#not me drawing in my room for 19 straight hours…

[starry-mang0s]

More practice trying to get these human designs right. Idk about Scarab quite yet but I’m pretty happy with how Prismo turned out!

[codenamesazanka]

TV Interview with Horikoshi Kouhei, 7/19/2024

Summarized Thread by shibuyasmash on twitter; (incomplete!) Japanese is from subtitled screenshots I found online

Horikoshi draws in a room alone, and there is another bigger room where his assistants work

『大きい部屋でアシスタントさんがやっています』

The reporter guesses that maybe Horikoshi sometimes spends 24 hours straight working at his desk, he corrects her that sometimes it’s 36 hours

『何時間ぐらいこの部屋で作業する?

多い時だと24時間中…

36時間』

The desk he uses was brought from his parent’s house, he’s been using it since he was a kid

Reporter: Your 10 year manga is ending soon.

『10年の連載がいよいよ終わる』

Horikoshi: It’s surprisingly sad. For example, sometimes I’ll think about how I’ll only be drawing a character for another 10 panels or so. But at the same time I feel like I’m finally reaching the goal.

『意外と寂しいっていうのはありますね。（例えば）このキャラ、あと10何コマしか描けないんだって思ったり、やっとゴールでき��すねって思いながらっていうのもあるんですけれど』

Horikoshi: I don’t draw with the intention of conveying a message because of current social situations or the real world. I draw with a sense of responsibility towards the world of MHA, I’m always thinking about how I can make the manga interesting.

『世相がどうこうとか現実世界でもこうだから

こういうメッセージを込めてやろうと 描いたことはない

あくまでヒロアカ世界に対して責任を持って描く

常に面白いって 言ってもらえることだけを考えている』

Reporter: What does “interesting” mean to you?

Horikoshi: Looking back, I wasn't into manga for the cool special moves or cool characters. ONE PIECE made me cry.

I think my heart shaking & being emotionally moved makes something interesting to me. Crying becomes an experience, and I want my readers to have that experience.

『心がグーって震えて感動したのが「面白い」

読んだ人の心がグラッと揺れて泣いちゃう

泣くと体験になる読者にそういい体験をもたらしたい』

Reporter: Has your impression of what a hero is changed?

Horikoshi: It’s changed quite a bit. At chapter 1, I thought heroes were someone beyond reach, but even if you don’t do something that amazing if you try to do good then you’re already a hero.

There was a time I felt like I couldn’t draw anymore and my editor just kept telling me it’d be okay, really positive. That really saved me.

『僕は「もう描けねえ」って なっちゃった時に

編集担当さんが「大丈夫っすよ」って 明るいテンションでずっと言ってくれた

それがものすごく助かった』

People like Toriyama-sensei (Dragon Ball), Oda-sensei (One Piece) were the people I admired when I started drawing manga, but the person who saved me was my editor who was right beside me. So I thought to me, he was a hero.

『鳥山明先生(DRAGON BALL)尾田栄一郎先生(ONE PIECE) そういう方に憧れで漫画を描いていたけれど

助けてくれたのって隣にいた編集担当さんだった

「この人がヒーローだよな僕にとっては」』

Reporter: Everyone can be someone’s hero.

『誰しもが誰かのヒーローになれるってこと』

Horikoshi: The person who reaches out to you and pats your shoulder and tells you it’ll be okay becomes the person who saves your life. So I think My Hero Academia might end somewhere like that.

『実際に手を差し伸べてくれて

「大丈夫だよ」って肩たたいてくれた人は本当に命の恩人になる

(『僕のヒーローアカデミア」も)そういうところに着地すると思っています』

[madisonthetimewalker]

Got inspired by @loryn-art and decided to make some modern AU Wakfu headcanons because I always love making head canons when I see cool AU’s

1. Yugo cannot skateboard for shit. He always face-plants into the pavement (Adamai can skateboard and laughs his ass off at yugo’s misery)

2. Adamai is surprisingly good at baking, he can make a pretty good looking cake (if he try’s)

3.qilby has horrible fucking sleep schedule I cannot describe how bad it is but it is horrible.

4. Chibi is a morning person and has a decently sized ego.

5. Grougal has the best hair in the family (he gets it from his mom what do you expect?)

6. Shinonome (I cannot spell her name for the life of me oh my god) likes to live a cozy and organized life… qilby does not knowing the meaning of organized

7. Adamai works in retail and has clip on earrings (he doesn’t want to get his ear pierced again it sucked for him he hated it. I also have an example in one of my drawings!)

8. Phaeris is very very good at making sure shit doesn’t go down in the house. Mostly because he has a resting bitch face and I love it

9. Baltazar works at a daycare. He likes the job (quilby is not allowed near baltazar because of what happened in season 2, they will full on fist fight im dead ass)

10. Efrim isn’t very responsible with money (do not give him any he will spend it… and so will Nora)

11. Glip is often tired he has a pretty good sleep schedule (unlike qilby) but still often complains of being tired.

12. For mina I wanted to make her a teacher but since she was known to be basically a lawyer in Wakfu but I feel like a teacher would fit her as well.

13. Adamai doesn’t talk about his private life.. at all for that matter he keeps to himself a lot and you basically have to pester him to tell you what’s wrong.

14. Adamai has a creepy smile (this is canon.. oh my poor boy) and often times won’t smile in photos he just kinda grins and walks away.

15. Yugo has such horrible and I mean horrible taste in fashion (you can hear Adamai holding back tears in the background while Mina or Nora has to tell him to change or else he’s gonna scare their mother to death due to his shitty fashion sense.)

16. If you where to ask qilby about a specific historical event, he will tell it in such great detail it makes it seem like he was actually there.

17. The dragon bros cannot taste spicy foods (I heard somewhere since lizards are cold-blooded they can’t taste that thing that makes you taste spicy foods) so if you see grougal chowing down extreme spicy ramen don’t ask.

18. Efrim is very clumsy and often stubs his toes or accidentally hits something when he walks (everyone thinks he needs glasses but he has 20/20 vision this fucker just can’t walk straight)

19. I like to think Adamai is a bit of a nerd. In his own way of course (if you’re lucky you can catch him reading comic books in his room.. which is always locked)

20. Nora and Efrim collect random stuff they find on the ground and they have this huge stash of random shit. Nobody knows how long they have had this but god is it large

21. Glip can often be seen grading papers (I like to believe baltazar is a daycare teacher while Glip is a high school - collage teacher/professor)

22. Chibi does not know the meaning of “social cues” (and neither does yugo.)

23. Shinonome works at a flower shop (qilby doesn’t like flowers mostly because of bad allergies but he supports his sister anyway.)

25. Efrim hates having to work and I mean HATESSS it he will complain the whole time (Adamai is one step away from hitting him with a shopping cart at 100 miles an hour)

26. Yugo can’t focus for shit, but can surprisingly describe how to make a specific meal in great detail (alibert you have raised a good man.)

27. Phaeris is very good with solving puzzles and likes to do them in his free time, he says he enjoys the “thinking process”

28. Chibi is a horrible flirt if he sees a pretty lady and he wants to say hi? Immediately tripping and stumbling and accidentally embarrassing himself (grougal is laughing his ass off silently in a corner.)

29. (Can you tell I like Adamai?) he’s a pretty good babysitter although he isn’t a huge fan of it but he doesn’t mind helping people out.

30. Nora can’t roller skate while Mina is a fucking mastermind.

31. Baltazar and qilby can be seen giving the meanest fucking side eyes at family dinners (Adamai prefers to eat in his room. But once there’s drama he appears and watch’s from afar.)

32. Qilby has the worst back pain in the world.

33. For someone who can’t focus for shit yugo is an incredibly fast learner! And can learn anything in a matter of seconds (Adamai is often jealous out how quick of a learner he is.)

34. Glip doesn’t like being forced to work at such late hours but he has no choice (the curse of being a teacher)

35. Adamai often runs away from yugo when he’s at work. And yugo likes to chase him down for shits and giggles (yugo please he’s trying to do his job)

Great Lordy I have made so many! I might make some insert modern AU ones as well. Involving ecaflip and Xelor and the rest of the gods, I like to think they also live in the world of twelve but they don’t really show their faces (kinda like Greek gods? If you get what I mean)

Anyway I’m glad I got to share more headcanons! Have a great day!

[lbova]

I wanna take a moment to appreciate one of my most favorite bloggers of all: @fan-burns ✨✨

This is going to be a somewhat long rant about how much I adore this blogger. So buckle up!

It all started when I rediscovered one of my favorite childhood movies called Robots, made by Blue Sky Studios back in 2005. I decided to rewatch the movie and it's safe to say it's a pretty good movie. And ever since I rewatched the movie, I became hyper fixed on it. And what do people usually do when they get hyper fixed on a a movie/show? They look for content about them. Last year, I discovered Tumblr, and to my surprise, there were people that knew about the movie! There were fanarts, headcanons, fanfictions, etc. Of course, the Robots fandom wasn't very large, but that's what made it special. And then... it happened.

I found a Robots blogger unlike anyone I've come across before. And their name was the one the only... Fan Burns! I first discovered them when I found one of their Robots Deep Dives about how Rodney and Ratchet are similar yet different. I thought the Deep Dive was very interesting, so I viewed their blog to see what else the blog had to offer. And wouldn't you know it, they were an artist as well. So I took the time to scroll through their art. And I immediately fell in love with the art. They have this Robots Oc named Harvey, and i love him to death. After looking and admiring their art, I then discovered a fanfic they were working on. Apparently, they decided to write a fanmade sequel to Robots, which is simply called Robots 2. Curiosity got the best of me and I decided to read the fanfic. And do you know what happened after that? I became OBSESSED with the story. It was edgy, creative, and above all, the most amazing fanfic I've ever read in my entire life of reading fanfics! I have seen many fanfics of what it would be like if Robots had a sequel, but Fan Burns... you have outdone yourself. You have managed to grab my attention. Your fanfic made me so obsessed, that I constantly think about it. Every. Single. Day.

Fan Burns. I honestly can't believe how underrated you are. I feel like more people should read your fanfic and appreciate your art. You deserve all the love in the world. You are amazing, talented, creative, funny. And I know that you're also living your life to it's potential. You're doing what you can to just simply live your life to the fullest. So I know it's hard to update your fanfic when you're busy, and don't worry. I will always wait for whatever you have in store in the future. Whenever Chapter 19 comes out, I will be running in circles around my room. But I want you to take your time posting or updating anything. I want you to take as much time as you need. I remember when I asked you to draw Rodney and Cappy together, and the look on my face when you answered my question. I stared at that picture for 2 hours straight no cap. I still go back to that picture to admire it, even today.

Anyway, I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate you. You definitely deserve it. Love you, Fan Burns. If you do read this, thank you for listening to my crackhead self. And thank you to everyone else if you got to this point. Everyone, if you haven't yet, please go check them out! You will not be disappointed.

Yeah I'm posting this at midnight. And I don't care. Bye y'all!!

[aheckinmess]

Stormy Salsa [Aizawa] (Fluff)

(One-shot 19/? in a collection of My Hero Academia one-shots posted regularly on Saturdays - and sometimes Sundays.)

Read on AO3.

Tags: Shouta Aizawa, Shota Aizawa, Pro Hero Eraserhead, Aizawa x OC, Eraserhead x OC, Original Female Character(s), Ichijiku Aoki, Aizawa is a Sweetheart, Aizawa is a Good Significant Other, A Rainy Evening, Also There's a Cat Involved, Dancing in the Living Room, Nursing a Headache, All the Little Intricacies of Everday Life

Word Count: 1,000 words

Summary: Ichijiku, feeling whimsical, pulls Shouta into a dance in the living room after nursing a headache.

Ichijiku (Tigress)

“Shouta, can you hand me the ice pack?” I groan, rubbing my temples. “This headache is killer.”

“Okay, Kitten, do you need the essential oils too?” He asks, rummaging in the freezer and wrapping it in a towel. The moment he sets it against my head, my muscles relax under the balm of the frigid relief it provides.

“That might help, yes.”

Some essential oils, the ice pack, and one nap later brings a clearer, less painful mind. The couch groans with me as I sit up to the sound of falling rain. Despite having just woken up, the gentle pitter patter against the roof lulls my eyes closed again until an orange blob nudges me awake.

“You feeling better, Kitten?” Shouta’s blurry visage draws closer until I put on my glasses. The orange blob turns out to be Cloud. 

“Is it raining?” I yawn, stretching high with a wince at the ache in my neck. Cloud nuzzles against my hand and purrs when I give him the affection he so desperately desires.

“It started up about half an hour ago.” He chuckles as he tucks my hair behind my ear. “You dozed pretty well. Do you feel better?”

I nod and heave a sigh as I lean into his hand.

“Did I snore?” I ask.

“Nothing loud, but yes. You whimpered a bit and I worried you were having a nightmare, but you settled quickly.” He kisses my forehead.

“Mmph, I don’t remember any dreams.”

“Good to know.” He combs his fingers through my hair. “Are you hungry?”

“I think I’m okay right now.” Another yawn and I make grabby hands at him. “Cuddles?”

He chuckles and instead of joining me on the couch like a normal person, he flops right on top of me. His heavy weight against me soothes the tired aches of everyday living as his brand of playfulness reminds me of life’s simple joys. I only hope I can provide him some of the same relief.

“Oof! Hey!” I laugh, tickling the back of his neck.

“Gah!” He scrunches his neck and wriggles back momentarily before his fingers find my sides in retribution.

I lose the tickle war the second he touches me. My body twists violently as a shriek tears past my lips. Wiggling fingers flutter up my sides like butterfly wings, causing my laughter to echo through the house while I suffer for the sake of allowing him his fun for now.

“Shouta Aizawa! You traitor!” I squawk, lurching up on the couch and leaping away. Unfortunately, his reflexes prove inhumanly quick and there’s no doubting the strength of his muscles as he keeps me in place. “Nooo, Shoutaaaa! Stooopp!” I whine.

“Why would I do that when I get to hear your sweet laughter?” He teases, getting my weak spot behind my knee. 

I cringe and try to squeeze myself off the couch as my body contorts involuntarily. I slump off the couch as intended, but Shouta slides off right after me, pinning me to the ground and continuing his tickle assault before he finally stops to kiss my forehead. While I catch my breath, he presses his forehead to mine and smiles at me.

“You know I love you, right?” He coos, stroking my cheek. 

“Yes, I know.” I huff, scrunching my nose at him before leaning into his hand. “I love you too. Why else would I let you tickle me?”

“I’m glad.” He says, before tickling my ear and the back of my neck and sending my back arching straight up. He moves just in time to keep my head from bumping his.  “You love me enough to put up with this?” He taunts.

“I’d rather you didn’t but yeeeaaahhhhahaahahahahaha!” I dissolve into laughter.

When he finally relents, it takes me a few minutes to compose myself. My sides cramp by the time I’m done, but I still wrap my arms around him for a tight hug when the giggles fade. 

“Shouta, will you dance with me?” 

“Dancing? In the living room?” He strokes my cheek. “I guess that can be arranged. What kind of dance?”

“Nothing fancy. Just a simple waltz or sway…so long as it’s with you.” 

He stands and takes my waist and hand, effortlessly twirling me around as I rest my head against his chest. His heartbeat coaxes me around the floor with him. Normally, dancing would make me feel self-conscious, but Shouta makes me feel safe enough to indulge. 

Only a few minutes into our dance, the sound of pouring rain echoes through the house much louder than moments ago. Distant thunder urges me to pull him towards the back patio, where we sway gently and watch the summer storm in companionable silence.

At least until I smirk up at him with a crazy idea.

“Come on,” I tug his hand and open the door, stepping out into the rain and immediately getting soaked. “Let’s dance out here!”

“What are you…” He watches me step out and blinks slowly. He crosses his arms and shakes his head. “We can’t do that here.” 

“Sure we can!” I lean my head back and twirl in circles. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“You’ll have to excuse me, I believe it’s still inside with the cats.” 

“Pretty pleeeaaase, Shouta-kun?” I look up at him with my most potent pair of kitten eyes.

He drops his arms to the side with a heavy groan. He pauses long enough that I think he’s going to dismiss me as insane and stay inside. But suddenly, he huffs and rushes out to scoop me in his arms and spin around with me cradled against him. I look up at him with a vibrant smile. 

“Hey, Shouta?”

“Hm?”

“You know I love you, right?” 

“...occasions like this sometimes bring it into question.” He winks, before setting me down and resuming our waltzing position. “But yes, I do.”

“Enough to dance with me in the rain?”

“Enough to dance with you in the rain.”

Want more Aizawa? Try: Movie Magic - The Tiger Tango

[adoracora-elizabeth]

The truth always comes out, chapter 19

So, I am the only one trying to keep everything going?" Mary said, annoyed. Robert had just announced he was going to London.

"My work can wait a couple of days, and you can manage perfectly here. Maybe even better without all of us surrounding you." Robert answered. "I know you can do this, I have faith in you."

"Papa? Would it be alright when I go out with Matthew tonight?" Mary changed the subject

Robert frowned. Why was she going out with Matthew when nobody was home. He knew he could trust Matthew and he wanted them to be a couple, but still. He would ask if Bates could check if she came home, just for his own peace of mind.

"Of course darling. Just be safe. You like him, don't you?"

Mary coloured. +++

"I was not sure if I should tell you." Rosamund started, handing Cora a cup. "But Robert is coming today."

"He is what? Oh, Rosamund, why did you not stop him?"

Rosamund sat down, "Cora, Robert sounded really worried on the phone. He is scared of losing you, and not only because you are thinking of a divorce. The updates I give him are, as you know, not very promising."

"I am not on the verge of dying. My lungs just do not improve." Cora said, annoyed.

"I think you are forgetting how worried we all were when you were on the verge of dying. You do remember that, do you not?" Rosamund rarely got upset with Cora. Why was Cora not seeing what they all had been going through. "Cora, you need to give Robert a change. You know I will support you no matter what you decide, but you need to give him a chance to explain."

Cora sighed. She had already given him a chance to explain himself. She was here to get some distance and to clear her head. She had to admit that it did not make things easier. "What time is he coming?"

"He should be here within the next hour, I am going on a shopping trip with the girls. So you two will be undisturbed."

Cora looked at Rosamund. She could not have wished for a better sister-in-law. She did not pick a side. She just let them fight it out themselves. "Thank you." Cora said softly. +++

Robert stood in front of Rosamund's house, scared to knock on the door. He was happy to see Cora again, but not knowing how she would react made him nervous. Was she ready to forgive him? Or was it a bad move coming to London. He took a deep breath and knocked.

Shortly after his knock, the door was opened, and he was greeted by Mead, Rosamund's butler.

"Welcome, Milord." Mead took Robert's hat and let him in the house. "Her Ladyship is in the drawing room."

Robert proceeded towards the drawing room, in the doorway he held still. There she was his beautiful Cora. She was dressed in a simple jeans and t-shirt, but she managed to even make that look sophisticated. Cora was engrossed in something on her laptop and did not notice him. This gave him some more time to just look at her.

Cora stretched and noticed Robert. "How long have you been standing there?" She said.

"Hello, to you too." He replied. "I arrived just now, but I didn't want to disturb you."

"So you decided to spy on me?"

"I did not spy, I. Cora? Why are you this hostile?" Robert slowly stepped inside the room.

Cora lowered her eyes. "I am sorry." She looked up and saw his puppy eyes. She closed her laptop and got up, so he could greet her.

Robert directly took the change and wrapped his arms around her. He did not care what she would think. He needed her. To his relief, he felt Cora relax and she rested her head against his chest. Her hands moved upwards to his shoulder blades. It only took a second before she pulled away.

Cora pulled her shirt straight and stepped back. Being in his arms made her doubt her decision. The moment she noticed him, she felt something stir deep inside her, but at the same time, it felt somebody put a dagger in her heart. The betrayal was too much for her to forgive. Although her whole body longed for him.

"You want some tea?" She asked.

Robert was not sure what just happened. She welcomed his arms, and at the same time, she turned him down. "Yes, please." He answered her question.

"How are you doing? Are the daily walks helping?" He asked when he heard Cora suppressing her cough.

Cora wished she had better news. To be honest, the walks did nothing but give her coughing fits. "I am not sure." She answered truthfully. "My lungs are not clearing up, I cannot seem to get the mucus loose enough to cough it up. No matter how many walks, Rosamund forces me on." Cora sighed.

"Is there anything I can do?" Robert inquired.

"Sybil was talking about percussion on my chest area, but she doesn't have the strength for it. She can explain to you how to do it."

"When they are back, I will ask her about it." Robert stared at a painting on the wall. Being with Cora had never been this hard. They always had something to talk about. But now he felt only awkwardness. How did they get of the trail this much. +++

Robert and Cora had gone out for a walk, and they both hoped it would help ease things up. Cora had been so out of breath that there was not much room for a conversation while they were walking. It had been mostly Robert who had done the talking.

"Did Edith tell you about the magazine she wants to work for." Cora asked after they sat down on a bench. Cora had managed to walk to the end of Buckingham Palace garden, but before they walked back, she needed a minute.

"No." Robert turned towards Cora. "That sounds interesting, I had expected her to do something with her writing talent."

Cora raised her eyebrows. She had suspected a different reaction from Robert. "You are not upset?"

Robert chuckled. "You sound surprised."

"Well…." Cora started.

"Ok, I admit, I understand that you are surprised." Robert always was sceptical about everything Edith did. "Are you ready to walk back?" He gave Cora a concerning look when she coughed.

Cora blew her nose and got up. "This was nothing. It was not close to a coughing fit." She padded his arm. "I think Rosamund will be back in the meantime."

[ihavenoideahowtodream]

STORY TIME:

In 2015 I dropped out of college cause American college is 40k a year with FAFSA and with average grades (you can only get scholarships with straight As and I've never done anything straight in my life). Well what do I do with my life now? Didn't want to live with my parents so I decided to do what any normal 19 year old woman would do.

Join the United States Navy.

I go through the rigamarol of getting accepted for the matriculation process, MEPS (vets if I get a detail about this wrong I'm sorry is been several years).

This process began at 6 am meaning I had to get up at 5am and someone told me coffee would mess with my urine test so I had zero caffeine and like 3 hours of sleep. I took the ASVAP I did physicals and a bunch of other shit they examined every part of me. I was one of I think 5 other women there. The other 40 were all men.

