#i feel like he would give you one when you graduate w the excuse that he wants to wait until he can give you a proper ring :’’3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

explorevenus · 6 months

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baby steps ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors dni or i will call ur mom. and also the cops

word count: 5k

description: moving to raccoon city with leon, your long-term boyfriend and childhood sweetheart, doesn't go as planned. while you consider moving back home to lick your wounds, leon conspires to keep you right by his side, where you were always meant to be.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, specifically rookie cop leon, squishy soft dom leon, manipulation and generally toxic behavior, baby trapping (via tampering w condoms), daddy kink, praise kink, pet names, no use of y/n, fingering, p in v, creampie, cockwarming, mention of vomiting

a/n: this piece was commissioned by #1 Soft Dom Rookie Leon Truther and My Feral Puppy Wife @nexysworld ,, pls pls check out her work, she's so very talented and sweet and i am lucky to call her a friend ;w; <33

hopefully if u made it this far u read the tags and know what ur in for, but out of an abundance of caution i would like to reiterate that this is a yandere!leon fic and therefore contains dark themes a la dubious/uninformed consent and unhealthy relationship dynamics. if that's a no-no for u, pls kindly move on and take care of urself !!

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ;w;

-venus ♡

Leon had it all figured out from the day he met you, the first day of kindergarten. The two of you were going to be just like the movies, just like the storybooks– you would grow up as friends, blossom into lovers, marry young and start a family, and everything would be exactly as it should be. He would have fulfilled his purpose, and you would have fulfilled yours. All would be right in the universe.

And he wasn’t exactly far off, for a long time. You were attached at the hip through elementary school, somehow managed to stay friends through middle school and after an awkward, smitten kiss shared in the empty auditorium, you began dating in high school. It was perfect, he thought. He didn’t even have to pull that many strings.

You went to prom, got drunk for the first time, learned to drive, all in each other’s company. You had each other’s virginity. You’d seen, touched and savored every inch of each other. There was almost nothing you didn’t share.

It wasn’t too long after graduation that Leon applied to begin training at the police academy, just like he’d always dreamed of. It was a solid profession with plenty of benefits for both of you and it would give him the opportunity to help people, ticking off all the boxes of what he wanted for himself. It was perfect, it was safe.

No one was surprised when he soared through the police academy with impeccable marks. You were such a little angel when he graduated, showering him with kisses and sweets and letting him pound you into the mattress for a whole weekend to celebrate. And when his application in Raccoon City was accepted, you did exactly as he hoped you would and you followed right along with him.

Of course you would follow right along. You didn’t know what life without Leon meant. You couldn’t even conceptualize what that would feel like and you had no intention of finding out, but that was fine by him. He was happy to be your rock, your guidance, your big, strong boyfriend who would hold your hand and follow you through everything.

With Leon, you would never be alone. You would never be far from home. After all this time, he was your home, exactly as your lives were designed.

For the first few months of living in Raccoon City, the two of you shared a cozy apartment. It was a little worse for wear, but it was cute, and it was a fun way to start your adventure into young adulthood together. He was happy to handle all of the spiders and quadruple check the locks every night if it made you feel safer, if it gave you an excuse to come crying to him like a beautiful angel whenever you were frightened.

Bumps in the night, creaks of the pipes, the skittering of the upstairs neighbor’s little dog, they all sent you folding into his arms, shaking like a leaf, crying for him to protect you. He was your knight, and God were you his perfect little princess. The apple of his eye, the one and only object of his affection. No, not his affection, his obsession.

You were all he thought about, day and night, for more than half of his 21 years of living. Everything he did, every breath he took was with you in mind. You were the only living manifestation of complete and total perfection, every inch of you crafted with care and divinity. Your lives fit together like puzzle pieces– hell, your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You were meant for each other.

It wasn’t long after you moved that the job you had lined up fell through, and you were left reeling. Moving away from home just to fall flat on your face was a massive blow to your self esteem, especially considering your parents practically screamed a hole through the phone at you about it. The next few days were spent sulking around the apartment, trying to pick up the pieces and choose a completely different path for yourself.

And there was Leon to hold you while you cried. To make dinner every night and dote on you endlessly, to pamper you with gifts and to insist over and over that he could make rent on his own, that he didn’t mind if you needed a little more time to wallow before finding a job… and to console you when your search for employment would prove fruitless once again.

He was there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, that the job market was just rough right now and that no matter what, he would be there to take care of you.

Weeks stretched into months and you still felt like you were spinning out, even with Leon by your side. Every single day was beginning to feel the same and you didn’t know what to do, all you knew was that you couldn’t imagine living the rest of your life like this. Something had to give and Raccoon City clearly wasn’t it.

