hug. “Congratulations!” She says and leans over to give Alastor a hug too, who looks surprised but pleased. “I expect to be a part of the wedding. One of the bridesmaids, maybe.” She thinks for a moment as she kicks her legs. “While I’m small enough in stature to be the flower girl, I’d really rather not.” She says with a chortle, and you chuckle along with her.

“That’s understandable, Niff.” You say easily, and she gives you both another hug.

“I’m going to go see if Rosie needs any bugs killed! I’ll see you later!” She declares as she scurries off elsewhere.

Sir Pentious comes up to you both next.

“I don’t see why I’m always last to find out about these things.” Sir Pentious declares, irritated. “It appears the entire hotel knew you prefer to be called Theia despite The King calling you ‘Iris’ and that you’re pregnant except me?!”

“Sorry, Pen, these things happen sometimes.” You say sadly, feeling a little bad that you hadn’t managed to talk to him yet but glad he’d been able to make it anyway. “I’m glad you came, though, and I’ll be sure to spend more time with you soon.”

“Coming from anyone else that would be doubtful, but as it is you, I anticipate many talks with you in the future, Theia!” He says excitedly, and you smile as he slithers off into the crowd.

Angel and Husk walk up next. You delight in seeing them still holding hands from earlier. Angel drops the hand to pull you into a four-armed hug, but makes sure to hold you loosely and above the waist. “Congrats, Occhi!” He exclaims, and you wrap your arms around him.

When he steps away, Husk pulls you into a hug, the first of its kind. You smile into his fur and wrap your arms around him too. He’s soft, far softer than you’d anticipated. He smells like family. “Congrats, kid.” He says affectionately, and pats you on the head. You chuckle. He turns to Alastor. “Congratulations, Sir. May she be good to you.”

“You’re too kind, dear Husker.” Alastor says with a knowing smile, and you frown at them both.

“Alastor, don’t put words in Husk’s mouth. He does enough for you already.” You pinch him on the ass, determined to prove a point. He bleats, his ears pinned back against his head.

Angel barks out a surprised laugh. “Do it again, Occhi!” He chortles, and you shake your head.

“Once was enough.” You say easily, then kiss Alastor on the lips gently. “Be good to your souls, Al. You know what happens to bad boys who don’t play well with their toys.” You say with a teasing smirk. “Though I would never cut you up, of course. I’d just deny you sex. After all, if you want me to find other ways to teach you a lesson, all you have to do is be good.”

“Kinky!” Angel says with a smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have elsewhere to be, Ange?” He laughs, but takes the hint.

“See you later, Occhi.” He waves, takes Husks hand, and leads him away.

“Later, kid.” Husk says with a wave of his own, his eyes never leaving Angel’s delighted face.

You don’t have much time to pay attention to how cute their new love is before Rana, Blitzø, a pair of imps you don’t recognize, and a hellhound step forward to see you. Rana pulls you into a fierce hug before she steps back to introduce everyone. “You already know Blitzø, of course, but the rest of the gang you haven’t met yet. This is Moxie and Millie, the other two members of I.M.P., and this is Loona. She works there too.”

“She’s also my daughter!” Blitzø supplies, and Loona groans and pulls out her phone. You giggle. Teenagers these days, always staring at their phones. “Where did—he was just here a fuckin’ minute ago.” You suspect you know who he’s talking about but don’t comment.

“Pleased to meet you, Theia!” Moxie says with a soft bow.

Millie smirks, “Charmed, I’m sure. Rana’s told us all about ya.”

You laugh and offer your hand for them to shake, much to their surprise. “A pleasure to meet the both of you. When we’re not so busy, I actually have a task for I.M.P. No murder this time, unless that comes as a side benefit. I have a package I need delivered, and I’ll need it delivered to someone on Earth. I hear you’d be the ones to speak to about such matters. I’ll pay extra, of course.”

Blitzø brightens at the idea of more money. “We’ll talk later.” He says, and then looks around again. “Where the fuck did he go? He was so goddamn determined to be here, and now he doesn’t even bother to show when we finally get a fuckin’ chance to talk with the newly-engaged couple? He fuckin’ loves this sappy ass shit.”

You see your ‘uncle’ in the distance, see him hold a single finger up to the hood of the cloak he wears, and you understand, keep your head level. You’re not sure why he’s insisting on being stealthy, hiding from everyone, but he is.

“Maybe he went to get some refreshments.” You suggest as a means of distraction, and everyone takes it easily.

“I could go for some food.” Rana says, understanding your desire to get them to peel off on their own. Blizø follows behind, bitching the whole way; Loona stares at her phone as she leaves, muttering a half-hearted ‘congrats,’ and Moxie and Millie give their congratulations before they take up the rear.

After they are long out of earshot, your ‘uncle’ walks up to you gracefully. Keeping the hood up, he opens his arms, and you run and jump into his embrace. “Uncle Noctua!” You exclaim. “You came! How did you even know this was happening?”

“Word got around, as it always does, little nebula. Why you insist on calling me ‘uncle’ I’ll never understand, Iris. I’m only six years older than you.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest. “You’re so much taller than me, silly. Besides, you’ll always be an old man in my eyes. You’ll live to see the end of time itself.”

“Don’t say such devastating things, little nebula. You’ll see it too, someday. Now that the book has been uncovered we can begin the task of breaking the curse.” He says easily, and lifts your chin to look into your eyes. “You’ve done so well so far. There’s not much more, I’m sure of it.” His gaze turns to Alastor then. “Now, Iris, introduce me to the man who has captured your heart.”

“Alastor, I give you permission to call me in front of Prince Stolas, son of King Paiman, Lucifer’s most loyal. Noctua, I’d like to introduce you to the man I have chosen as my better half. This is Alastor, The Radio Demon, and his shadow, Ombre. They are two sides of the same man, and the two halves of my better half.” You say, and Alastor smiles, offering his hand to shake as you step back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Iris, or Theia as she prefers to be called these days, has told me about you, your highness.” Alastor says with his ever-permanent smile, but it’s genuine, his words sincere. It is rare that he speaks to someone with more power than him with respect and decency, you suspect. “She speaks kind words about how you are the only family she considers truly hers. Thank you for showing her how family ought to treat her, so she has someone to think of how she’ll want our future family to be treated.”

“While Theia has not told me about you to the same extent, I know that she has chosen the right one for her, for only a man who knows her secrets, knows her story, knows her royal lineage and chooses to see past that could possibly live up to the standards set by both her and myself for what we hope to attain.”

You interject, curious. “Do you believe you’ve found that with Blitzø?”

“I think I have, little nebula, though there are times when I wonder about things.” He says with a sigh, and you see worry in his eyes.

“Time will tell, Noctua. I suspect it will all work out in the end, even if it’s a bit of a rough start. He was looking for you earlier. He cares about you, even if he has difficulty showing it. I’m familiar with these sorts of things.” You say as you squeeze Alastor’s hand. He squeezes yours back.

“I should be leaving now, little Nebula.” Stolas says, and you give him a sad smile.

“Are you still coming by the hotel tomorrow?” You ask earnestly, hoping to see him again.

“Absolutely. There is, I’m afraid, quite a lot to discuss. I hadn’t planned on coming tonight, but when dear Rana mentioned that your engagement party was tonight, I couldn’t stay away.” He opens up his arms again, and you leap into them once more. “Good night, little Nebula. Congratulations on your engagement, and I will see you soon.” He kisses you on the forehead, and you wave goodbye as you step once again back into Alastor’s embrace.

“Goodbye, ‘Uncle’ Noctua!” You call with a tease, and he laughs, his laugh echoing into the darkness as he retreats.

“He truly is a good one, Iris darling.” Alastor murmurs into your ear. “I’m glad you had someone as kind as him in your life growing up.”

“I am too.” You sigh into his ear as he pulls you close.

As the band strikes up something lively, Alastor asks with a bow, “May I have this dance, mon fiancé?”

“With you? Always.” You reply with a curtsy, and he pulls you into his arms to lead you in the complicated footwork required for the dance at hand.

It’s simple; it’s expected, and it’s soothing. This is a dance for lovers, and a dance for just the three of you, even as others partake beside you on the dancefloor. You finish the night with more dancing and refreshments, wrapped in his embrace.

It is so wonderful to have a night as quiet as this one, you think to yourself, I hope many more are just as enjoyable, just as calm.

Several dances and conversations later, everyone says their goodbyes to you and heads out into the night. Soon, it’s just Alastor, Ombre, Rosie, and yourself. It is dark. The streetlights have all come on to illuminate Cannibal Town in their glow. The square is empty, save for the beautiful wrappings on every tree, streetlamp, bench, wreath, and gazebo. It’s cool, and the air is impossibly still.

“Well, dears, the guest room is available for the night should you choose to stay.” She winks. “I changed the sheets already, so feel free to get a good night’s rest.”

You flush, realizing that she knows about your earlier escapades. “Thanks, Rosie.” You reply as you try to calm your breathing. As she walks away, your hairpin slips from your bun. As it clatters to the ground, you bend down to pick it up, and accidentally pierce your finger. The blood drips onto the pin and a few fall on the ground, soaking into the dirt.

“So thoughtful as always, Rosie dear.” Alastor replies, not noticing your little mistake. “We’ll gladly take you up on spending the evening in your guest room. It’s been quite a long evening and I’m sure Theia is exhausted.” You pick up the pin with your uninjured hand. A yawn escapes you before you realize it, and Ombre chuckles. Alastor kisses your forehead. As blood drips from your fingers, they remain unaware. “Right on cue. Let’s get you into bed, hmm?”

You nod, and he uses his shadows to materialize into the guest room again. Blood drips onto the carpet. Alastor’s eyes dilate as his nose catches the scent of your fresh blood. “Bien-aimée, have you injured yourself?” He lifts your hand to inspect it, sucks the finger into his mouth.

“I pricked myself on my own hairpin by mistake.” You say with an embarrassed laugh. “I’m just so tired.”

He tsks and you let yourself be chided. “Ma très chère, you must take better care of yourself.”

“At least I have the two of you to take care of me.” You murmur, then realize where you are. “You know,” you say in between yawns as he closes the wound with his tongue. If I weren’t so tired this might have started something, you think with a shiver, “we just as easily could have gone home. The effort to materialize here versus there is virtually nothing. I of all people would know.”

“Yes, ma très chère, but it would be rude to have said ‘no’.” He says with a kiss to your finger and then your forehead. “Now are you awake enough to dress yourself, or shall I do it for you, bien-aimée?”

“In what, Al?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you going to send Ombre for my nightdress?”

He chuckles, and manifests a wrapped present. “The first of many gifts, mon fiancé.” He says as he hands it to you.

You sit on the bed and inspect it. It’s not very large, clearly a garment box, wrapped in gorgeous red paper and an equally stunning black bow to match. There is elegant threading work on each. You take the time to undo the bow carefully and open the wrapping so as to keep it intact and avoid reopening the wound on your finger.

He chuckles, bemused, as he sits beside you, watches your careful and deliberate motions.

Finally, the wrapping falls open and you lift the lid. Under tissue paper, you find sheer red lace. As you pull it out of the box, you find a bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and a robe to match, all in a stunning red and black. “You don’t have to wear it all to bed, of course,” he says with a nip at that mark on your neck, “but just know that you’d look ravishing in them.”

You shiver at the thought and Ombre pools onto the bed from your shoulders as you tug at the collar of your dress. It splits open, and you find yourself doing a sort of reverse strip tease as you stand, sliding off your plain white panties to slip the sheer red ones up and over your hips, followed by the stockings, one foot and then the other. Next is the bra, up and around your breasts then over your shoulders. Lastly, you take the robe, slide it over one arm and then the other, and lastly, cinch it at the waist with the belt.

Ombre practically leaps against you and you laugh as you wrap your arms around them, collapsing onto the bed with them next to Alastor, who pulls you tight against him with fierce kisses to your face as Ombre nips at your neck.

You laugh freely, pulling them each into a kiss one after the other and again, then Alastor slips down your torso to untie the robe. You laugh harder as he does so. “Was the point of wearing this just so you could take it off me? Otherwise I don’t see much point in wearing it in the first place.” You stifle a yawn, and he kisses your forehead.

“We shall have to save divesting you of these delightful garments until the morning, bien-aimée, for we really ought to let nostre fiancé get her beauty rest.”

You yawn again and slip under the covers as Ombre curls into your side. Alastor settles on top of the covers in his suit and you raise an eyebrow. “Surely you’re not going to lay there and fall asleep on top of the covers, Al.”

“I don’t need to sleep, ma très chère.” He says with a half a shrug as he lays down on his side to stroke a hand through your hair.

“No, but you indulge sometimes, or is that just after we’ve made love?” You say with a raised eyebrow. “Will you indulge for me, mon fiancé?”

He sighs, but you can tell by the sparkle in his eyes that his smile is still genuine. With a snap of his fingers, he is naked save his boxers. His suit jacket and pants hang over a chair, his boots at their feet. His shirt is neatly folded on the seat. You pull back the covers and he slides underneath them, wrapping his body and legs around you as he pulls you flush against him. He nips at your neck and you whine, then yawn again.

With his hot breath on your neck, you relax as the two begin to snore in purrs and static. You find yourself drifting into slumber.

At first, all is still. It is a boring dream, you curled into the embraces of your lovers, your fiancés, the two halves of your better half, in Rosie’s guest room. You roll over to stretch your fingers, and as you do, the wound re-opens and a single drop of blood falls onto the sheet before it heals completely.

In an instant, a towering figure that nearly touches the ceiling appears at the far end of the room. As he walks towards you, recognition hits your features. It is your father, looking far older than the last time you saw him, but of course, sixteen years have passed. He grunts and glares, but says nothing as he shoves Alatstor aside and rips Ombre from you. As he lifts you from the bed and into his arms, he catches sight of the ring on your finger and you see his jaw tighten, gritting his teeth. His four eyes darken as he snatches it from your finger and sends it into his void.

You are furious but motionless as you lay limp in his grip, his clutches, and he disappears in a flash, a blink. The room shifts to the one that has felt like a jail cell ever since you were small. If you could shiver in fear, you would, but you are limp, motionless other than your calm, even breathing.

As your brain emerges from the dream, you whimper out, terrified by the images you’d seen, “Al?” Hearing no answer, you blink your eyes open and let out a scream.

You remember that you don’t dream.

You’re alone. Your father snatched you in the night.

This is your childhood bedroom.

He took your engagement ring.

Just as soon as I get my ring back, I’m out of here, and I’m never returning again. He can keep his castle, his throne, his perfect son as his perfect king. I want nothing to do with any of them. I just want my peace, my husbands, and my children.

May Prince Seere rot in his little hole in his pathetic corner of Hell.

A/N:

Is this a better cliffhanger, or worse? cackles

In all seriousness, I have two and a half chapters left for y'all. You can have them, and then after if you want, I can tell you how the rest of the story was intended to go, as I've devoted myself to writing an entirely different story.

So in a surprising but welcome turn of events, I have fallen in love with a clown and created a circus with them.

Theia--Hellaverse Theia, that is--is a sweet child who I adore, but she isn't the same as my new favorite Theia.

Theia, The One Who Sees, is a fortuneteller gifted with The Sight. Her arms are littered with tattoos, one for each year of her life. She is cursed to have only a hundred years, has known this since she was seven. Her nanny took her to the circus to comfort her, and there she met the ringmaster she would focus on to get her through the next eighty-seven years of her life.

At such a young age, she has access to none of her powers until thirteen, when the entire world appears to her, is able to see everything everywhere all at once except for that small circus she longs to view once more. Trapped by her parents and forced to live in cramped, horrific conditions, she focuses on the music from the circus and the memories she has of that one magical night to keep her comfort, along with her addiction to peppermint candies she discovers she has.

This ringmaster, who would eventually take the name Peppermint Patches, realized his life's calling when he saw a young girl with eye tattoos terrified to go home. He devotes it to seeking her and all other children who are terrified to return to the place that should be comfort to him. In the years that follow, he forms a circus that is his family, and while he blames himself for never finding the girl with the eyes once more, fate and The Sight have other plans.

They meet once more as adults, and The Sight shows them the promise of a future completely and utterly devoted to each other. Her tentacles, The Ones That See, have known he was the one from the moment they awakened along with The Sight.

See them and all the rest of their magnificent circus in

The All-Seeing Circus!

First || Chapter 39 || Chapter 41

#the demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel fanfiction #theia #demon of a thousand eyes #hazbin hotel oc #alastor x reader #eye #eyes #eye puns #eye puns as a coping mechanism

8 notes · View notes

matchbet-allofthetime · 1 year ago

Text

Touch (Nero X GN!Reader)

Word count: 566

A/N: short n soft n sweet nero morning fic! casual nudity bc a body is a body and is only sexual if you make it so!! i need more casual nudity and careful touch, please :')

anyways, he calls the reader bunny and baby and reader calls him pretty boy 'cuz he is and he deserves to know

please enjoy!!

─────────────────⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅─────────────────

His fingers were more delicate than I was used to. He was always gentle with me, even though he knew I wouldn't break.

I sigh softly as Nero's fingers fun lightly over my shoulder blades. I turn over and crack my eyes open slowly, my lashes fluttering just a little.

The curtains are open- as is the ornate window, letting in the warm summer heat- but the skies are overcast and a little dark. I smell rain. I breathe deeply and Nero chuckles.

He walks away and just as my eyes shut again, I make a noise of complaint in my throat at his touch leaving me.

It's quickly doused out, however as he walks in with breakfast for us both.

I sit up and the blanket slips down. Despite this, Nero says nothing, merely opting to ruffle my hair and set down the food on the bedside table before putting a record in the player. 'Maybe' by the Inkspots plays quietly and I smile.

I sit against the headboard and take the mug of coffee- more liquid sugar and milk than coffee- and sip it slowly. Nero sits at the edge of our bed, stretching his back and popping his shoulders. He grins groggily as I start tearing appreciatively through the eggs and bacon. Nero moves toward me and reaches over the table to move the plate onto my lap so he can pour some syrup on my fluffy pancakes. I hum and give him a kiss on the cheek.

Our chests brush together and I shiver pleasantly at the warmth of his skin.

He sets down the syrup, moving to take a big sip of his own orange juice and scarfs down his own breakfast.

I can see by the dew on my plants on the windowsill that Nero watered them for me- oh, he was too good to me. Nero was always so very good to me.

As we mutually tear through our plates and the Inkspots record keeps a'playin', we shuffle closer and closer, knees touching. No words are needed, no conversation made. Mutual skin-on-skin contact and comfort during a dewy, warm day is all we want at the minute.

I noisily slurp up the rest of my pancakes and down the rest of my coffee right as Nero's ghostly wings reach to brush their claws over my cheeks, before squishing my face fondly. Nero looks up at the sound of my laughter with his bright, curious eyes and he smiles at me.

My giggles continue even as Nero moves our plates and he pulls me up to settle me into his warm lap. He kisses me softly- he tastes like syrup and bacon and orange juice. I laugh fondly into his lips and he hugs me close. We press together more deeply and I find there's no place I'd rather be. Hmm, I've forgotten something, though…

Oh, right! He made us breakfast and let me sleep in some… had to tell him-

"Thank you, pretty boy." I say, murmuring into his neck where he has me tucked under his chin comfortably.

"'Course, baby, gotta keep my little bunny fed, yeah? Love you." I can feel him grin above me. I drag down one of his free hands to place a kiss against it and link our fingers comfortably.

"Mm, love you too, Nero." I reply.

Yeah, no place I'd rather be.

#DMC #DMC5 #DMC Nero #Nero Sparda #Nero x Reader #Nero Sparda x Reader #GN Reader #Devil May Cry #Devil May Cry 5 #dohma.txt

82 notes · View notes

coolfire333 · 3 months ago

Note

1, 4, 19, 29 and 30? :]

Who was your first ever OC? Do you still “use” them? How have they evolved over time?