There was one dude. Let's call him Josh (18M). Josh Did Not Shut Up. From 6am on this dude was talking. About anything everything. He was going into one of the bullet sponge branches, I think usmc. He talked about the Charger that was his graduation gift, about how cool special ops was. He thought he was hot shit. Remember how I said this whole thing started at 0600? And most of us did not have coffee? We all hated him by 0800. The nurse assigned to baby sitting us and jabbed and poked us for blood draw and such first off was built like Drax the destroyer, second every time Josh spoke he rolled his eyes and said to whomever noticed that Josh was going to die in basic. I'm rather conventionally pretty and at the time I had a cute blonde bob hair cut. Josh aimed a lot of his "I'm hot shit" sentences at me.

By 1400 I was experiencing for the first time the desire to stab a man 500 times and mail his pieces to his mother in boxes. By this point we had all been trying to get him to shut up for 8 hours. Most people just straight up said shut up to his face and he ignored them and kept yammering.

Finally hes directing a sentence directly toward me and I don't even think I heard what he said I just looked at him and said, "you realize your drill Sargent is going to make you carry around a plant to replace all the oxygen you waste talking so fucking much." The whole room exploded in laughter including Nurse Drax. Josh was astounded. Nurse Drax said, "She'll do great in the military, Josh you're going to die."

But the most important thing is that we were there for 5 more hours and he did not say another word any time I was in the room.

[toinfinitywinning]

Last night I ugly cried. For maybe like the first time. U know the difference. Head in hands, shoulders move more, noisier, chest more jumpy, idk. The movie the Best of Me was on and then I was like well I am not the best of me and that was it. And then I laughed. Instead of the word trigger anymore I think I’ll use acute onset. It acute-onsetted me.

Woke up, didn’t want to COVID today. Reminded myself I didn’t do this to myself. COVID-19–>24 did. COVID. It’s always the COVID.

No one knows why but recently there has been a string of several weeks where I’ve felt worse than I did at the very beginning. Easily put—I’m worse than whatever progress I thought I’d made. Right when you think there isn’t possibly another diagnosis out there—you need immunotherapy-goblin IV’s (had to). One autoimmune category has to do with monkey’s brains (I’m not joking) and the other 2 I’m not sure of their animal stati.

Monkey cerebellum at UofL Motility (I can say I’ve been to a specialist of a GI specialist) and more blood work later at UK Immunology.)

I’d need the goblins every 2 weeks most likely in a sterile White Room at UK and supposedly at any of their 4 convenient locations. Sounds like a hotel accommodation w/ free parking they only validate if you’re under 2 hours per visit…

They asked me how I’d like to receive the IV’s. I told them I don’t know what that means. Normal is fine. Then they clarified no, no laying down or sitting up. Laying down, always. B/c the POTS. These things pump for HOURS if like before for my migraines.

I could like, draw a straw, make it fun. My mind went straight to this bothering my Parents more but I was promptly redirected and reminded that the least of my worries should be how I’m going to get there.

Maybe I should date again. More help. SYKE. 🫠 ⛑️

Please UK March Madness, come through. Also Easter.

Below���the blown vein. Dad to me: “Why did they stick you there?” / bc a vein was there & some phlebotomist’s just Go for it. Also I swear it’s different everywhere. Either way the end game’s the same. And it’s not their fault. My veins are tired.

[whocanmakethatshitup]

Finn McCool's and My 19th "Barfday"

Unlike living in suburbia New Jersey, Philadelphia bars were more likely to let minors in, just because we looked old enough. Since I've been shaving for years like "Baby Finster", this spot was a no brainer. So with that being said, my 19th birthday was one to remember, but also one to forget. Finn McCools was about, oh I don’t know, six blocks or so from our dorm. It was a nice easy walk there and a cool, slow stumble home. The place was awesome; at least to someone who was underage and getting into bars without an ID. It was this little Irish spot, that could hold no more than Id say 115 people. But at points it felt like there were hundreds inside. Only one floor, with a bar and a few tables stuck in the back. On a small, elevated seating area. We got there early to secure those tables, cuz’ we knew it was going to be a long, rough night of drinking and dancing. So we were planning for some sitting time. I can’t remember all the people who came along, there were plenty. I know Dubbs and his lady were there, but when weren't they? I mean they were always usually there; him and I were partners in crime. Pitchers were the way to go and we decided to order some pitchers of Harp Lager. It wasn't very expensive and that shit got you ripped. But to be fair, a 19 year old kid who barely drank in high school, anything would get us blasted. But let’s put it this way, by the end of the night I was drinking straight from the pitchers. Who needed a glass right? Well this place had a DJ and his little booth was built up into one of the walls. It felt like he knew we were all there for my birthday, because his playlist was straight bangers. I was loving it and so was everyone else. We were all getting down with the fresh beats he was spinning and if ya know me, getting down is something "special". Like a good birthday boy should, we took many shots that night. I couldn’t tell you what they all were but they went down without a hitch. Around 1:30am we decided to head out and stroll back home to the good old dorm rooms. Did I mention I had a final critique with my drawing teacher the next morning? No you say. Well, yea I did. As I hit the street this is how I knew the next morning was going to be bad. I plow out the back entrance of this place and start leaning on a street sign talking to my friends. From what I can recall the conversation went something like this;

            “ Oh, I love you guys, thanks so much for making my…. ahhhhhhhh, gurglggglle, barfffff, birthday such a good time, I had a…. snarfffffffffff, barffffffff, ugggggghhhhh…great time…”.

            After I was done holding up that pole, we again started off for home. Except, after about 50feet down the street it was the same shit all over again. Puking is never fun, but tonight it wasn’t so bad, considering I was holding discussions in the middle like I wasn’t even puking. This continued happening pretty much all the way home, the whole six blocks, but I thought it was going to make me feel better. Not a chance, I climbed into the bed spinning, after trying for 15 minutes to get the key into the door. Not such an easy task after drinking like a sailor for the past six hours. And like a dummy, no water, aspirin, anything. Who did I suddenly think I was, a pro alcoholic? By time I was in bed and passed out, it was after 2am and I had to be up and at school no later than 8:30am the next morning. Now do you see the brilliance of such actions before school was even out for the semester, yea me neither? Well, as you all knew, I woke up still drunk pretty much. I was dry heaving and gagging like a son of a bitch and every glass of water I poured down my throat made its way back into the toilet in no time. So, I’m super hung over and can’t keep any fluids down. In roughly 45minutes I had to meet with my teacher and discuss what he thinks my grade should be for the semester. What was to take place in his classroom that morning was hilarious, luckily someone else was there to witness it not just myself.

[marvelcriminalhoe]

Stumbling West

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Chapter 31

Sound Commitment

i.e. Season 11 Episode 19

TW: typical criminal minds jargon, reader inside her head a little bit.

AN: We only have two more chapters left :( wrapping up the story is kind of sad, but it's also really good because it feels good to finish it :) plus I'm really excited about my other Aaron Hotchner story Paper Rings, if you haven't read it, check it out.

word count: 1,818

series masterlist

You’re sitting across from Aaron, listening to him conference call Emily via webcam. The past 3 months have been, difficult. Derek left, and the team feels the hole that he left. You also still have that nagging feeling you've had since coming back, but you have yet to voice it to anyone, even Aaron. Telling yourself that it’s nothing, it’s normal to feel this way after coming back to work, that it will pass, eventually.

Sadly, eventually hasn’t come yet, and that feeling only gets worse with every passing day. You know, that Aaron knows, that something is up with you, but he hasn't pushed you into talking about it. You wouldn't be surprised if he already knew what you were feeling without you having to say it.

“We’re somewhere over Texas right now.” Aaron’s voice draws you from your thoughts. “How fast can you meet us in New York?”

You look away from the window to Aaron, as he looks up at you. You send a small, barely there smile as you stand to go inform the pilot about the change of plans. The last case was tiring, and being a man down for the past few weeks has only amplified that exhaustion. The last case, Tara was out of town for, making it seem you were down 2 members. You send her a text after talking to the pilot, letting her know to meet in New York.

The team lands a few hours later, heading straight to the precinct. The team gathers in the conference room where Emily was a already setting up the case, greeting their old friend with smiles and hugs.

“Rossi and JJ are headed to the crime scene. I’m assuming you want to join them?” Aaron asks her, getting straight to business.

Emily nods her head, “You assume right.”

“I’m literally losing sleep here.” Emily grumbles desperately.

You send her a sympathetic look, “Some cases just stick with you. Makes sense that this one’s important.” Knowing how it is when a case wont leave your mind, even in your sleep.

“I just wish I can flip a switch or something to control it.” She sighs, drinking some coffee from her cup.

you grimace, “The only way to control it is to surrender to it.”

“You sound like Rossi.” She scoffs a laugh, before a more serious face graces her features, “If I do that, then I have to face the fact that I might never catch this guy.”

“Yeah,” You agree with her, “But by that logic, you also have to face the fact that you might. One thing you can’t do is blame yourself. For any of it.”

“Yeah. It’s hard to get out of your mind.” She grimaces, shaking her head and looking down, “Easier said than done, you know?”

“Tell me about it.” You mutter.

“What’s going on with you?” She tilts her head after a few moments of silence.

You raise your brow at her, “What’d you mean?”

She laughs, “You know what I mean.”

You sigh, resting your head on the back of your chair. “Uh oh.” Emily sits down, “That bad huh?”

“No.” You shake your head, looking back at her, “Just, it’s been hard, I guess.”

“Mmmhmm.” She hums, urging you to continue. You sit up better in your chair, “Just, since having Luke and Brandon, I don't know. It’s just been getting harder and harder to leave home.”

Emily nods, thinking about her response, “Was it like that with Charlotte?”

“Not really?” You shrug, “But, I was out of the field longer this time. I mean, with Charlie I worked in the field until I was 38 weeks. I stopped this round at 24. Then maternity lave was 6 months, I mean, I was out of the field for close to a year.”

“That’s a long time.” Emily agrees. “What has Hotch said about it?”

“I haven't told him.” You look down at your hands.

She sends you a confused look, “Why not?” At your silence, and refusal of eye contact, she figures out the answer, almost whispering what you’ve been to scared to admit out loud, “You wanna leave.”

You glance back up at her, contemplative look on your face, “I don't know. I mean, I do, but.” You sigh, falling back into your chair again.

“But they just lost Morgan, and you're worried about disrupting everything or disappointing anyone?” She questions, though you both know she's right.

“Yeah.” You mumble.

Emily says your name softly, getting your attention back on her, “If anyone knows what you're feeling, it’s me. It’s not an easy decision to leave but, you have to do what’s best for you. Being stuck in your head, that’s only going to get worse, trust me.”

“You send her a grateful smile. The conversation stops when Reid comes into the room, “Guys. I found something.”

You both get up, following him into the conference room, “If the unsub has moved on, I was trying to discern where he might go. Based on the time of death of his most recent victims, I was able to estimate just how far he could get.” He tells you, bringing you both to a map.

“That’s a lot of real estate to cover.” Emily nods to the board.

“What’s the deal with these?” You point to the arrows all over the map.

“Ah.” Reid explains, “Each of these represent the most famous killers of the past 150 years.”

“Wow. Look at Chicago.” Emily comments.

You nod your head, “If you wanted to copycat a famous killer, it looks like Chicago would be the place to be.”

“Whoa. Whoa, Whoa.” JJ calls out as you both walk into the room where Garcia and Emily are laughing, “You guys are having a party and didn't invite us?”

The case ended, and everyone was back at Quantico.

“Want to come to dinner with us?” Garcia asks you both.

“Um, hell yeah.” You laugh, sharing a look with JJ, “I’ll let Will know.”

“Oh, my god.” Garcia gasps, “We’re gonna have a girls’ night.”

Rossi walks into the room, “Did somebody say girls night?”

“Yes, but we’ll make an exception for you.” Emily tells him.

“Me, too?” Reid pops his head out from behind Rossi.

You laugh, “Not a chance.” Rolling your eyes at his disgruntled face, “Just kidding boy genius.”

“Well, lets do it.” Rossi says, “I’m starving and I’m buying.” Before pointing at Garcia, “And bring the bottle.”

“Aaron and Lewis are debriefing but I’ll text them and tell them where to meet us.” You inform the team, “Where are we going?”

“Mexican?” Emily suggests. “Burritos in London— No bueno.”

Rossi points down the hall, “Speak of the devil.”

“Hey.” Aaron says, sending a questioning look to the whole team walking towards the elevators.

Tara whistles, “Oh, I see tequila.”

“We’re having a family dinner.” Garcia announces to the new comers, “Are you in?”

Aaron nods over to you, “I go where she goes.” Making you laugh as you grab his hand, intertwining your fingers together.

“You had me at tequila.” Tara jokes.

“Yes! Vamanos!” Garcia cheers, “This is happening. You can tell us everything about Mark. By everything, I mean everything about Mark.” Garcia looks over to Emily. “I want all the details.”

“I, however, do not.” Rossi points.

“Well, you won't get any.” Emily waves him off, “I’ll save that for a real girls night.”

Everyone enters the elevator, splitting up when they reach the garage and meeting back up at the Mexican Restaurant. It’s a night full of laughter an love wth your friends, one that you really needed. But it didn't change the decision you decided to make on this last case, if anything, it helped solidify it.

Once you and Aaron got home, showering, changing, and climbing in bed, you let the silence comfort you for a few moments, before turning to face him.

He sets down the book he was reading, taking off his glasses and turns to you, he studies you for a moment, “You going to finally tell me what’s been on your mind?”

You take a big breath, closing your eyes as you release it, “I want to leave the BAU.” When you open your eyes, you're surprised at what you see written on Aaron’s face. You thought you would have to plead your case as to why, have to explain your decision and show how truly you meant it, how hard it’s been since you've come back. But all you see is understanding and love, it makes you tear up a bit, having his immediate acceptance, knowing he knew already what you were feeling. Makes you feel less alone.

“I know.” He tells you softly, moving closer to you to wrap you in his arms. “I know, sweetheart. It’s okay.” He lets you break down in his arms, a break down that has been coming for a long time. One that’s filled with sadness and hopefulness and acceptance.

Once you're done, drying your tears with the back of your hands, you look up at him, “You aren't mad?”

He laughs softly, “No, I’m not mad. I understand. Honestly, I’ve been expecting this for awhile.”

“What?” You raise your eyebrows, “How long?”

“Since Jack started calling you mom. That’s when I started noticing you take steps back, just little ones.” He tells you softly.

“Why didn't you say anything?” You shake your head, trying to think back and see if he’s right. He is. “That was over 3 years ago.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He reassures you, “Your focus changed, it’s normal. I would have been worried if it didn't start changing a little. I’ve seen it start changing more and more over the years.” “Mmmm.” You hum, thinking over the years. He’s right again, you have started stepping back more and more, not just from maternity leave. Staying back when one of the kids get sick, or a school field trip comes up. Leaving work early for the parent teacher meetings and the doctor appointments and the plays. You never really noticed it, the small steps back. It was never a decision for you, your family, children, came first. Always.

“Hey.” Aaron gets your attention softly, “I’m proud of you. No matter what you do, I’ll support you.”

“Thank you.” You grab his face, pulling his lips to yours.

The next morning, you both sat Jack down with Charlotte, telling them the news.

“Me and Mama were talking.” Aaron starts, “And Mama was thinking about maybe being home more often.”

“Really?” Jack asks, eyes wide.

You nod, “Yeah. Maybe getting a new job and being home every night? Is that something you would like?”

“Yeah!” Jack jumps up hugging the both of you, Charlotte joins in the excitement of her brother, “Yay Mama!” Making all of you laugh.

You and Aaron share a look over the kid’s heads, one full of love and happiness.

*********

taglist: @bakugouswh0r3 @averyhotchner @rousethemouse @malindacath @buckyswintersoldiermask @floweringashore @itsmytimetoodream

[tripleaxelrose]

3M

She is 22. He is 19. She putters around her apartment, cleaning things that don't need cleaning. She paces. She checks her messages for the 100th time. She watches Taylor Swift videos on YouTube. Finally, late in the afternoon, she puts on her sneakers and goes for a run but ends up sprinting, pushing herself faster until the muscles burn in her legs.

What she really wants to do, in a calmer, alternate version of her body and mind, is get in the car and drive to Laguna Beach and lay out a blanket and watch the surfer boys pad their way to shore in their bare feet, boards under their strong arms, the salt gritty on their shoulders. But the thought of getting the car, of leaving the immediate vicinity and stepping too far away from her TV, makes her want to throw up.

She leaves it on 24/7 during the games, sometimes muted, sometimes turned up very loud. She leaves it on through hours of curling, triathlon, snowboarding. Endless varieties of skiing denoted by the shifting distances of multi-sized flags.

She is afraid she will miss something. An interview with him, with Coach, with someone else she knows. Or one of those minute-long puff-pieces that show skaters in slow-mo, the ice shards spitting off their blades in dramatic overhead lighting, a forceful narration about adversity.

She does all this because they have agreed not to text while he's in Korea. So he can stay focused. But what about me, she wants to ask him. What about my focus? She does not ask him. It is a stupid thing to ask.

He is on the other side of the earth, waiting.

She imagines his Olympic experience. The spartan rooms, uncomfortable beds. Lines at the buffet. The endless sharing of personal space with Adam, who is lovely but never shuts up. The pressure. The girls from all over the world. (She tries hard not to think too much about this. At least the Russian girls are banned, thereby excluding a whole category of pornographic stereotype from the realm of possibility. Again, she pushes this thought away in a hurry. It doesn't matter. It really doesn't. Romain would scold her for even "going there," a new English phrase he has learned and uses ad nauseam.) She imagines and imagines.

Nothing she imagines is accurate.

In Korea, he is simply waiting, simmering, eyes aimed straight ahead, ears plugged with music, moving coherently only from one practice to the next. There is almost nothing in between them and it all passes like a fast-moving fog. In Korea, in the days before his short program, he tenses like a rope twisted to its limit, the strands stretching tighter by the hour. He will tell her all this years later and she will be dumbfounded, half-giggling, begging him to tell stories of all the interesting, exceptionally fit girls with beautiful accents that he fucked and all the amazing kimchi he ate. He will wave her away with one elegant hand - how she loves those hands - and tell her to stop being ridiculous. Didn't she know him by now?

The night of his short program, she politely declines an invitation to watch with a group from the rink. Romain is home in France for a spell. She does not make dinner. She keeps the apartment mostly dark, except for the flickering blue of the TV. She considers, briefly, buying a bottle of wine and drinking the whole thing herself but eventually discards the idea. She wants to remember. Except, as soon as he takes the ice, she realizes all at once that she doesn't.

He looks. Frightened is not quite it. He looks overwound. Too grim. The unease drawing down the corners of his mouth and flickering behind his eyes. She vaguely hears herself shouting at the TV screen as he takes his opening position.

"Smile! You are at the fucking Olympics!"

When he crashes out of his opening jump, she is not even all that surprised. Mercifully, it is over quickly. And, she knows before he even makes it to the Kiss and Cry, it is truly over. He will not make the podium, never mind gold. She weeps, hands over her mouth, kneeling too close to the TV, her sad non-prayer to the nonexistent figure skating gods that they were all endlessly conjuring.

The text messages fly. Between her and everyone but the one person whose name she wants to see lighting up her phone screen. She shuts off the TV. She paces again, this time in the dark. Eventually, she tries to put herself to bed. She stares at the ceiling, an arm thrown over her forehead.

She picks up her phone.

Hey. I'm sorry I'm breaking our rule. Please don't feel like you have to answer. I just wanted to tell you that I am always proud of you.

Hours later, she is awoken by the vibration of her phone on the dresser. There are no words. A single red heart emoji. A dispatch from a place where it is already tomorrow. She falls back into a restless sleep and has weird dreams.

The next morning, she wakes up late, feels strangely OK. The light in her bedroom moves slantways across the sheets and she watches it, breathing, listening to the silence. Today is different, she feels it.

She does not obsessively check her phone. She showers, makes herself a cup of tea, sits in the kitchen with the TV off, chats with her mom on the phone and they manage to talk about things other than him. It is a warm day. She shuts off the AC and opens the windows.

When he steps on the ice the second time, he is still not smiling.

"He shouldn't have cut his hair," she murmurs to no one. She has gotten the bottle of wine today, is halfway through her second glass by the time his music starts.

She smiles as he glides forward. Because she knows what is about to happen. As he hits them, all of those quads, she counts them out loud. One... two... three... four... five... and six. The crowd in Korea roars, but she just laughs. Because she's a little drunk, but also because she knows him.

He wins the free program. He fucking wins it. (She may have shouted this out loud a few times.) It is not nearly enough to put him on the podium, but it doesn't matter.

(She will tell him later, "You know, you didn't have to actually win the damn thing."

And he will smile, the mischief gathering at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah I did.")

He will go home medalless and worse, with the baggage of the story. That he missed the podium when he was so heavily favored. That he choked. But she will remember that free skate, always. She will remember his outsize, fighting champion's heart. She will remind him when he forgets.

And of course, he forgets almost immediately.

Less than a week later, she walks into a room at the rink and there he is, lacing up his skates. He's home early. The games are not even over. Surely, his jet lag is not over either but he looks like his usual self, getting ready to take the ice for his regular practice.

"Holy shit," she says. She cannot move.

He says nothing, but stands, tall in his skates, before striding over to her and putting his arms around her. She is struck by how strong he feels, as though he could crush her. All that weight training to prevent injury, to power him through his jumps. All that work.

"Are you..."

"I'm fine," he says with a grin that does not reassure her. He inhales, holds her at arm's length. "I wanted you to know first. I'm going to college."

She and Romain get engaged three weeks later.

[soft-angelic-kiss]

We’re all  a little bit crazy (5)

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therapsit! Izuku x Patient! Bakugou x Patient! Todoroki x Patient! Shinsou x Patient! Reader

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Chapter 5 trigger warnings- Y/N gets into a small fight, mentions of taking pills, the use of the word psycho and mentions of suicide// lemme know if i missed anything

if that makes you uncomfy don’t read!

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chapter one here    

 chapter two here  

chapter three here 

chapter four here

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He woke up again on a plush bed after sleeping comfortably, his cheek slightly bruised and a dull pain running through it, he placed his hand on it and nothing felt swollen which was a very good sign. He let out a sigh and moved up to his elbows so he could look around. 