Leon came home with a big smile on his face, just like any other day, but today was extra special. He’d finally had his one year review at the police station, and he was getting a sizable raise. He couldn’t wait to tell you he was gonna get you out of this shitty apartment and into somewhere nicer. He couldn’t wait to sneak his way down to the jeweler in search of a ring. The storybook life he had laid out for you was coming to fruition right before his eyes.

But you were quiet over dinner, and you looked exhausted. You wouldn’t even meet his eyes as you picked at your plate.

He was just about to ask you what was wrong when you finally spoke up, “I-I think I need to move back home with my parents.”

Silence. He felt like he had been shot.

“It’s just that… I know you said you’re happy to take care of bills and everything, but I just feel terrible every day being a burden and I think I need a chance to figure things out and get back up on my feet. I don’t even know what I’m doing with my life anymore.”

His expression fell and his heart ached, any and all excitement he had about his situation now gone in an instant. All the money in the world meant nothing to him if he couldn’t share it with you, and to see you so lost and scared made him feel like he fucking failed you, his poor, sweet princess who looked to him for purpose and protection and partnership.

Leon wasn’t stupid. He knew that allowing you to move back in with your parents could potentially be a death sentence to your relationship. When people aren’t around each other anymore, it’s only natural that they drift apart, and Leon could not let that happen. It wasn’t even an option in his brain. Something had to be done and something had to be done now, before your lease was up in a few months, before push came to shove and you would finally have to make your choice.

He wasn’t even really sure where he got the idea. It wasn’t something he’d ever considered before, mostly because he didn’t think he’d ever be put in this position.

A few nights after that conversation, Leon couldn’t sleep. It was well past two in the morning and you were peacefully asleep beside him while he stared at the ceiling, entirely lost in thought. He witnessed the worst and darkest of humanity at work every single day, but nothing scared him as deeply as the idea of losing you.

Eventually he got out of bed as carefully as he could manage, not wanting to wake you with his troubles. He only planned to get some water and maybe a minute or two of fresh air to clear his mind, but what he didn’t plan to get was some inspiration.

You had asked him to stop at the store on his way home from work to pick up a few things you needed, and the bag was still sitting on the counter. He took it upon himself to grab a few things he needed, too, and among the items left in the bag was an unopened box of condoms. At first his eyes skimmed over it without much interest, but it wasn’t long before he froze where he stood and turned to look at the bag again.

Leon wasn’t sure what came over him. He didn’t really feel like himself, it was like he was watching his next moves from a third person perspective, hovering above, detached. For a moment he even wondered if he was sleepwalking, or if this was a dream. He stared down at the box in his hand, carefully opened it, and pierced a hole in the center of each and every one. He tucked the packets back into the box and brought it with him on his way back to the bedroom, stashing it in the usual spot in the bedside table.

On his side, of course.

He tried to go back to sleep, but he couldn’t help but just watch you. You were so pretty, so peaceful when you were dreaming, such a nice contrast to the stress and insecurity over finding your life’s purpose that plagued you in your waking hours.

But Leon already knew your life’s purpose. He reached out, gently brushing your messy hair away from your sleepy face so he could admire you more fully, and all he could think about was how much happier you’d look with a ring on your finger and a baby in your belly. Maybe an unexpected nudge in the right direction would set you back on the correct path and make you come to your senses about moving back in with your parents.

You huffed out a sleepy little breath from between your plush lips, stirring in the bed and peeking open your eyes to look at him. It was clear you weren’t fully conscious yet, but you were trying, squirming closer to him to tuck yourself into his chest.

“W’time is it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes.

He smiled fondly, petting your hair and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you cuddled up to him like a sweet little baby bear, and he tried to pretend he hadn’t accidentally made himself hard as fuck thinking about knocking you up just to get you to stay with him. Somewhere deep down, he knew it was gross, he knew it was wrong, he knew it could violate your trust in so many ways.

But Leon was nothing if not a yearner, a hopeless romantic who couldn’t bear the thought of life without you by his side. He’d done everything right by you and you were still straying away from him, and that just wouldn’t do. It’s an act of desperation, he thought to himself, justifying his actions into the ground, I just want her so badly I’m not thinking straight, all pleas for forgiveness he would store for later use.

“It’s late, baby,” He mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

You just shook your head and tightened your arms around him, clearly on the verge of dozing off again. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, he would have just let you, but he wouldn’t be awake in the first place if it weren’t for the extreme sense of urgency he felt.

His broad, warm hands engulfed you, one cradling the back of your head while the other rubbed your lower back, tapering off to paw at your hip. Your shirt– well, his shirt– had ridden up nearly to your waist, baring your cute panties, your soft belly and your plush thighs to his gaze. He swiped the pad of his thumb along your hip, imagining your bone structure spreading open to make room for his growing baby.