Her name is/was Cloudy! She's a weird bug-like alien who I'm currently figuring out what to do with because she's a huge self-insert and I feel like I can't do much with her in her current state because I have trouble putting a pin in what makes me "me" so writing her is difficult. I'm trying to make her have more elements of myself and not be entirely a me-stand-in, if that makes sense. No idea what to do with her otherwise! She also has a friend, Shadowmoore, and a friend/love interest, Quinen, a bug alien girl and bug alien guy respectively. They're all equally old because I liked the idea of trios as a kid hehe

4. What kind of music do your OCs listen to?

Whew boy I actually think about this a lot...I have a list of songs that I think fit my ocs in some way, here it is in all its (current) glory (I have way more ocs than this but these are the ones I found songs for):

The Surgeon

Sexual Healing--Marvin Gaye

Shake the Disease--Depeche Mode

Strangelove--Depeche Mode

Bad Medicine--Bon Jovi

I Want a New Drug--Huey Lewis and the News

The Paramedic

Otome Dissection--DECO*27

I Don’t Want to Set the World on Fire--The Inkspots

My Name Is…--DECO*27

Call Me--Blondie

I Wanna Dance With Somebody--Whitney Houston

The Renegade

The Reflex--Duran Duran

Oh No!--Marina and the Diamonds

Somebody That I Used To Know--Gotye

Your Love--The Outfield

When Doves Cry--Prince

Little Lion Man--Mumford and Sons

The Merchant

Cookie Scene--The Go! Team

Bad Reputation--Joan Jett and the Blackhearts

The Secret Life of Me--Waterparks

Bad Romance--Lady Gaga

One Week--Barenaked Ladies

Red Wine Supernova--Chappell Roan

HOT TO GO!--Chappell Roan

You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice--The Lovin’ Spoonful

Q--DECO*27

Lavender

Summer in the City--The Lovin’ Spoonful

The Hitman

Mask of My Own Face--Lemon Demon

Drunk--The Living Tombstone

Jean Doe

Eighth Wonder--Lemon Demon

I Would Die 4 U--Prince

As far as "what music would they listen to" I do have some ideas:

The Merchant would like hard-girl-pop (whatever genre Remi Wolf and Marina and the Diamonds are) and Chappell Roan (once again hard-girl-pop and she's also a lesbian like her). Anything upbeat with an edge to it, really. She'd probably also like punk rock, like Weezer or the Beastie Boys or Blink-182, anything catchy and just a bit cheesy/lame (I mean this affectionately). Also Joan Jett and Heart! Anything with women who rock and go hard, really

The Surgeon would listen to depeche mode because they have odd yet darkly erotic vibes. I feel like he'd be into that weird kind of new wave 80s music in general. He also probably listens to horribly numbing elevator jazz (also saying this affectionately as someone who loves this music too). POV you're getting stitches and the doctor won't stop humming along to the "your call is put on hold" music he's blasting in the background

The Paramedic also likes depeche mode for the same reasons. Other than that I can't think of music she'd like...maybe someday I will think up more for her

Q loves bubblegum pop. He'd also like cheery love songs, probably from the 60s or earlier because they tend to have no swearing or overtly sexual themes. She's not a prude, he just gets squeamish around listening to that kind of thing. I feel like Q would also listen to a lot of chiptune and video game soundtracks (Bubblegum K.K. from animal crossing comes to mind as a potential fave of hers)

Jean Doe would listen to breakcore and metal, anything loud with a lot of bass (partially because they're hard of hearing and like feeling the music). They probably prefer instrumental songs over songs with lyrics. They're also very proudly french canadian so there's probably some underground drum-and-bass group from canada that they really like, but alas, I am not super into that genre so I do not know any specific artists they'd listen to...

The Renegade would be a total music snob about her favorite genre...but I have no idea what she's listen to. I almost wanna go the classic "stuck up formal lady listens to only classical/orchestral music" route but I feel like it might be more interesting if her favorite music genre was something unexpected for someone to be snobbish about, like non-serious rap or boy bands or joke/parody songs or something. Starting to actually like the "she's stuck up about the quality of parody songs" concept. She'll put on The Saga Begins by Weird Al and pour a glass of red wine before launcing into a tasteful rant about the ingenuity of using American Pie to create a star wars parody (it's clever and funny on a surface level but it also accurately captures the musical odyssey that is American Pie combined with the sprawling narrative that is star wars, you see, so it has immense dual thematic value--)

Other than that I have no other music thoughts...too many ocs not enough brain space lol but I especially love thinking about their music tastes :D

19. What are some things that inspired your stories? Real events? Maybe a dream?

That's funny that this question mentions dreams because I do have a character who is inspired by a weird recurring nightmare I used to have. Still working on how to fit him into my story as a whole but he's neat I think. Most of my other story ideas are just things I find interesting or messed up or cool or compelling tbh :)

29. What was your first fandom you were in? Did you make any art/fanfic for it?

I joined tumblr back in 2016 for steven universe actually! I was also into homestuck at the time so those were my main two fandoms. I still think fondly of homestuck (mainly the intermission though) and although I never finished steven universe I still think it's a pretty cute show. I didn't start making fanart until mid-2020 (I literally only drew my ocs haha) and I started writing fanfic (again only wrote about my ocs) in early 2023

30. How are you doing? <3

I'm doing good! And thank you for asking about my guys!! I do think of them a lot :)

#long post #asks for me #talking #mutual shenanigans #my ocs

4 notes · View notes

nukacourier · 3 months ago

Note

For the ask game: 26, 32, 39, and 59 for Pierre (and James too if you want!) I love hearing about your characters

Yippee!!! More about Pierre :3

How would others describe them / their disposition?

Pierre has quite the mixed reputation. However, most common consensus with the average is that he is beautiful and charismatic with people when need be, she is also known for being off-putting and somewhat distant (mentally or emotionally) whenever most people try to get to know them. This often makes people wary or plain afraid of him, even without being associated with raiders

Raiders, on the other hand, tend to hate her or adore him, there's hardly an in between

What is their go-to weapon or weapon class?

Primarily specializes in melee (favoring knives, rippers, and bars/bats), but is also skilled with explosives. Tends to use big guns too if he can get her hands on them

Favorite song?

It's All Over But the Crying by the Inkspots

Do they idolize anything / anyone?

Yes. Pierre sees James as something worth worshipping. Has an unhealthy attachment to him because of his unyielding kindness and his honesty. Eventually grows out of it...but a lot of the fondness for him does remain

#thanks for the ask!!!! pierre is so fun to think abt #vinny rambles #ask #pretty pierre (oc)#fallout new vegas #fallout 3

3 notes · View notes

thecozykirin · 1 year ago

Text

Daily Writing Challenge Day 5 - Strange

‘Baba, am I strange?’

U-Jinn blinked and squinted at the calligraphy on his daughter’s notepad, trying to see if he had read that right. “Strange..?” The graying Pandaren reiterated carefully. Soo-ha hugged the notepad to her chest, nodding in clarification. U-Jinn’s brow immediately furrowed. “Not at all, Inkspot.” He set aside his work tools and gestured for her to come closer. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

Soo-ha’s eyes dipped down to the floor, claws gripping the side of her notepad for a moment before she flipped it to a new page, writing. ‘I’m much shorter than the others…’

U-Jinn replied as soon as she had finished writing. “So? Different cuts of the same cloth are not always the same length. Some strips are shorter, some are longer.”

Soo-ha pouted, writing: ‘But I am not cloth, I’m a Pandaren.’

U-Jinn chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair which earned a disgruntled little rumble from the cub as her bangs were mussed up. “Figure of speech, Inkspot. You’re not strange just because you’re short.” With the tip of his claw. He gently fixed her bangs. “Is there anything else?” The smile that crossed his daughter’s muzzle vanished nearly as quickly as it came at his question. Flipping to a new page, she wrote: ‘The other cubs here say I look weird…the masters too. They whisper but I can hear it sometimes.’ U-Jinn’s expression fell. “Weird? Come now, Inkspot. Cubs have a silly idea on what’s normal. Besides, I doubt the masters mean anything by i—“ Soo-ha stamped her little foot, cutting him off as she flipped to a new page in her notepad, writing furiously: ‘Don’t pretend that you don’t see it too! I’m short and I’m skinny like a dog and my fur and hair are the color of an eggplant!’ U-Jinn reached out and gently took her little white paws in his own, pulling her to his chest. “First of all, don’t compare yourself to a dog, Inkspot. Just as each cut of cloth may not be the same length, they are not all the same width either.” Gently slipping his claw beneath her chin, he tilted her head upwards so their eyes would meet, an amused smile on his muzzle. “And only partly. Purple and white are colors that complement each other quite nicely. Soo-ha huffed, flipping to a new page as she settled on her father’s lap and wrote: ‘A moldy eggplant then :(‘ With a chuckle, U-Jinn gently took hold of the notepad and guided it away, placing it with the rest of his tools. “You really should be practicing your sign.” Soo-ha huffed as her notebook was taken away, but she relented. ‘The adults don’t seem to think I need to…’ U-Jinn paused, head tilting. “Really? Why is that?” Soo-ha frowned. ‘Because they tell me my ears work fine.’

U-Jinn scoffed. “Well, that may be…but there will be times when you may not have parchment available to you. Next time they tell you that, you tell them that I told you that you need to practice, mh?”

The cub meekly nodded, moving to slip off her father’s lap when he chuffed, causing her to pause.

“And Inkspot —“ Once U-Jinn saw he had her attention, he continued. “Only things we do not understand are strange…but we all learn to understand things in time, then they become normal to us.”

Soo-ha reached instinctively for her notepad…before she paused and corrected herself, signing: ‘But why am I the way that I am, baba? No one else here seems so…different.’

U-Jinn smiled gently. “Why is the sky blue or the snow in Kun-Lai white? They are because they are, there need not be any further explanation for it.” He took hold of her little paws once more, giving them a squeeze. “You will be understood in time, Inkspot…as we all are.”

Soo-ha gazed at her father’s face, searching his expression and finding nothing but sincerity…only then, did she smile and lean in to hug him, a soft rumble leaving her throat in the form of a thank you.

“Any time, Inkspot.” U-Jinn returned the embrace. “Any time.”

@daily-writing-challenge

#pandaren #warcraft oc #world of warcraft #short story #daily writing challenge

7 notes · View notes

daughters-of-liberty · 2 years ago

Text

youtube

Completely forgot to post a song for Valentine's Day! Yes, it is T Swizzle, but this is one that makes me feel happy.

Some other great Valentine's Day songs I like to listen to are:

The Only Exception, by Paramore

Ready to Run, by One Direction (don't judge me, it's a good song)

Cosmic Love, by Florence + the Machine

Like Real People Do, by Hozier

You and I, by Barns Courtney

Bliss, by Alice Peacock

Smile, by Uncle Kracker

Honeybee, by the Head and the Heart

Bloom, by the Paper Kites

The Bones (with Hozier), by Maren Morris

Stand by Me, I prefer F+tM's version, but the Ben E. King version is a classic for a reason (this is also a great platonic and family love song)

I Can't Help Falling in Love, by Elvis (though the Hailey Reinhart cover is beautiful, too!)

At Last, by Etta James

La Vie En Rose, by Louis Armstrong (or if you want a uniquely French flair, the Edith Piaf version)

Crazy He Calls Me, by Billie Holiday

I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire, by the Inkspots

Chances Are (feat. Martina McBride), by Bob Seger

(Everything I Do) I Do it For You, by Bryan Adams

Where Your Road Leads, by Trisha Yearwood

#Valentine's day playlist

3 notes · View notes

silbeni · 1 month ago

Text

Ouch.

In which: Ryoma wakes up at Rohan's after a transformation. Everything hurts.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort. 99 percent hurt in this one oops.

Pairing: (TSKRLA) Inkspots (Ryoma/Rohan)

TW: Body horror. lots of pain talk. Mention of blood.

Part 1 of 3. Part 2 can be found here.

\\\something I've been thinking about over a couple of days...... trying to enjoy writing again waaaghhh. It's fun but I get embarrassed.

So I'm being brave .. here. Sort of pointless plot wise, mostly thinking about body horrors stuff. But it'll get somewhere interesting I hope! the next part will have some inkspots character moments. Perhaps an argument OOO... That remains to be seen. Anyway enjoy. Leaves. 🍃. I'll make some art for this eventually

Uncoiling from their slumber, Ryoma awoke to an immediate searing pain in their retinas. They became aware of the immense, overwhelming golden light surrounding them, - too painful to bear, even as they squeezed their eyes shut. They let out a reflexive groan, unknowingly alerting the person sitting nearby.

"You're awake."

They shelved the noise, occupied with the stinging world of red behind their eyelids. They brought their hands to their face in an attempt to shield their eyes from the visual assault. The action cascaded waves of soreness everywhere else on their body, but they persisted, trying to solve one pain at a time.

They rubbed the roundness of the offending organs and slowly but surely, they began to note an increasing coolness and another strange sensation- The feeling of thin, plasticky strips emerging beneath their eyelids. It was uncomfortable, but it was much preferred to the prior burning.

The small reprieve allowed them to strain and think about how they could've ended up like this. Gadzooks overreacted, took over, likely terrorized some people and crashed, hard. Rohan must've been involved somehow, since it felt very much like they were in his house.

They could tell, Gadzooks interference with their body granted them some sharper senses. They didn't know how to categorize it exactly. They could vaguely approximate their surroundings, and visualize it, but it wasn't sight. Perhaps an evolved offshoot of hearing or some kind of extra sensory perception?

Either way, they could tell that they were in Rohan's living room, laying on the couch, just as they could tell someone was standing a couple feet away from them. They were sure who it was, but just to be sure, they tasted the air, catching enough of a whiff to identify the mystery person.

A familiar essence filled their system. "...Rohan." They called, hoarsely. Speaking proved to be painful too. The attempt added their teeth, jaw and throat to the extensive list of aching body parts.

They tasted something else besides the air. Their dry mouth was marred with the strong taste of blood. They tried not to think if it was theirs, or someone else's.

"You were out for a couple of hours. How are you feeling?" They felt a soft impact, and an added weight on the couch. He was leaning on the arm rest nearest to them.

"Not... great." They were in too much discomfort to try and hide how they felt. It would be pointless, anyway.

They tried to get comfortable, but it was hard to when their body felt like one big bruise. They didn't know how they weren't torn to shreds whenever their insides became outsides. When their bones, knives, or whatever, poked out of their body through their skin-

...Or, how could they be so sure their skin was actually skin? When they tallied it up, how much of them was actually left? Ryoma ended up lying face down, burying their face into the couch cushions to drown out the barrage of incoming thoughts.

"Yeah, you look terrible." Taken back, they found some humor in his dry retort.

"Gee, thanks, Ro."

They pressed their face in deeper when they heard him emit a closed-mouthed chuckle in response.

The following moments were filled with peaceful quiet. Now that they weren't in acute pain, or in existential anguish—thanks to Rohan—they noticed the moist layer of towel beneath the blankets. Tomoko would do that too, at home, the last time they transformed. It soothed their bruising, while the blankets keep them from losing too much heat.

It was an usual sleep set-up, but they found themself drifting off with a placid smile on their lips. For a second, images of Phasmatodea flashed in the forefront of their mind. A Remulus Mikado, a Lamponius Portoricensis, and then–

Movement, the couch dipping and rising by a few centimetres.

Ryoma barely had time to register vanishing footsteps, rushing to get something out before he left the room. "You- You're leaving??" They asked, a bit faster and a bit louder than they intended.

He stood still. "I have to pick up a few things. I'll be back soon."

"...Okay."

With that, the front door swung shut with a distinct click, and Ryoma's heart sank with it. The ambient silence was no longer peaceful, and they seriously considered restoring their vision, as painful as it would be.

Mulling it over, they fashioned a cuccoon out of blankets, trying to find solace in the soft fibers. Parts of their skin, here and there, peeled away into shuddering slivers of film. As they curled further inwards, they felt something foreign slide up against their arm. They were about to scream until they realized just who it was.

"Ryoma! Ryo-ryoma!"

...

#ryoma #Rohan 💚#inkspots #ryohan #tskrla stuff #griffic posting #CLIFF HANGER BWAH HAH HAH #you can guess who it is #i think

8 notes · View notes

kalevalakryze · 11 months ago

Text

How Do You Make A Home?

Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Ahsoka (TV) Characters: Shin Hati, Sabine Wren, Ahsoka Tano, Huyang Relationships: Shin Hati/Sabine Wren, Shin Hati & Ahsoka Tano & Sabine Wren, Shin Hati & Huyang, Sabine Wren & Ahsoka Tano Tags: Shin Tano AU, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Family Fluff, Healing, Holidays, Hot Chocolate, Sweaters, Sabine Wren's Bad Flirting Notes: This really wasn't supposed to take so long, but I got myself into a HUUUGGGEEE block. Anyways thousands of thanks to Cass, Gabi, and Pooha once again mwah mwah (even if one of you is a fucking loser) This is actually going to be the first piece that we're dedicating to a series of little snippets that won't be making it into the main storyline, but that we still wanted to share, so keep an eye out!! This piece is set towards the back end of Act 3, after the events of Season One of the aired Ahsoka Series. Once again , art work by the wonderful amazing Gabi! .somewillwin / .somewilllose !!!! mwahmwahmwah my background for forever... did i mention my wolfwren tattoo yet? sighs dreamily...anyways, the code disruptors is my new version of the inkspots lovelovelove them, and I know Huyang would too!!! Word Count: 5,251 AO3 Link: Here!

There was no real way to keep track of time on Peridea, though they’d noticed a certain… festivity around the Noti with each passing day. Shin and Sabine had been working hard to understand the language, but they’d been stuck in a loop of grammar rules as each person used slang that sent everything they’d known out the window.

The chrono on Shin’s old datapad was unreliable, and not only didn’t adjust to the change in the timezone change but hadn’t been updating since it had power last, several years ago.

“Do you think this is the Noti version of life day?” Sabine questioned one day while Shin chopped wood with a rather primitive hatchet. The fibers of wood creaked and groaned as it split under the force. Golden eyes followed the muscles flexing under sweaty skin, watching intently as the blonde wrenched the blade from the stump she’d been cutting on.

“Perhaps, the Noti are expressing the more traditional symptoms of a holiday spirit,” They squinted as a string of overly bright lights in blues and purples were plugged in, strung around the side of a trawler. “If I’m not mistaken, we would be rounding the same time of year as life day back in our own galaxy as well.”

“Sure you’re not messed up from the jetlag?” The Mandalorian questioned as she moved around their side to begin stacking piles of cut wood.

“I have an excellent sense of time,” Shin turned her nose up at Sabine as she set the small hatchet down, lifting the hem of her shirt to wipe sweat from under her eyes.

Sabine didn’t realize she was staring, or that she’d been caught staring at the exposed midriff until Shin’s throat cleared. “You got this? I need to go clean up,”

Huffing, Sabine nodded, looking at the stacks of wood apprehensively. “Yeah yeah, go. Leave me all alone without any good luck kisses;” She complained rather loudly, earning them curious black, beady eyes as the Noti turned to the commotion.

“You are such a-” Sighing and shaking her head, knowing the fight was not worth it, the blonde crowded into Sabine’s personal space, pressed a sweaty hand into the fabric of the jacket at her chest, and tugged her close to bring their lips together in a chaste kiss. “There, now do you think you can actually work?”

“Well… what are my overtime benefits?”

“Omak da daut.” Shin shoved against the shorter woman with a stifled laugh, bringing a contagious smile to Sabine’s face as she finally let up and went to work.

The afternoon passed slowly, though Sabine really couldn’t find anything to complain about as she moved firewood into dry stacks, and lazy snowflakes began falling to the earth. When she did get a moment to sneak onto the ship for something warm, she found Shin tucked into the couch with blankets pulled up to their chin, sleeping peacefully, while Ahsoka perched on the edge of a seat, preparing a small box on the table.

“She alright?” The Mandalorian whispered as she moved to the teapot.

“Just tired, sounds like someone made her chop all the wood alone,” The teasing in Ahsoka’s quiet tone didn’t go unnoticed as Sabine filled two steaming cups and leaned across the back of the bench. When she reached to float the second cup to the table, the ceramic wiggled dangerously in midair, before settling onto the tabletop with only a slight clatter. “You’re getting better,” The Togruta remarked proudly as she reached to take the cup into her hands, bright green wrapping paper forgotten.

“Hey, I was doing important things while they were chopping wood, you know,” She defended quickly, still leaning over the back of the bench, elbows pressing into the seatback with her cup held firmly between her hands. “The Noti almost overloaded a generator with all the lights they’ve been plugging in lately. Starting to wonder what they would do without the gays,” The sigh from the woman was dramatic, though it was nothing in comparison to the chuckle from her Master at her word choice.

“Yes yes, what would they do without the gays,” Shaking her head, Ahsoka set her mug down and returned to her gift. “If my chrono was correct, today would be our life day back home. So I’ve made some preparations. Would you mind giving me a hand decorating while they’re asleep?”

“Does a Bantha shit in the desert?”

The harmonic melody of music filtering through old speakers was the first thing to slip into Shin’s waking consciousness, turning nightmares of water and broken hands into memories of holidays and snowball fights. They weren’t sure where the music was coming from for an indeterminate amount of time but had been content to relive times better spent with family.

Until the sound of someone falling flat on their ass in the waking world jolted her back to life with a gasp. Shin sat upright faster than a flash, blankets falling around their waist as bleary eyes tried to adjust to the room around her. “Ow!” Sabine groaned as Ahsoka laughed openly at her. “It’s not funny!” She whined, rolling over on the floor to rub her bruised ass.

“It’s… kinda funny,” The older woman responded, reaching down to take her hand and haul her to her feet. “I think you’re done hanging those though, maybe if you apologize, someone taller will help you out?”

“Apologize? To the ship?” Gold watched as mirthful blue flickered across the cabin to the blonde rubbing their eyes. “Oh she’s gonna kick me in the shebs,” She whispered, as if the other woman would not hear.

“Maybe later,” Shin husked, brushing their fingers through messy hair, blonde and brown where their roots had grown back in over the months. “What do you need me to do?” Pushing out from under the warm cocoon of blankets, Sabine was practically giddy to see the colorful and paint-stained clothes they’d donned after their shower.

“I think, in payback for stealing my clothes, you should help me hang these lights,”

“We’re watching a diplomatic legend at work, Huyang,” Ahsoka whispered to the droid as he stepped out of his room to check in on the commotion.

“I see. I am interested in how the Duchess of Krownest will fare in her first political battle.”

“Huyang, did I ever tell you that your wires are crossed wrong?” The purple-haired woman butted in with a roll of her eyes as Shin crowded her personal space, leaning into her as their arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“I mean... I suppose I can help… What are my overtime benefits looking like?” Sabine beamed at their words, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss into their cheek.