It was different from all the other rooms he’d been in, It had more color, drawings all the walls.. Comfort stuffed animals they sometimes give you at the hospital even bigger stuffed animals.. The room was comfortable.. 

He finally looked next to him and on the floor was Y/N, who was listening to music occasionally flinching from the headphones as she colored in a little book. He didn’t wanna disrupt the girl, so he sat up and carefully grabbed his clipboard looking for her file… 

 F I L E   4

(Patient Name) Y/N Yagi  (Patient #437)

 (Date admitted) 8-3-2009

 (Patient age) 19

 (Patient disorder)  Anxiety, Severe Depression, Sensory Overloading issues, and short temper, but never escalates, ADHD, PTSD, Anorexia, self harm and suicidal thoughts

(History/cause)  When she was 4 her family home went up in flames causing the death of her father (Okorashi) and older brother (Ekai) Which gave her an extreme fear of explosions and loud noises. From the ages of 4-7 her mother became an addict and an alcoholic. She took up abusive habits that left a few horrific scars on her body. When she was 7 her mother finally passed from an overdose that caused her uncle to have to take her in, He’s a kind man and treats her kindly, He sent them here in hopes of making her better, and more ready to come home. He visits often.

(Has patient...)

-attempted suicide?

-attempted homicide?

-attempted any act of self-harm?

-attempted violence on past employees?

-attempted escape?

 (Other). If she gets sensory overwhelmed she tends to scream, hot, kick and cry. They find comfort in the other patients, Bakugou, Todoroki, Shinsou and the boys downstairs. She tends to stick her nails into the skin of whoever grabs her, she needs to be sedated if she has a breakdown. 

(Danger level) 9/10

Izuku raised an eyebrow, the description of the person sitting down in front of him.He felt like it didn’t match her at all. He decided to take a gentle approach to greeting Y/N to make sure she didn’t have an “episode” as the paper put it. 

He gently swung his feet over the side and crouched down hoping to get into her sightline. He crawled to sit in front of her placing his hands on the floor in front of her coloring book. 

Y/N looked up, slightly startled but then took her headphones off, the change causing her head to spasm backwards before resuming her normal position. “Hi!” They smiled, placing her hands on the coloring book in front of Izuku’s. “Hi, Y/N right?” He spoke calmly, not wanting to put off the human infront of him. “Yeah! And you are...Izuku? Midoryia?” She tilted her head curiously and smiled, pumping a fist into the air when Midoryia nodded a smile being brought to his own lips. He was absolutely hooked by Y/N. Their backstory, their personality, they were such an interesting person and he couldn’t wait to learn more. 

“Yeah. You got it right, good job.” he chuckled when her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment from his praise. Izuku chuckled again and leaned forward slightly and watched as Y/N leaned back. 

Izuku shook his hands carefully and leaned back “Is this more comfortable?” Y/N nodded and smiled softly leaning forward again to resume coloring. Izuku smiled and decided to just watch her for a few moments.

The two hung out not moving position for at least half an hour, until Y/N looked towards the door and started cowering when the door opened and the men in white stood there with a medical tray full of many medical instruments he'd never seen before. 

Y/N jumped to their feet and tried to hide behind Izuku as one of them said “Y/N, Please I don’t want to have to repeat what happened yesterday.” He went to reach for her but she smacked his hand and continued standing behind Midoryia who was eyeing the men with a suspicious look. 

The blonde one who had spoke already finally went to grab them only to have his hands smacked away, but instead of a hand, he felt a clipboard against his wrist as he cried out “what THE-” the man went to hit Izuku but the greenette had blocked his second hit as well 

“She’s scared. I’m going to have to ask you to leave because you are not helping.” Izuku’s tone held dominance and authority as the man scoffed “Oh really?-” His words were cut short as Y/N lept towards him and started hitting him. 

she had gotten a few punches in before Izuku had interfered and pulled her back and away from him holding them, they cling to him. “She’s just psycho-” he started again but was cut off by Midoryia straight up shoving him out of the door 

Midoryia had shut the door and looked at the medical supplies and then at Y/N who was back on their bed. Midoryia hummed softly looking at them with a soft but concerned gazed “Are you alright?” They nodded timidly “U-um.. yeah, i think..” 

They kept eyeing the cart and rubbing their arms. Izuku was angry beyond belief but kept his cool for Y/N. “Do you know what these are?” he asked as he walked over to the cart. Y/N nodded “Those are what the use to sedate me and give me my medications..” Izuku nodded and looked at the cart, it had 4 different pills, a tiny box of apple juice and a needle filled with a liquid. He picked up the needle and watched Y/N flinch back 

Izuku shook his head “No, no.. i’m gonna dispose of it, not use it okay?” He went and wrapped it up throwing it in the hazard trash can in the bathroom coming back out looking at the cart. 

“Okay, do you have an order you need to take them in or can you just take them one at a time?” 

Y/N looked confused as they stood up walking to Izuku and the cart “I c-can just take them.. why are you helping? aren’t you supposed to..” 

Izuku shook his head “So far all of you have said that… No, i’m not supposed to be mean, i’m supposed to help you get better so can you take..” he handed Y/N two of the four pills and handed her the apple juice “these and then the other ones?” he smiled

Y/N nodded and took the two and then waited 30 seconds before taking the other two. Izuku nodded and smiled “Thank you.. Now I believe” He stopped and checked his watch “It’s almost dinner time, If you want you can go head down to the cafeteria?” He smiled at her

Y/N thought for a moment “Will you come eat with me?” She tapped her foot on the ground and looked away as Izuku chuckled

 “It’s not my dinner break,” Y/N had frowned and got ready to ask again.

“but I’ll still come sit with you?” Izuku smiled when Y/N’s face lit up 

Y/N gave a big smile and nodded “Okay!” they had opened the door and ran out with an excited yell of “KATSU! TODO! SHIN!” as she catapulted herself into the boys arms as they hugged her back. 

“Why don’t you go to the cafeteria and We’ll be right behind you okay?” Shinsou spoke caring and calmly and all three boys had a quirk of a smile as she smiled and ran off down the halls “GOT IT!” you could hear their laughter as they went down the stairs with a much kinder doctor.

As Izuku walked out of the door locking it behind him he was quickly met with the three faces he’s seen previously looking at him with glares. He gulped before speaking in a meek voice “Y-yes?” Bakugou raised an eyebrow and scoffed before nodding at him “Not a bad idiot.” and the other two nodding in agreement before the bell above them rang for dinner.

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tag list~  @buckyneedsplums @lazywriterfullofideas09 @notchittatenn @physco-101

for some reason it might not let me tag you also if I forgot you just lemme know!

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a/n: I’m so sorry for getting this out so late! I’ve been very busy recently and I’ve been preparing for BIG things in my personal life so chapters may be extremely short or non existent. I also didn’t plan to have so many supporters for this series so i didn’t really have a clue what to do with the story. I still don’t. I have one more chapter ready in my head but after that I’m not sure where this series will go. Anyways, as usual I hope you enjoyed and please feel free to reblog, like or say something in my inbox! I’m open to writing one shots if you guys are interested, I was thinking about writing one shots instead of continuing with actual chapters after chapter 6 

[full-of-jams]

Tangsuyuk Love

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: College student Jungkook passes cute notes with a customer who always orders take-out tangsuyuk at his part-time job. Meanwhile he’s trying not to miserably fail his Math class, while hiding his ever-growing crush on you.

Genre: college au, f2l, fluff, smut, one shot, did I mention FLUFF?

Warnings: mild swearing, sexual content, hold your heart palpitations!

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I wanted to write something light and sweet before I continued with Good Riddance. It will be easy, she said. It will be fun, she said. It will be quick, she said. Ha. haha. ha. ha. Ignore my pain. Enjoy!

°°°°°°°

[09/04 18:34 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY] 1 Tangsuyuk (large) 1 Jjamppong 2 Kimchi Mandu ---------------- Note: Without pineapple! Please make the jjamppong extra spicy, my boyfriend just broke up with me T-T

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 1 Jjamppong -- 5,000 2 Kimchi Mandu -- 6,000 1 Soju -- 0

Total: 31,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: Service! Nothing’s better than the fresh taste of soju to lighten a heavy heart :) Cheer up LatteIsHorse-Nim!

Paper Note: JK-nim, thanks for the soju. It sweetened my bitter night. This is Tokki, please give him a loving new home! TT-TT

Jungkook was fucking terrified of you. If it weren’t for the fact that he was close to failing Statistical Analysis, he would’ve considered faking a stomach flu and making a beeline straight out of the library.

“If you have a box containing 3 white, 4 red and 5 black balls what is the probability that you will draw a white ball on your first draw and a black ball on your second draw?” you asked again through gritted teeth.

You looked up at Jungkook and were met by an empty stare. Usually you enjoyed tutoring your fellow classmate. He was a smart and funny guy, maybe a bit awkward at times, but always trying his best. Today every little thing grated on your nerves. It took you every ounce of energy to get out of bed and look like a presentable human being this morning. You really didn’t want to sit here for another hour if the boy was just going to stare at you like a petrified statue. “It’s really not that difficult. You just have to apply conditional probability.”

Jungkook let out a frustrated huff and pulled at his hair, “I really don’t know, this doesn’t make any sense! Why do I even need this stuff for my major? Who cares if I pull out a white ball or a black ball first? It’s not like I’m planning on becoming Houdini!”

Sometimes you pitied him, but who on Earth had an irrational fear of Gauss distributions and probability?! They were beautiful, harmless, abstract concepts of life. Your sympathy was muffled by a thrumming headache. All the late-night crying already had you chugging water and slapping ice cubes on your face at breakfast. Right now you just wanted to go home, change into your pjs, order some tangsuyuk and binge watch Boys Over Flowers. The cringy acting and Go Jun Pyo’s luscious locks were the only things that made your miserable life feel a bit less pathetic at the moment. “Jungkook, we went over this last time. Just apply the damn formula,” you snapped.

“Why are you being so scary today?” he asked wide-eyed and apprehensive.

You took a deep breath, rubbed your temples and tried to calm your inner turmoil. It wasn’t his fault; you were just in a really shitty mood. “I’m sorry. It’s not my day today. Is it okay if we rain check? I promise I’ll make it up to you next week.”

Jungkook wasn’t used to seeing you this distraught. He wracked his brain on how to lift your spirit. “Hey, do you want to hear this math joke my friend Jin told me the other day? What do you call an angle that is adorable?”

The boy scrunched his nose adorably and waited for your response. He was really handsome, you noticed that back when you two first met. Back then you just didn’t have a reason to care. Back then you still had a boyfriend.

“I don’t know, tell me,” you answered.

“Acute angle!” he said with a timid smile.

Despite your foul mood you had to snort at his joke.

Jungkook’s smile grew wider. It wasn’t a full laugh, but at least your frown disappeared. He discovered early on that you had a soft spot for bad math puns.

Although he absolutely detested Statistical Analysis, he has come to enjoy your study sessions over the past couple of weeks. The TA of his class, Namjoon, was a close friend of Jungkook’s and a sunbae of yours. Once he discovered that his favorite dongsaeng was abysmal at reading a z-score table, he immediately referred him to you.

At first Jungkook was very reluctant to accept any help. He was a mechanical engineer for fuck’s sake! He calculated distributed load across uneven surfaces and directional derivatives all the time!

His inner protests died down during your first session when you unwittingly asked him if he was constipated while he tried to calculate the standard deviation. During your second session he noticed you liked to doodle small geometric and fractal comics on his work sheets whenever he was solving a problem.

‘What did the triangle say to the circle?’ ‘You’re pointless!’

By the time your third session rolled around he still hated statistics, but it was too late and he’d developed a hopeless crush on you. Your monologues about dead mathematicians and the beauty of an infinite series were oddly captivating. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who was so passionate and animated about anything in all his life.

“Is everything okay?” Jungkook asked carefully. You seemed tired and a bit wary. “I-I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it. Sorry, it’s none of my business,” he immediately added.

You smiled at his flustered state. Jungkook’s heart stumbled when your smile turned sad and you said, “No not really, but I’m sure I’ll be fine sooner or later.”

[13/04 19:12 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (large) 1 Jjajangmyeon 1 Jjajangbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim! Omg your tangsuyuk is the best! I could drown in that sauce! How is Tokki doing?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 1 Jjajangmyeon -- 4,500 1 Jjajangbap -- 5,500

Total: 30,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Little Tokki is doing well and bravely guarding our store! Don’t drown, but here’s some extra sauce for you to enjoy. I asked for it to be without pineapple. Hwaiting!

“Yah! Why does it smell like rotten take-out in your bedroom?” Jisoo asked.

Scowling has become your new go-to expression. “Too soon. Just let me wallow in my self-pity and sorrow.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought your friend was playing ‘The Floor Is Lava’ considering how gingerly she walked across your room. Safely on the other side, she ripped open a window to let some much needed fresh air in. 

“I think you’re going to be wallowing in mold and fungus instead,” Jisoo commented with disgust. “Wallow all you want, I’m here to support you, girl. But I can’t allow you to turn your place into a biohazard zone. Isn’t your sister bothered by this?”

“My sister doesn’t care; our rooms are off limits to each other. As long as we both keep the common area clean, she won’t complain,” you said.

Jisoo sat down on your bed and patted the empty spot next to her. She immediately retracted her hand. “Eww, is that tangsuyuk sauce on your sheets?” she asked, completely appalled.

You shrugged and thumped onto your bed.

“So what are your plans for tonight?” she asked, trying to suppress a shudder.

“It’s Monday night. What plans could I possibly have?”

“We’re in college! Weekdays, weekends, they’re all the same!” your friend exclaimed. She looked at your sprawled-out figure. “I told you from the very beginning he wasn’t good for you. I know it doesn’t feel like this right now, but you’re lucky he’s out of your life. I really can’t watch you torture yourself over a jerk like him. Let’s go out to Hongdae!”

“I can’t go out. I already have plans.”

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t have any plans?”

“I lied. I have a date.”

Jisoo paused for a second, unsure how to respond. “Really? With whom?”

“Gong Yoo. We promised to kiss each other on first snowfall,” you responded listlessly.

“Yah!” Jisoo yelled and smacked your butt.

“Oww! What was that for?” you cried in surprise, rubbing the tender spot.

“Re-watching Goblin is not a date! You scared me for a second,” Jisoo said.

“How is it not a date? I meet a hot oppa, multiple hot oppas, we have dinner together, I giggle and blush and at the end of the night I get kissed to sleep.” You sat up and gave your friend a weary look. “I really don’t want to go out right now, but also don’t want to be on my own. Can’t we just stay in and watch a drama?” you asked with the saddest face you could muster.

Jisoo wanted to argue, but she couldn’t resist your pout. “Fine. But first you change your bedsheets, I’m not gonna sit in moldy tangsuyuk sauce all night. And I get to choose the drama.”

“Call!”

[16/04 17:58 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Kimchi Kimbap 1 Beef Kimbap  ---------------- Note: JK-nim thanks for the extra sauce! It was delicious. Are you a dipper or a pourer?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Kimchi Kimbap -- 2,500 1 Beef Kimbap -- 2,500 1 Soup -- 0

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Personally, I’m a dipper, but I don’t discriminate! I added some broth as service for you. It’s chilly tonight. Don’t catch a cold!

Paper Note: JK-nim, let’s be friends? I’m also a dipper! Did you know that butterflies can’t fly when they’re cold? Here is one that I folded, sending back my warmest thoughts to you on this frosty spring night.

The first thing that caught your eye was Jungkook who was patiently waiting at the library entrance. Despite the steaming goods in his hands, his entire body was shivering. The temperature suddenly dropped last night, but he couldn’t be bothered to dig up his padded jacket when he left the house this morning.

Before you could even greet him, he shoved a hot milk tea towards you and mumbled, “Here, it’s cold today so I thought you could use something warm.”

You were surprised by this sweet gesture. “Thanks,” you reached for it and examined the drink in your hand, ”How did you know I like black milk tea?”

He ducked his head and mumbled something into himself.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Jungkook lifted his head. His cheeks and nose were a lovely wash of pink from the cold. “You mentioned once that you’re an OG milk tea drinker, so I just guessed” he repeated again, louder. “I saw this bungeoppang cart on the way here. We can share them while studying?” he said, holding up a small paper bag.

Your heart warmed and for the first time in weeks your face split into big smile, “Sure, I love bungeoppang! We’re not allowed to eat inside the library. So how about we eat everything first before they get cold and then go in?”

The both of you took a seat on a bench. By now Jungkook definitely regretted being too lazy to find his jacket this morning, but he was determined not to let it show. He passed the bag full of bungeoppangs to you.

You happily reached for one of the fish-shaped pastries and started munching on it. Your face crinkled, steam came out of your mouth. Jungkook’s heart skipped as he watched you in fascination. Your cheeks were flushed. A sudden instinct to stroke your rosy skin overcame him. Instead he reached for a bungeoppang and took a careful bite. “Are you feeling better today?”

“A little bit,” you said between bites, “I’m really sorry about last time. I feel bad now. I ditched you and now you’re treating me to snacks.” You went on and stabbed your straw through your milk tea. “I should be the one treating you instead.”

“I like to treat you,” Jungkook said, mesmerized by the way your lips moved against the straw. He suddenly realized what he was doing and cleared his throat, “A happy teacher is a good teacher! You’re already spending your time tutoring me.”

A laugh slipped out of you, “Jungkook, you’re paying me for your lessons. But it’s okay, this bungeoppang and tea definitely hits the spot, so I’ll accept it with a grateful heart. What are you drinking?”

Jungkook looked down on his drink and gave it a shake, the black pearls swirled around buoyantly. “Banana milk tea, I prefer sweet drinks.”

You leaned back against the bench and looked up at the clear blue sky. “Sweet things are the best combat against the bitter taste of life,” you sighed. You closed your eyes and soaked in the crisp air. Jungkook felt your melancholy, he could warm your body, but he didn’t know how to warm your heart.  

“Sorry that I’m bothering you with my personal stuff. It’s just that I had a really bad breakup recently. I shouldn’t let it affect our lessons,” you said with a wistful smile as you lifted your head again.

The boy next to you remained silent. You turned and saw a contemplative look on his face. “It’s alright, everyone can have a bad day,” he finally said, “You don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. If you’re never angry or sad, you won’t know when you’re happy.”

His words stunned you. Has Jungkook always been this thoughtful? You turned away from his gaze and looked down at the pastry in your hand. “They’re rhombus shaped,” you muttered in an attempt of distraction and showed your bungeoppang to Jungkook. “The fish scales,” you added when he looked confused.

“Ah yeah, the scales. It’s actually erroneous since most of the bungeoppangs depict a ganoid scale structure when in fact carps have cycloid scales to allow for a greater flexibility,” Jungkook explained.

A blank look appeared on your face. Probably the same blank look he had whenever you tried to explain the Bayes’ theorem to him. He let out an awkward laugh, “We studied the mechanics of fish scale structures in Material Science. You can correlate the flexibility of a scaled surface depending on its underlying geometric structure and material. It’s pretty cool stuff.”

“I can’t believe you can geek out about the geometry of fish scales, but don’t know how to define your probability population,” you snorted in disbelief. 

“Hey, when will I ever need to calculate the probability of two people with the same birthday in a room? I just have a hard time learning stuff I never have to apply,” he said defensively.

Then you suddenly had an idea. “Tell you what, how about this? If you pass your statistics final, I’ll treat you to the best Chinese take-out in town! You can order whatever you want!”

Jungkook didn’t want to dampen your excitement by telling you that his part-time job already allowed him to eat as much Chinese take-out as he wanted. “Okay, but don’t complain when you go broke. My record was five jjajangmyeon and two tangsuyuk in one sitting.”

You batted away his challenge. “First you have to pass your finals,” you teased.

“I’ll pass,” Jungkook said.

You smiled at his cute determination. “Then it’s a date.”

Jungkook beamed back at you. “It’s a date.”

[05/05 18:21 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (large) 2 Pork Mandu 1 Tteokkguk 1 Jjajangmyeon 1 Tteokkbokki ---------------- Note: No pineapple plz. JK-nim! Happy Children’s Day! For this special occasion I’ve decided to order all of my childhood favorites. Life is too short to eat bad food. I hope today you treat yourself to something delicious as well!

“Yah! JK! Your girlfriend placed an order again!” Yugyeom yelled across the store.

A mop of black hair peaked out from the back of the shop. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a regular,” Jungkook yelled back.

“A regular you flirt with,” Yugyeom snickered, “I saw all the notes you left her in the system. ‘Don’t catch a cold!’, ‘Hwaiting!’ Don’t tell me that’s not your lame attempt at flirting.”

Suddenly an angry Yoongi stomped out of the kitchen. “Keep it down boys, we have guests here.”

Jungkook went up to the register and printed out the online order. “Hyung, can you make a large tangsuyuk without pineapple?”

“It’s a national holiday, there’s like two people here tonight,” Yugyeom muttered under his breath.

“What did you say, Yugyeom?”

“Nothing, hyung!”

Yoongi snatched the order out of Jungkook’s hand and gave both boys another irritated glance before he headed back into the kitchen.

“Hey JK,” Yugyeom said in a lower voice as he moved next to his friend, “aren’t you ever curious how LatteIsHorse is like? I mean, she must have some sense of humor judging by her username.”

“Sometimes. Don’t you ever wonder how our regulars are like? But it’s not like I’m ever gonna meet them or know it’s them when they come into the store,” Jungkook said with a shrug.

“You could though. Mingyu’s out on delivery, Eunwoo’s off so we have a free bike. The store is dead tonight. You could go deliver the order and have a look,” Yugyeom spurred him on.

Jungkook considered his friend’s suggestion. Every time he opened his locker a little origami bunny and butterfly stared back at him and brightened his day. It was true, he was curious how LatteIsHorse was like. “Okay I’ll go, but don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor. You just don’t want to do delivery tonight.”

<Ding Dong>

A pretty girl in a Yonsei hoodie and shorts opened the door. She somehow looked familiar, but Jungkook couldn’t place from where. Maybe he met her on campus before.

“Delivery from Golden Bang,” Jungkook said, holding up his metal box.

“Ah great! I’m starving!” the girl said.

Jungkook started unloading the box and handed the dishes to the girl. Once he was done, he lingered awkwardly in the doorway. The girl gave him a curious look, clearly wondering why he wasn’t leaving. Jungkook gathered his courage and said, “I’m JK by the way.”