Leon didn’t take the time to talk himself out of it before his fingertips were sneaking down between your legs, slipping beneath your panties and finding your clit with practiced ease. The sensation was enough to jerk you awake again, a quiet mewl tumbling from your lips as you rocked into his hand, so sleepy and out of it and just so very cute.

“Leon?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but airy and light with sudden onset desire. That was all he needed to know he had you right where he wanted you.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” He cooed softly, following up the soothing whispers with a few gentle nibbles and bites to the shell of your ear, knowing that such attention always melted you into a puddle. “You’re alright, pretty baby, I just wanna play with you. Can daddy play with his sweet angel?”

You squirmed in his hold for a second, pondering his proposition while barely awake, but it wasn’t long before you were nodding into his shoulder and peppering his collarbone with wet kisses in return. It never took much to convince you when he spoke to you like that, so adoring and saccharine.

“That’s my good girl,” He mused, invigorated by your consent. Almost instantaneously he became more heavy-handed with his touches, fingertips massaging firm, purposeful circles around your clit, occasionally dipping down to collect your growing arousal and bring it back with him. “You’re all mine, you know that? Never gonna let anyone else have my baby.”

Poor you. Clueless of his intentions, you interpreted that sentence in a much different way than he really meant it. But, ignorance is bliss, and what you felt right now was nothing short of blissful.

You poked your head up just to catch his lips with your own in a wanton grasp for more intimacy, a signal of your agreement, like you were giving yourself to him. He knew it was wrong that you didn’t fully realize what you were agreeing to, but again, he compartmentalized that, deciding that was a problem for his future self. What mattered right now was securing your place at his side for the rest of your lives.

He could feel the way your hips were stuttering, he could feel how short your breaths were becoming against his lips, and he knew you were getting close. Grunting into your mouth, he forced his hand further down your panties and sank two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you open for him. The intrusion was quite a bit less gentle than you were used to from him, drawing a shocked whimper from you, but you soon began to relax once more when he curled up into your sweet spot, sending you boneless.

“D-Daddy,” You whined, nails biting into his shoulders. “Hurts… Slow, slower…”

A shiver rolled over his body, that of immediate guilt. He knew he was being a little rough with you, and he certainly didn’t want to hurt you, but…

“Fuck, I can’t help it,” He groaned, “Been thinking about this pussy all night, princess, I need you like air…”

You could hear the desperation in his tone, and even more you could feel it in the way he touched you like he was starving, like he was stranded in the desert and you were an oasis. Softened by this– and entirely hypnotized by his praise– you resigned to the feeling, allowing him to play with your body as he pleased. He was rutting into nothing without even thinking about it, his cock woefully hard and straining against the front of his grey sweatpants.

He wanted to prepare you properly, he really did, but he was so revved up and needy, he didn’t want to risk blowing his load anywhere but inside you. That wasn’t an option. Hands shaking, he pulled away from you just long enough to kick his sweatpants off and reach for one of those condoms, silently resenting the fact that he had to wear one at all, but he had an appearance to keep up.

He tore the package open haphazardly with his teeth and rolled the condom on, shuddering deeply. His grasp was tight on your thigh as he pulled it up and over his hip, his other hand pushing your dainty purple panties aside to guide his cock into the heavenly, pillowy walls of your ethereal cunt.

Fuck, you were so fucking tight, clenching around him, whimpering and whining and writhing like a perfect little puppy in heat. Leon’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he bottomed out in you, and he almost could have sworn he felt the tip of the condom rip open even wider. The image alone had him moaning like an animal, pinning your quivering body to his own while he rolled his hips, fucking you deep and hard and slow, savoring every single stroke of your slippery walls around his aching cock. Every meeting of your hips was joined by obscene squelching with the way you were practically sucking him in.

“G-God, fuck,” Leon growled, his face contorted with pleasure. You and Leon had always had what you considered to be an active and healthy sex life, but you’d never seen him quite so beside himself with raw lust. Whatever drove him in that moment was primal, and you could feel it in his every movement, his every breath, see it in the wild look in his eyes.

His pupils were like dinner plates as he gazed down at you, stamping your forehead with kisses and feeling over every inch of your body. “Look at you, just look at you… Such a perfect little dolly for daddy to love on forever and ever, huh? Oh, my princess…”

You were lightheaded with arousal, every nerve ending in your body lighting up with white hot pleasure. You could barely even form a sentence, just nodding along as he moaned out his praise and letting him manhandle you like a ragdoll. Perhaps his words had more than a modicum of truth to them.

“F-Feels so… so… fuck, daddy, feels so good,” You babbled mindlessly, head falling back to the pillows beneath you. He was overwhelming your senses, taking over every corner of your mushy brain. The room was dark and you were still a bit delirious with sleep and to that effect, nothing existed in your world right now but daddy, daddy, daddy…

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the spot on your shoulder he’d so harshly bitten earlier, the pace of his thrusts not faltering for a second. “Yeah? I’ll bet it does, judging by the look on you,” He teased, nipping at your throat. “So pretty when you’re all fucked out.”