“Well, Tiny Tano, I can promise that and a half, if you know what I’m saying.” Her hand slid into the back pocket of the loose pants around their waist, wiggling an eyebrow for comedic effect as the taller woman’s cheeks darkened.

“I’m leaving this galaxy and never coming back,” Ahsoka complained immediately, inching out of the conversation under the guise of Huyang needing help.

Leaving the two Apprentices to decorate, Ahsoka stepped into Huyang’s space with him. “Did you manage to find everything?” She whispered, despite her surety that the girls could not hear her, her own self-doubt ate away at her.

“Yes, Lady Tano. I’ve even managed to clear away the dust.” Answered Huyang in the affirmative, arms extending from his back to slowly bring down several old wrapped packages with names painted in different scripts across the packaging. Shin’s gifts were wrapped in multitudes of greens, while Sabines’, Ahsoka had wrapped in the show owner's favorite colors, leaving her a veritable rainbow of assorted packages.

“Perfect, Would you mind setting them on the table while I prepare dinner?”

In place of an answer, Huyang settled a hand on the anxious Togruta’s shoulder and ushered her onwards with a knowing look.

With Huyang and Ahsoka occupied, Sabine found delight in crowding Shin’s personal space as they strung lights across the walls and ceiling, much more interested in stealing kisses and touches than in the actual process. “Wren, can you do something useful?” They complained quietly as Huyang stacked presents on the table.

“I’m offering so much emotional support, right now, don’t worry, you’ll feel it later,”

Sighing softly and giving up once the last string was completed, Shin turned to face her Mandalorian pest, only to find themselves being walked back into a wall with warm hands pressing against their waist. “Do you want your payment now, or later?” Sabine leaned up to press a feather-light kiss to their lips, smiling at the way their cheeks reddened almost immediately.

“It is time and a half,” They grumbled against Sabine’s lips, tugging her in closer as wrapped hands moved to card carefully through shaggy purple hair. “I think you can pay the rest of the invoice later,”

Instead of answering, Sabine focused on smashing their lips back together, tongue prodding against their lips until they found success in a soft gasp and the feeling of their fingers tightening in her hair as she licked at the inside of their mouth.

“Oh great heavens,” Huyang exclaimed, legs clattering where they hit the table, boxes shifting precariously in their stacks in his haste to turn his head away.

“Sorry, Huyang,” Sabine called sheepishly once Shin had pushed her away, though there wasn’t a single hint of her being apologetic as she turned back to beam at the blonde. “Later?”

“Yes, dear,” Shin grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “Now you get to clean up the mess,”

“Oh, okay-” Teasing hands moved to the ties at their hips, half-heartedly tugging on the strands until they batted her hands away. “Yeah yeah, I’m going, I’m going,” She grumbled as she turned instead to clean up the boxes and fallen ties, painstakingly picking each up off the floor as Shin went to help Huyang.

The smell of dinner being carried up the ramp was enough to pull the human’s attention away from the cleanup as Huyang shifted everything to make room. Shin met Ahsoka halfway down the ramp to help carry everything, filling the cabin with the warm smell of the campfire and the spices used across the pog soup and roasted… whatever they called the animal that Ahsoka had hunted; without Ezra to inform them, they were really just winging it, leaving this beast as ‘edible number five’.

“ ‘soka, that smells great,” Sabine praised as they all crowded around the table, with Huyang taking an honorary seat beside Ahsoka and the two Apprentices crowding in close.

With his extending arms, Huyang was able to neatly pile heaping amounts of food onto everyone’s plates, only offering an innocent “Yes?” To Ahsoka’s inquisitive look.

“What would we do without you, Huyang?” She decided instead as the droid settled back into his seat.

“I actually have a list compiled somewhere in my room,” Shin spoke around a spoonful of soup. “The short answer has always been die.”

Sabine snorted from beside them and shook her head, turning over a spoonful of rice from her soup. “I dunno, Chopper could-”

“Do not speak to me about that droid, R2D2 could destroy him,” Ahsoka challenged with a laugh.

Dinner was spent in much of the same fashion, with Shin getting up at the end to gather plates, and only threatening to turn Huyang off once when he’d insisted on helping.

“So what’s all this?” Sabine questioned, leaning back in her seat with her arm tossed over her stomach, sharp eyebrow raised in Ahsoka’s direction as she sorted the boxes into different piles.

“Well… we missed a few holidays,” There was a weighty shift in the mood as realization sunk in. Ahsoka didn’t meet her gaze as the silence thickened, broken up only by the clattering of dishes in the sink and quiet humming from the blonde cleaning them.

“Oh..”

“I figured…. If you guys came back, I didn’t want to not be prepared…”

“Ahsoka,” Sabine reached across the table and took her hands, squeezing around the rough hands in her own, Sabine forced herself to meet her gaze. “We’re here now… I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry too… More than I can tell you. But-” She cleared her throat and with a steady breath, bled the anxiety and hurt into the force. “Another day, perhaps. We’re all here right now, and I know better than to waste this time.”

“What?” Shin questioned obliviously as she circled back to the benches, drying her hands on the back of Sabine’s shirt as she tucked back into the Mandalorian’s side.

“Nothing, Tazi Unt.”

Suspicious eyes glared up at the older woman, though the subject was dropped as Shin dipped under the table to grab something hidden in the benches long ago. “If we’re doing this, I got you something too, before…”

“Man… You guys okay with like… Free hug coupons? Free armor painting? I’m kind of empty-handed, here.” Sabine chuckled nervously as piles of boxes were pushed around the table to their recipients.

“You can… clean up after the Howlers for me this week?” Ahsoka suggested, earning her a sour face.

“No, I think I was offering hugs and paint. Try again next year,” Laughing, Ahsoka simply shook her head and gestured to the gifts.

“It may be a little small…” Ahsoka started as Shin unwrapped a neatly folded sweater, green fabric with brown and red designs, pulling off a Loth Cat with a bright red nose square in the center. When they unfolded the sweater, the Togruta seemed to reconsider. “Actually… maybe a little big, now.” Shin’s face darkened in mild embarrassment as they tucked the sweater back into its neat fold and settled it in their lap. “We’ll work on it,”

“Thank you,” Shin grumbled bashfully, reaching to push a dusty, wrapped parcel into Ahsoka’s hands. “I got this before… Almost forgot about it,” “Thank you, Shin,” Ahsoka took the parcel, and careful not to get the dust on the table, unfolded the paper on the seat so it could be brushed away. The fabric inside was still soft, if not a bit dusty smelling.

“Kaeden helped me make it,” The blonde started, fingers fidgeting in their lap as Ahsoka slowly unwound the poncho from the twine binding it together. They’d spent months putting the gift together, alternating between using the force, her own hands, and allowing Kaeden to help stitch the fabric together.

The hood for the montrals was a bit lopsided, and the stitching was rather messy, but they’d put it together themselves, and at the time, had been rather proud and excited of the work they’d done. Now though, they watched Ahsoka with apprehension.

Nervousness prickled at Shin’s senses, so the blonde picked instead at a small, loose thread on their gloves, an old habit picked up from an old friend… That they’d probably killed…. Fuck, Hera…

Sabine’s warmth leaned into her side, reaching out to poke at the pouf that counted as the lothcat’s nose on her sweater, still neatly folded on her lap. “Cute little guy,” She whispered as Huyang helped Ahsoka pull the hood over her head.

“How’s it look?” A smile cracked the Togruta’s face, warm and loving, despite the point for the montrals that ended up way too long, and dipped almost into her face when the hood was pulled down.

“Do you want that honestly?” A smile cracked Sabine’s face as Shin reached out to lightly smack her arm, all the while rolling their own eyes in the process.

“You’re so dramatic,” Shin shook their head, shifting down the bench and away from Sabine, closer to Ahsoka. The Togruta ran much warmer than Sabine and herself, and the cold was beginning to seep into the ship. Seeking warmth, the blonde pressed into Ahsoka’s side, sinking closer when the edge of the cloak was pulled around their shoulders.

“Perfect size,” The older woman’s chest rumbled as Shin’s head pressed into her shoulder, one hand fisting into the fabric of the cloak while the other moved to rest on the blue and white striped lek closest to them. “Alright, ‘ bine, you’re next,”

“Hell yeah!” The Mandalorian exclaimed, peeling away the paper on a parcel shaped similarly to Shin’s, but with an explosion of color on the paper instead. Inside, in reds and whites, a similar sweater was nestled into the packaging, trees, snowflakes, and Gallaze etched into cozy fabric. “Oh holy shit,” She paused as she reached to touch the soft material within; The air grew heavy with emotion again, though Sabine was quick to swallow her thoughts and feelings. After all- If she had to think about the last sweater someone made for her, she’d think of hearing her buire argue over colors as they stayed up late to knit together for both of the kids. The half-hearted banter was only broken up with soft jokes and gentle requests to pass a new color over. “Cyar’ika, can you pass the teal?” “Would black not be more fitting?” “It is a big sweater, dear. You can fit more than three colors on it.” “Tion’jor ganar te gotal’ade ne’ortisir ti mirsheb riduur?” “You said yes, cyare.”

Clearing her throat around the beskar-weighted lump, Sabine’s fingers fisted into the fabric. “Thank you, ‘soka…” A pause as the paper was cleared away. “I’m gonna go… put this on, actually.”No one spoke to deter her from taking the space she needed, and for that, she was thankful.

With only Huyang and Shin in the room, Ahsoka pushed over a small stack of presents for Shin again. The datapad would need charged again, and probably updated if they could get it connected to the ship’s systems and the armor paint… Well, Ahsoka wasn’t sure if that was something they’d ever need again. The stack of flimsi and the graphite pencils though, they’d seemed to take a keen interest in.

Tucked into her side, Ahsoka was able to feel when Shin started to pick at the threads on her new sweater, still sitting folded in their lap. “Do you want some help getting it on?” Their hands had been cramping since hanging the lights, and Ahsoka knew better than to wait for them to ask.

“I can get it,” A pause as if they were reconsidering, fingers flexing into the fabric as their brows pulled together, testing the waters. “Could you, though...?” Nodding, Ahsoka went through the motions in helping them remove their tunic as Huyang slipped away, presumably to make something warm for his chilly humans. Shin was able to tug the sweater over their head without the Force, though adjusting the hem was left to her mother as well.

By the time Sabine returned, hair brushed back messily and eyes only slightly puffy, Shin was tucked back into Ahsoka’s side with the rather comfortable sweater warming under Ahsoka’s arm. The inside of the sweater was carefully lined with softer material, and, having removed the thin wrappings around their hands to enjoy the texture, the sleeves fell over their hands comfortably.

“Gotal’ade, ner kurs’kaded, that thing is swallowing you,” Sabine teased quietly to break the tension in her heart as she slid in closer, tucking herself into the blonde’s side and allowing Ahsoka’s hand to reach across their back to brush against her shoulder. “This is sooo soft, Ahsoka… Thank you.”

Sinking into the sweater and pulling the neckline up to her chin, Shin’s focus went past Ahsoka and Sabine, towards Huyang as he stepped away from the line of counters, extra limbs extended and clutching three steaming mugs piled high with toppings. Marshmallows, graham crackers, peppermint canes from Onderon, all the old ingredients that he and Shin had painstakingly compiled to create the perfect mug of hot chocolate, with bright green sprinkles topped over the emerald mug that Shin had made themselves.

“Hey… Huyang?” Shin croaked as the professor settled into his seat across from the girls. The mugs were passed around carefully before he was able to give her his full attention, their hands clasped around the thick ceramic walls of their mig, with the soft material that stopped the heat from burning their hands and made it just a little easier to hold onto when the joints got stiff.

“Yes, Shin?” Yellowed eyes blinked at her calmly as he settled back; It had been strange, once upon a time, to see a droid that could express so much with light relays behind transparisteel eyes, built hundreds of years before anyone they’d ever known had ever walked through their galaxy. Sometimes, it was easy to forget that he was a droid, and not her own flesh and blood; at least… before, when they’d still been oblivious to the truth of the galaxy around them.

“I got you something too,” The mug was set on the side, and with a bit of wriggling, Shin was free of their sandwiched position between Ahsoka and Sabine. Stretching quietly, Shin's face reddened with the three sets of eyes on her. “Hang on…” Disappearing into the cockpit, keen ears listened for the quiet speculation from the main cabin as they worked through some of their old hiding places, removing wall panels and sifting through wires and dust. The container was cracked from turbulence over the years, no thanks to her own actions in hunting and attacking the shuttle they’d called home for so long.

Blowing the dust off, Shin was able to peer at the faded coloring of the tape’s label, The Code Disruptors was etched into the old plastoid; They were big back with the knights of the old republic, and Shin had found the tape on one of their excursions into an old temple with Ahsoka, back in the day. It had taken ages to repair the soundtracks, and when they had, they’d planned to save it for a special occasion, that had been overshadowed and forgotten, until now.

Stepping back into the main cabin, Shin cracked the seal to double-check the safety of the sparse music tracks they’d been able to save. “They should be mostly intact…” Heavy silver eyes squinted at the grooves in the tape as she returned to the table, settling instead on the edge of the table to pass the gift along. Using the force to call their mug across the table to themselves, Shin took a slow, careful sip of the rich, creamy chocolate drink, mint tickling their tastebuds with that dash of cinnamon and nutmeg earning them the taste of home.

Huyang took the tape in careful hands, blinking first at the gift, then back up at Shin. The human shifted in mild discomfort… why was he looking at her like no one had ever given him a gift before? “You remembered,” His voice was soft, trepidation lightening the box of wires that made up his vocal cords.

“Of course…” Sabine and Ahsoka were watching the droid and human, though they were both shoved to the backburners; Back before the Inquisitor, Shin and Huyang would often find themselves in the ship alone. Huyang, working on repairs, with Shin either working, learning on their datapad, or trying to meditate. No matter what they were doing, his old tapes would be playing, filling the T-6 with the old music. He’d taught them how to dance, during those times, had opened their world to the history of music and how he perceived it much like the Force, even if he could never wield the cosmic powers himself. Those lessons had helped them a lot in their training..

Until the Inquisitor had stepped onto their ship, until Shin had shoved Huyang into his quarters and shut him down, his tapes crunching both under the boots of a scared pre-teen, and the slack in his body when his servos were powered down. Until his memory unit recorded the altercation, and Shin was gone.

When Shin was found, the dancing was gone, the tapes were beyond repair, and they’d been too far gone, and loud noises were met with flinches and unadulterated fear. Then… the universe had just refused to give the small crew of rebels a break, and then… Then Shin stepped off the ship of their own accord, and he’d been left to fear the worst. Why don’t they listen?

“Huyang?” Shin’s voice croaked, knowing they were both spiraling down paths that were too heavy to talk about so openly, traumas that would need to be healed in their own time. “Do they work?”

Carefully, gingerly, afraid to ruin a gift that meant more to him than he could express, Huyang slid the tape into a dusty slot. The static started, leaving everyone with bated breath until the rich melody and a harmonic rasp cranked through the speakers. Shin’s shoulders relaxed slowly under the familiar music, dark eyes sliding shut. They could almost imagine they were back there, that the last fifteen cycles had been nothing but a bad dream, that they’d run from their bunk and found him, to dance away the darkness in the force under the careful overwatch of their mother.

“You two used to be obsessed with these guys,” Ahsoka mused at the break in the first song; Huyang and Shin both had been absorbed in their memories, in the old days that they’d both recalled with a somber fondness.

“It’s the era of real music,” Huyang defended as he paused the soundtrack, a hand cradling his chest where the tape now sat safely entombed in his doonium shell.

“Someone needs to listen to Huttese indie,” Sabine huffed with a teasing smile, a chocolate mustache coating her upper lip. Shin shifted on the table so their feet rested on the bench on either side of Sabine’s legs, folding over to lean into her personal space.

“No one likes your over-techno garbage,” Though there was no bite in their voice; Sabine knew for a fact that the decaying blonde would turn her recordings on to listen to the music alone, oftentimes.

Tilting her head up, Sabine ghosted her lips of theirs. “Keep telling yourself that, cyare,”

“Really, in front of my hot chocolate?” Ahsoka questioned incredulously as she motioned to her mug, half full with the stick of peppermint slowly melting into the thick drink.

“Girls just wanna have fun, Master.” Sabine scoffed, though leaned back to allow Ahsoka the reprieve of being present while she stuck her tongue down her daughter’s throat. It could wait… maybe.

“Uh-huh…” Ahsoka’s noose scrunched up as she finished her drink and the next track crackled to life from Huyang’s speakers. Gifts were opened slowly over the refills of drinks and quiet conversation, going late into the night with soft, old music and laughter bouncing off the walls.

At some point, Shin’s hands had begun to cramp, and with an old jar of preserved Shili lotion, Sabine had taken it upon herself to roll up the sleeves of their sweater, deft fingers pressing into scar tissue, easing the stiffness from their joints and relishing in the soft, quiet sounds of comfort as their fingers were granted the freedom to unfurl.

The chrono struck midnight, though, through an improvised viewport, created from a bandit fight with too many explosives, they could see the sun just beginning to dip below the horizon, allowing the twinkling lights from the Noti camp to light up the night. It seemed even the nomad clans around the planet were kind enough to take a break for the holidays as well, as the perimeter alarms remained undisturbed, even as Ahsoka rose from the bench with a ferocious yawn and a stretch of her own.

“I trust that you three will find your way to bed, soon?” She started, raising a white facial marking at the professor and the students, all relaxing peacefully, bellies warm and full, and conversations lulled to quiet whispers to not overpower the way the old music tracks began to fade with their age.

“Ku, meht.” Shin grumbled sleepily. Ahsoka couldn’t help the warm smile from flitting over her features, proud to have eared her status back, even if Shin would only address her as such anymore if they were tired or injured, it was a start.

“Huyang, will you be up a while?” Shin questioned after Ahsoka retreated. Receiving the affirmative, Shin finally slid off the table, away from Sabine’s embrace. “Could you play track… Nine?” They requested after a moment’s thought, reaching down to tug the Mandalorian out of the bench with a quiet ‘oof’.

The music started after a brief scratch of the needle against the tape. The track was a little older than most, though the words still rang clear. For darling, hearts never lie. Pink, scarred hands found Sabine’s waist easily, fitting them together like puzzle pieces as their feet moved against the floor, kicking away wrapping paper as Shin took the lead.

Sincerely yours, my love I send.

Sabine’s arms circled around their neck, fingers playing with the split colors of their grown-in roots, a warm brown under the artificial lights of the shuttle.

Sincerely yours, until the end.

Shin’s fingers flexed around Sabine’s waist as they glided around their enclosed dance floor, unbothered by the way Huyang’s eyes tracked their movements, recording their first dance in over a decade.

And should you feel as I do, drop me this line.

Like in the Force, the two apprentices allowed the music to sway them in time, smiles and quiet laughter over tripped feet and stepped on toes.

Sincerely yours, you’re mine.

Shin wasn’t sure when the spin and the dip was initiated, just that they’d found their lead being taken away in strong arms securing around her waist, her own hands finding the soft red material of Sabine’s sweater as she was dipped backward and warm lips peppered across her face.

When she was pulled back to a standing position, they found themselves with the unshakable warmth of Sabine’s front pressed steadfastly against their back, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as they breathed in tandem and the song hit its crescendo.

Sabine’s chin hooked against their shoulder as their erratic dancing slowed to a steady sway, Sabine’s hands settled on their hips, with their hands resting calmly over hers, even as those devious fingertips dipped towards the hem of their sweater, rucking it up until she could feel the smooth expanse of pale skin under her fingertips.

Warmth tickled both apprentices' cheeks as Shin dipped back into the safety of Sabine Wren, though desire gave way to embarrassment over the robotic clearing of a throat sa Huyang reminded them of his presence, and the steps he was taking to halt the recording he’d been taking. “I think it is time I retire,” He began, rising to his feet on rusty servos.

“Goodnight,” The apprentices spoke in unison, though Shin dipped forward to regain some semblance of composure around him. “I can take a look at your leg, tomorrow if you’d like… and Thank you,” Huyang’s head dipped in warm acknowledgement as he slunk away to his quarters, leaving them alone in the main cabin.

“So…” Sabine’s fingers had worked back up under their sweater the moment the droid’s back was turned. “Are you ready for your real present,”

“You’re a di’kut,” Shin grumbled, turning in the embrace to bring their lips down against Sabine’s.

Believe my heart as you’ve always done. Remember, hearts never lie.

Translations Omak da daut. - Togruti - Help me, maker cyare - Mando'a - beloved cyar'ika - Mando'a - darling Tion’jor ganar te gotal’ade ne’ortisir ti mirsheb riduur? - Mando'a - why have the makers cursed me with a smartass partner? Gotal’ade, ner kurs’kaded - Mando'a - Makers, my wolf Ku, meht. - Togruti - Yes, mom di'kut - Mando'a - idiot

Believe my heart as you’ve always done. Remember, hearts never lie.

Kofi // fic

#Shin Tano AU #Wolfwren #Ahsoka Tano #Huyang #shin hati #Sabine wren #somewillwin #somewilllose #mwah mwah mwah #fanfiction #star wars #au #shin x Sabine #shinbine #shabine #the inkspots

524 notes · View notes

lena-in-a-red-dress · 3 years ago

Text

Needles & Ink, Pt 2 (NSFW)

Lena slips in the back door of the InkSpot. She pauses just inside, absorbing the utter silence that fills the place. Gone is the thumping music, and buzzing of machines. Gone is the bustle of clients coming and going. It's completely and utterly still.