What followed was a beat of silence. Jungkook could feel his ears burn.

“Err, it’s nice to meet you, I guess? Is there anything else you need?” the girl asked after the painful pause. “Ah got it! Just a sec!” She ran into the apartment and came back with her wallet. “Here’s a tip, we’ll put the dishes back outside for pick up,” she said as she scrunched a bill into Jungkook’s hand, “Thanks for your hard work. Happy holiday!” And then she shut the door right into his face.

What just happened? Jungkook was stupefied. After an eternity he finally moved and mechanically pulled out his phone. He checked the delivery order on his app. LatteIsHorse – this was the address. She didn’t recognize him. Why was he so naive to believe that she would remember him? All he wanted in that moment was for the ground to open and swallow him up.

“Dinner’s here,” your sister said as you came out of the shower. “Did you order banana milk?”

“No? Why?” you joined her at the dinner table and started rummaging through the dishes. “Where’s the receipt?”

“I threw it in the trash,” she said. When she saw you opening up the trash can and fishing for it, she added, “Gross! What are you doing? Why do you need it?”

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 2 Pork Mandu -- 6,000 1 Tteokkguk -- 4,500 1 Jjajangmyeon -- 4,500 1 Tteokkbokki -- 3,000

Total: 38,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Happy Children’s Day to you too! I added my favorite childhood drink, banana milk! I hope it brings back as many happy childhood memories for you as it does for me.

There, sitting on the table, was a small bottle of banana milk. A smile spread across your face. “I need to file it away for tax purposes.”

Your sister looked at you like you were crazy. “Let’s eat already, I’m starving. Wash your hands.”

[14/05 16:55 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [TAKE AWAY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Jjajangbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim, hope you’re doing well. I’m in the area today, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello in person! Is it weird that I feel a bit nervous?

The restaurant door wasn’t going to open itself. The past 15 minutes of you standing in front of it has proven that. You had some errands to run in Hongdae after school and decided on a whim to place a pickup order at your favorite take-out place. 

Why was it so difficult to enter a restaurant? If you steeled your nerves any more, they’d probably break from how brittle they’ve become. You just had to open that damn door.

Sometimes you wondered if you liked that place more because of its great tangsuyuk or because of JK’s little notes which always managed to put a smile on your face.

One thing was for sure, you weren’t stalling because of the tangsuyuk.

“Welcome to Golden Bang!” a bright male voice rang across the restaurant as you passed through the door.

You walked up to the register and sneaked a peek at the boy’s name tag, ‘Yugyeom’. You felt a slight twinge of disappointment.

“I’m here to pick up my order? LatteIsHorse?” you asked tentatively.

A sign of recognition flashed across Yugyeom’s face. “Of course, your order’s ready! I’ll just bag it up for you,” he said cheerfully. He walked away and quickly came back with a white plastic bag full of food. Then he printed out your receipt and handed both to you.

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: YG ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Jjajangbap -- 5,500

Total: 18,500 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

You looked around the restaurant, it was empty since dinnertime was still a while away. You wondered if Yugyeom was managing the store alone right now. At least the cook must be in. “Your tangsuyuk is really delicious. It’s probably my favorite.”

Yugyeom gave you a big smile, “Happy to hear that you enjoy our food so much. The tangsuyuk is our chef’s family recipe. It’s one of our most popular menu items!”

You wringed your hands and finally decided to bite the bullet and straight out ask, “Is JK here? He usually takes my orders when I order delivery, so I just wanted to say hi.”

“JK’s shift doesn’t start until 6, so he should be here in about half an hour. If you want, I can relay a message,” he said with a knowing smile, “Or you can also take a seat and wait for him. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meet you.”

No way you were going to sit here for half an hour and wait up for a stranger. “Ah no, that’s alright. If you could just say hi from me, that’d be great,” you quickly replied with a flush. JK would probably think you’re a creepy stalker.

“Sure, can do! Enjoy your day!” Yugyeom said merrily as you walked out the store.

A feeling of both relief and sadness passed through you. You slowly walked down the busy streets of Hongdae as you reprimanded yourself for being so stupid. What were you going to say to JK anyway if you met him? Thanks for being nice to me? You’re the reason I don’t burst into tears every single night? You’re the reason why I don’t feel completely alone when I’m sobbing into my food over Song Joong Ki’s acting? Thanks for making me gain 3 kilos in the last month?

Whatever you said, it would’ve only made you sound pathetic.

A crippling wave of desperation suddenly washed over you and rooted you in your tracks. A single tear rolled down your face. Then another. You dropped down into a crouch and started to bawl. You couldn’t fathom how you’ve reached this all-time low in your life. Why did you feel so incredibly sad about being stood up by a stranger? Especially when that stranger didn’t even know you were coming?

“Y/N?” an alarmed voice asked. You looked up when you felt a soft shake against your shoulder.

Through your tear-blurred eyes you recognized Jungkook’s face. He crouched down next to you and asked, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and tried to wipe away your tears. It was a useless attempt as they kept on streaming down your face.

Jungkook hesitantly pushed your hair out of your face and asked, “Do you want to go somewhere else so you can tell me what happened?”

You gave him an imperceptible nod.

His hand gently moved down to your arm, afraid that you were going to push him away. With a steady grip he slowly helped you back onto your feet. Then he slid his hand through yours and led you down the hustle and bustle of Hongdae until you ended up in front of a convenience store located in one of the quieter residential side streets. He sat you down in a plastic chair and told you to wait. After a while he came back with a packet of tissues, a bottle of water and two red bean popsicles.

You gratefully took the tissues and loudly blew your nose. A small part of your brain told you to act more ladylike, especially in front of Jungkook, but the bigger part didn’t really care and just wanted to drag you back down into the pits of loneliness. A strangled sound came out of your mouth as you started to hiccup, making you sound like a drowning cat.

You expected Jungkook to laugh at your weird orchestra of emotions. Even you found it absurd and would’ve laughed if you weren’t already crying and hiccupping at the same time. But all he did was quietly open the water bottle and hand it to you.  

As soon as you lifted the bottle to your mouth another hiccup made you almost spill the water on yourself. You held your breath for a few seconds and then took a careful sip. It seemed to work. You took a bigger sip, when another hiccup racked your body and you squeezed water all over your face.

There was a bewildering moment of shock, then you started to laugh deliriously. Forget before, this was your lowest point in life. This was so pathetic that it was hilarious again. Your laughter garbled whenever you hiccupped, only causing you to laugh even harder. You would’ve continued laughing for another long minute if you weren’t choking for air.

A small smile played around Jungkook’s mouth. He took another tissue and started wiping down your face. You hiccupped under his touch. He must think you’re a nutcase.

“I have a question. We have to do some statistical testing in my Quality Management class. What would a hypothesis look like if I wanted to analyze any deviation in a spare parts production line due to temperature conditions?” Jungkook asked.

Did he really forget hypothesis testing already? He finally managed to get it after four sessions! You frowned slightly. “You could set up a null hypothesis stating that a variation in temperature does not significantly impact the parameter of measurement in your production line. Jungkook did you seriously forget this?!” you said indignantly.

Jungkook gave you a playful laugh, “No, I think you drilled it so hard into my brain, I could probably recite all variables of the standard deviation formula if you woke me up in the middle of the night. Your hiccups stopped though.”

They did.

Embarrassment set in as you realized your predicament. Maybe your hormones were going crazy, maybe you were going crazy. You were getting whiplash from the emotional roller coaster you were on. In an attempt to hide your disgrace, you picked up another tissue and wiped away the remaining water, snot and tears.

There was tangible awkwardness in the air.

“I hope you like red bean,” Jungkook said shyly as he unwrapped a popsicle, “Red bean is my favorite. My friends keep on calling me old fashioned, but it just reminds me of the time when my mom used to buy me these after taekwondo class. I think I liked the popsicles more than I liked going to class.” He sighed in reverie and held up the popsicle for you.

You stared at his hand. You remembered how it felt against yours just a few moments ago. Firm, warm and steady. Then you looked up at Jungkook. He hid it well, but you could tell that there was concern behind his encouraging smile.

“This is so embarrassing,” you said as you accepted the popsicle and turned your head away from him, “I don’t know what is wrong with me right now. I’m usually not like this.”

“Did something happen earlier?” Jungkook asked cautiously as he unwrapped his own popsicle and took a bite out of it.

Did something happen earlier? Why did you cry? Where you really crying just because you didn’t meet JK?

“No,” you said and slowly shook your head, “I don’t know. I just suddenly felt overwhelmed.”

Jungkook hesitated before he asked, “Are you sad because of your breakup?”

Were you sad because of your ex-boyfriend?

“I don’t think so. In the beginning when we broke up I was devastated, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore,” you said more to yourself than to Jungkook. “Everyone told me I was lucky to be rid of him. I really didn’t understand why. But I think it’s becoming clearer now. Maybe it’s not sadness. Maybe it’s fear. I think I just feel lost. I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe it scares me to know that I was able to lose myself and I don’t know if I can find a way back.”

Before you knew it, you spilled your heart, your deepest and darkest fears to Jungkook. You barely knew this boy, yet it still felt oddly comforting. He remained quiet and listened.

“I wanted to meet someone today, but they weren’t there,” you continued, “I think in that moment I just realized how utterly lost I was on my own.”

Jungkook searched for the appropriate words. How do you respond to someone’s most vulnerable thoughts? “I mean you know what they say. It’s not about how much you’ve lost, it’s about how much you have left.”

He peeked at you to check if it worked.

“Jungkook, did you just quote Iron Man at me?” you asked incredulously before a giggle slipped from your lips.

You noticed how his cheeks dimpled when he gave you an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, I was trying to say something that would cheer you up. I’m probably not doing a very good job.”

In that second you realized how kind-hearted Jungkook actually was. Your heart squeezed. “Don’t say that. Thanks for listening to my problems. And thanks for the red bean popsicle. I also ate this a lot in my childhood. Mainly because my sister hated them. She always used to steal my ice cream out of the freezer so at some point I asked my parents to only buy me red bean popsicles. She never touched those,” you reminisced.

Jungkook laughed at your story, “Your sister sounds like a piece of work.”

“We used to fight a lot, we used to never get along,” you became thoughtful, “At some point that stopped. I think we just grew up and grew to understand and accept our differences. She doesn’t steal my food anymore. I don’t steal her clothes anymore. We may not always agree, but we respect each other’s decisions.”

“You know, for someone who just said she feels lost, you sound pretty self-reflected right now,” Jungkook mused, “Maybe you need to do the same as you did with your sister. Understand yourself and accept the differences of your past and present.”

You paused at this. He was right. You were so desperately trying to fend off these negative emotions that you never took the time to actually think. You were chasing an image that never existed. Not in the past nor in the present.

“You’re surprisingly good at giving advice. Thanks, Jungkook,” you said.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, offended. The glint in his eyes gave his teasing away.

Laughter pealed from you. Jungkook was captivated by the sound. He drank in the way your eyes creased with mirth and followed your fingers as they brushed back your hair.

Jungkook’s phone vibrated. “Oh shit!”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I was actually on my way to work and my boss is asking me where I am,” he said as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

Jungkook startled when you suddenly jumped up. “Then you should get to work! You should’ve said something sooner. I’m so sorry for keeping you here!”

“No, it’s really fine. I’ve done enough overtime. He won’t complain if I’m a few minutes late,” he said, “Are you feeling better?”

You ignored his question and pushed against his shoulders to get him out of the chair. “Go to work, Jungkook. I’ll be fine, your red bean popsicle did wonders,” you responded placatively.

When he still didn’t move, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the main street. Jungkook’s skin scorched under your touch. “Go to work, Jungkook,” you said again with more emphasis.

“Are you sure…?” he asked, unwilling to let you out of his sight before he knew you weren’t just going cry again at the next street corner.

“I won’t burst into tears,” you said as if reading his mind. “You were right, I need to reconcile with myself. So I’ll go home, enjoy my dinner and think about who I am and who I want to be. And you,” you said giving him another gentle shove, “need to go to work.”

Jungkook saw the stubborn look on your face. He wondered if you realized you were using your teaching voice right now. You weren’t going to take no for an answer. “Okay fine, text me when you get home?”

You waved away his concerns. “Sure. Go already,” you said with a big reassuring smile. “See you tomorrow at school!” you added before you turned around and walked away.

“You’re late,” Yugyeom said as soon as Jungkook entered the store.

Jungkook gave Yugyeom a sheepish look and only muttered, “Yeah sorry, something came up on my way here.” Then he rushed past him to the back of the restaurant and changed into his uniform.

Once he came back out he noticed Yugyeom throwing him strange looks.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend says hi,” Yugyeom said with a hint of amusement.

“Who?”

Yugyeom gave Jungkook a meaningful look, “LatteIsHorse. She ordered pick up. I think she was hoping to meet you. She’s cute. She looks like she’s probably a college student around here.”

“I know,” was all Jungkook replied.

Yugyeom’s eyes bulged in curiosity, “You know? You know she’s cute or you know she’s a student? You never told me what actually happened that night!”

Jungkook gave him a tired look and said, “She didn’t recognize me. She wore a Yonsei hoodie, so I guess she goes there. Nothing else happened.”

“Hmm, that’s weird. She was asking for you today, so she definitely knows your name,” Yugyeom said.

“Who knows, maybe she was having a lot on her plate that day,” Jungkook said with a shrug. He wondered where you lived and if you already got home safely. “Why are you obsessing over this so much?”

“Man, do you know how painful it is to watch your sorry attempts at flirting? I’m just trying to help you out, mate,” Yugyeom quipped.

“I wasn’t flirting! I was just trying cheer someone up who was obviously feeling down! It’s called being a decent human being,” Jungkook exclaimed.

Yugyeom gave him the side eye, “Yeah, that’s still not gonna get you laid.”

[19/05 18:47 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Bibimbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I visited you at the store last week, but you weren’t there. TT-TT I hope you don’t think I’m weird, I just really like talking to you. You always manage to put a smile on my face when I’m having a hard day. We’re still friends, right?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Bibimbap -- 5,000

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! I’m sad that I missed your visit to our store. I’ll try harder the next time! I added some extra bulgogi to make up for it. :) Of course we’re still friends. I don’t wish any hard days upon you, but I’m glad to hear that my words have a healing effect. In case you ever need a friend to talk to, feel free to talk to me. 010-1234-5678.

The study sessions with Jungkook continued per usual. He still struggled and had frustrated outbursts from time to time, especially when you forced him to revise probability distributions. When you finally reached regression analysis, things became easier.

Although your sessions remained the same, something in your dynamic changed. The both of you became looser and more playful around each other. He wouldn’t clamp up anymore and you felt more at ease around him. You became friends. He never once mentioned that disasterous afternoon.

At home, on the evening of the incident, you shot Jungkook a text and slumped down on the couch. Your sister was out that night, so it was just you in the apartment. Normally, the eerie quiet would’ve unsettled you and you would’ve distracted yourself from your deafening thoughts. But that night you just let them scream, yell and tear at you.

It was an excruciating process, but in the end your head was clearer, your heart calmer. You still weren’t quite there yet, but at least you made a first step out of the endless pit of desperation.

There were other things you noticed about yourself. Gradually you realized you didn’t mind being on your own anymore. You rediscovered your love for drawing and created you own mandala art. You also learned to code your own website and now had a clickable version of your cv on the go. Although you made time for yourself, you weren’t a hermit. You went out for drinks with Jisoo and soon asked Namjoon to take you along to your university’s Math Club. There you met a lot of familiar faces that you’ve encountered in class but never talked to. With them you spent animated evenings discussing stimulating math problems and exchanging incredibly bad math puns.

You also started noticing things about Jungkook. He wasn’t as timid and shy as you initially thought. Once he got over his awkwardness, he turned out to be quite a cheeky and goofy guy. He teased you or told you silly jokes whenever you were on a break. Despite his obvious aversion for statistics, he still took your lessons very seriously. Diligently listening to your explanations and trying to solve the problems to the best of his abilities. His study-mode showed you other sides of him. The cute pout he had whenever he tried to hide his confusion. Or the two little ridges which formed between his eyes whenever he was concentrated and deep in thought. More often than not you fought the urge to smooth them out with your touch or even better, with a kiss.

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asked when he caught you staring.

“No,” you quickly said, “I was just thinking that you don’t seem to have much trouble with regression analysis.”

“I don’t know, the relationship between the variables just makes much more sense,” Jungkook said.

You looked at him and considered, “Hmm, maybe you don’t need my tutoring anymore?”

Brief dismay crossed Jungkook’s face. “My finals are in three weeks. I think I’d still prefer if you helped me revise the earlier chapters,” he said, “Unless you need more time to study for your own finals.”

Being in college meant that you were always in dire need of more time. That constant nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to study was an occupational disease. But you didn’t have to kid yourself, those four hours a week spent on Jungkook weren’t going to make or break your grade. Besides, you enjoyed spending time with him. You wondered if he felt the same.

“It’s alright, I’ll help you revise. Just don’t embarrass me on your finals. I don’t want Namjoon to tell me afterwards that you didn’t manage to calculate the mean of the population or worse, read the scoring table upside down,” you teased him light-heartedly.

Jungkook’s ears turned bright red. “That happened once!” he said, “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

You laughed at his indignation. “Don’t forget, you’ll get endless tangsuyuk if you pass.”

[26/05 20:09 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Jjamppong ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I’d like to get the advice of a friend. There’s this kind, sweet boy that I really like. I would like to tell him how I feel, but he’s seen me in my lowest and ugliest moments. Maybe he’ll think I’m just baggage? I guess I’m afraid of his rejection.

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Jjamppong -- 5,000 1 Soju -- 0

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! It’s only human to fear rejection. I can completely understand. I also have someone I really like. She’s really pretty, smart and funny. Spending time with her makes me really happy, but I never managed to tell her. Maybe we should both gather our courage and cheer each other on? I’m not saying that drunken confessions are the way to go but consider this soju a symbolism for (liquid) courage.

Paper Note: This is a flexagon. Whenever you need a word of encouragement give it a flip!

Jungkook examined the hexagonal origami in his hands. On the outside it read ‘Flip Me!’

He gave the flexagon a flip. ‘JK you’re the best!’ And another. ‘The world needs more people like you!’ And another. ‘Don’t forget that LatteIsHorse is always rooting for you!’ And another. ‘Aja, aja, hwaiting!’ And another. ‘Thank you for being my friend!’

Jisoo barged into you room and flopped onto your bed. ‘Ahhh! I’m so glad you finally cleaned in here. Seriously, if I find another rancid noodle stuck to my clothes, I’ll call in a hazmat team.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining so much. It’s not even your room,” you said.

“Hey, where are you ever going to find a friend like me?”

Your friend sacrificed many a night away from college parties to binge watch handsome oppas sweep equally beautiful unnies off their feet with you. And she wasn’t shy telling you that.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Jisoo suggested. She rolled back onto her feet and started walking around, inspecting your cleaning job.

“Our finals start in two weeks; I really don’t want to spend my weekend nursing a hangover.”

“I’m not saying you have to get wasted. Tonight is the Pre-Game Night. We have to go!” Jisoo demanded.

The Final’s Pre-Game Night was a campus-wide tradition. Every semester on the Friday a week before finals huge parties were thrown to signal the beginning of the end. It was like a dare – were you confident enough to get completely drunk and still hope to pass your finals? Naturally everybody on campus joined in and drank.

“Not getting wasted at a Pre-Game party? That’s like saying you’ve decided you don’t need to breathe. I really don’t think…”

“What’s this?” Jisoo suddenly interrupted. “LatteIsHorse-nim! Personally, I’m a dipper, but I don’t discriminate! I added some broth as service for you. It’s chilly tonight. Don’t catch a cold!” she read aloud, “LatteIsHorse-nim! Happy Children’s Day to you too! I added my favorite childhood drink, banana milk! I hope it brings back as many happy childhood memories for you as it does for me.”

You flung yourself across the room and almost tripped over your own feet trying to rip the receipts out of Jisoo’s hands.

“Oh. My. God. Is your take-out guy flirting with you?!” she asked.

“No! He’s just a friend. We send encouraging notes to each other,” you tried to explain.

Jisoo threw her hands in the air. “Okay that’s it! We’re going to the Pre-Game party, whether you want or not. You can’t tell me that the only flirting interaction you have is with a stranger who delivers you tangsuyuk!”

The place Jisoo picked out was ram packed and buzzing with energy. It was an open dorm party; all the common rooms were transformed into dancefloors. Different types of music played from each corner of the building. Crates of alcohol were stacked against the walls.

The both of you grabbed a beer and made your way through the crowd.

“You’re going to have fun tonight, alright?”

“I don’t think this works that way,” you laughed.

“Then put some effort into it. We look way too cute for it to go to waste,” she said as you roamed around the floors and explored the different areas. You looked down on your dress. It was a pretty warm night; you had opted for a flowy summer dress with a blush pink floral pattern. Jisoo was right, it was cute.

You discovered a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. “Sunbae!” you said.

Namjoon turned around gave you a surprised smile. “Y/N! Out of all the places on campus, we meet each other here tonight. What are the chances?”

He was surrounded by a group of friends, you spotted Jungkook right behind him. The boy gave you an excited wave. A slow smile spread across your face. “I don’t know, but why don’t we ask Jungkook to calculate it for you?”

Namjoon let out a hearty laugh while Jungkook groaned in exasperation.

“Do you see what I have to put up with every week, hyung?”

“Didn’t you just say it’s the best thing that happened to you?” Namjoon taunted, “You have some nerve showing up in front of me tonight. You better ace your SA finals. Do you know how many favors I had to pull to get Y/N to tutor you?”

“What do you expect me to do?” Jungkook sputtered, “Go home and lock myself up on Pre-Game Night?”

If it weren’t for Jisoo you would’ve done just that. Speaking of Jisoo, your friend cleared her throat and gave you a painful nudge in the side.

“Ah yes, uhm, Jisoo you already know Namjoon. This is Jungkook. You know, the guy I’m tutoring.”

Jungkook gave her a small wave.

Jisoo didn’t even try to hide her amazement. “This is Jungkook? But you’re like wayyy cute!” She turned to you and added still loud enough for everyone to hear, “Why didn’t you tell me he was cute?!”