Your back was arching up off the bed, your eyes rolling back and your walls pulsing around him. Addicted to eliciting pleasured reactions from you, Leon wedged one hand between your two bodies, flattening his palm on your lower belly before pressing down.

Stars. You saw stars. A broken, high-pitched cry ripped from your throat, and you didn’t even have the capacity to hope the neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered, because you didn’t care. You could feel every rigid inch of him inside you, dragging over every nerve, his cock stuffed so deep that you swore you could feel him in your throat. Toes curling and your nails raking down his naked back, tears were beginning to prick at your eyes– you were close.

That was a good thing, though, considering he was too, and he could only hope the wet heat of your release would mask the feeling of his own. Leon sealed his lips over your own once more, swallowing your broken, needy cries as he fucked you to completion, letting his hand fall a little bit lower until his fingertips were on your clit again.

Your body twitched at the stimulation, thighs clamping down tight around his hips as you sobbed into his mouth and soaked his cock with your gushing sex. “Daddy,” You wept, clinging to him for dear life as he fucked you through your high, his own spilling out in sync. “Daddy, daddy, daddy…”

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby, I’m right here,” He cooed, taking your bottom lip playfully between his teeth before pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. “Just stay put, you’re doing so good for me, angel…”

His hips continued to piston forward as he hoped to force as much of his cum into you as he could manage, while still maintaining the believable illusion of protection. He intended to put every last one of those tampered-with condoms to use, though he wondered silently to himself if you might give up and just let him take you raw once you were to inevitably find out you’re pregnant.

You were a weeping, shivering mess in his arms, thighs clenching and twitching around him as he shushed you and babied you, petting your hair away from your tear-stained face and stamping you with delicate kisses, still stuffing his cum into you with shallow thrusts. He couldn’t wait to see you blossom right before his eyes. He couldn’t wait for you to realize your purpose was right here with him. He couldn’t wait to have you to himself for the rest of your days, his princess.

Leon remained sheathed deep within you, even as he softened, wanting to make sure you stayed plugged up well. But, he also couldn’t resist the warmth and wetness of you, how comforting it felt to be enveloped by you.

“You just stay put right there, okay, princess?” He reiterated quietly, lips brushing over your brow in a loving kiss. “Want you to keep daddy warm for the rest of the night. Can you do that for me?”

As if he even had to ask. You would have done practically anything for him when reduced to such a bleary, agreeable state of mind. He knew you all too well.

You just nodded like a bobblehead, dreamy, doe eyes staring up at him through teary lashes, hanging off his every word like gospel. He tucked you in even closer to his chest, cradling you with such adoration, his hips rocking forward every now and then just to get a reaction out of you, and to remind himself this was real.

He wasn’t at all surprised that you were able to fall asleep like that, stuffed full of cum and sated like a good little princess deserved to be. In a perfect world, you would never have to move again, just stay there in his lap forever and soak up every drop of him you could take.

In the coming weeks, that box of condoms wouldn’t last long. The only thought on his mind day in and day out was bending you over every surface in the apartment, and you thought nothing of it. Of course you noticed his sudden, insatiable lust for you, but you assumed it was a symptom of knowing his beloved girlfriend was just a few short months away from potentially leaving. He was only grasping at every inch of you he could commit to memory, right?

In all fairness to you, you weren’t exactly that far off.

Your tired eyes pried open at the familiar feeling of Leon rutting up against you, gripping at your hips like you would disappear if he didn’t. The morning sun was just barely beginning to peek through the windows and the bed was warm, it was a lovely way to wake up, one you would never get tired of.

Or at least you never thought you would. You loved Leon— and his sexual prowess— very dearly, but you also loved being able to sleep through an entire night without interruption, and you hadn’t been getting much of that over the past several weeks.

“Mnh… Leon, babe,” You grumbled, burying your face back into your pillow. “Not today. I’m exhausted.”

He was taken aback by this at first, and then his expression fell with disappointment. Leon had gotten so used to breeding you dumb every morning before work that he wasn’t confident he could go back to functioning without it. Regardless, Leon knew that continuing his attempt to seduce you while you were this grouchy would be a death sentence, so he opted to take the path of least resistance.

After the moment or two it took for him to process that decision, Leon’s touches quickly shifted from provocative to soothing– he was no longer grasping at your hips but wrapping you up in his arms, pressing gentle kisses to your temple and cheekbone as if to regain your good favor.