At nearly 4am, it's well past normal operating hours, even for the night crowd. Lena knows she herself ought to be in bed, catching as many winks as she could before her next morning meeting, but-- even after a day of committees and endless reports, Lena is absolutely wired. She'd known tugging on James' door would be a long shot, but when it opened she'd hoped her fellow night owl might be down for a late tattoo session.

Looking out across the darkened shop, though, it seems more likely that James has simply forgotten to lock the back door. She pulls out her phone, intent on teasing James into oblivion, but freezes when an odd sound drifts out of James' office.

It sounds almost like a moan, but when it's followed by another, longer moan of a different pitch, Lena realizes someone is humming. Someone in the office is humming a Bonnie Tyler song.

Total Eclipse of the Heart, to be exact.

Lena saunters silently to the office door and leans against it, taking a moment to observe Kara Danvers humming along to the music playing in her ears. She's bent over paperwork, and despite the hour and the solitude a soft smile graces her lips, pulling one to Lena's own face at the sight of it.

"You look good," she says in a low voice.

Kara jumps violently in her seat, jolting the entire desk with the force of her gasp.

"Oh my sweet baby Jesus!!" she exclaims, pressing a hand to her chest. When she looks up, Kara sags at the sight of Lena. "You scared me!"

Lena watches Kara remove her earbuds, and folds her arms over her chest, still leaning against the door frame. "Sorry," she purrs unapologetically. She smiles. "How are you? It's been a while."

"Good, good. I mean, I'm-- I'm in Metropolis! Wait-- you're in Metropolis! What are you doing here??"

Lena gives a tilt of her head. "Business. I may have moved my company to National City, but it still feels as though I do more business here than there these days."

"Right, um..." Kara suddenly looks nervous, casting a worried look past Lena into the hallway. "Sorry, but um.... we're kind of closed? Actually-- how did you get in here?"

Lena huffs a faint laugh. "Back door. James lets me slip in now and then. I was hoping he would have time for a quick session."

"Oh, um... I'm the only one here. Sorry."

"Don't be," Lena smiles. "It's good to see you. Is James treating you well? I don't need to yell at him, do I?"

"Oh, no! No, no, he's been great-- everyone has been really amazing, truly. I couldn't have asked for better hosts. I've been loving it here."

Lena nods, glad to hear it. Pushing off the door jamb, she lets her arms fall, clasping her hands in front of her. "Well, I won't keep you. It was good to see you--"

"W-wait!" Kara jerks to her feet, slamming into the desk yet again in her haste to keep Lena from leaving. Lena pauses, biting back a smile at her clumsiness. "James isn't here, but I am. Why don't we do some more work on your crane?"

"Oh, it's late--"

"No, I-- I mean, I'll text James to make sure it's okay, but... I'm down if you are."

Lena regards her for a long moment.

"Okay."

---

There’s something ethereal in the moments that follow. James gives his blessing, which Kara barely notices past the distraction that is Lena Luthor unbuttoning her blouse. Backlit by a halo of neon light, she looks like a hazy dream, long and beautiful and full of mystery even as she lays herself bare.

In deference to the late hour, Kara keeps the overheads off, and simply turns on her worklight. The spill of light pulls Lena’s attention to her, catching her watching. In the shadows, Lena smiles coyly.

“Like what you see?” Lena asks, casting her shirt aside. She takes a wide stance, presenting herself to Kara’s gaze in all her tattooed glory. Maybe it’s the late hour, but Kara allows her gaze to linger, charting a path from the stylized storm brewing at Lena’s collarbones, to the dragon that disappears down one hip.

“Always,” she murmurs.

Lena looks aside for a moment-- when she looks back, it’s with a heat that sends a bolt of desire straight to Kara’s core. She takes a breath that quakes in her lungs, and then suddenly Lena is there, tucking a wisp of hair behind Kara’s ear.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since our first session,” Lena murmurs.

A flush heats Kara’s neck and face. “Me either,” she confesses. “I mean. You too--”

Her blunder is swallowed by a kiss. Lena’s lips press against Kara’s, warm and soft and absolutely intoxicating. Kara lifts her hands, framing Lena’s face and pulling her closer to deepen the kiss. She’s rewarded with a muted moan, and Lena’s hands on her hips, thumbs brushing beneath the hem of Kara’s tank top.

“You are so beautiful,” Kara breathes when they part, panting for air. There’s an insistent throbbing between her legs, aching for more. Lena’s hand cups her gently, making her whimper.

“May I?” Lena whispers against her ear. Biting her lip, Kara nods. Only then does Lena unbutton Kara’s jeans with her long fingers, peeling the denim away to reveal her panties. Kara’s completely forgotten hat she’s wearing until Lena laughs, low and throaty in Kara’s ear.

The pizza panties. Goddammit.

“I love them,” Lena murmurs, reassuring her. “But I’d love them even better on my bedroom floor.”

Oh god. Kara envisions a clean penthouse apartment, spotless save for the mess of their discarded clothes. But here in the shop? Gross.

“Guess I’ll just have to make do,” Lena says, hitching up the legs of her trousers to kneel between Kara’s legs. In moments, Kara’s pants and panties are both below her hips and a warm tongue sweeps through her folds, collecting the moisture of her arousal in a single taste. Lena hums with pleasure before her thumb gets to work against Kara’s bare clit.

Kara quivers, nearly staggering as her body reacts. Lena’s hands brace her hips, steadying her.

“All right there?” she asks, playfully teasing. Kara whimpers with a nod. To her surprise, Lena guides Kara’s leg to rest over her shoulder, until Kara’s stretched and gaping at her very core. “Press against me if you need to.”

Kara nods again. She doesn’t last long. In mere moments she’s moaning and writhing against Lena’s mouth, shuddering as waves of ecstasy roll through her. Lena’s tongue continues to guide her through her orgasm, pressing firmly to calm her through the aftershocks. When she finally pulls away, Kara can’t bend down fast enough to kiss her own taste away from Lena’s lips.

“On the table,” Kara urges, pulling Lena from her knees. She hastily pulls her pants up, but leaves them unfastened as she quickly devotes her attention to the curves of Lena’s body. Lena doesn’t quite make it on top of the table. She settles for leaning against its edge as she kisses Kara soundly, her hands buried in Kara’s hair.

Kara kisses her messily, wet and sloppy, but Lena can’t seem to get enough. She only pulls her hands away to fumble at the back zipper of her dress pants, until Kara nudges her. “Turn around,” she murmurs.

Lena turns, and Kara carefully unzips her trousers. They fall to her ankles, exposing the rest of Lena’s tattoos. Kara takes a moment to admire them, kneeling to run her hands from Lena’s hip to her ankle, tracing the shape of the tiger clawing up one leg and the dragon coiling down the other. Even in the low light Kara can see the artistry, the mastery of the craft that has been inked into Lena’s skin. And there, curving around Lena’s ribs, a crane peeks out-- Kara’s own offering to the altar that is Lena’s body.

Unlike Kara’s pizza panties, Lena is resplendent in black lace. The fabric hugs Lena’s hips and ass in a tantalizing display. Kara can barely breathe as she stands and runs her fingers across the floral threadwork. Her whimper is eclipsed by a wonton moan from Lena’s throat, her hips pressing out and back against Kara’s hands.

“Kara…”

Lena’s voice is heady, even breathless. It sends a shudder of delirium down Kara’s spine. How is this her life. But Lena’s need is real and evident in the heady utterance, prompting Kara to hook her fingers under the panties and delicately sliding them down Lena’s hips. Every inch of Lena’s inked buttocks steals Kara’s breath, leaving her gasping by the time Lena shifts plaintively in her heels. Finally, Kara cups Lena from behind, and when Kara finds arousal nearly dripping from Lena’s core, she swallows thickly.

“Relax for me, baby girl.”

Lena shudders, sending a gush of fresh warmth into Kara’s palm. Leaning forward, Kara slides one hand down to Lena’s wrist, pressing it against the table as she slips two fingers into Lena’s folds. Gently, she begins to thrust.

“Harder,” Lena gasps almost immediately. She shifts her stance until Kara’s fingers hit a new spot. Kara nods, catching Lena’s gaze when she turns her head to look over one bare shoulder. She increases her speed, adds just a touch more pressure, and is rewarded with a hitch in Lena’s breath. Soon Lena is moaning with every breath, her back glistening with building sweat as her body temperature rises.

Suddenly, Lena’s body shudders with a piercing moan, her walls clenching tight around Kara’s fingers. Just as she begins to come down, Kara releases Lena’s wrist to slip between her hips and the table to press her thumb against Lena’s clit, rubbing swift, furious circles until Lena crests again with a sharp gasp.

When she recovers, Lena turns against the table to loop her arms around Kara’s neck. Kara wraps herself around Lena’s bare skin, nuzzling against her neck, nibbling at her pulse point.

“You’re incredible,” Lena murmurs.

Kara hums against Lena’s neck.

“I’m not finished yet.”

---

Kara draws back to wipe her hair from her eyes. Lena lays before her on a freshly sterilized table in nothing but her bra and panties, looking sleepy and relaxed despite the blood stippling to the surface of her skin.

“You know,” Kara observes, “not everyone would follow sex with a tattoo chaser.”

Lena smiles. “Their loss,” she murmurs. “I highly recommend it.”

Forgoing the use of a stencil, Kara had freehanded the plumage of the crane directly onto Lena’s skin, and already she could see the bird coming to life.

Kara smirks. “Not everyone is a masochist.”

“Imagine tattooing while having sex,” Lena drawls. “Now that would be kinky.”

A laugh bursts out of Kara, earning a deep grin from Lena. With her hair loose and sweaty, Lena is a veritable dream-- to have her skin under Kara’s needle is an honor on a bed of honors. The atmosphere is slow and silky around them, like the world outside has slowed to a standstill without them. Kara savors every moment, lest it all slip away.

“So how has Metropolis treated you so far?” Lena asks, watching Kara dip her needle in fresh ink. She relaxes back when Kara approaches, allowing her easy access to the tattoo site. She doesn’t flinch when Kara resumes. “Still taking walk-ins? Besides me, of course.”

Kara grins, even as she focuses on what she’s doing. “You’re the first one I’ve taken in weeks, actually. Most people are looking for big, personal pieces, so the walk ins don’t really happen you know?” She pauses. “I’ve already started booking back at Argo, since my time here is already booked up.”

“Really? Congratulations!”

“Thanks.” Kara can’t help but blush. “But you know… something tells me I probably have you to thank for all this.”

Lena regards her. “Oh? How so?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure you’re the only canvas I’ve worked on that James Olsen would have seen.”

Lena’s lips part in a silent ah. She regards Kara for a long moment, before reaching out a hand to halt Kara’s ministrations. With a single touch, she pulls Kara’s entire attention to her.

“I didn’t suggest anything, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

Kara doesn’t respond, and thereby tips her hand: it’s exactly what she’s afraid of. That a top-paying client threatened to withdraw their business unless James agreed to take on an unknown artist from a strip mall in National City.

Lena cups her cheek gently.

“All I did was show James the work you’d done-- as I would for any piece I was proud of.” She holds Kara’s gaze, allowing her to see the truth in Lena’s eyes. “Anything he did after that is entirely on you and your body of work. Do you hear me?”

Kara releases a shaky breath, laughing slightly. “Yeah,” she murmurs. “I hear you.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her arm. “Now lay back so I can finish.”

Lena does so, but her eyes don’t leave Kara. Kara can feel her gaze linger, until she’s too immersed in her art to be aware of anything else.

---

“This,” Lena says hours later, pressing cash into Kara’s hand, “is for the tattoo. Just to be clear.”

Without even looking at it, Kara tucks it away. “Good to know.”

“Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea,” Lena winks, earning a chuckle in return.

“Right. Absolutely. But you know…”

“Hmmm?”

Kara tugs Lena closer by the hips, bringing their fronts flush together. Taing advantage of their proximity, Kara kisses her deeply. “You’re going to need some touch ups.”

Lena smiles against her, then kisses her again.

“Well, then…. I guess I’ll just have to see you again.”

“You will.” Kara creeps her hands playfully up Lena’s shirt, only for Lena to pull away with a good natured laugh.

“I have to go, but, ah… I’ll see you later?”

Kara watches Lena back away towards the rear entrance, a smile ever present on her lips.

“Yeah. You will.”

It’s not until long after Lena leaves that Kara realizes.

She didn’t get Lena’s phone number.

#supercorp #needles & ink #tattoo au #smut #ye be warned #as a treat #still dunno where this is going #but i had a vision and i ran with it #hope y'all like it #let me know what you think

238 notes · View notes

threeletterslife · 3 years ago

Text

(Our Very Own) Camaraderie

→ [3/7] of the Glossary Series

→ summary: Adults have led you to believe that most things don't last in high school. But they'd been wrong. Amidst the teenage angst, the drama, the toxicity is a new friend. A friend you come to grow very fond of over the years.

→ pairing/rating: jungkook x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 85% fluff, 15% angst | high school!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, slut-shaming, mentions of f sc*tt f*tzgerald

→ wordcount: 19.9k

→ a/n: look out! some wholesome romance on the way!! jk and oc went from strangers to slight enemies to tolerating each other to friends to lOvers. if that ain’t a rollercoaster journey idk what is. this was also for @thebtswritersclub’s july prompt: __ to lovers!! (and i totally took liberty of this lmao)

His name is Son Jungmin.

The ink bleeds through the paper, a consequence of how hard you've scratched your pen across the straight lines of your journal. You're mad. Fucking furious.

From eighth fucking grade he's tormented me. And I let him do it all the way to junior year. Why did it take me so long to break up with him?

You attempt to run your fingers through your hair, inwardly cursing when the tangles make it hard for you to brush all the way through. And when you try to pick up your pen to write again, the pen breaks, a hideous, unwanted inkspot blossoming on the page. It bleeds through three empty pages. Great. Nothing in your life—not even the tiniest things—seems to be going right.

Quickly, you pull out a new pen and begin to write again.

I should've known to stay away from varsity soccer players. Even worse, he's a fucking cross country runner. I should've known. I was an idiot.

"Hey, babe, you coming to my soccer game on Sunday? The boys and I are planning to dip right after for some burgers."

"Aww, shit, I can't, Jungmin. I have a cheer comp on the same day. Guess we're tied by the ankles by our own sports!" You remember the genuine regret you'd felt that your schedules had clashed. Jungmin loves it when you cheer him on during his soccer games and track meets. You should've known. He'd never bothered to come to your cheer competitions.

"Babe, cheer's not even a sport," Jungmin snorts. "Come on, you don't need to go."

"It's for nationals, Jungmin."

"So?"

"So I can't come to your soccer game."

"That's retarded."

You should've fucking known.

He's popular, too. He knew all my friends and introduced me to his own. They weren't very nice.

"Heard you're making Jungmin keep it in his pants," Hakyung giggles. "Why wait so long? You know he's gonna leave if you... you know, don't give him what he wants."

"It's honestly not that hard," Bokhee chimes in. "You'll get over the awkwardness pretty quickly. At least, that's how it was for me and Hyunjoo."

"I dunno..." you say. "It's just that we're still sort of young... And I don't wanna do anything I'm gonna regret..."

"It wasn't even straight-up porn." Hyunjoo rolls his eyes, swinging an arm around Bokhee. "He just asked you to change in front of him."

I always felt so uncomfortable. But I thought I was just being sensitive. Now, I know that I should've made my boundaries more obvious.

But when I had to be in a wheelchair, it finally became crystal fucking clear what Jungmin's priorities were.

"Cheer's not even a dangerous sport. Don't know how the fuck you got injured."

"I'm a flyer, Jungmin. I'd say that can get pretty risky..."

"Whatever. I don't wanna be the asshole here, but you're not gonna be out of that wheelchair in time for homecoming, are you?"

"Of course I'm not..."

"God, I hate this. I'm gonna sound like a fucking asshole. I'm so sorry, Y/N. It's just that... Wow, I don't want to be the bad guy, but it's... it's gonna be a little weird to, you know, dance with you at homecoming... with your... situation and all, you know?"

"Oh."

"You understand, right? I don't wanna make you feel uncomfortable by wheeling you around everywhere."

"Yeah. Yeah, no, I totally get it."

"I knew you'd understand, babe. You're the best."

Then he went to homecoming with another girl. I couldn't believe it at first, either. But maybe I should've opened my fucking eyes earlier.

It was a relief to break up with him. I spent three weeks rehearsing what I was going to say, but when I finally got it out, my words were jumbled and frankly, embarrassing. But not as embarrassed as Jungmin was that I dumped his ass.

My victory was short-lived, however. Because the day after I became free from that horrible, shitty asshole, I learned about the bet.

The stupid fucking bet. Jungmin had posted it on his spam account on Instagram—before he had deliberately blocked you. You're sure he did it on purpose. He wanted you to feel humiliated before you left him for good.

A cropped photo of you and him holding hands. The infuriating caption: "Fellas I have officially lost the bet. Couldn't fuck Y/N before any of y'all. Take your 50 bucks and get lost bitches."

You had shaken in anger when you'd first seen that post. How dare he?? And when you'd inquired about the bet to some mutual friends, you learned that Jungmin had asked you out in eighth grade, hoping you'd let him "hit it," so he could win some money. You've never felt more used in your whole life.

But the misfortune doesn't stop there.

"Oh... Soojin's sitting there, sorry."

"Um, not today. I'm busy with other... stuff."

"Sorry. I already have a partner."

Dating Jungmin had had its own perks. Everybody knew who I was. Everybody wanted to sit with me, talk to me, hang out with me, partner with me. But ever since I broke up with Jungmin, everyone's been distant. Did I do something wrong?

Distant might not even be the right word. People are avoiding you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Jungmin's the culprit. So you begin to avoid them too. It's hard to transition from being a well-liked person to a person nobody gives two shits about. Classes become dull and much harder without the help of your peers, and partner projects are humiliating.

Especially now.

There you are, sitting in your IB Lit class, sharing a fucking table (and worse, a project) with Jeon Jungkook. He's a fairly well-known varsity swimmer—a smart one too, to be taking several IB classes on top of his rigorous swim schedule. He sounds like every girl's dream guy until you factor in the fact that he's one of Jungmin's stupid minions. You've seen them parading around together after school, during lunch, wherever the fuck they can hang out.

But the first six words he says to you catch you off guard. "Oh, hey!" he says, grinning widely. His teeth vaguely resemble that of a bunny's. "I know your boyfriend!"

You turn to him, eyes narrowed and frown lines stretching across your forehead. "I broke up with him." Two weeks ago, you want to add but you save yourself the trouble.

But things start to click into place. Right. Jungkook had gone to swim championships somewhere out of the country, so he must've missed a lot of the drama. You have no idea if that's for the better or for the worse.

Jungkook's eyes widen. "Ohhh, shit," he whispers. He's about to say something more but you turn your head away, suddenly busying yourself with your laptop—though the screen is blank—and glowering at the boy from the corner of your eyes. He seems to get that you want him to leave you alone. Soon, he's chatting loudly with Jungmin's other rowdy friends, high-fiving them and roaring with laughter. You swear to god, they're everywhere, Jungmin's minions. You might as well fail this stupid IB Lit project.

It's only been a little over two weeks but your life's taken such a drastic turn. Everyone tells you that any drama that happens in high school doesn't matter when you grow up, but it feels like your world's crashing down on you right now.

"You're awfully quiet today," your mother tells you over dinner. Your father fails to look up from his phone, ignoring most of the dinner conversations, as usual.

Your older sister scoffs. "She's been quiet for a couple of weeks, Mom. God, do you notice anything around here?"

"Well, I'm sorry that I'm busy running the whole household to take care of two moody brats."

"I run the errands in this household," your sister argues. "While also balancing my school work. You go to your yoga classes and go golfing with your friends."

"That's no way to talk to your mother. Do something," your mother urges your father.

He looks up from his phone and sighs. "Be nice to your mother. Both of you." He busies himself with his device once again.

"Y/N didn't even do anything," your sister grumbles. She grabs her plate and stands. "Whatever. I'm done eating." Without so much of another glance, she leaves the table.

Your mother rolls her eyes and looks across the table to you. You just shrug your shoulders. "Don't worry, mom. I'm fine."

"Your sister isn't," she replies before staring at her dish and refusing to talk.

You manage to escape the awkward dinner and flee back to the safe confines of your room, only to find your sister lounging on your bed. "Hey," she says.

"Hi," you say, managing to smile as you sit next to her. "Rough day?"

"Not really," she grins. "I just like to stir shit up a little sometimes. Besides, you looked like you needed someone to talk to. And Mom and Dad definitely aren't the ones to offer you support in that sort of area."

"Thanks," you say. "I've been having a pretty shitty couple of weeks."

"It's a boy, huh?"

You turn to her, eyes wide. "Yeah. Yeah. I broke up with Jungmin."

"Thank god," she groans, rolling her eyes. "I always hated that little motherfucker. Ever since he stood you up in eighth grade to meet his friends for that stupid fucking limited edition shoe sale."

"Yeah, well. I thought breaking up with him would make me happier," you say. "It didn't."

"Are his friends bothering you?" your sister asks, a murderous look settling on her face. "I have a full can of pepper spray. Also five different kinds of tasers."

You smile. Your sister never fails to make you feel better. "He's got to do something bad before I attack him blindly!"