The embarrassment was obvious on Jungkook’s face. You could tell that Namjoon was getting a rush out of his dongsaeng’s reaction and before he could provoke him any further you decided to jump in.

“Who wants to go dance?” you asked loudly. You turned around and headed to the dancefloor without waiting for any of them to respond.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were tutoring a hunk?” Jisoo muttered under her breath.

“He’s not a hunk. Don’t call him that.”

“Yeah but he’s hot. You made him sound like he was a nerd.”

“He is a nerd.”

Your friend gave you a glare, “Why are we arguing about this? I know you’re not that oblivious.”

Of course you weren’t oblivious to Jungkook, but you weren’t going to tell Jisoo that.

“Let’s dance.” You grabbed Jisoo’s hand and twirled her around.

Namjoon and his friends joined you on the dancefloor. The mood of the crowd was electric. Music pulsed through your veins. Drinks flowed, shots were downed, people pulled out their best, lamest, craziest dance moves. Everyone celebrated like the world was going to end.

After a while you became hot and needed a new drink. You looked around for Jisoo and saw her grinding up against one of Namjoon’s friends. She’d be busy for a while. You inconspicuously moved away from the group and decided to go get some fresh air.  

“Wait up,” Jungkook said as he appeared next to you, “are you getting something to drink? I’ll join you.”

His dark curls were slightly matted with sweat. His baggy t-shirt clung to his body. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or Jisoo’s damn voice whispering into your ear. He was hot.

You circled your arm through his and pulled him through the crowd. His muscles shifted under your touch. You grabbed two drinks from a crate and handed one to Jungkook, your nerves tingled when his hand brushed against yours. The both of you remained in comfortable silence, leisurely walking through the dorm, neither of you in a hurry to get back to your friends. You explored the facility areas, weaving through pounding and quiet parts of the building.

“You look really nice tonight,” he said after a while.

The heels of your shoes echoed against marble floor of the dark hallway. “Thanks, Jisoo raided my closet.”

“She’s really something isn’t she?”

“She’s the best. I’m grateful to have her as my friend.”

Somewhere further down the hallway you made out two figures pressed against the wall, probably trying to find a quiet place of their own.

“You also look nice,” you said to Jungkook.

“I’m wearing the same things I always do,” Jungkook said, his voice turning shy.

You were getting closer to the couple. You could see how the guy was sticking his tongue down the girl’s throat. She seemed to enjoy it from the sounds she was making. Lucky them.

Your next words were definitely fuelled by your tipsy state, “I guess that means you always look nice.” Jungkook missed a step. You had to laugh at his blunder.

The couple in front of you broke apart and looked in your direction. More annoyed about being interrupted rather than embarrassed being caught. You were about to make a funny comment to Jungkook when your heart stopped and you froze.

A string of saliva still clung to the guy’s lips. His eyes widened when he recognized your face in the darkness. “Y/N?”

Your breath hitched and your grip tightened around Jungkook’s arm. He glanced between you and the guy, the situation slowly dawning on him.

“Why did you stop? Who’s that?”, the girl whined.

“No one,” the guy responded as he returned his attention to her and they started making out again.

Jungkook didn’t know if he wanted to puke or punch that guy. A sharp pain in his arm brought him back to his senses. Your nails dug into his skin. He put his hand around yours and loosened your iron grip.

“Let’s go,” he said and quickly pulled you past the couple. You followed him in a daze. He stopped once you were outside of the building, hidden away in a quiet corner.

His hands reached for your face and he lifted your eyes to his. “Breathe.”

You closed your eyes, let out a long breath and let your head fall against the wall behind you. The horrible encounter replayed in your mind. You had to open your eyes again.

There he was right in front of you. Worried Jungkook, kind Jungkook, beautiful Jungkook.

Your hands reached behind his neck and you pulled him a bit closer. You tried to decipher his gaze, it was dark and yearning. Everything was a haze, the alcohol in your blood made you daring.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

His mouth crashed against yours. Your hands slipped up into his hair and your bodies entwined. You opened your lips and sucked in his hot breath. Your tongues found each other; he groaned at your taste.

He moved one of his hands down your side until he found purchase on your leg and hitched it up against his waist, pressing his body further into you. You let out a moan when his hips ground into yours.

All your senses drowned in Jungkook. You drowned in his scent, you drowned in his touch, you drowned in his heat. You tried to use Jungkook to drown out the grotesque image from before. Suddenly the heat of the moment disappeared, and a cold shower ran down your spine.

You broke away from your breathless kiss and put your hands against Jungkook’s chest to put some distance between you. He gave you a disoriented look.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have kissed.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wide and alarmed. “Did I do something wrong?”

His lips were swollen, his hair was mussed. You wanted nothing more than to pull him back in, but you couldn’t. Not here. Not like this. He deserved better.

You pushed yourself off the wall and gave him a small shove. He immediately let go of you and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like this,” was all you said before you ran back into the building.

The next day you woke up to a splitting headache and a heart full of regret. You really needed to talk to Jungkook and explain to him why you ran away the previous night, but you were too much of a coward to pick up your phone and contact him. You decided it was better to talk to him in person at school.

The following week at school you waited for him in the library. Your heart was in your throat. Your prepared speech played in an endless loop in your head.

‘I’m sorry I ran away. I shouldn’t have kissed you in that state. It wasn’t fair to you. You deserve better than that.’

You looked down on your phone to check the time. A message blinked. You opened and read through it. Your heart sank. He wasn’t coming. He wanted to study the last week before finals on his own. He thanked you for your time.

Slowly you got up and packed your bag. You blew it. You wanted to do him right, but you only caused him pain. Thinking back, you realized he gave and gave and gave and all you did was take. He was right to stay away from you. There was no way he’d be happy with someone like you.

The week passed and finals week commenced. You immersed yourself in your exams and tried to get over your heavy heart. You were pretty sure you aced Geometry II, but the Numerical Analysis exam was nothing but a blur.

Although your heart ached, you didn’t fall back into the same dark pit of the past. You didn’t feel lost, you got on with your life. Nobody noticed the Jungkook-sized hole in your heart except for you. You wanted to talk about your feelings, but you didn’t think Jisoo or your sister would understand. They’d probably just tell you to get out there and find a new guy.

Another week passed. You were walking out of your professor’s office, finalizing the details of your summer internship, when you bumped into Namjoon.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? Aren’t you off for summer break yet?” he asked.

“I was just discussing my internship with Prof. Kim,” you said.

“Ah you’re participating in his research program?” Namjoon said, “I heard it’s really interesting, he’s intense though.”

“I think intense is fine for me, I need something to do with my brain. Otherwise I’ll just go crazy,” you said with a smile.

“Speaking of intense, what did you do to that kid?” Namjoon suddenly asked.

You tensed. Did something happen to Jungkook? “What do you mean?”

“Did you brainwash him or something? He got a 98 on his SA final! When I handed him over to you, he was still asking me why the positive and negative z-scores tables had different values,” Namjoon said in awe.

Relief washed through you and your chest filled with pride. “Watch out sunbae, I might be coming for your TA position,” you said with a wink.

At home you sprawled out on the couch. Your sister’s classes ended earlier than yours so now she was away with her friends travelling the countryside. Your mind wandered as you stared up at the ceiling of your quiet apartment. You really wanted to call Jungkook and congratulate him, but you didn’t think you should. He clearly didn’t want to be in contact with you, you hadn’t heard anything from him since his text canceling your study sessions.

A pang of sadness washed through you. It should have been a happy moment for the both of you, you should be eating tangsuyuk together right now. You really wanted to tell someone about your joy and your grief.

Then you suddenly remembered your friend. Your friend who never judged and always had something wise to say. Maybe he would understand the conflicts of your heart. You got up and dug through the receipts on your desk until you found the one with his phone number on it.

You hoped he wouldn’t think you were crazy, but then again, he was the one who offered himself to talk to you any time. You typed in the number and hit call. Your phone dialed when suddenly the number displayed switched to a name. Jungkook.

You quickly hit the cancel button and stared at your phone. Did you accidentally hit Jungkook’s contact? Was your phone broken? This time you typed in the number more carefully and hit call. Again, the display switched to Jungkook’s name. You hit cancel.

Your heart began to race. You opened up Jungkook’s contact and compared it with the number on the receipt.

Holy shit.

JK was Jungkook. Jungkook was JK.

The stranger who cheered you on and made you smile whenever you felt down was Jungkook. You combed through all your receipts and reread them one by one. What was the probability for this to happen? This was so bizarre, but it made so much sense. Jungkook was the kindest person you knew. Why wouldn’t he be kind to a stranger who needed some uplifting words and comforting tangsuyuk?

[13/06 18:20 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

3 Tangsuyuk (large) 6 Jjajangmyeon ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I hope you’re doing well! Can I ask you for a strange favor? Would you mind delivering today’s order to me? I would really like to meet you and thank you in person for always being by my side! <3

<Ding Dong>

The doorbell rang. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. You slowly walked up to the door and opened it.

“Delivery from Golden…,” Jungkook’s voice faltered.

“Hi JK-nim,” you said quietly. You opened the door wider. “Thanks for coming today.”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asked.

You had to smile at his look of utter confusion. “I live here. Come in, you can put the food on the dining table.” You turned around and walked back into the apartment.

Jungkook hesitated before he followed you inside. He moved up to the table and unloaded his box. He tried to steady himself. “You’re LatteIsHorse-nim?” he asked skeptically, “I’ve been here before. Last time someone else opened the door.”

He has visited you before? “Oh, that was probably my sister. I live here with her. She’s out travelling right now.”

“So you’re on your own right now? Why did you order so much food?” he asked. A giant mountain of neatly stacked dishes graced the table.

You came up and pried the metal box out of his hand. Then you moved in front of him and unclasped his bike helmet. He flinched at your sudden closeness.

“To celebrate. Congratulations on passing your Statistical Analysis exam. Namjoon told me you passed in flying colors,” you said in a gentle voice. “I promised you the best Chinese take-out in town, didn’t I?”

Jungkook still looked shell-shocked and simply stared at you.

“I’m sorry about that night at the Pre-Game party. I’m sorry I ran away. I owe you an explanation.”

Jungkook regained his wits and swallowed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I get it, we were drunk. It was a mistake.” He looked down and tried to turn back around.

You grabbed onto his hands before he could move away. “Jungkook, look at me.”

He stopped turning, but his eyes remained on the floor.

You took a deep breath and squeezed his hands. “I really like you. I’ve really liked you for a while now.”

His eyes shot up to your face.

“The reason why I ran away that night was because I felt guilty. I probably would’ve ended up kissing you anyway, but in that moment, I kissed you because I wanted to forget. I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that. I wanted it to be the me who liked you and not the me who tried to drown out her shitty ex-boyfriend. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

There was an unreadable look in his eyes. Your heart fluttered in nervousness. “How long have you known I was JK? How long did you know I had a crush on you?” he asked.

You could feel your blood rushing through your ears, the butterflies in your stomach beat like crazy. “Since today. I was sad because I thought I couldn’t share the promised meal with you. I wanted a friend to talk to, so I thought to call you. You who was always kind to me, even when I wasn’t kind to myself. Isn’t fate strange? We cheered each other on to find each other.” You had to laugh at the irony of it all.

Your hand hesitantly moved up to his face and stroked across his cheek, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you sad.”

Jungkook melted against your touch. “If I’m never sad, I won’t know when I’m happy.” Then he closed the gap and pressed his lips against yours.

It was a sweet but sad kiss. Filled with happiness and sorrow. Every touch was filled with an ‘I missed you’ or an ‘I’m sorry’.

Jungkook pressed you against the edge of your dining table, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You both deepened your kiss. Your hands snaked through his hair and pulled him closer into you. Jungkook braced his hands against the table and instinctively ground his hips against your core. You moaned his name at the sensation. The both of you broke apart to catch your breaths, you pulled at his jacket and removed his layers of clothing.

You stilled at the sight of his bare chest. He was truly beautiful. Your fingers traced along his skin and marvelled at its silkiness. Jungkook shuddered under your touch. His hands moved under your shirt and you both lifted it off your head. Then you gripped his hands and slowly led them around your back, urging him to take off your bra. You wriggled out of your jeans and laid yourself completely bare in front of him. Jungkook stopped and stared at you, equally amazed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Your heart swelled and you pulled him back into a kiss. Both his kisses and his hands left a burning trail down your body. His mouth sucked on the soft skin of your neck while his hands moved across your breast, across your stomach, lower and lower. Wetness gathered between your legs.

“Jungkook,” you sighed. The muscles of his back shifted under your touch.

He released your neck with a loud smack and looked at the artwork he created. He still couldn’t get over how overwhelmingly beautiful you were. Your cheeks flushed, eyes bright and his name at the tip of your tongue. He felt himself strain against his confines.

“Please,” you whimpered. You looked down at his hand and tried to silently command him to touch you.

He kept his eyes trained on your face when his fingers moved lower and slid through your folds. Another moan left your lovely lips. He teased you with his touches, gathering your wetness until he finally pushed down where you wanted him most. Your hands dug into his back, your hips bucked, and you threw your head back in pleasure. He steadied your hips with his other hand and slowly pushed a finger inside of you. Another loud moan echoed through the room.

Jungkook was transfixed by you. He added a second finger and started pushing in and out. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and small breathless pants left your mouth. Jungkook increased the speed of his movement and marvelled at the way you reacted under his touch. Then he moved his mouth to your breast and closed his lips around your nipple. You raked your hands through his hair and arched into him. Your core tightened around his fingers. All your nerves were on fire.

You pulled him away from your breast and guided his mouth back to yours. Your tongue traced his lips and you swallowed his moan. You wanted more, you wanted him closer. His fingers curled and his thumb pressed down on you. Jungkook held you tight as you shuddered and fell apart around him.

He rested his forehead against yours, your breath mingled as you both panted into each other. He slowly removed his hand from you and traced his mouth with his slicked fingers, then he moved them to your lips. Your tongue licked the tips of his fingers. His grip tightened around your waist.

“I want to feel you,” you said.

Jungkook shuddered at your words. “Where is your room?”

“The door behind you.”

Jungkook lifted you off the table, you tightened your legs around him and gave him another kiss. He walked you both to your room and gently laid you down on your bed. He took off his pants, then slowly moved onto the bed and hovered above you.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

Your fingers caressed his face. “I want you to be happy.”

Another shudder ran through him. “I am happy. What else?”

You traced his eyes, his nose, his lips. “I want to be the one making you happy.”

Jungkook couldn’t contain himself anymore. His heart felt like it was about to explode. He covered your body with his and pressed himself into you. Your eyes rolled back as he entered you slowly. You felt so full you wanted to burst out of your skin. You could feel how the Jungkook-sized whole in your heart filled up again.

He rocked into you and took your breath away. Your nails raked across his back and left red lines against his smooth skin. Jungkook ducked his head into the crook of your neck and moaned against your skin. Every pull dragged pleasure out of you, every push brought you closer together.

You wanted more. Jungkook gave you more.

You wanted him closer. Jungkook pushed deeper into you.

With every moan, Jungkook pushed harder, pushed deeper. He wanted to melt into you. He wanted the lines between you and him to disappear. Your desire was his desire. His pleasure was your pleasure.  

Jungkook could feel you tightening around him. He moved his mouth over yours and gave you an ardent kiss. The light of your desire turned brighter and brighter until it burst apart into a thousand little flames. You cried against his lips and let the heat consume you. Your body pulsed around his and the overwhelming sensation brought him right over the edge with you.

The both of you laid on your bed and clung to each other. Neither of you willing to let the other go. Your pounding chests beat in tandem. Jungkook stroked his hand across your hair and kissed your head.

“I want you to be happy too,” he said.

“I know,” you said as you smiled against his chest, “You make me happy.”

Jungkook pulled you tighter into him and you remained silent for a while. His hand traced lazy patterns against your skin. Your breathing evened out.

“Are you allergic to pineapple?” he suddenly asked.

You looked up at him in surprise. “No. Why?”

“Because you always order tangsuyuk without pineapple.”

“Oh. That’s because my sister hates pineapple.”

Jungkook frowned, you pulled yourself up and kissed the little ridges between his eyes.

“What?” you asked.

“I think the jjajangmyeon is all soggy by now,” he said.

You had to laugh. “Probably, but the tangsuyuk should still taste great.”

Jungkook kissed you with a smile. “You’re right, tangsuyuk always tastes great.”

°°°°°°°

02/05/20

Copyright © 2020 full-of-jams. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Cooking (Denki x fem!reader)

Pairing(s): Denki x fem!reader

Warning(s): cussing, smut/18+ (minors DNI), sucking d*ck, switch Denki, mentions of ADHD

Word Count: 2,465

A/N (IMPORTANT ONE): everyone in this story is aged up to the 19, UA is a college in this AU but everything else is the same. So they are NOT minors and they are freshman in college!

A/N: request are always so pen so go ahead and drop on by, either leave the request in my inbox OR toy are more then welcome to message me if you want more detail or just want to get to know me :)

Playlist I made so you can listen to coming while reading this: https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL6KD7SsmFn8QM4bp3BP6DCV_ML1B2AZC3

You laid on the couch, relaxed and in a comfortable position where anything can happen. You where watching this new anime called Demon Slayer that Mina recommend to you. Saying something along the lines of his hit the guys where. Honestly, you didn’t get the hype, but it was pretty entertaining and you didn’t have anything else better to do then to study and actually get work done so why the hell not? Little did you know a little spark plug was about to attack you. That little spark plug going by the name of Denki Kaminari. He was annoying as fuck and you didn’t want him around. But he kept coming back for more so you let him in your life and you guy’s had this little friends-with-benefits thing going on.

“BOO!” Denki screamed on the top of his lungs, you jumped in fear and got your quirk ready. Your breath coming out in short puffs as you stared at the honey eyed boy.

“You shit head! I was at a scary scene!” You hissed, slapping Denki on the back of his head like Bakugou’s Mom did to him from time-to-time when the bakusquad was over at the angry blonde’s house.

“Sorryyy!” Denki wined, rubbing his head slightly as he mumbled some cussing under his breath. You rolled your y/e/c eyes before staring at the blonde again.

“What do you want?” You asked, annoyance filling your voice and clicking your judgement slightly. The screams of Tanjiro still ringing from the TV.

“Well I had this ADHD burst of energy and I will want to bake a cake but I can’t do it alone because if I do it alone then I will make a mess and then I will clean it up and then I will start cleaning and then—“ Denki kept on rambling about this whole chain of effects that would happen if you didn’t bake with him. You rolled your eyes and stared him straight in his bright electric yellow eyes. You paused for a moment, thinking of ways to shut the teenage male up. A idea popped in your head as you smirked and grabbed the back of Denki’s neck and drawing him towards your lips. Leaning in closer and kissing his slightly puffy lips. He was wearing the same cherry chapstick that you commented that smelled good before you noticed that Denki liked you. You always guessed that this was a way for Denki to get you to notice him. The kids went on for a few minutes before you took over and pushed him on his back against the couch. The blonde gasped between the kiss, his eyes started to water a little at the sudden reaction. Before things to get out of hand you broke the kiss and smiled at the blonde. Keeping a poker face on as you pulled away and swiped away the drool that was connected the two of your mouth’s. You giggled a little, a cocky smile dragging across your face.

“Shut up…” You leaned in and whispered into Denki’s ear, biting his ear lobe a little and giggling a little as Denki choked back a moan that was forcing it’s way up his throat.

“Y-yes ma’am…” Denki whimpered submissively, his lip quivering slightly as you let go of his ear and going towards the dorm room kitchen. Denki followed you like a lost puppy dog, he would be a good little puppy. You chuckled slightly at the joke that you made up in your head.

“What type of cake do you want to bake?” You prompted, getting the pantry open and seeing what cake mixes you guy’s had and if you needed to go get in a car and drive to the gas ration at this god forbidden hour.

“Oooh chocolate!” Denki cheered, a childish smile plastered across his face as he bounced up and down. You chuckled and looked across the pantry to see if you guy’s had any chocolate.

“Well,” you started to say, smacking you lips and staring at the pantry with a disappointment look on your face. “Crap.”

“What?”

”We don’t have any chocolate cake mix.”

“Shit.”

You closed the pantry door and went towards your dorm room to grabs out jacket and skateboard. “Wait dude, did you customize your skateboard?” Denki awed as he stared at your Haikyuu inspired skateboard that had Bokuto on it. You nodded your head ‘yes’ and fully pulled on a y/f/c hoodie.

“Yeah, I started customizing skateboard’s over the summer when we graduated UA” You answered Denki’s question fully and explained it. A smile on your face as you glanced back at the blonde-and-black haired male as he ran to grab his yellow hoodie and skateboard. His late board looked plainer then yours but that is probably because he used it more then you did. You smiled brightly at Denki before going outside of the dorms. Denki spoked followed and the two of you started skating down the street.

”We should do this more!” Denki exclaimed, a playful smirk on his face as he started to do more tricks on the skateboard. You laughed at Denki and started video him for a tiktok. The tiktok was of him singing the lyrics of Alien Boy and having a blast of his time.

“You’re such a dork…” You scoffed as you stopped recording the tiktok and editing it. Not even having to look up to know the way where the gas station was.

“Can you send me the tiktok?” Denki requested, you looked at him and gave him a ‘are you serious?’ Look before agreeing with a nod of your head and sending the tiktok to him the moment you posted it. You guy’s started to skate more, trying to impress the other guy doing some more tricks. But soon, you got to the gas station and stopped the both of your skateboards and set hem down on the outside red brick wall. You and Denki imminently went to the candy section and got some chocolate box cake along with some different flavors of monster. You bought for everything.

“Did you get everything you where looking for?” The cashier asked, looking at the two of you and smiling tiredly.

“Yeah we did, thanks!” You chirped, getting out your card and paying for the stuff. Denki grabbed the monster and opened it up as you guy’s grabbed the skateboard the started heading out the front door. Laughing at dumb jokes that you guys cracked with each other.

*when you two got to the dorm’s because I know y’all waiting for the 18+ part you sinners*

Denki and you started following the directions, baking the cake and putting it in the oven and setting the timer for a hour. “There!” You declared, pumping your fist up in the air. Luckily you guy’s could be as loud as you wanted due to the fact that it is Spring Break and everyone went to there parents house. Well everyone but you and Denki. Your parents never wanted you to begin with, from the very start, they made it very clear that they didn’t want you. So why would you want to got there? Of course the bakusquad knows this. The plan was that everyone I the bakusquad was going to stay so you won’t have to to alone in the dorms but everyone seemed to have plans.