You hummed contentedly, relaxing back into his embrace. Leon always warmed up like a heater in the night, and you were more than happy to bask in it. His muscular frame was like a weighted blanket and his presence alone was usually enough to knock you out like a light, but for some reason, you were struggling to fall back asleep. Every second felt like five minutes and despite your best efforts– and your complete and utter exhaustion– sleep refused to reclaim you.

Biting back the urge to blame Leon for waking you up in the first place, you huffed out a breath and rolled over in his arms, hoping the change in position might be just what you needed.

Wrong. Very, very wrong. Something about the movement made you dizzy, nauseous, your stomach twisting into knots. You wanted to say something, but you weren’t even sure what to say. It came on so suddenly that it caught you off guard and you weren’t even fully confident you would be able to get up at first.

You whined his name quietly, nuzzling into his chest and wrenching your eyes shut in an attempt to reorient yourself, your arms closing around your middle instinctively.

“You alright? What’s the matter?” Your sweet boyfriend asked quietly, brows furrowing with concern. He could feel your body trembling against his own, your back rising and falling with short, shallow breaths.

Now it was your throat tightening, too, and the second your mouth started to flood with saliva, you knew what was about to happen. Leon didn’t stop you when you writhed out of his embrace and stumbled out of bed, depending on muscle memory alone to get yourself to the bathroom with how woozy and ill you felt.

You just barely made it to the toilet in time to vomit. The cold tile felt nice on your knees, but the impact, not as much. It wasn’t long before Leon materialized at your side with a glass of water and a cold washcloth to hold over your forehead, rubbing your back and already silently conspiring to call out of work and give his poor, sick angel the princess treatment all day.

You collapsed back into his chest with a deep shudder, reaching for the water in a desperate attempt to wash the taste of bile from your mouth. He ended up grabbing it for you, raising it to your cracked lips and helping you take slow, measured drinks.

“There you go, pup,” He hummed, rocking you gently in his lap, his poor little darling princess. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sense of relief washing over you at last. Maybe you just caught a bug, or ate something your body didn’t agree with, or your stress and exhaustion were finally catching up to you. Surely you would feel better within a few days.

“I’m okay,” You whispered, reaching for his hand and squeezing it affectionately. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

Leon smiled, a burst of warmth spreading through his chest. You couldn’t possibly imagine what that meant to him, considering he chose to interpret it in whatever way felt most validating. After all, no one could take care of you like Leon could, and they wouldn’t have the chance to try, anyway. Not over his dead body.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon’s every word was thick with syrupy sweetness, “My baby, I would be so lost if I didn’t. Taking care of you is like breathing to me.”

And he meant every part of it. He didn’t just mean it, he showed it. He showed it when he held your hair back, and he showed it when you realized you couldn’t even remember when you’d had your last period. He showed it when you sent him to the drugstore in the middle of the night for pregnancy tests, and he showed it when you broke down crying at the results, wondering how this could have happened.

His favorite part was showing it when you tearfully called your parents and told them you were staying in Raccoon City, not because you had found a job, but because you were pregnant.

“I can’t believe they’re choosing to react like this, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. They should be happy for you, and it’s awful that they’re anything but happy for you,” He said, voice low and soothing, tone purposeful. “I’ve got you, princess. I’ve got you. I’m gonna take good care of you and this baby, and we’re gonna be happy. Alright?”

Leon tipped your chin up with his knuckle, making you look at him. Your cheeks were red and your eyes were puffy with tears, droplets still clinging to your little dolly eyelashes.

It was hard not to believe him when he spoke with such conviction, when he looked at you with those rich blue eyes that bled from an endless well of love. The pad of his thumb skimmed over your pouty bottom lip as you unknowingly submitted to his grand design.

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you

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hatsukeii · 30 days

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if you're too shy (let me know) / bsf!osamu miya x reader

genre(s): fluff! + bsf to lovers!! they're both kinda stupid but i respect it! this is an apology from me to you for all the shit i've put you through in the past few angsty fics

warning(s): suggestive at the end, but no explicit nsfw, and you can interpret it as literally never happening as well! mc had one meh/bad experience w a hookup and it's mentioned in passing but nothing graphic

wc: 1.7k

tldr; the five kisses that osamu thinks he'd like to give, and the time that he does

#5: Miya Osamu would like to kiss into the palm of a hand

Osamu's hands have been calloused, bruised, and battered from youth. His fingers have caught flying volleyballs by the bloodied tips, knuckles have beaten up Atsumu countless times, palms have scraped and squeaked against the floor of the school gymnasium every day and night. Osamu doesn't remember what it feels to run his fingers across the smooth lines of his palms, or how it feels to touch his bare skin without some scratching sensation from the hardened rounds that decorate his hands.

Tonight, Osamu lies on the rooftop of some bar, the twenty-something people here for Atsumu's MSBY victory party shaking the walls and collapsing the ceiling with bouts of dancing and screaming. The fake grass beneath him cushions his body, bending and curving under his weight, and the weight of another beside him. His head tilts to glance over at you, limbs splayed out across the ground.