"He treated my little sister like shit. That's a crime in it itself," she retorts. "And listen, just focus on your studies for now. Focus on cheer. You'll show them up when you get into a good college and they don't."

"I will," you say. "I'm going to."

"Forget about that peanut-brain and his herd of brainless pistachio-nut followers," she says. "They don't deserve your time."

"They don't," you agree.

"And learn to be satisfied with spending your time alone," she says. "This is grown-up advice so you better be writing this shit down."

"Mentally noted," you giggle. "Thanks."

But it's hard to forget about Jungmin and his pistachio-nut followers (your sister always comes up with the funniest insults) when you're paired with one of them for a goddamn project.

You're sitting in your IB Lit class, setting up your materials and getting ready to get some shit done today—since the previous day you'd been unproductive. But you vow that you're not going to let anyone bring you down.

Until fucking Jeon Jungkook walks in. He slides into the seat next to yours, and when you glance at his face, you notice that he—for some god-forsaken reason—looks apologetic.

"What?" you spit out.

"I... I'm sorry about yesterday," he says. Your eyebrows raise. "I didn't know the breakup was that bad. Guess I've been living under a rock."

He has. But at least he's apologized for it. That's a step better than Jungmin, at least. "Everyone's still talking about it," you say, "so I would actually appreciate it if you don't mention it again."

Jungkook, however, has no intentions of letting the matter go. "But they're saying he dumped you."

"WHAT?"

You forget to control the volume of your voice; consequently, the whole class (including your teacher) turns their heads to stare at you. Your cheeks heat up in humiliation.

"I hope your dramatic reaction has something to do with your project, Y/N," your teacher says.

You want to wither away and disappear. It takes everything within you to not burst out crying right then and there. So not only had Jungmin made your relationship a bet, had constantly treated you as his inferior but also couldn't handle the fucking truth that you dumped him?

Jungkook looks guiltier than ever. "Uh," he whispers. "You told me yesterday that you broke up with him so I was just a little confused." He continues on, not realizing that you'd covered your face with your hands. "He told me that he dumped you because you were obsessing over him and he didn't really feel comfortable about that."

It's the last straw.

You stand up, chair nearly knocking down from the harsh force of your movement. And without another word, you rush out of the classroom, staring down at your feet pounding against the white floor. Angry tears threaten to fall down your face but you manage to hold it all in until you hide in the nearest girls' bathroom.

It just gets worse and worse. You sob, back up against your locked bathroom stall, your hands up in your hair in frustration, anger, regret. You want the tears to stop but they pour down relentlessly. If this keeps up, you might just miss your next class. You so desperately want to pull yourself together. Do what your sister said and not give two fucks, but it's difficult. It's difficult to ignore what people are saying about you behind your back.

You're the villain. You've been painted as the crazy, obsessive girlfriend that Jungmin needed to dump for the sake of his own sanity. You're the crazy bitch who's been outcasted for having the guts to dump someone who treated you like shit.

And cheer. Cheer was supposed to be your escape. You were supposed to have fun, retain your physique, make friends, become cheer captain. But the past several days at cheer practice have also been a living hell. Back when you were with Jungmin, you becoming the cheer captain was common sense—no one dared to challenge that fact. Especially since cheer captain is a popularity game. But now that everyone fucking hates your guts, there's no way you'll ever make captain. And your cheer 'friends' have all ditched you, glaring at you when practicing your routines and creating a whole new group chat without you to make after-school hangout plans. It fucking hurts.

Everyone who you thought was your friend, wasn't. And even the people you don't know are afraid to approach you because of Jungmin's rumors.

You don't know what you're going to do.

You sniffle your nose, wiping your eyes clean. You'd cried so hard that your whole face is burning from the extra salt that it definitely did not need. Your neck glistens in tear water and you're quick to dry it off. When you check yourself in the mirror, your eyes are bright red, face contorted in a worrisome frown. You do look like you're kind of psycho.

You scoff. Fuck it all to hell.

And when you realize in your rush to empty out the tears you'd been holding in for days, you'd forgotten your backpack, a string of unkind curses leaves your mouth. Now you're definitely going to be late for your next class.

With wobbling steps, you walk out of the bathroom, careful to keep your head low in case anyone decides to poke fun at your pitiful state. But there, right next to the girls' bathroom door is your backpack.

You frown.

Crouching down, you open your bag to see all of your supplies packed up neatly inside. Someone had even taken the care to put your laptop back into its laptop sleeve. You have no idea who would've even bothered to do this.

The only person you can think of is Jungkook. Maybe because he's really the only person you've talked to at school in the past couple of weeks.

You swing your backpack over your shoulder, fingers grasping the straps. Hm. What a touching gesture. For some fucking reason, this makes you want to cry again. Maybe someone's on your side. Maybe your life hasn't gone to shit. Maybe there's still hope.

You hate how much you fucking flip-flop around in your head. How can you be so pathetic? You grit your teeth. Whatever. Just let it go. Ignore everything. You take a deep breath, slowly letting it out through your nose.

Time to get to your next class.

The feeling of being pathetic grows.

You lie on your bed, face digging into your pillow. Earlier, your sister had given you hell for choosing to skip dinner, but you didn't exactly feel like eating on such a queasy stomach. Besides, your mind has been occupied since IB Lit class.

Stupid fucking Jeon Jungkook.

You can't stop thinking about him, replaying the words he'd spoken to you. He'd looked guilty, he'd apologized. He feels sorry.

God, it's idiotic of you to latch onto him just because he's the only person who'll talk to you. How pathetic. But he's also the only person who gives you hope. Your mind replays his bunny smile over and over. Until his whole fucking face is ingrained in your head.

You need to get your head out of your fantasies. A distraction. Something to keep you grounded.

Just in time, your phone dings right next to you. It's a text. From an unknown number. Your heart sinks. Maybe it's Jungmin's friends trying to send anonymous hate again; they've done it before. They might do it again.

But when you unlock your phone and take a longer look at the message, your heart begins to soar.

[Maybe: Jungkook]: Hey Y/N! This is Jungkook from Lit. I was wondering what we're gonna do about the project?

Ohhhhh, fuck. He must've gotten your number from his bazillion friends.

And now you feel like a shitty fucking partner. It's been two days and neither of you have gotten anything done. All because you were being an emotional wreck.

Your fingers hover over your phone, unsure of what to type. Should you apologize for ditching him during class like that? Or will bringing it up make him annoyed? Or... will not bringing it up make you sound like a bitch?

[You]: oh yeah... kim said that we have to work on it at home to finish from now on

You pause momentarily, your thumb hovering over the 'send' button.

[You]: do you want to meet outside of class?

[Jungkook]: Yeah that's what I was thinking lmao

[Jungkook]: Wanna do this weekend? Saturday? I can pick you up and we can go to Target to get supplies

Hm. While the offer isn't bad, for a project, you've always found it easier to do your research first and then figure out what you need.

[You]: oh wait can we meet for a day to just do research tho?

[Jungkook]: Actually yeah that's a better idea lmao

[Jungkook]: I didn't even read the book oof

You manage to break a smile.

[You]: oh shit same

[Jungkook]: Sparknotes?

[You]: shmoop actually

[Jungkook]: Yk what we'll figure it out. I can pick you up Saturday and we can go to Starbucks to research

You know exactly which Starbucks he's talking about. It's the one practically infested with all of Jungmin's friends. You don't know if you'll be able to show your face there—especially during the weekend where you know you'll see your classmates.

[You]: sorry can we go to min's instead? the boba place downtown

[Jungkook]: Oh that's even better lmao. It's closer to my house

[Jungkook]: What time works for you

[You]: the earlier the better lol

The earlier you'll finish and get this over with.

[Jungkook]: I'll pick you up at 10?

[You]: sounds good

He proceeds to send you a GIF of some random soccer player giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs up. You chuckle at the silliness of it before texting him your address and flopping back down on your bed. A relieving sigh leaves your lips as you turn your body to stare at your empty ceiling.

This had been the very first time someone's texted you since the incident and had intended a neutral conversation. It's nice to see that someone wants to message you and not feel the need to be mean. You can't even count the numbers you've had to block with both hands. For days and days, you'd get anonymous threats and passive-aggressive insults. No doubt from Jungmin's friends. You pause. But Jungkook is technically Jungmin's friend too.

Goddammit. Can you have one single victory? Apparently not. So you stay lying on your bed, pissed at the world and hoping this stupid, cringy teenage angst won't last too long.

For some reason, you'd thought the incident would blow over in a couple of weeks. Adults have led you to believe that most things don't last in high school. But they'd been wrong. Your peers are still giving you evil side-eyes whenever you come up in their peripheral vision.

You've lost about a thousand Instagram followers. And counting.

It had been so bad that you had to quit the cheer team, not able to stand the constant gossiping and whispering that had taken place with you just three feet away from them. Some of them had refused to hold you up properly during flying practice, which is also concerningly dangerous. That last time you'd gotten injured in cheer practice had been an accident; if it happened again this time, you would definitely think it was premeditated. And sure, maybe you aren't physically injured now, but it hurts too much internally. No one seems to care either. Because no one begs you not to leave.

So today, as fucking usual, you're forced to eat lunch by yourself. There are people not-so-secretly staring at you, wondering why the once so popular cheerleader girl had found herself eating lunch alone and completely friendless.

God, you'd been so fucking popular. You had a boyfriend. You were a goddamn cheerleader for fuck's sake. And now who the hell are you?

You pick at your lunch, appetite dwindling down under the harsh gaze of your peers. You begin to sweat, keeping your vision trained at your feet.

Fucking hell. At this point, you're actually contemplating reading The Great Gatsby. But not even this kind of incident could force you to read that kind of literature. Instead, you fish out your phone to watch Netflix, hoping the burning eyes will cease their incessant staring—either that or you'll just stop caring.

But it's hard to stop caring when you've cared so much in the past. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your ex... and lo and behold, fucking Jeon Jungkook. They're laughing with their stupid, rowdy group of friends, walking past the corridor you've settled in. Immediately, you duck your head down and pretend you're immersed in the blank screen of your phone. But from the reflection of your black screen, you can see Jungkook smile at you as he walks by.

You scoff quietly. What kind of fucking game is he playing? How can he be so kind to you and still hang out with trash bags like Jungmin? Could it be another one of those stupid bets? Your head reels at the horrible thought. Fuck. And you still have to meet Jungkook on Saturday.

Should you cancel? Make up an excuse? Pretend you're sick? Lie that you moved out of the country? Fake your own death? Run away with your sister to Neverland and avoid all impending adult responsibilities? Fuck, that sounds nice. But it's also not possible.

You'll have to wait for your brain to come up with a brilliant excuse to get out of seeing Jungkook again.

But Saturday rolls around and you still haven't come up with your million-dollar excuse. You've thought of the basics: 'I'm sick,' 'sorry I forgot I had other plans,' 'my parents said no,' 'I'm grounded.'

Yet when you begin to text those excuses to Jungkook, you can't seem to press the fucking send button. It feels wrong to lie. Besides, if you keep avoiding him like this, how on earth are you two going to finish this project? It's practically worth a whole test grade. You can't possibly fuck up your life more and end with any unsatisfactory marks.

At 9:59 a.m. your goddamn doorbell rings.

You can't believe this motherfucker's early. Maybe he wants to get over this as much as you do. Before either of your parents—or god forbid your sister—can get to the door, you beeline down, opening it up to see the boy.

He's dressed casually in some dark jeans and a black hoodie, messy hair peeking out through the hood tugged over his head. He's smiling, hand waving at you like you're some old friend of his. You just grumble your salutations before getting in his surprisingly clean (and expensive) car.

"You have a nice house," he tells you during the ride to Min's.

"Thanks."

That's the end of that conversation.

Jungkook's nice enough to pay for your basic house special milk tea boba (you're not gonna complain over complimentary drinks), and the two of you get to work immediately.

"Okay," Jungkook sighs, setting up his laptop and looking at you, eyes large and curious. "I reread the Sparknotes page yesterday. I think I kinda get what's going on in the book."

You nod. "That's good," you say. Keep it simple. Keep it short. Straight to the point. "What should our project topic be?"

Jungkook grins as if he's got the best idea in the world. "Duh, the easy route would be the American Dream."

You were afraid he was going to say that. It's such a typical fucking answer, anyway. Over-analyzed, overused and overdone. Of course he'd say the American Dream. Although the dream is fucking bullshit and only benefits men (who are predominantly also white). But do you have a better idea? And you also don't want to sit here and argue for a more creative topic. The point is to get this over with. "Yeah. Sure."

Surprisingly, Jungkook is a hard worker. But maybe it's not so surprising after all. You've heard he's an absolute god in AP Chemistry and passes his math classes with flying colors. Point made, he's definitely not stupid—especially considering that he's a Welton student.

Hours pass fairly quickly. The two of you are immersed in meticulous research, pulling out important-looking quotes from godsend Quizlets. It's actually a chill workday. Almost like you're on a study date with a friend. Except that boy next to you is not your friend.

Still, you can tell that Jungkook's respectful. He doesn't make weird, dirty jokes like Jungmin's friends usually do around girls. He treats you like he treats other guys. He treats you like you're human. It's a foreign feeling. You're so used to guys making indecent 'jokes' that you didn't actually think a high school boy could be this calm in the presence of a girl.

But your boy radar is absolutely shit. So you shouldn't even trust yourself at this point.

Just in time (before you get too lost in your thoughts), Jungkook speaks. "Hey."

You look up at him. "Yeah?"

"Can I..." He hesitates. "Can I ask what happened?"

Goddamn. Everything had gone so well up until now. You tense up, eyebrows furrowing and head already aching. It's obvious exactly what he's asking about.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Jungkook says when he senses your discomfort, which he should've predicted before he asked such an invasive question.

The only thing you can muster up is a: "I broke up with him."

"...That's definitely not what's being passed around."

You sigh, slumping back in your chair. "He's a sexist piece of shit." The words tumble out of your mouth before you could've stopped them. Maybe you'd put two and two together in your head before, but it actually feels good to let it out. Yes, Jungmin is a piece of shit, and the way he treats women makes it very, very apparent.

There's a bit of silence on Jungkook's end. Then: "Yeah... I heard some allegations against him."

You do a double-take, eyes widening as you stare at the boy. "Then why the fuck are you still friends with him?"

"Listen, listen," Jungkook says, hands raising up as he tries to defend himself. "I don't really like him either... I mean, I don't wanna get involved with someone who could potentially be an actual uh, actual assaulter... but—"

"But what."

"I dunno!" Jungkook exclaims. "It's bro code. You wouldn't understand."

You scoff. "I wouldn't understand? Well then fucking make me understand because bro code is kinda ruining my life right now."

Jungkook gives you a look. "Don't you think that's a little dramatic?"

You stare at him for a long time after that. So long that the boy gets fidgety. Yeah. You do have a shitty guy radar. You thought Jeon Jungkook was different. Turns out he's the exact fucking same.

"Nobody talks to me. Everyone hates me. Have you seen the things they write about me on Instagram? I've been called a whore for deliberately choosing to end a relationship that was hurting me. I've been called a slutty virgin and apparently, I crave attention and boys' validation and I'm just 'playing hard to get for a good fuck.' And god, have you seen the way they look at me? I had to quit cheer because everyone was giving me the silent treatment. They wouldn't even grab onto my feet properly and I really thought they'd let me fall. Again. And this time on purpose. When I got out of my wheelchair and started using crutches, no one helped me around. And I have no friends anymore. Do you think I'm being dramatic now?"

That was all just the tip of the iceberg too, but it seems just enough to make Jungkook speechless. You take the liberty to quickly pack up your belongings. He watches you, mouth slightly agape and looking at you with bulging eyes. He looks like an uglyass goldfish at the moment. You hate that you ever thought he looked like a cute bunny. Your hand reaches out to pick up your unfinished drink but you think better of it. You're gonna leave it. Swinging your backpack over your shoulder, you walk out of the place, not bothering to look behind you. And Jungkook doesn't even bother to yell after you to stop.

The minute you're out, you pull out your phone and call your sister.

"Hey... Can you pick me up?"

"Girl, I'm in the middle of class."

"Fuck."

"Where are you?"

"Min's. The boba place downtown..." You can feel your sister contemplating over the phone. "I'm so sorry but I swear, if you do this for me, I'll do your laundry for a week. Just please. Pick me up right now."

"I was gonna pick you up regardless of your tantalizing offer, but now that you've already put it on the table, I'm not gonna say no."

You want to cry tears of joy.

"I'll be there in a few."

"Thank you. Oh my god, thank you."

"Yeah, whatever. I'm the best fucking sister."

"You are."

When the call ends, someone behind you clears their throat. You whirl around to see the person you least want to see at the moment. He's looking frustrated, hair messier than it was before and his hood falling off his head.

He's gripping your boba drink, hand jutting out for you to take it from him. "Oh, c'mon, Y/N! I swear I didn't know any of that. I didn't know it was that serious."

You step backwards. "Yeah, well, that seems like a common theme amongst you boys. You never know anything but you pretend like you know the whole fucking world."

Jungkook takes a step forward. "Come on. We have a project. We can't fight like this, Y/N. Please... I have a borderline grade in this class right now." He closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I need... I need a fucking A, okay?"

"So what?" you scoff. "You're gonna get a fucking swim scholarship anyway."

"So what I'm doing right now is apologizing. I'm sorry. I really, really didn't know it was that bad. I mean, I saw you alone at lunch and stuff, but I thought you just wanted space. I didn't know... I didn't know you lost your friends."

You shake your head. You've spent too long being a pushover. Letting people run you over endlessly. You've been goddamn patient—at home and at school. You just can't let it slide anymore.

"I'll make the presentation slides and write the script," you say, regaining your cool and staring straight at the wide-eyed boy. "You make the poster. We don't have to meet again. We've done enough research today."

Jungkook sputters, "B-But that won't make a cohesive project!"

"Figure it out, then." You glare at him. "I. Don't. Care."

Now, he looks desperate. "C'mon, you have to give me another chance."

The memory flashes before your eyes.

"I'm so sorry, Jungmin. I'm so sorry." You're sobbing, ugly tears running down your cheeks and dripping to the ground. "I just can't do it anymore. I can't be with you."

"What the fuck, Y/N? You can't do this to me."

"I'm sorry... I just—I'm breaking up with you. Please, understand."

"No. No. Y/N, you can't. That's—We've been together for what? Three years?"

"Four."

"Four years, then. Fuck, you can't do this to me, baby, please. Give me another chance."

You'd said no then, and you're going to say no now.

Jungkook takes your answer as well as Jungmin had. "No, Y/N, seriously. I know—I fucking know I haven't been sensitive to your feelings or whatever. But hey, I do wanna help, okay? You know how fucking long I waited outside the girls' bathroom waiting for you to come out? And you know how much anxiety I got because I was going to be late for my next class but I also didn't want to leave your stuff outside without someone guarding it???"

Oh. So that had been Jungkook. And sure, he'd helped in the littlest ways, but it all cancels out. How can he still be friends with Jungmin? Is this some sort of dumb trick?

"Jungmin's not putting you up with this, is he?"

"What?" Jungkook looks exasperated. "What the hell do you mean?"

"This isn't a bet?"

"A bet??" Now, he looks confused.

You sigh. "He dated me as a bet. He and his other friends just wanted to see who could get into their girlfriends' pants faster. Jungmin lost."

"Oh, god."

"I know," you say. "You don't know what I had to deal with."

"No, no I swear," Jungkook insists. "I swear this isn't a bet, Y/N. This is all me. On god. I'm not even that close to Jungmin. We're just friends, okay? I didn't know he did that kind of shit."

"Yeah, well, he thinks cheer and dance aren't sports. Coincidentally, I've done both at one point in my life. And when I got my injury, he canceled hoco on me because he was too embarrassed to go with a girl in a wheelchair. You know that he asked another girl out too? We were still dating at the time."

Jungkook's mouth hangs open. "...What..."

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. "Whatever. Sorry. I'm just rambling now. Whatever. God, when the fuck is my sister coming?" you mumble. Unfortunately, Jungkook hears.

"I could've taken you home..."

"Yeah, well. Too late."

Silence.

"But I really am sorry..." Pause. "And I want to put our best in this project."

Of fucking course. Is he really sorry for you or is he sorry that the project's gone up in flames? You want to bite back at him, sass him, give him a mean reply you never had the joy of saying to Jungmin but your sister pulls up right by the sidewalk. Thank fuck.

Without looking back, you immediately get into the car, slamming the door shut behind you. Your sister raises her eyebrows.

"Your friend over there is cute," she says. But she takes one look at your face and sighs. "Another asshole, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah, I'll get you out of here." She steps on the gas and the two of you swerve out of the parking lot and onto the road. "Don't waste your time on guys like that," she tells you as she drives. "It doesn't get much better in college, either. Just stay single like me and you'll be just fine."

On Monday, you don't want to go to school. But your parents would have an absolute breakdown if they learned that you ditched. And even more than that, you need to pay close attention in your classes—it's a good distraction from everything else that has been happening.

The strange, rude looks are gone. But now, nobody even bothers to look your way, making you feel absolutely invisible. Which, you don't exactly mind as much as being called a 'slutty virgin,' whatever the fuck that means. It seems like an unintentional oxymoron, which is concerning given the fact that students at Welton are supposed to be smart. Whatever.

I'll show them, you'd written in your diary. I'm putting everything into school, now. I'll get into a good fucking college and become a millionaire. They're gonna feel like fucking idiots.