Crimson Riot had a book signing contest so Kirishima just had to go catch up on that, he seemed to be very upset to at he left you and promised that he would call you every night and FaceTime you for hours upon hours. Well, you checked your phone every second it seemed for the past two days and still no sign of Kirishima.

Bakugou’s parents got into a fight and they got a divorce so Bakugou had to go home for that. He didn’t seem to sad or caught up about it, although, you swore to yourself that you heard sobs coming from Bakugou’s dorm room after he told you over text that he couldn’t stay. So far he has texted you every once and a while and checked on you, made sure you where taking care of yourself.

Mina was going to a party and didn’t really seem to care that she was leaving you alone. Not that she was petty or anything she just never seemed to mind if she dropped her plans when they involved you. She gave you a couple of drunk text but nothing more and nothing less.

Sero didn’t talk to you about the thing, he said he would be there for you but he left you alone so you didn’t know where he was. Although, from what his Instagram story told you, he has in Disney with his family and having the trike of his life.

Jiro got her first new hit for a album of her song covers and needed to leave you. It was very emotional and you could tell that she didn’t want to leave you alone but she had to since her family was struggling and she wanted to make them proud.

But Denki stayed with you, the whole time, there was not a time that you thought ‘oh, Denki isn’t going to be there for me’ or ‘oh, I can’t count on Denki to be here’ because he always was and he always will be right by your side. Ever since the two of you where kids and Denki first got his quirk, you still remember that day, he went to hug his best friend but accidentally shocked him and the kid died of electrocution. He cried for hours and hours in class and (from what you heard) in his own home. Refusing to hug anybody until he got into middle school and you came along. You guys had known each other due to your parents working together in the same hero agency but you never started building a friendship until middle school. A lot of people say that relationships end in middle school and high school but in reality. That is when Denki and yours started to bloom.

“Remember when you first got your quirk?” You popped up, laughing a little as the tips of Denki’s ears turned a flush red.

“HEY I THOUGHT WE AGREED TO NEVER TALK ABOUT THAT!” Denki pouted, crossing his arms and trying to be mad at you.

“Oh ok…I am sorry…” You whispered in a pretend hurt voice, knowing full well that Denki will come crawling back to you once you had the slight hurt tone in your voice.

“Wait no! Baby!! Come here!!” Denki exclaimed, wrapping you in a warm hug, you burst into laughter and hugged Denki back. Feeling bad for the honey eyed male for the millionth time in your life (no but like seriously, how did this man get you to feel bad about everything?)

“Its fine Denki.” You reassured the worried teenager with some pats on the head and a kiss on the forehead. Denki smiled innocently at you before pushing you against the couch. “Oof!” You gasped as you felt he fabric press against your back. Denki smirked in accomplishment.

“GOT YOU!” Denki declared proudly, trying to pin you down on your back. You cocked your brow up slightly and flipped you and Denki over so you where on top and he was on bottom. Denki whined and bit his lip, eyes looking at you in a pleading sort of way. You smirked seductively and leaned down to kiss Denki. Your lips crashing with his, biting the male’s slightly pink lips to ask for entrance (which he obeyed instantly). You slipped your tongue into the wet cavern of Denki’s mouth and started exploring every inch of it and sucking on his tongue a little bit. Denki moaned into the kiss and started grinding his body against your pants and whining like a submissive bitch. You chuckled darkly and brought your hand to mess with his hair before yanking his hair and making him break the kiss. A string of saliva connected your two mouths and you just swiped it off and shoved your fingers inside of Denki. Smiling slightly as he gagged.

“Want me to suck your dick slut?” Your horse whisper sounded in Denki’s ear as you bite his ear lobe and tugged on it slightly. Denki nodded his head ‘yes’ before letting out a string of moans. You smirked in accomplishment of breaking the presumably top nineteen year old who flirted with all the girls at school. You pulled down Denki’s sweatpants and boxers in one Swift motion all while keeping eye contact with him. Going down on your knee’s you opened your mouth and started sucking Denki off. Your tongue swirling around his head as you slowly started going deeper and deeper until you felt it go to the back of your throat. Once you felt that your head bobbed up and down, Denki moaned loudly and threw his head back in pure pleasure. Mumbling out praises and barely forming a sentence. You smiled to yourself as you reached down and started rubbing circles along your clit, you tongue almost lolling out to the side of Denki’s duck at the pleasure of hitting the sweet spot.

“You’re such a girl girl yeah you suck my dick yeah you suck that duck so well yeah you do…” Denki managed to say before moaning loudly again at the sight of you touching your self and sucking him off. He is in complete heaven. You felt Denki’s thighs tense up around your head and you stared up at him. Expecting him to say something. “I’m gonna cum…!” Denki mumbled out before moaning again and letting his sex face out. You moaned around Denki’s dick and that caused both of you to cum at the same time. You guy’s where a panting mess on the floor. Denki had his legs spread wide and your head was all fuzzy and not cleared out with good thoughts. You guy’s stood there, a few comfortable in the air as both of you where a shaking mess. Soon, you got up and carried Denki to the other corner of the couch and grabbed a large fluffy gray blanket along with some large pillows. On nights like these, Denki liked it if you took charge in the aftercare stuff. Not even letting you two get changed until the morning. You smiled warmly at the goofy blonde who laid there on the couch, almost fast asleep, while you played Death Note (he says it is to scary so you like watching it when he is asleep or cuddling with you).

“Hey baby?”

“What’s up Pikachu?”

“Did we ever get that cake out of the oven?”

“…”

“…”

“Shit.”

[a-d-curtis]

The Hand That Rocks the Cradle

Read on AO3 or Fanfiction.net

Chapter 1: Prologue, Chapter 2: First Impressions, Chapter 3: Stolen Glory, Chapter 4: Pawns & Princesses, Chapter 5: Scars, Chapter 6:Dissonance, Chapter 7: Frustrated, Chapter 8: Obligations, Chapter  9: Private Affair, Chapter 10: Holding on Tight, Chapter 11: Calculated Risks, Chapter 12: Charged, Chapter 13: Blue, Chapter 14: Bonds, Chapter 15: Betrayal, Chapter 16: Repercussions, Chapter 17: The Truth, Chapter 18: Old Friends, Chapter 19: Badgerfrog in a Well, Chapter 20: Resolve, Chapter 21: Caged, Chapter 22: Price to Pay

..................

Chapter 23: Redirection

………………

Katara had promised herself long ago that she would never stand helplessly by again when someone she loved was in danger. 

And yet here she stood, her arms chained above her head to an immovable marble column in the Firelord’s throne room, unable to do anything more that watch as the man she loved fought for his life. And hers.

Knowing that the best way for her to help Aang right now was probably not to draw attention to herself, Katara glanced warily at the Crown Princess who paced agitatedly not far from where Katara was chained. But Azula seemed to be ignoring Katara completely, her jaguar eyes not veering from the conflict blazing between the Avatar and her father. She made no move to intervene, and yet every muscle in her body appeared tensed, as though the opposition she witnessed was reflected within her own body. Occasionally, and inexplicably, the Princess spoke to the air around her—Katara could see that something was clearly off about her.

But frankly what was going on with the Princess did not concern Katara at the moment. Right now, all her thoughts whirled in worry over Aang.  

Having finally freed himself from the chains that had bound his hands, Aang now stood across from the Firelord, his hands and attention up, but not making a move. “We can end this here, Firelord Ozai,” he said boldly to his opponent. “We don’t have to fight.”

Ozai laughed, a truly chilling sound. “I see you are as naive and stupid as ever, Aang. But seeing as my experiment with you has failed, it is high time time I ended it.”

Katara gasped as a huge plume of fire then burst from Ozai’s punched fist. For a moment she lost sight of Aang as he was engulfed in the hot flames! She choked on her own held breath until, with a relieved exhale, she saw him again, his fists and forearms bending the fire away. 

Katara struggled against the manacles again, but it was no use. Right now she could be nothing more than a witness. 

And a liability…

………………..

Ozai let out another onslaught, and Aang stepped backward one step with each offense, dissipating the flames.  

“I don’t want to fight you,” he yelled, reluctant to attack his surrogate father. 

Ozai sneered. “You always have been a coward, Aang.” More fire. “Always afraid of what needs to be done,” two more burning punches that Aang deflected to either side, “and of what you could have become!” Ozai swung a low round kick of snarling flames along the floor. Aang jumped, suspending in the air to avoid the fire but still moving backward. “You have always dragged your feet even as your potential hovered right in front of you!” 

“I tried to please you,” Aang defended, stung by how easily Ozai dismissed his hours toil, his years of painstaking effort to become what he’d wanted.

“Please me?!” Ozai scoffed. “How could I be pleased with a spineless traitor like you!?”

He then ran at Aang with a surprising burst of speed. Aang jumped, diving over the Firelord, his foot launching off of Ozai’s back to push himself up into the air while forcing Ozai down and clattering to the floor. Body straight, Aang flipped, turning like a screw mid-air to land behind, but facing, the Firelord.

When Ozai whipped around to face him, his hair was uncharacteristically disheveled, his face furious as he barked. “My Grandfather Sozin was right! The only good airbender is a dead airbender.” And he brought his fiery fist swinging forward.

But Ozai’s words turned Aang’s resolve from reluctance to stone. The airiness in Aang’s feet vanished and he dropped solidly onto the floor, punching the sky to bring a sturdy slab of earth up right in front of the Firelord. Ozai’s fist connected hard with the stone, and he cried out, cradling his injured knuckles. 

“You filthy ingrate!” he snarled and fire-kicked the stone down. But when it fell Aang was unexpectedly right there, advancing upon him, sending his own fistful of fire at the Firelord. Ozai knew of Aang’s propensity for defense and evasion, so this charge came unexpected. 

Ozai’s surprise made his block slow, and now he was back-stepping, blocking and retreating as Aang advanced upon him. With each step Aang knocked Ozai off balance, switching between the elements to keep him guessing and retreating. 

The Firelord had turned Aang into this Weapon, and now he had to deal with it.

One final blocked fire-punch from Ozai, and Aang sent the Firelord spinning and skidding to the floor in a whirlwind! Aang stood above him with his hands up, short links of severed chain dangling from the broken manacles on his wrists. 

Ozai was wholly at the Avatar’s mercy now. 

But a sudden rush of fire hit Aang from the side, knocking him off balance and stumbling sideways to keep on his feet—the intensity of this fire’s heat feeling very familiar.

Getting his feet under him, Aang turned to face Azula, who now stood protectively over her father. For a moment their eyes locked—betrayal, regret and resolve too complicated for words passing between them—then Aang was once again on the defensive. Azula’s style had always been particularly ferocious and difficult to combat—precise, powerful and unthinkably quick. Knowing Aang’s preference to seek height, Azula kept her assaults high, forcing Aang to stay on the ground, but all the while hitting him with such speed that he was forced to continually retreat.

But as he repeatedly batted Azula’s blue flames away, their parry took on a familiar rhythm. Although countering her attacks took all of his concentration and his reflexes were taxed to their limits, Aang soon realized that she was holding back. 

As was he.

“We don’t have to do this, Azula,” Aang spoke past her blue flames as her offenses sent him once again traveling circularly, backward toward the center of the room. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Azula stood facing him, the orange flames of her father’s throne burning brightly at her back. For a moment, conflict traveled over her face, a very uncharacteristic hesitation in her body stilling her forward onslaught and making her look young, so young.

But then hatred settled in her eyes, and she snarled at Aang, “But I do want to hurt you!” And she let loose a tremendous ball of blue fire from between her arms. The fire tore from her chest as though a wild, captive fire-monster had finally burst free!

On reflex, Aang made his own shielding ball of fire, his orange hitting her blue with a tremendous explosion, throwing everything backward. 

Aang hit the marble with a heavy whack, his burned back screaming in protest. His spine arched in pain, turning him onto his side as he breathed heavily to recover.

He could see that the blast had also thrown Azula backward and to the ground, but she was quicker to return to her feet. Aang struggled, pushing himself to sitting as Azula advanced. Aang scrambled backward on his hands, his pain still disorienting, as blue fire ignited in Azula’s hand.

“You would choose her,” Azula seethed as she advanced, her arm slashing in the direction of where Katara was chained, “a filthy whoring peasant? Over me, the crown Princess of the most powerful nation in the world?!”

Ozai, having also been blown back by the blast, returned to his feet and moved to stand beside his daughter, his injured hand cradled to his chest. But Azula didn’t seem to notice, all of her attention spearing Aang. Aang scrambled further backward like a crab-spider.

“I don’t understand. We could have been everything together,” her voice pleaded.

“I… We were never right for one another—”

“We were!” Azula screamed, a crazed panic in her eyes, the fire in her hand extinguishing as she reached something out of her pocket. “It would have been perfection…”

“Enough of this Azula,” Ozai prodded. “End him!”

Azula’s attention was suddenly torn from Aang, her eyes blowing wide as she looked bewildered at her father. Her mouth dropped open silently like a koi fish.

“I said, End him!” Ozai repeated impatiently. “Use your cold fire.”

Azula’s head was shaking and she took a step backward, clutching the object from her pocket to her chest. “Mai was wrong. I can find the right leverage. I can still force him to—“

“Azula!” Ozai fumed, pushing his way in front of her. “What is this prattle? Enough.” Then turning to face Aang dead on, Ozai proclaimed, “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

An electric crackle sparked in the air as the Firelord brought both his arms around in two large circles, a charge sizzling at his fingers. Aang barely managed to push himself back onto his feet, when his one-time father’s face flashed blue in murderous delight, lighting shooting from his fingers.

………………..

Azula moved before her brain said to.

The sound of a ripping heart burst from her throat as she lurched forward, plunging Mai’s knife deep into the space beside her father’s shoulder blade. He jerked under her and the electricity in his hands splintered, jolting through its master before bursting outward in all directions.

A heartbeat too late, what she had done hit her.

Like lightning.

…………………

The bolt slammed into his body with the force of a hurled mountain. Instinctively Aang had reached out his hand, as if to grab it, like racing to meet Death half-way.

Not even the consuming, vibrating power of the Avatar State could rival the intensity, the blinding potency of the lightning as it froze and burned its way through Aang’s limbs. He felt his bones vibrate, preparing to shatter apart like the mighty oak’s trunk beneath an electric shock from the sky. 

Redirection must become second nature to you, Avatar. Faster than a reflex! Even—no perhaps especially—if it comes lighting fast.

Master Pakku’s words rang with new truth in his stunned ears, and he grasped hold of the cold fire, cradling it to his chest like the infant version of his greatest fear, first in his arms, then down to his core, and then surging outward again, bursting free from his other arm that reached like a plea towards heaven. 

The blinding white current exploded into the throne room’s vaulted ceiling above the burning throne, tearing the building open, renting it like a veil, laying bare the black night beyond and its numberless witnessing stars. The foremost column—Aang’s familiar whipping post—toppled, as if in slow motion, crashing down upon the raised dais, crushing half of the Firelord’s throne and snuffing out the eternal flame with a tremendous reverberating boom. Bits of ceiling rained down upon them all like justice thrown down from angels’ hands.

Aang’s nerves sizzled, dancing with the keyed up energy of feeling Death’s scythe slice the hairs off his neck, before being turned away to reap elsewhere.

Faster than a reflex, Aang wondered, bewildered, as he collapsed, shaking, to the floor.

…………………

The shock hit her with such force that every muscle in her body seemed to convulse simultaneously. She could see the flash behind her open eyes, taste the electricity on her teeth, the bolt traveling down her spine hotter than fire.  

“Father, no…” Azula breathed, far too late, as she faltered, suspended like a towering, rootless tree in the wind… 

Before crumpling to the floor, sparks still convulsing in her cells. 

…………………….

The sound of her own scream did not register in her ears until after it was all over.

Katara had watched with captive horror as the Firelord—with blinding speed—generated lightning in his hands! His sights had been set with deadly intent upon Aang, who'd stood across from him naive and unarmed. 

But as the Firelord had brought his aim forward, Azula had fallen upon his back, causing the shaft of lighting to splinter into pieces.

Some of the electric surge had engulfed its creator—zapping the Firelord and his daughter in a terrifying seizure of white light—but the rest had emanated outward, faster than thought, in multiple directions, the bulk of it hitting the Avatar so hard that his feet slid twenty paces backward across the marble floor. His body seemed to glow and writhe, before he somehow, inexplicably, sent the lightning back outward, surging into the sky.

Only then did she hear the screams. Her own, mingled with the cries of all the others.

Aang fell to his knees—

The princess stumbled backward, falling to the ground and convulsing, spider-webs of electricity still skittering across her skin—

While the Firelord slumped onto his face, unmoving, his body steaming… The handle of a knife, pushed all the way to the hilt, in his back.

…………………..

Aang knelt upon the ground, his muscles protesting in an exhaustion like he’d never experienced before. Shocked, his sluggish mind struggled to register all of what had just happened. For a time it was more than he could manage just to remember the simple act of how to breathe.

But a sound snapped him back to reality. Aang looked up to see the Firelord, unmoving before him, and Azula curled upon herself beside him, sobbing like a lost child.

Aang had never seen Azula cry before—not in all the years they’d spent growing up together as adopted siblings—and the sound of it sent fear and compassion rushing through him, almost more powerful than the lightning he’d just held in his chest.

Sliding his feet unsteadily beneath him, Aang hobbled toward her. He pointedly averted his eyes from Ozai’s still form, and covered his nose and mouth with his hand to block out the smell of charred flesh, as he rushed to his sister and collapsed beside her.

“Azula?” he asked tentatively. Her body convulsed, and his hovering hand above her shoulder sensed the tingle of electricity. “Azula, are you okay?” he asked, even knowing that she wasn’t.

She turned her head toward him, her wet eyes dull. “Aaang…”

Rolling her onto her back, Aang gasped when he saw the gaping wound just under her sternum, gnarled burns like ancient tree roots spreading outward from it. The flesh there sizzled, still smoking. “Oh spirits, Azula…”

A helpless dread clawed its way up Aang’s throat, choking him. Azula had tried to save him. And now she was dying for it! Despite her cruelty, Aang still cared for his sister.

He had to do something to help her!

In a panic, Aang ran for his knapsack, retrieved the canteen of water he’d stored there, and then raced back to Azula’s side. Aang scrubbed tears out of his eyes as he hastily bent the water out of the canteen. Bringing the water to his hands, he gently placed them on Azula’s wound, closed his eyes and released a deep breath.

He needed to heal her! He needed now, more than ever, to call that coveted healing magic into his hands. He concentrated with all his might.

He felt a sob rumble deep in his chest. Water from his eyes mixed with the water in his hands. 

But nothing. Still nothing. His hands remained dim.

“Aang,” Azula croaked again, grabbing his wrist with a weak hand. “Leave it…”

“No.” Aang refused. “You’ll be okay!” Shame consumed him, knowing his power was not enough.

Suddenly his head snapped up, looking toward Katara with a new desperate hope. “Katara! Please… help her.”

………………….

When Aang’s pleading eyes turned towards her, Katara became aware of herself again, as though she’d been witnessing all of this out of body. 

But when Aang’s words registered in her ears—“Katara! Please… help her”—suddenly she was thrust back inside herself. She felt her own heart beat loud in her ears, felt her arms shackled above her head ache with pain, felt her cheek sting sharply from Azula’s slap.

Thus far she had been only a witness. But now she was being asked to act. And she wasn’t sure she could do it.

Before she knew it Aang was racing toward her. As he ran he called a fallen stone to his hand, and—she flinched her face away—smashed the stone into the chain between her raised hands. Her arms fell limply down to her sides, suddenly flooding with the strange tingling sensation of blood rushing to her fingertips.

The stone dropped from Aang’s fingers and his hands grabbed her, steadying her against the pillar, his eyes pleading. “Katara?” His eyes ghosted over her smarting cheekbone, and she saw him swallow. He brought his hand up to cradle her other cheek, gently moving his thumb over her skin, apology in his every move.  

But there was urgency amid his regret. “Please, Katara—please heal Azula!”

Katara looked to where she lay, a heap of unmoving limbs and a smoking torso.

Aang’s hand slipped into hers and he pulled her toward the fallen princess. Katara’s feet moved to follow him, but her heart didn’t move with her.

She hated the dying woman.

This woman had perpetuated the war, wreaked havoc across the Earth Kingdom. She’d hunted Zuko, her own brother, with deadly intent. She’d attempted to kill Katara more than once, and had tried to force Aang into a marriage he’d never wanted. Azula had brought Katara here tonight to use her—use her against Aang! A manipulation that had nearly gotten him killed.

The last thing Katara wanted to do was to help her.

But she haltingly followed Aang who dropped down beside Azula, lifting the dying princess’s head and shoulders to cradle her in his lap. His eyes then fell upon Katara, begging her to help. “Please, Katara. I can’t… I can’t do it myself.”

Katara’s knees felt like steel, unable to bend. Her eyes tore from Aang’s entreating gaze and fell upon the crown princess’s face. Azula’s gaze drifted to her, life dim but eyes still like swirling molten gold. But when they registered Katara, the molten turned solid and hard—even dying Azula’s eyes held nothing but hatred for Katara.

“Please, Katara! I need you to heal her… she’s… dying! I can’t let her just die!”

Why? she wondered, narrowing her eyes at the way Aang held Azula so tenderly. His face was dirty, and she could see the trails his tears made through the ash and burns on his cheeks.

The princess’s slow gaze also turned to the face of the Avatar, and something soft and vulnerable bloomed on her face. With no energy left for pretense and calculation, honesty alone remained in her dimming eyes. A small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “Aang,” she croaked, a hand trying to lift towards him, but fell down again under its own weight.   

“It will be okay,” he told her, brushing her hair from her face. 

Jealousy skirted the edges of Katara’s indecision.

Aang looked pleadingly at Katara once again. “I tried to heal her, Katara. I tried! But I can’t. Please, will you? For me?”

Compassion for him swelled within her.

She knew how much Aang had lost in his life. She couldn’t bear to see him lose anyone else. Not when she had the power to prevent it.

So Katara fell to her knees, calling the puddle of fallen water to her hands and placing them on Azula’s seared torso. She took a deep breath and felt the humming glow of healing generate in her hands and penetrate deep into the wound. The glow from her hands reflected in Aang’s face as he watched Azula intently, hope and desperation all pleading for a miracle. 