"What... whatdya lookin' at... 'samu?"

His head fogs, eyes spinning as he turns back to the starry sky, and the white dots in a backdrop of black begin to draw spirals around his head as he subconsciously rubs at the calluses on his fingertips and picks at the dried skin peeling off his palms. You. He's looking at you. Tonight, he thinks he'll use the sky as an excuse.

"Stars... they're pretty."

#4: Miya Osamu would like to kiss the top of a forehead

The earliest kiss Osamu can recall is from none other than his own mother, who held his face so gently in her equally calloused palms as her thumbs rubbed at the bruise on his forehead, earned from running into a glass panel wall. It must've hurt, Osamu! Be careful! She had said, inevitable tenderness seeping from her angry brows and worried eyes as she pressed a soft kiss into the bruise. The purple stain must've disappeared then and there, healed by a kiss, Osamu thought.

You roll over to lie on your side, and shuffle towards Osamu, who's still picking at nothing on his hands. A whiff of hot breath fans the skin of his ear, and Osamu freezes up at the proximity, shifting in the grass.

"...'samu! areyouuu drunk?"

His ears are red at the tips when you giggle stupidly into them, almost scalding to the touch, like they will melt skin and boil blood at direct contact. You haven't changed one bit since graduating from Inarizaki, still a lightweight, still whiny when alcohol begins flowing through your veins. If he could, he would pick you up, and tuck you into the nearest bed with the blankets up to your chin, just the way you like it, as he usually does when you show up at his house like this on random midnights. This time, he swears the alcohol is getting to his head too.

"Nooo...?"

The ground beneath him collapses when your fingers come up to flick his forehead. He twitches, before shooting up and rubbing at the sore spot. He curses himself for forgetting about the shots from before settling in when his mind blanks and his body sends itself straight back into the grass, the impact forcing a grunt from his chest. You cackle at him, and Osamu thinks he could definitely use a kiss on the forehead right now.

#3: Miya Osamu would like to kiss someone on the cheeks

Whenever Atsumu brings his team along to the store, brooding, foreign men soften into mounds of affection, teddy bears who engulf Osamu in all-encompassing embraces, and push sloppy pecks into both of his cheeks. In these situations, Osamu isn't sure what else to do but stand and let every teammate have their turn. He made an offhanded comment once to Atsumu, something along the lines of not understanding why a kiss on the cheek was the default greeting for foreigners. Atsumu, with grains of rice decorating the corners of his mouth, laughed at his question, and told him, it's the cheeks that smile back.

"Hey...'samu?"

You've propped your head up in your hand, elbow digging into the grass beside Osamu's motionless figure as you lie sideways on your hips, face angled above his own. Your eyes travel to his that stare at the sky, and you swim in intoxicating pools of mercury, bedazzled by the reflections of rhinestones sewn into the night sky. Osamu tries to look at the stars, he really does, yet his noticeable glances at your flushed cheeks are enough to catch your attention. Somewhere downstairs, a bet has been won as fists slam into tables and cheers erupt from the bar. Somewhere on this roof, your hair hangs loose in the elastic that's unwinding from your head, a silk cover draping over a Roman statue.

"Can weee... try something?"

#2: Miya Osamu would like to kiss along the side of a neck

Osamu likes to make fun of you the mornings after you stay over at his place, from the second you shoot up from his bed and storm into his kitchen, where he prepares onigiris to shake away the hangover from the night before. Once, a few years ago, he had to run to the nearest convenience store for bruise cream, all to help ease away purple marks the size of someone else's mouth on your neck. He deliberately fucked around when helping you, poking at different spots until you slapped him and snatched the canister of cream from his hands. Whose fault was it that you now look like you can't 'curl your hair?' He had spat out. Osamu knows that he only made fun of the purple splotches because they weren't his own.

"Are you...sure?"

"Yeaah!"

Osamu is cautious, hands hovering above your waist as the two of you lie on your sides. What he's doing, he isn't sure. After all, in his twenty-four years of living amongst the likes of you, and in eight of those years spent watching you from the corners of his eyes, he has never touched anyone like this. Not their hands, not their face, not their waist. He moves away from your waist, opting to graze his pinky with yours instead. You tangle your fingers with his, holding his hand tight against your own. His calluses are hard beneath your soft palms, toughened through trials of time and effort. You lead his hand up to the side of your neck, and release it there. Osamu lets it mold into the shape of you, palm fitting on your body as if it was carved for only his touch.

"Feels right?"

"...Feels good, 'samu."

You return his touch with a hand cupping his cheek, and something unfamilar, more dizzying than the shots he took, surges through Osamu's entire being. He turns his face to your touch, and his mouth just makes contact with the lines on your palm. They're soft, so warm against his lips, and he presses them a little deeper, a satisfied hum voicing itself from your throat.