But you still can't get used to sitting alone at lunch. There's just nothing to do. The school wifi is spotty on personal devices, and you don't exactly want to waste your data and watch Netflix like last time. You think about it for another moment, then with a gigantic sigh, you pull out The Great Gatsby.

Maybe it's time you actually read this shit.

You've seen thousands of nameless people on the internet claiming the book was their absolute favorite. You suppose you can finally see what the hype is all about.

But turns out, this book sucks. Though some sentences are well-structured and sure, the writing is pretty eloquent, you're sure you could come up with a more intriguing plot than whatever the fuck this is. You're already halfway through the book and you've been rendered unimpressed.

Yet reading the actual book gives you a much better idea of the story than Sparknotes or even Shmoop. Not that you care about getting the best understanding of the book; you could care less about getting a good grade on this stupid project. Your IB Lit grade is already pretty high anyway.

And Jungkook? Well, his grade is his own problem now. He hasn't texted you after the incident on Saturday, so you just assume the two of you will finish the project separately. Completely fine by you.

On Tuesday, you have an AP Physics II and AP Chemistry test. Neither of them bothers you too much, and you find yourself reaching to finish the second half of The Great Gatsby instead of studying for them. You'd finished the book at home yesterday and its contents have occupied your mind for hours now.

Even during lunch, you sit down, munching on your food and head buzzing with thoughts and interpretations that you'd missed on your research Quizlet runs. One quote seems to echo in your mind.

"I hope she'll be a fool—that's the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool."

Daisy Buchanan had said this, the iconic queen that she is. Unfortunately, other readers don't seem to agree with you. There are accusations of which readers seem to wonder if Daisy had ever loved Gatsby. She's objectified and vilified for choosing financial stability over her feelings. Many think of her as vain and shallow to chase after money but men are praised when they do the same thing. Men, like Gatsby, are allowed to believe in the American Dream—the sole premise that if they try, they'll make it out to succeed. But this dream doesn't apply to women, who are thought of as weak and submissive. Even if they have big dreams, even if they want to make their own wealth, they're given far fewer opportunities. The only way for them to find their success is through marriage. So, what's so wrong with Daisy wanting success? Why is she the so-called antagonist?

Your head begins to hurt, mulling over all these thoughts and mean misunderstandings. Why are we reading this? The sexist subtones of this fucking book are barely discussed either. So are we just going to accept this blatant discrimination against women and assume it doesn't happen anymore?

Now you're absolutely livid. And it's time for some more research.

Chemistry and physics forgotten, you spend the brunt of your lunchtime looking up articles about Fitzgerald and his history as an author. Maybe that could shed more light on his rather questionable take on women in The Great Gatsby. What you find, however, makes you progressively angry.

Fitzgerald was one shitty fucking man. Definitely worse than Jungmin, too. He'd been caught taking large snippets of Zelda Fitzgerald's (his wife's) writings from her diaries and letters and having the sheer audacity to publish them as his own. He locked her up in their home and claimed she was deranged, which furthered the downfall of her mental health and stability. That man had treated Zelda like shit. And somehow, he's the bitch who gets praised in history.

Your head hurts from these revelations. It's almost hard to suppress your anger and for a moment you have to close your eyes and take calming, deep breaths.

But that's when someone clears their throat in front of you. Looking up, you see fucking Jeon Jungkook of all people. He's holding up his lunch bag, smiling kindly. God, you want to wipe that smile straight off of his face.

"Mind if I eat lunch with you?"

You stare at him. Well, more like glare at him, completely stunned into silence. What the fuck is his business? What is he doing? Why is he here?

But before you can even tell him, 'No. Get lost,' he opens his mouth and:

"I left Jungmin's friend group soooo yeah, I'm kinda in need of a lunch buddy right now."

Your mouth drops open. "You... You left Jungmin's group?"

The boy just shrugs. "Nah, it's not a big deal. Well... Maybe it is. We kind of had a fight, I guess. He admitted to doing a lot of... questionable things. I don't know. I don't support what he did, though. So I thought I'd do what you did. Cut him off."

Well... You're pleasantly surprised. But the words that come out of your mouth contrasts your thoughts.

"I know you have plenty of other friends to go back to."

Jungkook shrugs and he plops down next to you on the floor. "So? I wanna hang with you."

What the fuck. You're rendered speechless.

And maybe Jungkook senses the awkwardness because he shoots a question right away. "Sooo, what are you doing?"

"Thinking. Researching," you reply.

"Researching?" Jungkook asks. "Again?"

"Yeah, well, I found out Fitzgerald's a fucking incompetent bitch who stole his wife's work. Also, I read the book and I hated it. It's just so... god, it makes me mad that we idolize this sort of literature that condemns innocent women."

Jungkook's eyes are wide. "He plagiarized??? And we study his work?" He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. "Seems very much counterintuitive. I think you have a good point."

Your head jerks toward him. "Wait, I do??"

"No, seriously," he says. "The book does condemn innocent women and Daisy deserves justice. Wait, shit. This topic is so much better than the American Dream. We should totally go the feminism route."

This is the first time you've ever heard a guy say the word 'feminism' in an unmalicious way. It is a shocker, indeed. "Wait... really?" you ask. "You don't feel... I don't know, uncomfortable? Jungmin was always uh, uncomfortable when I brought that kind of stuff up with him."

Jungkook frowns. "That probably has something to do with the fact that he's an ignorant piece of trash. I'm trying to learn to be better, I guess. High school's not all there is to life. It's probably better to hang out with people like you than people like Jungmin."

Maybe you miscalculated Jungkook. Goddamn. Maybe he's being nice for the sake of being nice. Maybe you can trust him. How is he the only person you've met at Welton who is likable? Welton students don't like to learn for intrinsic reasons—they're all grade-obsessed zombies. But Jungkook proves otherwise. Does this mean you're actually going to give him another chance?

You take a look at the serious boy next to you. His eyes are slightly narrowed, forehead creased. He looks goddamn genuine.

You know what? A second chance, it is.

A small smile breaks from your lips. "I agree."

From watching your smile, Jungkook's serious look morphs into a look of happiness. "So?" he says. "Are we working together, partner? We'll kinda have to start over, though."

You give him a slight nod. "Min's? Today, after school? I'm buying this time."

"Deal."

The two of you chat until the end of lunch, and Jungkook even walks you to your physics class. Right before you're about to go into the classroom, however, he grabs your shoulder and leans in. Your eyes widen at his close proximity.

But Jungkook just simply whispers in your ear. "For the extra credit question, you have to use theta on the outer side of the triangle the bridge and the boat make to get that side length. The answer's 2.67 m/s. Good luck."

And just like that, he leans back, waves at you and walks away like he hadn't just given you the answer to the almost impossible extra credit questions your teacher likes to give.

So he does care. And he is nice. But wait a minute. It's that thing your sister always tells you. Guys aren't nice to you without some kind of an ulterior motive. Does Jungkook want an A in this class that badly? Still, you desperately want to believe that he's different. You want to believe that he just simply wants to be your friend.

And although you have so many thoughts jumbled up in your brain, you manage to ace the physics test, which really comes as second nature to you. You're not so lucky with the chemistry test, however. No worries, though. The generous curve will save your ass. And besides, you're kind of excited to meet Jungkook after school. There's a lot to discuss about The Great Gatsby.

"It's completely wrong how we're out here praising Gatsby for being so persistent with Daisy," you say. "He's unhealthily obsessed and we're supposed to feel sympathy for that kind of behavior."

Jungkook nods, sipping his drink.

"Daisy doesn't owe Gatsby jackshit. If she chooses Tom over him, that's her right, and she shouldn't be called the 'antagonist' for rejecting an incredibly immature man."

"No yeah, you're right," Jungkook says. "Daisy is written as a fickle, foolish woman and it doesn't sit right with me that we're insulting her for the same things that men do."

"Exactly."

Jungkook catches on quickly. And soon, the two of you have enough material to sit comfortably and chat about things other than the infuriating sexism of the Roaring 20's. As typical Welton students, there's not much else to talk about, though.

"So, do you have a dream school?" Jungkook asks.

You shake your head. "Not really."

He nods, seemingly understanding your college crisis. "But do you have a major in mind?"

In your wildest dreams, you'd love to be in the performing arts—to pursue dancing or even cheer. But there's always that notion of you wanting to prove something. There's something inside of you that just believes you'll regret going down the arts path when you have the perfect capability of pursuing STEM. And there is a lack of women in those departments...

You shrug. "I dunno. I'll probably go for physics or biochemical engineering."

"Damn," Jungkook says. "So you're smart smart."

You laugh. "Not exactly. But what about you? You have a dream school? A dream major?"

"Me?" Jungkook smiles. "I've got my eyes on Yale swim."

"Oh wow. You're smart smart."

He just shrugs in response. "I just wanna get out of here."

"Out of California, huh?"

"Yeah. Just to meet new people and get away from the Welton kids," he laughs sheepishly. "But we both know at least ten of them are gonna get into Yale next year anyway."

You snort. "Yeah, well, Welton kids and the Ivies are best friends."

"You could get into an Ivy League if you wanted to, Y/N," Jungkook insists. "I mean, c'mon. President of three clubs, cheerleader, straight A's, volunteering. What couldn't they like about you?"

"No one even comes to my club meetings anymore. Also, I'm an ex-cheerleader," you laugh. "And besides, they want a tragic backstory or whatever and the most 'tragic' thing that happened to me was Jungmin. I don't think they'll care much about ex-boyfriend talk."

"Eh. If that doesn't work then you can always try buying your way in."

You turn to him, eyes wide before realizing that had been a joke. You giggle, shaking your head. "I don't want to go to an Ivy."

"You don't? Then what was the point of going to Welton?"

You groan. "Well... I kind of followed Jungmin here..."

"Oh, shit."

"I know. Stupid of me. But hey, I know better now. I have no idea what I want for my future, but I'm figuring it out at my own pace. By myself."

"That's good to hear though," Jungkook says. "I think a lot of us don't know what we want. But we're expected to know anyways. Funny, huh?"

You nod, chewing on your boba thoughtfully. "Sometimes I wonder about the whole point. You know, getting into a 'good' college. Why do we care so much about the name?"

Jungkook shrugs. "I guess it's all about reputation. I don't know about your parents, but mine would kill me if I didn't get into an Ivy. Think about all the people who'd talk. 'He was in varsity swim, took hard classes and couldn't even get in?' I can just imagine them saying that kind of shit."

"Damn. My parents just want me to leave the house," you sigh. "I guess it really is different for everyone."

"Yeah. I guess it is. But for now, it just seems like happiness isn't really a priority," Jungkook says. "It's reputation over comfort."

"Maybe this will all make sense when we're older," you offer. "Maybe it's because we're so young."

"We're practically eighteen," Jungkook laughs. "I'd say we're pretty close to adulthood. But then again, it's the experience that makes up adults and not age, huh?"

"Yeah," you sigh. "At this point, I can't wait to grow up."

Jungkook smiles. "Me neither. Sometimes, I forget that we're just high schoolers."

"We study like college students, anyway," you snort. "It's easy to forget, I guess."

"I'm just scared we'll go to college and it'll be the same damn thing," Jungkook says.

"It could be."

"And you're not scared?"

"I mean, I feel like the worst has already happened to me," you laugh. "Maybe you're scared that you'll just peak in high school," you tease.

Jungkook just laughs along with you. "Oh, I'm not just scared, I'm terrified it'll actually happen."

"Don't worry." It comes out of your mouth before you can really register what you're saying. "You're definitely only getting better from here."

Jungkook looks surprised at your sudden compliment, but he hides it with a bright smile. "That's actually a lot coming from you, you know." A pause. "Smartass."

You're giggling, though being called a smartass isn't quite a compliment, it's really the way he says it that uplifts your spirits to the sky. Talking to Jungkook is actually more interesting than you'd thought. Maybe not all Welton students are mindless grade-zombies. Maybe more of them—like Jungkook—have deeper dreams, thoughts, plans. Either way, this is the most enlightening and genuine conversation you've had in years.

Jungkook seems to have enjoyed it too because the next thing you know, he's offering to drive you home. Unfortunately, you have to refuse since your sister had already volunteered to do the job (and who are you to decline your sister over a high school boy?). But the two of you part with smiles and good laughs—much different from last time.

Once you get in your sister's car, she turns to you, frowning. "So you're hanging out with the asshole again," she says. "Don't you hate him?"

"Hello to you too," you laugh. "And Jungkook? I don't know... I think I might've misjudged him. I mean, have you ever seen a guy invested in women's rights?"

Your sister snorts. "Yeah. The ones who wanna get into your pants."

This time it's your turn to frown at your sister. "You're saying he has an ulterior motive."

She nods. "Yeah, guys are like that. You'll see," she says, stepping on the gas and glaring at Jungkook who's waving from the side mirror. "Just be careful."

Your sister's looking out for you. You know that. And sure, maybe you feel a little wary deep inside, but... Jungkook really does seem nice. You might even go as far as to call him your friend after today. The real problem arises though when you ponder about whether he thinks what you have is a friendship. Is he assuming something else? Like what your sister believes?

God, you'll never know.

The Lit project isn't due for another month.

In the vocabulary of a typical Welton student, that means most haven't started the project—while the others (a minority) have already finished it.

You and Jungkook are in the healthy between, having completed the PowerPoint presentation and a basic outline of your script. All you really need to do now is finish the script and make the time-consuming poster board.

Meanwhile, everything at school falls into a pattern. Turns out, Jungkook has another friend group he's been hanging out with—all friends from swim. You're introduced to Seokjin, Jimin, Miru and Yejin. They're a nice bunch who are studious but also know good meme references like normal high school students should. They bring you comfort and company—two things you desperately needed since a disaster tornado called Jungmin struck. The six of you eat lunch together every day and you attend all of their swim matches. You know that if you were still in cheer, they would've gone to all of your performances.

"Hey, you ready to meet my mom?" Jungkook asks you as he unbuckles his seatbelt.

You do the same and shrug. "I dunno. Do you think she's going to approve of me?" you joke. "What if I'm not studious enough?"

He snorts. "You can't get more studious than that, Y/N."

The two of you exit his car and you find yourself in front of a rather nice house. It's large, well-decorated and has a grassy green lawn blooming with a variety of different flowers. "My mom insists on hiring gardeners," Jungkook laughs when your eyes widen at a particular bush trimmed to look like a deer. "Let's just say it gets really loud on Thursdays."

Now you're a little nervous to meet his mom—even as a friend. Is she the type to exile you if you're not up to par with her standards?

Jungkook enters the password on his lock and his front door opens silently. "I'm home!" he calls. "Y/N's here too!"

At that, a voice calls from around a corner. "Oh? Y/N!"

You and Jungkook take off your shoes before entering his home, only to be engulfed by warm welcomes from his mother. She looks very pleased that Jungkook brought a friend over and makes you know it by offering you plates and plates of fruit.

"Mom," Jungkook hisses. "We'll eat later, I promise. We have to do our project first."

"If you need anything, Y/N, just ask Jungkook," she tells you with a kind smile. "If he doesn't do as you say, I give you permission to hit him."

You laugh. "Thank you Mrs. Jeon! But I assure you that I'm not that demanding and Jungkook's always very nice to me."

"Nice?" Mrs. Jeon raises her eyebrows. "Ooh. Okay then." She grins. "You keep being nice to her," she tells her son, patting his back. "I'll leave you two to finish your project!"

The moment she leaves the dining room, Jungkook sighs. "She's always like that when I have friends over. I promise she's really scary though."

You snort. "She seems nice to me!"

Jungkook just shakes his head (though a smile rests on his face) and splays out the blank poster board that you and he had bought together last weekend on one of your Target trips. Immediately, the two of you get to work.

As typical Welton students, you and Jungkook mean absolute business. So much so that the two of you finish everything you'd intended to in just a couple of hours. You sit back with Jungkook, admiring the finished poster board and double-checking the script for the last time to make sure everything is coherent and perfect.

"I don't think it can get any better than this," Jungkook comments as he laughs at you reading the script for the umpteenth time, nitpicking the littlest words and phrases. "Your sister's picking you up at 7, right?"

"Mhm," you say, nodding. "Damn, that leaves us a whole two hours."

Jungkook thinks for a second before his face lights up from an idea. "Hey, let's hang out in my room, then. There's more to do there than down here."

You end up following Jungkook up to his room, watching as he plops down on his bed while you awkwardly lean against the door frame, unsure of what to do. You've never exactly been in a boy's room before—not even Jungmin's. He never let you in there. Your eyes take a swift glance around the rather large room. It's littered with glittering golden trophies and medals but other than that, it's plain and undecorated. The bedroom seems to lack the personality that Jungkook very much has.

But you also take notice of a nice mini fridge in the corner and a flatscreen T.V. right in front of his bed. Damn.

"Want something to drink?" Jungkook asks when he catches you eyeing his fridge. "I have lemonade, Sprite and Coke. Diet, I think?"

You politely decline with a shake of your head. "No, I'm fine." You're still awkwardly standing in front of the doorway.

"Then you wanna watch something?"

Glancing at his T.V., you decide that yes, some quality television will help ease the awkwardness. "Sure."

Jungkook pats his bed, gesturing for you to sit on it with him as he gets out a remote control from his bedside table and turns the T.V. on. You carefully perch on the edge of the bed, minding the weight you put on it before staring at the screen. Jungkook's browsing through his Netflix account, mindlessly scrolling through the options.

Your eyebrows raise as you realize he's been watching quite a few animes, the most recent being Attack on Titan. "Oh? You like anime?" you ask him.

For some reason, Jungkook looks embarrassed. "O-Oh... Yeah. But I swear I'm not a weeb or anything."

You snort. "Well, I heard some good things about AOT..."

Jungkook looks excited at your words and he grins. "Then do you wanna watch a few episodes? Subbed because that's always better."

You nod your head, yes, shifting in your seat to a more comfortable position.

"It's kind of gruesome, though," Jungkook warns you. "Is that okay?"

"I'll live," you snort.

And with that, you become immersed in a strange fantastical world of strange monsters and even stranger solutions. The first episode leaves you terrified and confused. The second episode leaves you excited and yet still confused. The confusion never ends but the excitement only grows.

At the beginning of the sixth episode, your sister calls. Both you and Jungkook jump at the sound and he laughs, pausing the show for you to pick up the call.

"Hello?"

"Come out, Y/N, I'm here."

"'Kay."

You turn to Jungkook. "God... That was..."

"Right?" He grins. "It only gets better."

You quickly stand up, straightening your clothes and gathering your school items. Jungkook follows you to his front door, opening it for you and sheepishly waving his hand goodbye

"Uh..." you trail off awkwardly, slipping on your shoes before staring at the taller boy. "I had fun."

He beams. "Me too."

You give him a final wave and then you're walking out of his house and into your sister's car. The moment you get in she asks, "So? How was it?"

You're not sure how you're going to explain this. "I dunno."

She turns to you, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "What do you mean, you don't know?"

"It's just that..." you pause. "Maybe I misjudged him in the beginning. Because right now, he's uh, pretty great."

Your sister raises her eyebrows. "'I have feelings for you' kind of great or 'wow such a good friend' kind of great?"

You roll your eyes. "A good friend. I'm trying not to get in another relationship in a while."

"Hope he knows that too."

"God, do you have to be so cynical?"

Your sister raises her hands in the air. "I'm not! I'm just trying to warn you. You know, help you."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

Your sister always has good intentions for you. She works her hardest to be your second mother, to give you advice and support when you need it. But this time, maybe this time, her judgment is wrong.

The adults were right. With time, the drama begins to settle down. The bullying online comes to a stop—either that or you just don't notice the aggression as much. It's been quite a while since you've been on social media. You used to spend every waking moment with your old groups of friends taking Instagram-worthy photos. These days, you don't remember the last time you've insisted on taking aesthetic photos with Jungkook and your new friends. When you spend time with them, things feel so natural, so well-paced that you don't want to interrupt the moment by photographing it.

With time, your relationship with Jungkook also strengthens.

What started as a one-time Friday night AOT watching marathon turns into a weekly tradition. Now, you and Jungkook find yourselves using stream-sharing applications to wind down from the long weekdays and watch your show together in the comfort of your own homes. Sometimes, it seems like Jungkook loves watching your facial expressions a little more than actually watching the show. He likes poking fun at your terrified reactions when disaster strikes and finds it humorous when you begin to yell at the characters on the screen. In just two weeks, you've almost finished the whole anime with a few episodes of season four, part one left.

Jungkook suggests you come over to finish the anime (or at least what's been released so far). And who are you to decline?

This time, lying on his bed feels more natural. Popcorn and all kinds of snacks surround the two of you as your eyes glue onto the screen, watching the intense action sequences and gasping at the plot twists. Jungkook finds your reactions just as entertaining as the show itself.

The moment the final episode of the season finishes, you throw your hands in the air. "I need to know more!"

"We'll have to wait for this season's part two," Jungkook laughs, sipping his can of Diet Coke.

"I don't know if I can even make that wait," you groan. "When is it coming out?"

Jungkook grimaces. "Well... in a year or so."

You groan, falling onto Jungkook's bed and covering your face with your hands. "I definitely can't wait that long."

"Just stay away from the internet," Jungkook warns you. "You'll need to watch out for spoilers."

You sigh, picking yourself up from Jungkook's bed before glancing around his room and catching sight of your Lit project poster. "Hey... I just realized we never rehearsed our presentation."