Suddenly Katara both heard and felt Azula gasp, life flooding back into her lungs as the wound closed under Katara’s hands. The princess had been lucky that the electricity she’d been dealt was mostly secondary—the majority having surged through her father and out into the room. But even so, without Katara’s healing it would have taken her life.

When Azula’s eyes filled with life and her chest rose and fell with full breaths again, Katara sighed deeply.  

She hadn’t done it because Azula deserved it. Or because she’d forgiven the princess her many offenses against her. 

She’d done it for Aang.

………………

Death had been stripping her, one by one, of all of her burdens: Ambition. Pride. Perfection. The voices in her head. Her very body and mind. All of it had been slipping away like beach sand clenched in a chubby baby fist.

All that had remained was emotion. And her lips had smiled. Even knowing she would never have him, the love she’d felt had tasted sweet and his arms around her had been enough.

But as Life had surged back into her, all at once her burdens had returned, crushing the simple joy and thrusting Conscious Thought upon her once again.

“Azula!” Aang’s voice emanated relief. “You’re okay!” He laughed through his tears.

The happiness in his voice made her heart leap. Until she remembered…

Azula sat up abruptly, ripping out of Aang’s arms as she did so.

“You’ve lost,” Mai stated with dry frankness.

Azula’s head swiveled frantically around her, taking in her surroundings like a flightless bird in a den of rattle-ferrets. She saw the destruction: rubble everywhere, the fallen column, the sky peering down at them from above. She felt the emptiness of the extinguished trenches that should have been burning with eternal flames. 

And then her eyes fell on Father… and the handle of Mai’s knife sticking out of his back.

“I thought you were having a wedding in the morning?” Ty Lee’s bewildered voice said, “Not a funeral…”

A sinking abyss opened beneath her feet, and Azula startled backward, teetering on the edge. She had done it. She had plunged the knife into her own father’s back.

Because he’d been about to kill Aang.

Aang

Her eyes found him, his arms still suspended from where she’d torn herself from his grasp. It made it look as though he was reaching for her. 

“Oh, but Honey,” her mother crooned, pity lacing her words. “He doesn’t want you…”

“I know!” Azula snarled, throwing her arm out as if to push away the woman who spoke in her ear. “You don’t have to say it!” 

“W…what?” Aang asked her, his eyes concerned, caring. “I don’t understand…”

He would never understand.

Azula’s eyes flitted away from him and up to the waterbender, who now stood right behind him, distrust in her eyes as she watched Azula warily. She placed a careful restraining hand on Aang’s shoulder.

Azula narrowed her eyes at that hand. For ruining her wedding she ought to burn the woman alive and then dance in the ashes!

“I’ll murder you where you stand, peasant!” Azula seethed sitting up on her knees and glaring at the waterbender, angry and dangerous.

“Good idea!” Ty Lee affirmed. 

“Not likely,” Mai droned skeptically.

Her mother just tsked.

But suddenly Aang was standing too, placing his body protectively in front of the waterbender. “Azula,” he said placatingly. “Katara just saved your life.”

Laughter bubbled out her mouth. What?! She was now indebted to the water peasant? They should have just let her die!

The laughter bursting from Azula’s mouth suddenly turned to fire! And then she was thrusting her fists at them both, blue flames surging forward as if from the mouth of a dragon! 

But as the fire surged toward the pair, her flames bulged suddenly, fanning out as though they’d hit an invisible barrier. When the blue fire dissipated—the flames curling out into nothingness—Aang and the peasant had disappeared.

A sob gathered from deep inside her, building painfully in her throat. But when the pressure finally erupted from her mouth it sounded like laughter. She rolled onto her back and laughed and laughed and laughed. 

It was then that she glimpsed him again, jumping weightlessly up the broken pillars and out into the sky, the thieving waterbender nestled forever in his arms.

……………

“Otōto are you here?!”

As Aang and Katara crept quietly into Appa’s dark stable, Aang ignited a tiny flame in his hand. Even cupping his other hand around the flame, the light seemed too bright in the pitch darkness.

Appa’s ear flipped at the sound of Aang’s voice, and then he stirred, shaking his furry head awake and opening his mouth in a tremendous yawn. 

“Hey, Appa!"

Moving the light backward Aang then saw Otōto, the 12-year-old stable boy, stirring from his sleep nestled between Appa’s flank and his middle leg, his head resting on Appa’s paw. The image made Aang pause, remembering the many times when he had slept with Appa this same way.

Otōto sat up and stretched, giving Aang a bleary-eyed look as he squinted against the light. When recognition of Aang dawned on the boy’s sleepy face, he then threw up his hands in exasperated scolding at Aang and laying back down defiantly, nuzzling his head in Appa’s fur to get comfortable. 

Despite the urgency of the situation, Aang chuckled, love for this boy filling his heart. “I’m sorry to wake you, Otōto. But this is an emergency. I need to take Appa away.”

At those words Otōto shot up, surprised question on his face. 

Aang moved quickly, transferring his fire to light one of the hanging lamps. He then grabbed a long strap off a hook in the wall and started tying it onto one of Appa’s horns.

The boy got to his feet and walked toward Aang, looking more closely at him. Otōto put his hand on Aang’s to still his work on Appa’s rein, concern in his expression as he gestured first to the burn on Aang’s cheek—where he’d taken a hard fire-punch from Ozai—but then, looking over Aang’s entire disheveled form, he swept his arm to include all of him. 

Aang felt the burn on his face gently with the pads of his fingers, painfully aware of the burns on his back as well, realizing that he must look pretty terrible.

He chuckled ruefully. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me. I’m sorry, Buddy. I know this is a surprise. But it’s not safe for us,” Aang gestured to Katara and himself, “or Appa, anymore. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Otōto waved his hands in frantic question. 

“I know,” Aang said, his heart moving in empathy for Otōto. “I know this isn’t good for you. I know Appa is your job—“ 

Otōto cut him off with a reproachful swipe of his hand. He moved his arms passionately and then set a meaningful hand on Appa’s furry head and then moved that same hand to his own chest. 

“I know,” Aang said with a thick voice, “I know Appa is more to you than a job. I didn’t mean that.”

Otōto looked at Aang intensely for a moment, but then grabbed the strap, somewhat petulantly, from Aang and began quickly tying it around Appa’s other horn.

An alarm gong began banging in the direction of the palace. They all looked up sharply. Another, closer gong soon joined the clatter. Voices and commotion could be heard in the distance.

“We’ve got to hurry!” Katara said urgently as she rummaged through a pile of things in the corner.

Worry clenched in Aang’s stomach, knowing they had no time. “It’s a wonder that we got this far frankly, before they started the alarms.” Then looking at Katara he asked, “What are you looking for?”

“A water skin, or canteen… anything I can take with me.” She looked pointedly at Aang then. “I’m tired of being helpless, Aang! I need some water.”

“All I had was that one canteen—but it got left with Azula…” Aang gulped, trying not to think of his adopted sister.

Otōto quickly tightened the knot he was tying on Appa’s horn and then ran to a small pile of his things next to his chair. He pulled out a water skin and then rushed to Katara’s side and pushed it into her hands.

“You would give me yours?” she asked, clearly touched by this boy’s generosity.

Otōto shrugged bashfully, and Katara leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Otōto.”

Otōto’s whole face turned bright red and then he cocked an eyebrow at Aang with a devilish, gloating smirk. Again Aang laughed. The little imp! 

But they had to move! Aang pulled on Appa’s reins, coaxing his giant friend to stand and leading him out of the stable while Katara worked on filling Otōto’s water skin to the brim from the pump.

They could hear soldiers clattering their way toward them. “We’ve got to go!” Aang urged. Katara ran to his side and he helped her scramble up onto Appa’s back.

But as he prepared to mount Appa as well, he looked back at Otōto and stopped. He then looked to Katara and she nodded back at him with knowing support. 

“I want you to come with us, Otōto. You can escape with me and Katara and Appa! We’re going to the Earth Kingdom. Do you want to see the Earth Kingdom?”

Otōto paused, but then shook his head. He rubbed his fingers like counting coins, then gestured like he was patting the heads of kids smaller than him; he then puffed up his chest and pointed at himself with his thumb. 

Aang nodded heavily. “You’ve got little brothers and sisters who need you? I understand. But…” Aang’s voice suddenly stuck in his throat. “Appa and I, we’re going to really miss you.”

Otōto rolled his eyes, making an exaggerated crying face at Aang, teasing him for being a big baby. Aang laughed through his tears and tussled the boy’s hair, pulling him into a hug and pretending not to notice that Otōto’s eyes were glistening as well.

Then Aang was up, sitting on Appa’s head, the rein in his hands. From this high he could see over the wall—there were rows of torches headed their way!

“Otōto, run out to the soldiers and point them in the direction we’ve gone. Can’t let them think you helped us.” Otōto nodded. “Be safe, Buddy.”

Otōto ran off in the direction of the gate.

“Yip, yip!” Aang sang out. And Appa lurched into the sky, flying them away!

……………

Quiet had fallen suffocatingly throughout the throne room when the princess finally pushed herself up, her laughter long since spent.

Her cold eyes feel upon the still form of her father once again. 

Azula brushed her toes contemplatively along the edge of despair, testing the ground there—But instead she turned away. 

Father had taught her to suppress unpleasant emotions. To ignore grief. To regret nothing. He had taught her to be stronger than her feelings and to find advantage in all things.

So she stood and walked until the tips of her upturned boots nearly touched her father’s corpse. She looked down upon him passively. 

Was this how Father had felt when his own father had passed? When Grandfather Azulon had suddenly died in his sleep?

Azula huffed derisively. She was far too clever to ever have believed that.

Had Grandfather Azulon trust Father as Father has trusted her? Azula regarded the knife in her father’s back. 

Trust was for fools.

Azula stooped and pulled the crown from Ozai’s topknot, polishing it with her fingers as she turned her back upon him and walked calmly up the steps of the burning throne. Blue flames burst into life in the tiered platforms as she passed, the eternal flame igniting once again.

The flames warmed her as Azula stood before the throne.

“It’s a good thing this chair is so big!” Ty Lee exclaimed. “There’s room for you even with this pillar in the way.”

Azula rolled her eyes but nonetheless turned and seated herself on the half of the throne that had not been crushed by the broken column during the fight.

“Guards!” she called loudly. 

They surged into the room, as if her word alone had broken a dam holding them back.  She knew they must have heard the commotion, and agonized whether to obey their Firelord or to enter and help. Now as they came in their eyes opened wide, taking in the destruction. 

…And the body of her dead father.

But Azula was glad they hadn’t intruded. Now history could be written as she wished.

“The Avatar has murdered my father,” she said, placing the gleaming crown upon her own head. “Now I am the Firelord.”

Ty Lee clapped. Mai sighed. And her mother wiped tears of joy from her eyes.

………………….

The first surge into the sky on the back of Aang’s sky bison had Katara flattening onto her stomach on Appa’s back, gripping hard with her elbows, fists and knees, a brand new plunging sensation in her stomach causing her to gasp. She’d seen streaks of fire shoot by them on either side, and even a lurch and bellow from Appa—indicating a hit—but they’d ascended rapidly, until they soared high and out of range. 

But Appa’s flight had been unsteady, and Aang had landed him on one of the many peaks of the caldera that reached like cold volcanic claws cradling the city.

“Are you okay, Boy?” Aang had asked in concern as he quickly dismounted—Katara right behind him—and checked Appa all over. “I know you took a hit back there!”

Appa bellowed and shook his great body as if in offense. 

“No, I don’t mean that, Buddy! You did great—amazing even!” Aang smiled proudly at his friend. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Katara watched as Aang nuzzled his head into Appa’s forehead, rubbing his arms through his furry brown arrow. With his eyes closed, Aang spoke softer to his bison. “We can’t rest long. I know it’s hard to fly, Appa. But I’ll help you…”

Wanting to give them a moment, Katara stepped around Appa’s body to stand at the cliff’s edge and look out at the city below them. They weren’t “safe” yet, but seeing the palace—her prison—so small beneath them now broke open a dam of relief within her. 

A warm hand slipped into hers, and she smiled gently at Aang as he stepped up beside her.

There was so much to say, but right now words felt inadequate. So Katara simply turned toward him, pulling him to her with a soft hand at the nape of his neck. Aang rested his forehead on hers, his eyes closing as he inhaled a relieved, shuddering breath. He seemed to glean strength from her, breathing in her presence as though he’d been drowning and she was air itself.

Fighting tears, she drew him closer still, twining her hand under his arm, holding onto the back of his shoulder to avoid touching his back. Aang dropped his face to the crook of her neck, wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as though to prove to himself that she was—really and truly—there.

In that moment, all that needed to be said was in that hug.

I’m here. I’ve got you…

We’re free.

………………….

Read the Next Chapter

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[disgruntledspacedad]

The White Room

The Better Love Series || Join My Tags

a sequel to Shit Hits the Fan

pairing: Javier Peña x Fem!Reader (Ears). Part of the Better Love ‘verse.

summary: Bill Stechner makes his move. You never even saw it coming.

words: 6.1k

warnings: 18+, plot, a little angst, a little fluff. 

notes: unbeta’d. this is a big one. notes at the end.

<< Shit Hits the Fan || These Hands are Magic >>

MASTERLIST

You take the embassy steps two at a time, wishing you’d have been notified about the change in your schedule just half an hour earlier.

You’d gotten a page just as you were headed out the door of the apartment. Stechner has decided to pull you from Centra Spike’s night flight over Medellín. He wants you at headquarters this evening instead. He didn’t say why. 

Part of you isn’t sorry. Escobar has been getting desperate lately, and between the outbreaks of violence in Medellín and the continued bombing campaign in Bogotá, you’ve been burning the candle at both ends. Javi, too. He’s been spending more and more time at the base in Medellín, and you’ve been spending more and more time in the skies, pulling random shifts through all hours of the day and night. 

It hasn’t put a strain on your relationship, exactly. In fact, in some ways, the little moments that you steal with Javi when your schedules just happen to mesh are all the more precious because of it. You’re both exhausted and a little cranky, but there’s been an underlying desperation to your recent interactions that’s only served to stoke the flame that flickers between you. 

It’s a bittersweet feeling. You cherish the time you get together, but on the other hand, it seems like even when Javi’s right there next to you, you miss him so much that your chest aches.

Which is why you’re miffed that Bill couldn’t have shuffled you around a little sooner. Javi’s been in Medellín for the past two days. He’d caught an early flight back to Bogotá just as you’d been finishing up another late shift flyover. You’d just happened to run into him at the embassy airstrip, a perfect coincidence. Your eyes had met over the tarmac, and like a pair of magnets, you’d crashed into one another. Javi had wrapped you into a fierce hug, and you’d pulled him into a heated kiss, and the two of you had spent a good five minutes canoodling in a hidden corridor near the water fountains, kissing and whispering and grappling for position as he’d pinned you against the wall. He’d breathed you in, and you’d reveled in the taste of him on your lips, each of you pressing frantically against the body of the other as if it had been weeks and not mere days since you’d been together. 

“I’ve got to go,” Javi had apologized into your mouth, breathing the words between a series of soft, desperate kisses. “Fucking… fucking early meeting with Martinez.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you’d reassured him, feeling very much like it wasn’t okay. You hardly get enough of him as it is. This tiny little taste had only deepened your aching need, and you’d felt your heart splitting in two as he’d pulled away from you, a small little grimace of frustration twisting his face. 

“I’ll see you soon,” you’d called as he’d hurried away, and he’d responded with a tight lipped smile and another dark look of longing. 

Now, you round the corridor toward the DEA office, walking as quickly as you can without drawing attention to yourself. Javi is working late again. If you hurry, you’ll have twenty five uninterrupted minutes with him before your night shift starts. 

“Ears!” You stop in your tracks, a little shudder of resentment flashing down your spine at Bill’s overeager greeting. “Just the lady I’ve been waiting to see.”

You school your face into a neutral expression of polite interest. Most days, you like Bill just fine, despite the fact that you really don’t trust him for shit. 

Today, damn him straight to hell.

“What’s up?” you ask, quirking your lips into an intrigued little grin. There’s a certain informality and blasé banter that Bill’s grown to expect from your encounters, and he’s sharp enough to sense that something’s off if you don’t perform.

“Oh, loads and loads,” Bill says, leaning casually against the corridor wall with his arms folded. 

You bite back a sigh. You really, really don’t have the patience to dance around him today. “Oh, really?”

Bill arches a questioning brow at you, and you remind yourself to be convincing, dammit. Usually, this isn’t an issue. Most days, you like your job, and your boss, just fine. 

Most days. 

“You’re bored, aren’t you, Ears?” Bill continues, pitching his voice deep, those probing eyes piercing straight through you.

“I -” you start. Bored isn’t how you’d describe it, lately.

Tired, more like. 

“No, no,” Bill’s expression is patient, endearing. “Don’t deny it. I’ve been watching you. I know that hungry look when I see it. You want more. You came to Colombia to do something important with your life, I can tell.”

Six months ago, hell, even three months ago, Bill’s words would have been true. Now, the very thought of more is enough to send you crawling into bed and sleeping for a week. 

‘Isn’t tracking down Pablo Escobar pretty fucking important?’ you’re half tempted to ask. You hold your tongue.

Obviously, it’s not to Bill Stechner.

“What do you have for me?” you say instead, hoping you sound intrigued, carefully not confirming or denying Bill’s suspicions. 

“Real work,” Bill says with a sharp smile. Something cold jolts down your spine at the his use of the word ‘real.’ 

As if everything until now has been a sham.

“Follow me,” he beckons, and you have no choice but to obey.

Bill leads you past the DEA offices. You catch a glimpse of the top of Javi’s head from the corner of your eye. He’s hunched over his desk, pouring over an open manilla file. You can barely see the deep furrow in his brow. He doesn’t notice you pass by, and you don’t pause to acknowledge him.

Something throbs in your chest at that.

You follow Bill through a few more winding corridors, down into the basement, past Centra Spike’s room, right up to an unassuming little bookcase built into a nondescript wall in the middle of nowhere. 

Bill pauses here, turning to look at you with shining eyes. 

You meet his stare, giving away nothing. 

With an enthusiasm that borders on theatrical, Bill huddles over a little keypad that’s tucked away at the edge of the bookcase. He punches in a series of numbers, glancing over to confirm that you’re still watching. 

You definitely are.

Bill steps back, and like something from an Indiana Jones film, the entire fucking bookcase slides aside, reveling a reinforced steel door built into the wall. 

“Whoa,” you can’t help but breathe.

Bill’s eyes glitter. He’s eating this up, impressing you. 

And truly, you’re impressed. That little spark of interest that had died in the past months of your burnout has flared with a vengeance. 

This is the shit that you joined the CIA for, and Bill Stechner knows it. 

“Welcome to the white room, Ears,” Bill announces lowly. It’s the soft, knowing voice of a man sharing a deeply guarded secret. He opens the steel door with a flourish, and it swings slowly aside, heavy and creaking, as if its weight alone could announce the gravity of what you’re about to see. 

Carefully, you step inside the room, ducking a little to avoid knocking your head against the low hanging doorway, crawling past the steel corridor entrance before you can straighten.

You blink, astounded at what you’re seeing.

Of course, you’ve heard whispers of CIA’s fabled “White Room,” a repository of classified files tucked away somewhere in the embassy basement. Even Javi’s mentioned it a couple of times, always with a hint of resentment, like he’d give his left arm for even a glimpse inside. Rumor is, Steve Murphy’s been in here before, but just once, and he was heavily supervised the entire time. It’s a fucking goldmine of intel, stacks upon stacks of carefully organized file folders, all at the fingertips of the few individuals who are important enough to be need-to-know. 

“Okay,” you whisper beneath your breath, taking it all in. Reality is a little different than you’d pictured. The entrance is impressive, sure, but what you’re staring at is even more so. Box after carefully labelled box is packed atop one another, stacked six deep on a never-ending series of steel shelves. 

You could spend an eternity here learning all of the secrets of Colombia. The implications are mind-boggling, and distantly, you wonder how many other well-hidden rooms the CIA has tucked away across a spread of foreign countries, a never-ending fountain of secrets related to god-knows-what.

Your brain stutters at the thought.

You realize suddenly that Bill is watching you carefully from the corner of his eye, observing your reaction as if he’s surreptitiously taking notes on every thought that flits across you brain. Again, you school your expression, reverting to that practiced, dead-eyed stare of careful neutrality. 

“Cool,” you say, a little breathlessly, knowing that Bill’s eager to wow you, and not seeing any reason not to acknowledge the fact that, yeah, you’re pretty fucking wowed. You turn to face him, ignoring the temptation to sweep your gaze over the many, many labeled files at your eye level. “So, what are we doing here?”

Bill laughs. “I’ll show you.” He leads you past the shelves, and now that you’re behind him, you can’t stop your eyes from tracking over the labels at your eye level. You’re appalled by what you see. 

Shelves upon shelves devoted to Escobar, and even more to the Cali Cartel, all broken down into sections of the individual godfathers. Rodriguez, Herrera, Bejarano, Moncado are all names that catch your eye. There are folders on each major sicario that you recognize from Javi’s info board: Mosquera, Lucumí, Vásquez, Gaviria... the list goes on. Even more files files are labeled Castaño. There’s a whole series of boxes on M-19, and a little past that, an entire shelf devoted solely to FARC. 

It’s more than your mind can possible comprehend in one quick sweep, and hell, that’s just what you could catch at eye level. 

It occurs to you that this is what Steve and Javi are always bitching about. Sure, you’re aware of the ever present pissing contest between the DEA and the CIA, but it’s always been peripheral information to you. Steve in particular is pretty vocal about his frustration with the ‘fucking CIA.’ “Goddamn file’s so redacted that it might as well be scrap,” you can just hear him muttering. 

Christ, if this is the kind of intel that the CIA has open access too, you can kind of see his point. 

Bill stops at a table in the center of the room, indicating it with a sweep of his hand. Reluctantly, you sit, a little annoyed that you’ve got your back to him now, but not feeling comfortable enough to twist around to track what he’s doing. Your instincts are screaming at you that this is a test. A big one. So you wait demurely in your tiny plastic chair, your hands folded primly in your lap, listening intently as Bill shuffles for something behind you.