"Do you...like that too?"

"I...do. Is it okay if you keep going?"

He nods, pulling your face towards him as he turns away from your palm, and planting a kiss on your forehead instead. Your breathy sigh is music to his ears, and he lets his lips linger on your skin. But Osamu is only doing this for a friend, a friend who is confused about what feels good, and what feels wrong. A friend who hasn't felt genuine touch since the night they showed up at his house, hickeys decorating their neck. He remembers your grumbles beneath your breath as you slathered the cream across every single purple stain, fuck, it hurts. He didn't get it then, and he doesn't get it now. How could this touch ever hurt, when everything about it seems tailor-made for the mouth that gives?

"Was that okay?"

"...Yeah, that was nice."

Osamu's eyes migrate to your cheeks now, flushed and red even in the guise of darkness that encompasses the air around you. He wants to see them smile. He moves from your forehead, and his vision darts between each of your eyes. Your breath hitches at his staring, and it gets stuck in your throat when fluttering warmth lands on your left cheekbone, then your right. His hair tickles your forehead, body now impossibly close to yours as his hands massage and stroke at your neck. You think about slipping your hands beneath his shirt, so you can touch him the way he's doing to you, bare skin and all, and you smile.

"Do you want a few more?"

You don't want just a few more, you want it all.

"Yeah, do what feels right, 'samu."

He grins, dipping into your neck as he peppers kisses across its length. You squirm and giggle at the sensation, his breaths and hair tickling your sensitive skin.

"'S-samu! That tickles! Something else! Please!"

He laughs into your neck, before coming back up to meet your eyes. Your figure is getting blurry beneath his vision, either from the alcohol still running through his system, or something else- something better, more addicting too.

Then Osamu's got his lips on your own, and you're slipping your hands beneath his shirt the way that you thought you wanted to. His torso is smooth beneath your fingertips, and he shivers, sending trembles from his body to yours. He can't see a thing beneath his eyelids, but his hands find the skin of your waist instinctively. His hands were made for this, he thinks. Not to pick at his calluses or to trace lines into his palms. No, they were made for you, made to hold your waist against his own. Your hands travel from his torso to his back, feeling for the dip in his spine as you push him close, even closer than he already is.

"Do you like me, 'samu?" You mumble against his lips at the chance, and he gives you a shit eating, albeit smitten smirk in response.

"I think you know that already. But maybe…”

His head inches towards the side of your own, sending a hot breath into your ear. His hand slides towards the centre of your stomach from your waist, irritatingly slow.

“…I would like you better if you took off your clothes."

#1: Miya Osamu would like to kiss you

author's note:

i'll kiss u fr if u know what song this is made from because i can't get it out of my head like it's SO GOOD also i need osamu like this too he's a YEARNING MAN HERE!!! this is the apology for all the angst i've been pumping out lately i know i've hurt a few souls but it's nothing a yearning osamu fic can't fix bbs

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @starlysama @catsoupki @akaakeis @fiannee @bailey-reeds @hiraethwa @iiwaijime

ok bye bye see u next fic pookies love u guys

339 notes · View notes

liannelara-dracula · 2 years

Text

Studying/School/Class w Mukamis & Tsukinamis [hcs]

click here for Sakamkis post

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Prompt

Requests are open

Rules

Warning:

*certain words have been/may be censored for Tumblr guidelines.

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Mukami

Ruki:

⤵︎School with him:

📓Is the one that wants to ditch school more than half of the time just to spend time with you.

📓“Ruki, we have to get going or we’ll be late for school.” You’d giggle whilst trying to get passed him with all his kisses.

📓“School? What’s school?” He’d smirk continuing to kiss your neck and keeping you close.

📓“Please, Ruki. We haven’t gone in a while.” You’d say finally getting his attention.

📓“We can miss a few classes.” He’d smirk hearing this only to pick you up.

📓“Hey, what are you doing? Ruki, I need to graduate!—-” You’d laugh, as he carried you in his arms only to throw you on the bed and hover over you.

📓“I’ll be your private tutor.” He’d say as he slyly stole a kiss.

📓He doesn’t usually help you get ready because you two are getting ready at the same time. So you two are constantly moving around your shared room.

📓But he sometimes messes with you by pulling out a bra from your drawer or placing a hand on your back when you walk by.

📓You usually change behind the divider for privacy and he accuses you of peaking through the cracks to look at him shirtless.

📓“‘I want my privacy.’? Excuses, you just like watching me change but don’t want to get caught.”

📓”I do not!” You’d blush.

📓He usually wants you to eat a little before going to school, especially if you’re the type to get light-headed.

📓So even if you don’t want to he’s making you eat something before night school.