"Oh right," Jungkook snorts. "I've read over my script a couple of times and called it a day. Wanna give it a whirl now?"

The two of you scramble up and take the presentation from the top. It's perfect. There are no mistakes. Neither of you stumbles over your words (having memorized large chunks of the script already). If you present just like this in a couple of weeks, you're guaranteed an A. But what else would you expect from a couple of dedicated Welton students?"

Soon, you and Jungkook have sprawled on top of his bed again, lost in conversation.

"Nah, my AP scores are ass," Jungkook sighs, picking at the loose thread on his comforter.

"At least you've got something to show on your SAT," you pout. "I'm barely at the average a Welton student should be."

"I can't believe we have to worry about standardized tests on top of our GPA," Jungkook says. "Sometimes I feel like we're not actually learning anything."

"Right?" you say. "It's always about scores and numbers and the goddamn letter 'A.' We learn only because we have to—for our grades—but not because we genuinely wanna learn."

"Even when I want to learn more, when I ask my teachers questions, they always answer with, 'That's not on the test,'" Jungkook sighs.

"I know! Mr. Kim, we don't give two fucks if it's on the test or not. We just genuinely want to know more."

"It's as if learning without a letter grade is a foreign concept to them," Jungkook says.

"School isn't education," you snort. "It's a business. We're just feeding into it."

"And I guess it all comes back to capitalism," Jungkook says, grinning. "Not that what we think matters anyways. Adults think we're too liberal and we're only this way because we haven't 'lived life.' Other kids our age just don't really care."

"It's because they think our criticisms are baseless," you say. "They think we're stupid to point out the problems and then not do anything about it."

"But what are we supposed to do about it? To them, we're too young to actually offer solutions but we're also too old to be complaining about societal issues. Which is it, really?"

"They need to make up their damn minds," you say, rolling your eyes.

"I'm just glad I have someone to rant about this shit with," Jungkook says, turning over to face you. He’s grinning and his eyes are sparkling with an emotion you can’t quite discern. You don’t know what it is about him but you smile right back.

"Me too."

"Listen, I just got the craziest idea."

Your eyebrows raise. "Really?"

"We should go to prom together."

Your eyes widen. And your heart sinks. Is this what your sister tried to warn you about? That he never even considered you as a friend? That you were always someone he has to date, to be in a relationship with?

When Jungkook sees your hesitation, he panics, stuttering as he tries to relay his next few words. “Wait, I… Sorry, I meant like, you know, as friends.”

Oh.

You’d misinterpreted him, then. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh,” you laugh nervously. “Sorry. I thought… yeah, whatever. No, I mean, yes. Let’s go.”

“We were planning to go as a group,” Jungkook explains. “You, me, Seokjin, Jimin, Miru and Yejin. Jimin’s unofficially officially going with Miru and Seokjin’s going with Yejin. As friends. It’s just a big friendly friend group date night,” he explains almost sheepishly.

You giggle. “That sounds really fun.”

Jungkook looks at you, smiling fondly. “It will be.”

He drives you home that night, waiting until you safely get into your house before resting his head against the wheel. He gathers his breath before shifting gears and driving away without another glance behind him.

Miru and Yejin wanted to take you shopping for prom dresses but you'd already promised your sister that honor. Besides, Miru and Yejin are too nice to honestly tell you what dresses actually look good on you.

“Ew that's fucking ugly, take it off,” your sister snorts as you twirl around for her in a sleek black dress.

“It looked good on the mannequin!” you protest.

She snorts. “Everything looks good on the mannequin. Besides, who are you trying to impress here, anyway? Jungkook said you’re going as friends so don’t go looking all regal or he might change his mind.”

“I trust him,” you say.

Your sister stares. Finally, she sighs. “You know what? Maybe I’ll trust your judgment this time. In that case, look.” She points at a silvery blue dress hanging nearly hidden on the sales rack. “Doesn’t that one look nice?”

You have to agree. And when you try on the dress, your sister cries mock tears, pretending to wipe them away with her sleeve. “My little sister’s all grown up.”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, twirling around in the sparkling gown. “Do I really look great?”

“Have I ever told you a lie?”

You think for a moment. “Well, yes. Remember when you told me babies come from storks?”

“I wasn't about to explain the whole reproductive process to a six-year-old!” she hisses. “But I’m serious. It’s beautiful. You look great. And it’s on sale. A win-win!”

The dress is a keeper. Your sister buys it for you from out of her own pocket, and you make a note to yourself that if you ever end up rich, you’re gonna buy her a fucking car or something. She was always your second mother (and your preferred one at that).

Soon, the day of the dance comes and your sister’s making the last few finishing touches on your makeup when the doorbell rings.

“They’re here,” you tell her as your sister cleans up the edges of your eyeliner and pats your cheek adoringly.

“Have the time of your life,” she says. “High school doesn’t last forever.”

“Such good advice,” you laugh. “Any more parting words of wisdom for me?”

She pretends to think. “Hm. No. Just have fun. And stay safe.”

Your sister walks you down the stairs and you put on your heels at the front door as your sister opens it. There stands Jeon Jungkook, a bouquet of yellow flowers in his hand, wearing an elegant navy suit with a silvery blue tie.

The moment he sees your dress, he laughs. “We’re matching!”

Your sister raises her eyebrows. “Wait, you guys didn’t do it on purpose?”

“No,” you giggle, taking the flowers from Jungkook and smelling them. “We didn’t plan this at all.”

“I was actually betting on you wearing yellow,” he snorts, gesturing toward the bouquet. “But your dress outdid my own thoughts. You look great.” He grins, nose scrunching cutely as he outstretches his arm. “The others are waiting in Seokjin’s minivan.”

You smile at his compliment, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Thanks. You look good too.”

Your sister watches your exchange with raised eyebrows and a look of amusement on her face. “Well, go out and have fun, you two. And Jungkook?”

“Yes, ma’am?” he says, saluting at your sister.

She snorts. “Get her home by three.”

“I’ll do you one better and get her home by midnight.”

Your sister nods approvingly. “Well, that leaves seven hours of fun, doesn’t it? Get off the porch, then! Bye, Y/N!” She waves at you enthusiastically, almost as if she’s sending you off to college. In reality, you’re just going to dinner and a dance.

You and Jungkook rush into Seokjin’s minivan, sitting together in the back and screaming the lyrics to Party in the USA. Jungkook had offered to buy everyone dinner at a nice sushi place. Thank goodness they put you in a walled-off room because Seokjin and Jimin talk everyone’s ears off. It takes two hours to eat with Yejin ordering more and more sodas for everyone because today’s her cheat day. At one point, Jimin and Miru stir up the most revolting concoction of soy sauce, sriracha, sugar, wasabi, water and lemon juice and dare Seokjin to drink it. He does, to everyone’s surprise. For the next fifteen minutes after, tears stream down his face from the spice and disgusting taste. You and Jungkook giggle, filming his reaction to keep for memory’s sake. Yejin pats Seokjin on the back and orders him a can of Sprite.

By the time the six of you leave the place, it’s dark outside. You’re running a little late for the dance (a consequence of having such a fun-loving friend group). But it also means you miss the crowd at the entrance so you get into the dance fairly easily.

The theme for prom this year just so happens to be ‘Out of this World,’ which works perfectly with your and Jungkook’s outfits. The six of you dance so hard in the flashing lights and loud music that after three hours, you’re sweating bullets and kind of feeling the need to throw up.

Jungkook announces to the group that you and he are going to play the galaxy arcade games around the refreshments table, which prompts the whole group to follow you. Turns out, Jungkook is an arcade pro. He makes the games look easy, and ends up beating the high score on the machine.

While the rest of the group goes back to dance, you and Jungkook decide (well, you decide) that you’ve danced enough today to last a lifetime. To avoid the mustiness of sweat and the stuffiness inside the building, Jungkook leads you out to the quad. The two of you walk around the dimly-lighted space before you suggest heading over to the baseball field.

You and Jungkook climb up the metal stadium stands, laughing and giggling at who knows what. He slips off his suit jacket, wordlessly handing it over to you. How he knew you were cold, you have no idea. The two of you sit side by side, with you leaning back to stare at the dark sky and Jungkook leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. It’s silent for a while as the two of you let the night breeze caress your wet faces and gather your thoughts.

You tug Jungkook’s jacket closer around your frame. It smells like him. Fresh lavender soap and warm vanilla. You want to sink yourself into the scent forever.

It’s so serene like this. Just the two of you. Winding down from the loud day with silence.

Why does it feel like you should be leaning against him?

Why does this feel romantic?

“My stomach’s gonna burst,” Jungkook says. He effectively lightens the mood and makes you laugh at such a sudden confession.

“The sushi’s still sitting in your gut, huh?” you laugh. “I don’t know how Seokjin’s faring after drinking that nasty thing.”

Jungkook laughs along with you. And his laugh is the prettiest laugh you’ve ever heard. Twinkling like the night stars and light and silvery like wind chimes.

When you look at his face, illuminated only by the dim stadium lights and moonshine, you realize then and there that you might feel something for him.

Fuck. Not now. Why?

But he treats you as his friend. Hell, you want him to treat you as his friend.

“I think I see Orion’s Belt,” Jungkook says, nudging your shoulder and pointing at the sky.

You squint. But all you see is the black sky. The stadium lights make it hard to see anything out in space except for the moon. “I don't see shit.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Me too. I was just joking. I don’t know shit about astronomy.”

You smile. You don’t want to jeopardize this. You’re not going to mess this friendship up. It’s too perfect.

“Oh shit, it’s like twenty minutes to midnight. I gotta get you home.” Jungkook stands up and holds his hand out for you to take.

You look up at him and decline his offer, standing by yourself. “We need to gather up our friends.”

Jungkook snorts. “Nah, we should take a Lyft. They’re probably dancing their hearts out and I don’t want to cut their night short.”

“You should go back to them,” you say. “I don’t wanna cut your night short. I can take a Lyft back home by myself.”

“Wow, you wanna get rid of me that badly?” Jungkook laughs. “Your sister would have my head on a stick if I let you go home alone this late.” He pauses. “And I enjoy your company. I’ll call the Lyft.”

Minutes later, you and Jungkook sit in the backseat of a car, the middle seat acting as some sort of barrier between the two of you. It’s silent during the whole ride. You can’t help but replay the moments you’d spent with him today over and over again. You wonder what Jungkook’s thinking about. How he had the time of his life with a friend, probably. Either that, or about how tight his pants are around his stomach after that huge meal.

God.

Why do you have the urge to pull him by his collar and kiss him? You want to sit close to him, rest your head against his shoulder. Be with him.

That familiar feeling crawls back to you: patheticness.

You try to tell yourself that you’re just lonely. That you'd use any excuse to feel like you’re in a relationship again. But no. You genuinely like this boy. And you’re going to do everything in your power to hide it, to ignore it.

When the Lyft stops in front of your house, Jungkook opens the door for you and you slip out, minding your gown. He walks you up to your doorstep and you shrug his suit jacket off, handing it back to him.

He mumbles a small thanks before grinning widely, revealing his bunny-like smile. You have to look up at his hair to avoid falling for it even more.

“I had the best night, Y/N,” he says. “See you on Monday?”

You nod, eyes sparkling as you stare into his own. This is the moment in movies where you kiss. And then someone would open the front door and interrupt you.

But this isn’t a goddamn movie. Nor are you in a cheesy high school romance story.

“Thanks, Jungkook. I had a lot of fun too.”

And without any kisses, any parting words of romance, the two of you part.

I forgot what it feels like to like someone, you write. But I remember now. My insides feel twisted upside down. It’s hard to speak sometimes. I have to rehearse what I say so I won’t stutter and sound like an idiot. I want to put up my best front for him. But he’s comfortable being himself around me. I don’t know what to do.

I don’t know what to do but act like nothing has changed. Fuck you, Jeon Jungkook for waltzing into my life and staying.

It feels like an era is ending. Everything had started when you'd met Jungkook for the Lit project, but now things feel like it’s coming to a close. Because today’s the day you and Jungkook present your topic.

And it’s quite amazing if you say so for yourself. Better than some of the other topics you’ve witnessed the past few days during presentations. More than half of the presenters have chosen the American Dream as their topic, and after a while, it gets irritatingly repetitive.

But your topic is a breath of fresh air.

Your teacher is head over heels in love with the idea.

“What a refreshing take on The Great Gatsby, Jungkook and Y/N. In my twenty-seven years of teaching at Welton, I’ve never seen anyone approach this topic before. You've both made excellent points and you've opened my eyes to the quandaries of modernism."

He gives you a 98. It's not 100 (but Welton teachers try to withhold from a perfect score at all times), so you and Jungkook know it's basically the best score Mr. Kim's willing to give. Compared to Jungkook's friends' 78's and 83's, 98 is quite the accomplishment.

"This kind of achievement deserves some celebration!" Jungkook hoots as he pumps his fist in the air. "Boba after school?"

Boba after school, indeed.

The two of you walk to Min's side by side, arms swinging next to each other but hands never quite touching. "I still can't believe we aced that thing!" you say.

"Really?" Jungkook grins. "I can. We're just that good."

You smile. "I think he took off two percent because I stumbled over my words for half a second."

Jungkook just shakes his head, chuckling. "Nah, he took off two percent because I forgot to bring my formal shoes."

"How do you know?" you giggle, eyes following down where Jungkook's pointing at his black hightop Converse.

"He wrote it on the rubric," Jungkook laughs. "But even if I did wear the right shoes, you know he would've found some way to prevent us from getting that 100."

"Maybe then he would've actually taken off points for my half-second verbal blunder," you say. You're about to say more when you look up at your surroundings and see a familiar building that casts a shadow over the two of you. It's a nice-looking place with a scarlet red sign reading Hart's Dance Studio, and there's that slim silhouette of a ballerina jumping over the top. When you were younger, you'd always imagined yourself to be that ballerina. Tall, graceful, majestic.

Jungkook stops walking to look at you staring intently at the building. "Do you know this place?"

"Oh yeah," you sigh. "I used to go here almost every day for practice."

"Right. You were a dancer," Jungkook murmurs. "Do you... do you um, miss it?"

Miss it? Of course you do. "Yeah..." You nod slowly before turning to Jungkook and beaming. "I don't miss the people there at all, though. I found my people right here." You point to Jungkook's chest, making a motion to jab at it. He laughs in response and puffs out his chest.

You're not sure if you're imagining it. But his eyes sparkle in happiness? amusement? as he laughs. And for just a split second, his hand grazes yours. You feel the electricity from the top of your head to the tips of your fingers. Your heart beats quicker—too quick and your face is warm even though it's a little breezy outside today.

"I found my people right here too," Jungkook says. He pats the top of your head before tousling your hair.

And that's when you know that he considers you as his best friend. You consider him as your best friend too. A best friend you currently have feelings for.

Junior year ends with an absolute bang! Your grades have never looked better, your mental health is immaculate and your friend group is toxicity and drama-free. With the blessing of your stable academic life, you're able to commence hot girl summer with no regrets.

"Fuck private school," Yejin snorts. "I'm going to a community college and transferring. Saves money and tears." She sprays excessive tanning ointment onto her legs, lathering it into her skin for maximum effect. "Jungkook, are you still looking at Yale?"

He nods sheepishly, adjusting his swim goggles on top of his head. "Have been since day one."

"He's training for it every day," you giggle. "Of course he's gonna get in."

"Hurry up and go do some laps," Seokjin orders. "I want a 500 free, stat!"

"Make it 1,000!" Jimin yells.

Jungkook just rolls his eyes but he flexes his arm muscles and stretches his back, enunciating the faint outline of a six-pack and hardening his thigh muscles. "Fine."

You have to struggle to make eye contact with him, not daring your eyes to wander further down to his well-toned body. He dives into his pool completely flawlessly—there's barely a splash of water. And he begins to swim.

Usually, you're at his backyard pool with him alone every morning, watching and helping him train. You're his lap counter, his timer and sometimes, you get to sit on his back when he does push-ups. On slower days, you watch him make laps around the pool as you sit down on his poolside chairs and do some extra physics studying. But today, Jungkook has invited the rest of your friend group for some poolside fun. Except no one's looking to get in the water (having done enough of it at school).

"Seokjin's aiming for Vanderbilt, Jimin's for Georgetown and Miru's into Duke," Yejin announces. "You still don't have a dream school, Y/N?"

You nod your head. "I'm probably going to go to a UC," you say. "But I'm applying to three privates."

"Oh?" Seokjin says. "That's new news."

"Yeah. I'm looking at Caltech, Stanford and MIT."

"Easy money," Yejin snorts.

"With your stats, you'll get in," Miru says.

"I highly doubt it," you snort. "Besides, they've been picking fewer Welton students over the years. So something's not working out on their end."

"Then the UC's it is," Jimin declares. "Don't worry. We'll all get into at least two of them. Maybe as Regent's Scholars." He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Have any of you started your applications?" Miru asks. "I don't wanna write my essays and sound like I'm forty-five and in a mid-life crisis. But I heard Ivies eat that philosophical bullcrap up."

"Just be you," Seokjin sings, which earns him an ungrateful push from his friend.

"Nah. Just write about how an egg salad represents your life," Yejin says. "They also seem to eat that shit up."

"Or write about how you're not like the other girls," you say. "They'll go absolutely batshit crazy for it."

Miru rolls her eyes. "Your advice is what sounds batshit crazy," she grumbles. "But there's also a hint of truth in it. Which is what makes it so depressing."

"You should ask Jungkook for some real advice," you say. "He's halfway done with his Yale application already."

"What???" Jimin hollers. "It's the beginning of summer!"

"That's what makes him Ivy material," Seokjin snickers.

The five of you turn your heads to watch Jungkook make ceaseless laps across his pool, his speed steady and never decreasing. He's always hard at work, always pushing towards his goal. If anyone deserves to get into a good school, it's him—and that's your totally unbiased opinion.

"Step on the brakes. Yeah, the brakes. Shit, Y/N! That was the accel!!"

"Sorry!" you squeal, hair in disarray as you slam your left foot on the brakes. "I get them mixed up!"

Jungkook grips the grab handle and smiles nervously. "Um, Y/N, I kinda wanna live to see the end of our senior year."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure we'll last 'til then," you say, tongue peeking out of your lips as you concentrate making left-hand turns around Jungkook's gated community.

"You're driving 30 when it's 15!" Jungkook wheezes. "What are you in such a rush for? Slow down!"

"It's so boring when we're going so slowly," you complain, sighing as you lift your foot from the pedal. "Hey, want me to drive us to Min's?"

Jungkook looks at you like you're crazy. "No??" He pushes your shoulder lightly. "Here, I'll drive us there. Let's trade seats."

You're a giggling mess as you sink into the safety of the shotgun seat, and even Jungkook's grinning, shaking his head as he shifts his car gears. "I don't know how you do it, Jungkook," you say. "You make driving look easy."

"Maybe it's an inborn talent," he snorts. "Or hours and hours and hours of practice."

"Want anything to drink?" you ask, crouching down in front of Jungkook's mini fridge and surveying the drinks that are stored inside. "Ooh! You bought strawberry Fanta!"

"Yeah 'cause you like it so much," comes Jungkook's answer. He stretches out on his bed, shifting through the shows and movies on Netflix. "Can you hand me a Powerade?"

You toss the bottle to him and he catches it with one hand, without looking. You settle down next to him on his bed, holding your can of strawberry Fanta and staring at the screen. His bedroom lights are dimly lit for the purpose of home theater but it sets a rather romantic mood—especially with his golden trophies twinkling in your peripheral vision.

Jungkook pulls out a silky blanket from behind his pillows and splays it across your laps, careful so that more of it lands on your side than his. Your heart flutters at his thoughtful gesture.

Legs touching and shoulders leaning against each other, you and Jungkook watch About Time for practically the fiftieth time together. It's both of yours' comfort movies. Something the two of you watch when there's nothing new on the streaming platform. And no matter how many times you lie side by side with Jungkook, watching a romantic movie, you can't shake off your feelings for him. He glows in the darkness, eyes shining with enjoyment and softening when he turns to look at you for your reactions. Or maybe you're imagining that.

You probably are.

Either way, by the time senior year rolls around, you've seen more sunlight and fun in one summer than your whole other years at Welton high school. All thanks to Jeon Jungkook.

The option of confessing to Jungkook has lingered in your mind for some time now. But a confession would be fruitless if you're not expecting him to do the same. Why put a perfectly well-going friendship on the line so I could get something off my chest? you scribble across your diary. Jungkook and I are perfect as we are right now. There's no other way I'd want our relationship to—

"So are you and Jungkook dating yet?"

You sigh, setting your pen down and turning around in your chair to see your sister grinning, leaning against your door frame.

"We're just friends," you say, closing your diary.

Your sister flounces on your bed, resting her face in her hands. "But he's a great guy, though." She wiggles her eyebrows. "You've gotta admit."

"Yeah, well, he thinks of me as a friend."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"So you do like him."

"...Mhm."

"I mean, you have my blessing and everything," your sister says, sitting up from her position and cocking her head. "But you're not going to confess, huh?"

"Never."

She gives you a strange look. "I know it sounds counterintuitive to what I've been telling you for years, but when you see a guy like him, you know the right move is to go for it?"

You laugh out loud, eyes widening at your sister's words. "Are you saying Jungkook's the perfect boyfriend material?"

"He drives you everywhere. He helps you study. He buys you food all the time. He even taught you how to drive," she points out. "I don't even know a lot of boyfriends who'd do that for their girlfriend."