After a long moment, Bill leans his hip heavily against the table, just a hair too close to your shoulder for you to be totally comfortable. You don’t have time to think on that, though, because he’s sliding a black and white photograph under your nose for you to view.

The man that leers up at you has a pinched face beneath a deep brow. His nose is long and lopsided, as if it’s been broken at least once. His thinning, limp hair hangs low over his eyes, giving him a mysterious, almost rebellious look. His mouth is wide, crooked teeth exposed in an open-mouthed grimace. He’s angling toward the camera, obviously unaware of its existence, leaning forward with a machine gun cradled to his chest.

“Feo,” you say instantly, your mouth working before your brain can catch up. You recognize him from the evidence board in the DEA office, and even more from your conversations with Javi. 

Feo is a low level sicario, one that’s just now caught the attention of Search Bloc, mostly due to the recent chatter that Centra Spike has picked up. You’ve yet to get a positive ID on his voice, but he’s been mentioned in several conversations lately, always in reference to ‘drops.’

Javi’s been working deep in the night to decipher these conversations, eager to learn what ‘drops’ Escobar and his sicarios are so desperate to come by.

“Feo,” Bill drawls, a hint of something sharp licking at his tone. You glance up at him, curious. “That’s an unfortunate nickname.”

He’s staring down at you with eyes that are too aware. Probing, assessing. 

Fuck.

“I’ve seen him on the DEA board,” you explain, grateful that you can provide an answer so quickly. You don’t like the way Bill is looking at you, like he’s daring you to confess a sin. 

“I didn’t realize there were many photos of him floating around,” Bill says casually. But you aren’t stupid. You read the threat in his statement, loud and clear.

“It’s a new one,” you reply automatically, feeling as if you’re scrambling to claw yourself out of a hole. 

But this is also true. Feo has been an ongoing mystery to Search Bloc, one that they haven’t taken seriously until recently. You wonder what it is about this man that’s got Bill so on edge. 

Bill hums. “Good eye.”  He hunches over the photograph, so close that you can feel his body heat against your neck. 

“This is Raul Manriquez.” Bill taps the forehead of the man in the photograph, then turns to leer at you. “Apparently, he’s known to his friends as Feo.”

He’s watching you for a sign. You refuse to give it.

“So,” you ask after a beat. Bill folds his arms across his chest, waiting for you to continue. He’s not giving any signs either, the dickwad. “What does the CIA want with Raul Manriquez?” 

Bill has never behaved this way with you before. There’s a certain weight to the way he regards you that hints at paranoia. He’s deeply, almost obsessively interested in this man, and it doesn’t make sense. 

Feo is a sicario, sure. But sicarios are far, far below Bill’s pay grade. The thought is laughable, even.

Something drops in your stomach. If Feo is more than a sicario, as it seems he must be, then it is far, far above your pay grade to be this involved.

Bill pulls out a chair beside you and sits heavily. He leans on his elbow, swinging his legs so that his knees brush your thighs. 

You echo him, carefully positioning yourself so that you’re facing one another, but no longer touching.

“We have intel to suggest that Raul Manriquez is connected with a Russian weapons ring,” Bill starts. You notice for the first time that he looks tired, too, his eyes a little bloodshot, heavy bags dropping darkly beneath them. 

Something clicks in your brain. “He’s Pablo’s weapons guy,” you breathe. The pieces fall together with startling clarity. The drops that the sicarios had mentioned. The fact that Feo seems to stay at the periphery of things, not nearly as involved with the day-to-day bullshit that other sicarios seem to thrive on. “He’s running guns.”

“Among other things,” Bill drawls, seeming thoroughly bored by the turn in the conversation.

You ignore that. Your thoughts are spinning wildly, forging connections, solving problems. Escobar’s got to get his weapons from somewhere. In the back of your mind, you’ve always sort of known this, but the significance of it has stayed firmly out of sight, swamped by other things that, at the time, had seemed far more important. 

But if you could catch Feo… If you could choke off Pablo’s lethality directly at the source…

“We could end this,” you whisper, sitting up to look Bill directly in the eye. Your voice rises. “Bill, if we neutralize Feo, Escobar’s lost his access to his guns.” Something swoops in your heart, and you feel brighter, more energized than you have in weeks. “We can end this war!”

“Oh, the fucking drug war.” Bill scoffs, waving his hand in a casual gesture of lazy dismissal. He looks frustrated, disappointed. “Ears, broaden you horizons a little, sister. Escobar is on the run. When he’s gone,” Bill leans in, the glint in his eye damned near dangerous. “And he will be gone, Ears, trust me.” He huffs a deep sigh, shaking his head as he pitches away to balance on the far feet of his chair, rocking back and forth in a way that reminds you of a restless kid in a elementary school classroom. His eyes are sharp, possessive as they pin yours. “What then?”

You stare at him flatly, a little miffed to have nearly a year of your life’s work brushed aside as if it’s just petty bullshit. 

You shake that emotion away, blinking hard, reminding yourself of where you are, of who your boss is. With the lines as blurred as they are in Colombia, and your unique position dancing between Centra Spike, the DEA, and the CIA, and Search Bloc, it’s easy to forget that ultimately, it’s Bill Stechner who owns you.

For the first time, that thought deeply unsettles you.

Bill falls forward heavily on his elbows, looking at you with a furrowed brow, and you remind yourself for the umpteenth time that this meeting is a performance, one that you’ve utterly and completely bombed until now.

You brain spins, processing the little bits and pieces of information that you’ve been given. Bill sees Escobar’s fall as in inevitability, inconsequential, even. He’s concerned about Feo in the context that he’s connected to the weapons trade in Colombia. 

Quickly, you consider what you know about Bill Stechner. A CIA big wig with a shady-ass military background. A man who’s mind lives in the future. 

A future without Escobar. He’s made that much clear.

“You’re looking to fill a power vacuum,” you announce suddenly, knowing instinctively that you’re not far off the mark. Bill Stechner is a man who is always thinking ahead, studying the political chessboard to analyze his next move, and the one after that, too.

And that truth bomb jars free even more thoughts that have been floating untethered in the back of your mind. When he’s not skulking around his office, Bill is gone for weeks at a time, supposedly off in depths of the amazonian jungle, brushing shoulders with his right winged military buddies. 

Commie hunting.

The pieces fall perfectly into place, painting a sobering picture, and all the while, Bill watches, a sharp little grin playing at his lips as you connect the dots. 

“Bill,” you say, refusing to accept any bullshit. You thump your finger hard against Feo’s leering smirk, pinning Bill with a dark stare. “Is this guy connected with FARC?”

Both of Bill’s brows arch skyward, and he leans back, looking at you with a new light in his eyes. You get the impression that once again, you’ve impressed him. 

You’re not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

“I don’t know, Ears,” Bill admits, glancing away to his hands, which are suddenly curling into fists in his lap. You can tell it really grinds his gears, the uncertainty. “That’s what I want to find out.” 

You consider him carefully, keeping your face expressionless. This is the most open response you’ve ever gotten from Bill, and you file away that information along with everything else you’ve learned today.

It’s a lot.

“What do you need from me?” 

It’s a valid question. Part of you, the part that is equally intrigued and enraptured by Bill Stechner and the CIA as a whole, genuinely wants to help. 

The rest of you is just desperate to get out of this room.

Bill’s lips slide into a knowing smirk. “Well, Ears,” he drawls, eyeing you in a way that makes something sink in your gut. “I’m glad you asked.”

“I’m listening.” You deliberately leave off the ‘sir,’ that you’re tempted to tack on to the end of that statement. Damn your army background.

“This is the moment that we’ve put you in place for,” Bill confesses, hunching forward on his elbows. Again, you get the impression that he’s trying to reel you in, seducing you with a show of honesty. 

You brace yourself. 

“The DEA is interested in this man, too,” Bill starts, shooting you a pointed look that says ‘I know you already know this.’ You keep your face carefully blank, so Bill continues. “I know that they’ve been working to track his location.”

Something cold coils in your heart. “Are you asking me to spy on Search Bloc?” you ask point blank. 

Bill shakes his head. “No, no, no, Ears,” he chides with an expression of extreme patience, as if you’re a child to him. “That would be counterproductive. We’re all on the same team, after all.” He pins you with a dead-eyed stare that sends a shiver down your spine. “I’m asking you to fully engage in your position with the CIA.” Bill stresses the last point, again reminding you of who you are, who you answer to. “You’re a liaison.” He hums a little, all casual disinterest, disarming you, reinforcing the bonds of loyalty that he’s forged with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “So, liaise.”

You realize with a starling, icy jolt of clarity that Bill Stechner has tolerated your relationship with Javier Peña for this very reason, that he’s garnered your favor - accepting your transfer request, giving you a raise, buying you drinks, playing your buddy - all in preparation for using you as his own personal mole in the ranks of Search Bloc.

And you’d fallen for it, hook, line, and sinker.

Your throat works hard to swallow against a suddenly dry mouth. “I understand, sir.” 

For the first time, Bill doesn’t correct your formality. You hardly notice the shift, though. You’re still reeling from the implications of what he’s asking of you, of how he’s exploited you, taken advantage of all of your vulnerabilities.  Suddenly, you feel as if you’re choking, like a noose is tightening, tightening around your neck. You have to stop yourself from reaching to massage your throat, clenching your hands into tight firsts into your lap instead.

Bill watches it all in cool amusement. “Atta girl,” he praises, and you swear you taste bile. He stands, and you copy him absently, feeling detached and awkward, walking on legs that require all of your attention to keep from trembling. 

Bill claps a heavy hand on your shoulder. His eyes flash with something like pride, and you decide in that moment that you hate him, this motherfucker, almost as much as you hate yourself for falling for his bullshit. 

Goddammit, you’re so fucking stupid.

“Good talk,” he says, and you nod in a way that you hope is contemplative without being telling.

You follow Bill out of the room on wooden legs, your mind spinning with the implications of your conversation. He nods to you as the bookshelf slides shut behind you, and you nod back, relieved to see that he turns to head the opposite direction from the DEA office. 

You glance down at your watch. You’ve got ten minutes if you hurry. With all your heart, you hope that Javi is still working. 

You need to see him.

You push past his glass door, swinging it open hard enough that it bangs ominously against the wall. Javi is still slumped over his desk in the exact same position as before, studying a jumbled series of papers, a half-spent cigarette dangling from his lips.

Your breath catches at the sight of him. 

His head snaps up at your noisy arrival, dark eyes narrowed at the intrusion. His expression softens when he sees that it’s you. 

“Ears.” His voice is a sigh, a release of that same tension that you feel leaking from you own bones, and you dart forward, heedless of who might be watching beyond the glass walls.

“Hey,” you say, shoving aside an opened manilla folder to create a bare space for you to lean against. Javi doesn’t seem to mind that in the least, so you flop up onto his desk, pressing your thigh against his elbow, enjoying the feeling of just sharing the same space.

Javi glances at you, and your something lurches in your chest as you take him in. He looks haggard, exhausted, dark bags gathered beneath his bloodshot eyes like he hasn’t had good night’s sleep in far too long. 

“Another little chat with Stechner?” he grouses, peering up at you with narrow gazed suspicion. 

Your heart sinks, and you have to blink hard against the onslaught of his ire. Javi’s always been grouchy when he’s tired, and there’s nothing that drives him into a funk faster than any mention of Bill Stechner. It’s as if he has a sixth sense in that regard, like he can smell Bill on your skin. 

And that’s a gross thought.

Until now, Javi’s attitude had irked you, and you’d written it off as petty, just another brand of that delightfully obnoxious possessiveness that he’s continuously displayed since your apartment was bombed.

But dammit, you’re the moron here, not Javi. He’d been right not to trust Bill.

You shut your eyes tightly. You wonder if Javi should even trust you, given your most recent assignment. 

“Please don’t,” you whisper, not knowing how to put your many worries into words, and Javi must read your conflicted mood, because he lets the subject drop. He huffs, his attention falling back to the open file on his desk, his long fingers working little tapping patterns into its intricate woodgrain.

You follow his gaze, noticing that he’s been pouring over the same photograph that Bill had shown you in the white room. Feo’s ugly mug leers back at you, a knowing, secretive smirk playing at his upturned lips, like he’s mocking you, the motherfucker.

A flood of emotions swamp you. You’ve watched Javi squinting down at this same photo for days, his mind spinning as he attempts to tease out connections, completely stumped as to how this unassuming, ugly man fits into the bigger picture of Pablo Escobar and his sicarios. 

And now you know, but there’s not a damn thing you can say about it. Bill’s going to be watching you. Hell, he’d admitted as much today. Verbatim. If he thinks that his little spy is sharing classified CIA intel with her DEA boyfriend… 

Well, honestly, you’re not sure what would happen. You just know that it would be bad news for you, and probably even worse for Javi.

You release a deep, broken sigh, exhaling though your nose. You wonder how you’re going to balance it all, working for Bill without betraying Javi.

Well, you absolutely refuse to do that. Fuck Bill Stechner for even asking.

But now, watching Javi huddled over his messy desk, squinting in the dim light because he refuses to wear his fucking glasses, frazzled and careworn and a little cranky, something pulls at your chest. 

Refusing to share this intel feels a lot like a betrayal already, and suddenly, you’re desperate to confess it all to him, to crawl into Javi’s lap and spill your guts and cry and beg for his forgiveness for blowing off his concerns about Stechner, for even entertaining the thought of withholding information from him.

Just as you feel like you’re ready to burst, Javi sighs deeply, flopping the file shut. He grinds out  his cigarette and turns to glance at you, his eyes dark with need. 

Your breath catches.

Then, without a word, Javi pitches forward to rest his head against your thigh. He nuzzles there for a moment, and you find yourself carding your fingers through his hair, helpless against the temptation to touch him, comfort him.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs after a long moment.

“Shh,” you whisper. Guilt gnaws at you. You’re the one who should be sorry. 

But Javi huffs a hot little breath against your leg, and you brush aside all thoughts of who should trust who, of loyalty and ethics and treason and chain of command. Right now, your entire universe is resting his head in your lap, and you’re determined to enjoy this moment, fallout be damned. 

“Baby,” he murmurs into the rough denim of your jeans, and your heart flutters. You bring your opposite hand to rest at the back of his neck, savoring the softness of his skin there, winding your fingers through the curls that brush against his collar.

Javi shudders at your touch, and you remember belatedly that you’re stroking at his number one erogenous zone, teasing him mercilessly without meaning him to. 

Reluctantly, you pull away, resting your palm at the slope of his shoulder instead. “Whoops.”

Javi snorts, craning his neck just enough to arch his only visible eyebrow in your direction. The rest of his face is squished into your thigh.

It’s fucking adorable, and it reminds you all over again how little you deserve him, this precious, perfect man. 

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, like he’s sensed the direction of your thoughts. He twists further to frown up at you. One hand comes up to rest at the juncture of your hip, his thumb pressing deeply into your skin. 

It’s a comfort. 

“Nothing,” you mutter, because you can hardly say ‘everything.’ You busy yourself with working little circles at the base of Javi’s ear, hoping it’s enough to distract him from his line of questioning. 

 It’s not. Javier Peña has a mind like a steel trap, and he notices everything. “Bull,” he breathes, shutting his eyes despite his best efforts. “You’re worried ‘bout something.”

God, he looks wrecked. 

“I just…” You struggle for the right words to to offer him, come up empty. “God, I hate this.”

That one dark eyes flutters open again, soft with concern. 

“I miss you,” you blurt before he can dig any further. And oh, god, that’s not a lie. You miss Javi so much it fucking burns, even with him nuzzled right here in your lap.

Javi draws a deep breath, rolling over to expose the entire left side of his face. His opposite arm comes up to wrap around your waist so that he’s almost hugging you, his fingers digging gently into your flank. “What time is your shift over, baby?” he mumbles, his one visible eye glinting, nearly feverish with need. 

“Mmm,” you hum, your pulse hammering away in response to the how he’s looking at you. “I can probably be home by eight,” you say sadly. 

And really, that’s pushing it. It all depends on what you hear over the frequencies, and how quickly you can vet it. Anybody’s guess at this point in the game.

Javi blusters a deep sigh that prickles hotly at your inner thigh. “Dammit,” he groans, clenching his eyes shut in frustration.

“What’s your morning like?” In the craziness of the past few days, you’ve completely forgotten his schedule. 

“Early,” Javi mutters darkly. He doesn’t look at you.

“Fuck.” 

“Hardly,” he pouts against your jeans.

And god, you can’t blame him. Resentment wells hot in you. You just want a break, dammit, just a single fucking day to spend with the man you love. 

Is that so much to ask?

Suddenly desperate for more contact, you bend down to drop a gentle kiss at his temple. 

Javi inhales sharply as your lips meet his skin, and you lay there like that, contorting over him in a way that makes your sides ache and probably displays half of your bare back to anybody who happens to walk past the glass walls of the DEA office right now. 

You don’t fucking care. You need this. 

“Can I meet you for lunch tomorrow?” you ask as you finally pull away. You haven’t bothered glancing at your watch, but instinct is telling you that you’re already running late for your shift, and your back is killing you.

Javi sits up, slumping against his office chair with his legs splayed sideways. He’s all wild hair and furrowed brow, and if you weren’t at work, you’d be tempted to crawl into his lap and kiss that contemplative look right off his face.

“That might work,” he says slowly, licking his upper lip a little in that way that means he’s thinking hard. Something coils deep in your belly, and you have to shake your thoughts away from those lips and that tongue, and what all they’re capable of. 

Javi cocks a brow at you, tilting his head a little. “What are you thinking?”

Fuck it, it’s late. You slide off his desk, planting yourself in his lap with your legs spread across his, grinding subtly against his thighs. His belt buckle digs into your belly, but you don’t give a shit. You tilt his face to yours, reveling for half a second in his confused, awestruck expression before you plant your lips on his for a deep, gentle kiss. Javi moans a little at the contact, plaint and responsive against your advances, his hands coming to graze at your back reverently. 

“I was thinking I’d ride,” you whisper against the stubble at his lower jaw just as you lean in to suck at it. 

Javi twitches against you, a tiny jolt of his hips, like he’s tempted to take you right here in his rickety office chair, damn the glass walls. 

“I need to see your face,” you continue, pulling his hands up to rest at your ribs as you rock gently against him, a subtle preview of tomorrow’s menu.

Javi shudders beautifully beneath you. “What, this ol’ thing?’ he teases, nuzzling against your breastbone. You can tell that he’s pleased by the thought. 

“This pretty thing,” you correct, working your way back to his lips. 

Javi bites back a groan as you kiss him. “Was asking about food,” he murmurs against your mouth. “But this is better.” 

“Don’t worry about food,” you say, falling forward to nuzzle against his neck. “I’ll take care of it. And it will be perfect.”

Javi snorts. “Better be takeout, then.” He gathers you against his body with strong arms, cradling you close. You breathe him in, reveling in the distant smell of coffee and stale cigarette, all mixed in with a hint of musky sweat and something smoky and dark that is uniquely Javier Peña. 

“God, baby, I’m looking forward to it,” he confesses against the hollow of your throat, and you throw your head back, shut your eyes and let him ravage you there, just for a moment. 

Javi pulls away far too soon, and you shudder at the loss of him, your body damn near trembling with need. 

He rolls back in his chair, glancing up at you with an apology in his eyes. “It’s eight oh five,” he tells you somberly, and you wince, disentangling yourself from him, stumbling out of his chair and straightening your shirt and threading your fingers through your wild hair in an effort to smooth it down. 

“How do I look?” you ask after a moment, backing up enough to give him the full effect of you. 

Javi’s eyes are burning as he takes you in, damn near shimmering with want and exhaustion and pent up emotion, and you curse Bill Stechner once again for butting his big nose into your relationship, for complicating things that should be so fucking simple.

“Perfect,” Javi says lowly, his lips pursed into a thin line, his eyes glittering with some thought that you can’t name. “Fucking perfect.”

Something wrenches in your chest, and you catch your breath, feeling tears prickle at your eyes. You suck them down, frustrated at how often life in Colombia seems to draw your emotions to the forefront. 

Nobody needs that. 

You lean forward, unable to resist dropping one last, chaste kiss to Javi’s forehead. “Go to bed, Javi,” you whisper against his skin. You pull away, a gentle, teasing smile spreading across your face. “Seriously, baby. It’s just getting stupid now.”

You wink at him, and Javi huffs a little laugh. “Get out of here, Ears,” he grouses, waving a lazy hand at you, but his smile is gentle and soft, and you know that he’s recognized the reference for what it is.

Feeling lighter than you have in days, you shoot him one last cheeky wave. Javi blows a little kiss at you in response, and your heart stutters at the gesture. 

God, he’s such a sap.

You damn near dance to the Centra Spike office, slipping into your headphones a full ten minutes later than you really should. Nobody bats an eyelash, though, and you busy yourself with the normal nightshift bullshit, sipping your coffee and switching to the proper frequencies, the promise of tomorrow glowing in your heart. 

♠

notes/confessions:

I struggled so hard with this. I still don’t love it, but I’m sick of looking at it, so here ya go. Enjoy.

Okay, I know I have thrown some massive plot things at you this week. I know it’s complicated, and I know it’s a lot. Feel free to ask me questions. I’ve tried to make things as clear as possible, but I’m only human, Narcos is complicated af anyway, and Better Love is even worse, probably. 

Look for updates to slow back down again, because a) I actually do have a job, and b) we’re getting close to the point where I’m going to have to start posting If I Fall, and I want to have my chapters outlined a little better and maybe even a few deep before I do that. Look for a few little fluffy one-shots scattered between then and now, but guys... for the most part, the pieces are in place, and we are in the home stretch - of the setup, that is. 

Holy fucking shit.

Tags:  @jedi-mando, @perropascal, @hotspacepilots, @mostly-megan, @starlight-starwrites​, @thirstworldproblemss, @knittingqueen13, @yespolkadotkitty, @lv7867, @pascalisthepunkest, @sarahjkl82-blog, @corrupt-fvcker, @artsymaddie, @leonieb, @justanotherblonde23, @princess-and-pedro

Javier Peña tags: @magpie-to-the-morning, @tiffdawg, @danniburgh, @1800-fight-me, @mandoandgrogu, @hybrid-in-progress, @va-guardianhathaway, @speakerforthedead0, @feminist-violinist, @herefortheart, @dontmindifidontt, @blo0dangel