"He's just paying me back for helping him with all of his swim training," you say, shaking your head.

Your sister raises her eyebrows as if she finds that hard to believe. "Suit yourself," she says. "If I were you, I'd confess. You'd be surprised to see how he reacts."

"Jungkook's probably going to Yale, and I'm going to stay in California," you say. "There's no point confessing so late in the game, you know?

Your sister shrugs. "Long-distance?"

"Never," you reply. "And this is if Jungkook even feels the same way. Which, he doesn't."

"All right, all right," your sister says. "I'll stop pestering you." She gets up from your bed and lingers at your door frame. "But I'm telling you it'll be easier to get out of the friendzone now than, I don't know, six years down the road."

You roll your eyes as you watch her leave. Now, this is where your sister's wrong. You have no intention of leaving the friend zone. Besides, you don't have time to worry about boy trouble. College apps are due just around the corner.

You barely even have time to meet up with Jungkook and your other friends. What makes your sister think you can have a whole hypothetical relationship?

Your teachers refuse to let up on their workload, too. You'd think they'd go easier on you as seniors are balancing their college apps with their school life, but you should've known Welton teachers are merciless. But you manage to score your straight A's and leave just a smidge of time to FaceTime Jungkook every now and then.

The two of you keep a bucket list of things to do as soon as college apps are finished. Things including a tour around LA, late-night drives, cafe study dates (the term date used completely platonically) and museum viewing.

There's a part of me that wonders if I even deserve to be friends with Jeon Jungkook. How can someone be so perfect? Or am I just not seeing the flaws?

If I can barely digest being his best friend, how would I ever date him like my sister wants me to? I'll never confess.

And I'm fine with that.

But you're not fine.

When he smiles at you, talks to you, even just sits next to you in silence, your heart feels like it's going to burst.

When he picks you up, opens the shotgun door for you, when he compliments your improving driving skills, when he suggests going for a boba run at 10 at night... They're all moments that make you realize that you're falling for him more and more. It feels dangerous to be into someone like this. Does this mean you're too blinded to see him for who he really is? Or have you fallen for this man because he's so impossibly perfect?

"Y/N..." he calls your name. His voice is like that of a siren's—tantalizing, delicate and alluring all at once. He stares into your eyes, his brown ones softening as he carefully reaches forward to graze his fingertips on your cheek.

"Hm?"

But before you can really react, Jungkook surges forward and captures your lips with his own. Your mouths slot together perfectly, his hands cupping your face and your arms moving to sling around his neck. You imagine he tastes like fresh mint or maybe even Mountain Berry—from all that blue Powerade he drinks all the time.

Wait.

Imagine?

Fuck.

This isn't real.

You blink back to consciousness, cheeks heating up that you'd ever fantasize about kissing your best friend. It's humiliating and though no one else is in your room with you, you hide your face with your hands. This isn't the first time you've daydreamed about being with Jeon Jungkook.

And ever since your sister told you to 'go for it,' you've been weighing her words heavily in your mind. Is she actually wrong? Or are you just stupid and stubborn?

Jungkook haunts your thoughts in the daytime and even at night in your dreams. Is it right to continue on being with him platonically when you're having all these other thoughts?

You're not sure what to do.

Should you really just fuck it all to hell and confess???

College apps are officially finished.

You're finally (half) free from the gates of hell. You and Jungkook decide to celebrate the day by sneaking out of your houses and going for a late-night drive to Yogurtland. Jungkook picks you up in his car, throwing you his spare jacket while laughing when he realizes you're in just a t-shirt and shorts.

"Why aren't you in warmer clothes?" he chastises you and ruffles your hair.

You huff. "You gave me like five minutes to prepare. I only had time to brush my hair, which you just messed up. These are my pajamas."

Jungkook giggles but he hands you the aux cord. "I'll give you a better warning next time. It's your turn to choose the music."

With your other friends, you always sweat bullets when it comes to choosing music, but you're so comfortable around Jungkook that you don't care if he judges your music taste. Lauv's The Other fills the warmth of Jungkook's car as he drives you down the night streets and toward your destination.

"You chose a normal song this time," Jungkook comments, drumming his fingers on his steering wheel and glancing over at you picking at your fingernails.

"Oh, just wait 'til the next song comes one."

Sure enough, you've chosen to play the Shinzou wo Sasageyo, the opening song for Attack on Titan's season two. With the little Japanese that you and Jungkook know, the two of you scream the lyrics and make up new words along the way. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest as you look over at Jungkook who's absolutely singing his heart out, having the time of his life.

The two of you are in an ecstatic mood when you reach the Yogurtland parking lot.

"So did you tell your parents you're coming here?" Jungkook says as he opens the door for you and a wave of cold air hits your face.

You snort. "No. Told my sister, though. She's covering for me. You?"

"Told them I'm getting gas," he says.

"That's a shit lie!" you giggle. "We're gonna have to make it back quickly, now."

"Or I can just tell them there was traffic."

"At 10 p.m. on a Tuesday night??"

Jungkook just grins. "You know what? We'll stay as long as we want, and I'll deal with the consequences at home."

Time passes by so quickly with Jungkook. The hours you spend with him feel like seconds and the dashing smiles he sends your way make you want to swoon. Sitting in the darkness of his car with your ice cream in your hands, you don't have any idea how much better life can get. It's so intimate like this. You wonder if Jungkook senses the same atmosphere as you do.

Why does it feel like this is a date?

It's the soft blue lights of his Mercedes. The faint smell of lavender lingering in the car. The cold ice cream in your hands and the warmth of your seat. It's the boy sitting right next to you, gazing at you every so often before taking a bite of his frozen yogurt. It's the comfort you feel around him—enough to show up to meet him in your pajamas and no makeup on. It's the trust you put in him to get you back home safely. The obvious fondness the two of you have for each other.

Shit.

You've fallen even harder than before.

Jungmin's in the past now. Memories of him have been buried in the very back of your mind, replaced by recollections and pictures of your new friends and, of course, Jungkook. You'd forgotten Jungmin even existed until big news explodes in your face.

"Did you hear?"

"Holy fuck."

"Jungmin got into Princeton!"

"Bruh, it was early, too. Because of soccer!"

Yejin rolls her eyes. "They're idiots, picking another blithering idiot to join their team."

Five of your friends stare right at you to gauge your reaction, but you shrug. "I don't really give two shits about where he goes to college."

"Nice!" Miru says, smiling kindly as Seokjin slaps your back with a proud grin on his face.

"I just know he won't be going too far in life with that attitude," you say. Your friends all nod in agreement. Well, except one. He's awfully quiet today, actually. But you decide to let it slide for the time being. Maybe Jungkook's having a bad day.

But by the time school ends, everyone knows two things. Son Jungmin got into Princeton and Jeon Jungkook failed to get into Yale.

Jungkook doesn't seem to want to talk about it. When people (rudely) ask, he waves them away with a frown on his face (you've never seen him look so angry and depressed). It doesn't help that people are talking, too. It's Jungkook's worst fear, all coming true. Even when he sees you, his face doesn't relax and he fails to smile. His eyes are wet but he never lets himself spill the tears, opting to look down at his feet the whole day.

You don't understand his pain of losing his chance to go to his dream college, but the least you can do is comfort him.

"Hey..." you say, patting Jungkook's shoulder. He barely glances your way. Shit. It's pretty bad. You've never seen him so unreactive before. "Let's go get some ice cream and hang at your place."

There it is. He looks up, eyes glistening and encompassing all the gratefulness he has to offer. Then, he nods. "I'll drive," he croaks.

Even when he's sad he tries to be considerate. You shake your head. "I'm driving." He doesn't protest after that.

You do your best to drive as smoothly as you can, slowing down at a considerable pace near speed bumps and making round turns to avoid jerking the car. Jungkook follows you into Target, where you pick out four pints of ice creams—all flavors that he loves. You drive back home, meet his mother (who looks just about as depressed as Jungkook is), and drag the poor boy upstairs.

"Sit," you tell him, pointing at his bed before making your way to his mini fridge and pulling out two blue Powerade drinks. "Let's watch something fucking hilarious."

The show for today is Friends, which makes Jungkook's eyes light up but his mouth is always set in a stern line. You lean against him, scooping up ice cream on his plate for him and handing him a spoon.

"I'm okay, you know," he tells you. But the quiver in his voice and his refusal to meet your eyes tells you he's really not.

You pat his leg. "They didn't deserve you, anyways."

Jungkook's eyes flash. He jerks away from you, face flushed and eyebrows lowered dangerously. "Don't you fucking say that!" he yells. "Don't you fucking tell me they didn't deserve me." Tears begin to spill out of his eyes. "You and I both know that's a lie. I didn't get in because I'm not fucking good enough. Even after everything I've done, I'm never enough!"

"Jungkook..." Your voice comes out weaker than you'd imagined. "I-I wasn't lying." You didn't think your words would cause him to lash out like that, but maybe after hearing the same thing for a whole day, he couldn't handle it anymore.

"It's fucking over." He cries, body shaking as he covers his face with his hands. "It's fucking over!"

You don't know what to do. You've never known what to do when people start crying in front of you. Are you supposed to tell them lovely words of affirmation? But what if you say something wrong again? You opt to stay silent, awkwardly patting Jungkook's back.

He instinctively leans in towards you, still sobbing. When you shift to hug him, your head leaning against his shoulder, he cries concerningly louder. You let him cry his feelings out. And when his lament dwindles down to soft hiccups and sniffles, you hold him tighter. He's warm in your arms but his cold tears have also stained your shirt. You don't mind.

"It's not over," you whisper to him. "There are more decisions coming out in a couple of months," you say, rubbing slow circles on his back. "I... I know you wanted to go to Yale, Jungkook... But..." you sigh. "But you said it yourself. Capitalism. College is a business, whatever. Just know that you are good enough. I don't care if the admission officers couldn't see that. I don't even care what the hell you think of yourself. Because sometimes, your perception of yourself is just plain wrong. I... I think you're amazing, Jungkook." You lightly squeeze his arm. "And hey, ten years down the road, none of this will matter. Just look at me and what happened with Jungmin. None of that crap matters to me anymore and it's only been like what? A year?"

Jungkook's sniffles come to a stop and he finally looks up at you. His eyes are red, his nose a little runny and his forehead is covered in beads of sweat. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward and use the soft pad of your thumb to wipe the last of Jungkook's tears off of his cheeks. He stares at you, the tenseness of his body dissipating as he becomes more relaxed in your arms.

Then:

"I'm sorry," he breathes. "I...I sh-shouldn't have... I shouldn't have yelled at you."

You shake your head. "It's fine. I guess this makes us pretty even, then."

Your comment puts the teeniest smile on Jungkook's face. "Yeah, I guess it does." He pauses for a moment. "Come here," he says, taking you in his own arms and letting you rest your head against his chest. "You're the best, you know that?"

You smile. "I know."

Just like you'd predicted in just a few weeks, Jungkook's back to normal again. College apps are still out of the way, which means you can have as much fun as you want—grades aren't that important anymore.

You and Jungkook check off everything on your bucket list and go beyond what you'd imagined. The two of you manage to ditch school in the middle of the week and drive to the beach, wading into the cool waters and building sandcastles from scratch. By sunset, you're walking along the pier with him, side by side. Now this, this seems like an actual date.

His hair has been gently tousled by the wind, his cheeks sunkissed and glowing in the setting sunlight. His lips are soft and shiny, thanks to his (mild) obsession with vanilla chapstick. When he grins at you, you can see the faint dot under his lower lip—the cute little mole that he's actually insecure about (but you find adorable).

You're so close to him that every so often, your bare shoulder brushes against his. If you move your hand just an inch, you'd even be holding hands. But you swallow the lump in your throat and decide against it. That's weird. Why would you randomly reach for his hand? It seems wrong. Forced.

God, you wish you could tell him that you like him. But no, you can't. What if he doesn't like you back? You don't want to risk making things weird before going off to college. But then again, what if he does like you? Perhaps that's even worse. What are you going to do? You barely applied to the same schools and long-distance isn't something you see yourself doing for anyone. Not even Jeon Jungkook.

And as the weeks pass, your decision remains unwavering. Especially when you and Jungkook commit to your colleges.

You've never thought much about UC Berkeley, but the price is friendlier than any private and as an incoming student in the College of Engineering, you're bound to be taken care of. This also means you're staying in California, which makes your sister very happy. She makes you promise that you'll visit every month—and if you can't make the drive, she'll go for you.

Meanwhile, Jungkook commits to Brown. Not quite the same as Yale, but it's an Ivy and his parents are proud. You're happy for him—just as he's happy for you. Yet all of this really means that you'll be going to college on the opposite ends of the country. It was expected, but the reality of it is daunting. Will the two of you really FaceTime every week like you promised each other? Or will your friendship inevitably die out?

But Jungkook is adamant about spending his last few moments of high school with you.

One day, sprawled out on his pool chair, he turns to you, a glistening grin on his face. "Hey. Wanna go to senior prom with me?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

Yet the prom Jungkook was thinking of is not the traditional senior prom you've dreamed about; he suggests the two of you go to anti-prom—dressing for the occasion but ultimately skipping the actual dance. It's a spectacular idea.

This time you do end up wearing a pretty yellow dress and coincidentally, Jungkook wears a yellow tie. (The odds of matching serendipitously—again?—maybe you are meant to be.) He drags you everywhere across town. First to a mall for refreshments, then to a fancy steakhouse for dinner. Your other friends are nowhere to be found.

At 10 p.m., the two of you make a night drive up a hill, parking at the very top and admiring the view of your sparkling hometown. It's prettier at night, the neon restaurant signs and warm car headlights mixing together to create wonderful blurs of color. Everything about this feels serene. The soft lights of Jungkook's car, the ambiance of the slow dance music he insisted he turned on, the muted aroma of sugary vanilla and fresh lavender...

You turn to Jungkook, heart beating quickly in your chest—only to find out he's been looking at you all along, dark eyes sparkling a little in the moonlight. Ducking your head down in embarrassment, you manage to calm down your quick breaths, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear and avoiding eye contact with the boy sitting next to you.

God.

You'd pay any sum of money to buy enough courage to confess right here and right now. Or you can do it for free—no regrets. You look up at Jungkook, his soft bangs falling over his eyes and obscuring his expression for just half a second before he sweeps his hair away from his face. He smiles, corners of his pink lips rising as he gazes at you.

Your heart is beating so quickly that you can feel the thumps in your head. Are you actually going to do it? Confess to him? Right now?

It's so romantic.

How could he not feel the same way?

Unless...

No.

You're going to do it.

You're going to get this over with.

Fuck it all to hell.

"Jungkook, I—"

He silences you when his hand grazes over yours. The electricity jolts through your intertwined fingertips. Then, he moves—cautiously—to encompass your whole hand in his. His hand is surprisingly cold. A breath of fresh air in the inexplicable fire building up inside of you.

"Your hand is so sweaty," he laughs, squeezing your intertwined hands together.

Your face burns.

"I don't mind," he says.

Your body feels like it's been engulfed in flames.

And there you are, sitting in his warm car like two yellow blooming flowers, reaching out for each other in the darkness. It can't get better than this.

I'm going to tell him, you vow. I have to tell him.

I'll tell him at graduation.

Most students feel giddy during graduation. Others feel nervous—graduating means that they're finally moving on in life, going to college, accomplishing bigger things and leaving the safe nests of their homes. You fall in the latter group; however, for totally different reasons. You're nervous about Jungkook's reaction.

No number of pep talks and self-assurance can change how you feel. You're terrified.

What if he doesn't like you back? What if he thinks you ruined your friendship with him?

Even after you receive your diploma and bouquets of flowers from your sister, you feel queasy inside. And nothing's going to fix that until you finally get the words out.

What's he going to do, anyways? You're going to different colleges on the opposite ends of the country, so if he completely turns you down, you won't be totally humiliated for the rest of your life. Besides, you're not exactly asking him out. You're just going to tell him that you like him. What he does with that information isn't up to you.

You're just trying to get this off your chest.

"Hey!"

Speak of the devil.

Jungkook rushes up towards you, his honorary medals and cords clinking together as he makes his way through the crowds of students and parents and teachers—his eyes only for you.

"Hey," you say, smiling as Jungkook ruffles your hair like he always does. He's holding a large bouquet of daffodils in his hand, and you can't help but notice how well the color yellow suits him.

"College now, huh?" he says, grinning.

"Imagine going to an Ivy," you snort, nudging the boy.

He rolls his eyes. "And you're going to the best UC. But don't let the UCLA brats hear me say that. They'll run me over or something."

You giggle at his joke, hands already clammy for what's to come.

Jungkook plucks a single daffodil from his bouquet, reaching out to hand it to you. You take it with flushing cheeks.

A pause.

Then:

"We better keep in contact." "I like you, Jungkook."

The two of you say at the exact same time.

You want to facepalm. The worst timing ever!

Jungkook's face scrunches in confusion. "Wait, sorry, what did you say?"

Your ears burn. "I like you." Your fingers anxiously tangle around the stem of the daffodil Jungkook had just given you.

He's stunned into silence. Eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, body frozen.

You watch him, embarrassment tinging your face. Why isn't he saying anything? Doing anything? Is he so disgusted by the idea of you having feelings for him that he doesn't even want to see you again?

Slowly, you begin to step away from him. Each step you take severs your heart more and more.

"Y/N."

You freeze.

When you look up at his face, you see Jungkook, obviously distressed, running his fingers through his hair and eyebrows deeply furrowed. "You can't do this to me," he says, massaging his forehead.

"I-I can't?"

"Yes!" He throws his hands in the air, eyes wide and chest heaving up and down.

"I-I just had to get it out," you say. "Don't think too much into it. I'm just... Yeah, you probably don't even feel the sa—"

"I do!" he shouts. "Oh my god, Y/N, ever since the Lit project junior year!"

Your face is stricken with horror.

You haven't talked to Jeon Jungkook in four years.

The promise of FaceTiming each other every week doesn't last a single day after graduation. In fact, you've lost all contact ever since the day both of you'd confessed. Maybe it's because you were so angry that you'd missed your chance that you never called or texted. And maybe he thought you were just joking and playing with his feelings. You'll never really know.

You hate to think about it, but he could've been your high school sweetheart. That is, if he had confessed earlier and you hadn't confessed so late. Now here you are in life with a normal job, a chemical engineering degree and a vacant love story.

Sometimes, I wonder what could've happened if I dated him in high school, you scribble across your diary. It's old now, tattering on the edges and heavy from polaroid photos from college and special receipts you've saved over the years. But you love it all the same. Would we be married by now?

That's stupid. A very stupid thought.

No. He probably moved on. Like I should've.

You sigh, signing off your diary entry before closing the notebook.

It's a brisk morning today—people are bustling about the busy street and you feel almost out of place relaxing outdoors at a nice cafe. But today's your off-day. Tomorrow, you'll be back at work, slaving away as most adults do in their mid-twenties.

Your cup of steaming hot coffee sits by your side. It's really there for the aesthetic. Even as an adult, you prefer strawberry Fanta and fountain drinks. Maybe you're still a teenager at heart. You smile, thoughts lazily drifting off as you drum your fingers against the metal table.

"Ahem."

Someone must've caught a cold in this chilly autumn weather.

"Ahem, ahem."

Okay, but seriously? Right behind you?

You turn around, ready to give a scary look to whoever was clearing their throat aggressively behind you when you see him.

It's really him.

Your eyes widen.

God.

He looks good.

That's all you can register in your head. He's grown even taller, his face muscles more defined and baby cheeks gone. The only thing that remains just as you've remembered him is his eyes—soft, wide and sparkling with curiosity.

You slowly rise from your seat.

He grins at you. Stares you right in your eyes and grins. "Hey, old friend."

There are so many things to say. So many unspoken words you've wanted to tell him in the past. So many thoughts left unsaid. So many memories to recall, to relive. But the only word that comes out of you is, "Friend?"

God.

You don't know why you said that.

Jungkook shakes his head. "I'm just joking, Y/N." His grin splits wider. "Coincidence, though, right? After all these years..."

He looks absolutely beautiful.

"I'm... I'm sorry I never contacted you," you sputter out. "You know, after... yeah."

Jungkook smiles. You can see the hint of his mole under his lip. "No hard feelings," he says. "We can tell each other our excuses over dinner."

Dinner? Your eyes widen.

"What do you say I take you on a date?"

Jungkook is your high school sweetheart. Although the two of you began your relationship way past high school, in your mind, it still counts. With earnest hearts and the purest of souls, you and Jungkook embody the beating hearts of young love and the stagnancy of patience.

Legs sprawled across Jungkook's lap, you lean your elbow against the couch and write on the very last page of your diary. It's time to say goodbye to your teenage angst after this. Time to move on with your boyfriend.

"Whatcha writing?" Jungkook asks, trying to look over your shoulder.

You giggle, sitting up with your diary in your hands. "Just something."

"Just something?" Jungkook laughs, tugging you up closer to his chest. "Is it about me?" he asks, kissing the crevice of your neck before attacking you with soft pecks across your cheek.

"Maybe!"

The two of you hold each other close, relishing in the feeling, the presence of each other. Your diary lies open next to you, left nearly forgotten. But there, on the last open page, you've written in big, loopy letters:

And now I know that the best kind of relationships blossoms from the best kind of friendships.

—masterpost

—masterlist

134 notes · View notes