📓Sometimes likes to mess with you by giving you something that you find gross especially if you’re a little picky about food.

📓“Cereal?” You’d look at him with a frown. I’m not a big cereal fan so this was all i could think of.

📓“You have to eat something, you know how you get.”

📓“Yeah but this is gross. And its night time, cereal is a morning thing.”

📓He’d sigh before opening one of the kitchen cabinets to grab you [favorite snack]. “Alright, alright I was kidding, here.”

📓Though sometimes you get lucky and he’ll give you something sweet and Kou is so jealous.

📓Oh and if you’re a little sick that day you’re stuck with some horrible old-fashioned medicine that he’s getting down your throat somehow.

📓It’s funny because he usually doesn’t want to go to school but if he hears that you might be sick he still wants you to go with him because he needs to monitor you and doesn’t want to be alone.

📓“But can’t I just stay home? The bed is warm here, and the desks are cold.” You’d say.

📓He’d smile before shaking his head, “I need to make sure you don’t get worse, and if you need something I won’t be here.”

📓This usually happens when you get an absence warning.

📓In the limo ride you two are pretty quiet because his brothers are around so he reads while you just sit next to him with your head resting on his shoulder and you just feel bored.

📓With that boredom you get a little mischievous and like to put your hand on his thigh nonchalantly. And then gradually your hand travels upward a bit until you feel that he’s become turned on.

📓By then he’s giving you a stern look that basically tells you that you’re in deep trouble.

📓When this happens, he pins you to the wall in the locker area and demanded you take off your underwear. You were very reluctant due to the large amount of people coming and going about the place.

📓“Why would I—I can’t anyway, there’s too many people.” You’d shyly respond only to have him be more annoyed and turned on by you.

📓He’d end up taking you to the bathroom and wait for you to give them. “Take them off, or do you want me to take them off for you?”

📓And this is only the beginning of his antics since you turned him on.

📓This may seem crazy but in one of his game routes, he went into the girls bathroom when Yui needed to wash her face. So he doesn’t freaking care he will go in there.

📓Although if you do ever walk back home, he will be annoyed if you stop to pet a cat.

📓but you have, although seeing you like it he won’t say much.

📓When you’re getting things out of the locker and you close it he’s usually behind it and so you get freaked out to see him sometimes.

📓Kisses you at the lockers in front of Rei.

📓He even makes out with you there.

📓You two are in the library together a lot.

📓He will usually find the book quickly and waits for you to pick out yours.

📓If you are on the stepping stool because you can’t reach he will lift the hem of your skirt. Or turn you around and pin you against the bookshelf just to tease.

📓Sometimes you help him pick a book and you both grab it at the same time, so his large hand is over yours.

📓The library is usually where he becomes such a perv with you because you have to keep quiet in the library.

📓But because no one is looking he thinks he can get away with fingering you in the library.

📓He gets a kick out of telling you to be quiet and he sometimes puts a hand over your mouth just to tease. Mostly cause he likes hear your muffled moans.

📓He’s also done this the in bathroom stall, even though you told him not to.

📓He makes out with you in the library a lot.

📓And you’ve been called out by the librarian once or twice.

📓If there’s a school dance coming up, he will act like he isn’t going to ask but then he will.

📓“What dance?”

📓You’d look at him and lose your smile, “Ruki.”

📓“Just kidding.” He’d laugh before kissing you. “Y/n, would you like to go to the dance with me?”

📓“Hmm, I don’t know. You see, this charming guy with black hair and blue eyes already asked me.” You’d giggle as he smiled at your joke.

📓“You’re such a tease.” He’d smirk, bringing you in for another kiss.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Looks at you in class and you look away. And he’s really amused by this.

📓He’s really smart so you never give an answer in class and instead doodle in a journal and draw a bunch of hearts.

📓Because of this when it’s time to read something or the teacher asks for a question to be answered, Ruki volunteers for you to go up there.

📓“Alright, now does anyone know the answer?”

📓“Y/N does.” Ruki would suggest.

📓“Ruki!” You’d whisper.

📓And this always causes you to be so embarrassed because you feel stupid since you don’t always know what’s going on sometimes and/or because you don’t like your reading voice.

📓You look back to find a very amused Ruki while you’re looking quite hopeless.

📓This causes you to make mistakes when reading or to give up on the problem, which also means a classmate has to help you which of course is Ruki.

📓This gives him the excuse to tease you and whisper lewd things in your ear.

📓Though if the teacher is an ass to you, Ruki will cover for you by giving out the answer and impressing/derailing the teacher.

📓Is a total smartass in the classroom with the shit he knows. Like, he even proves the teacher wrong sometimes.

📓Occasionally flirts with the teacher to make you jealous. He usually does this when you're mad at him and aren't talking to him, so with this, he gets petty and tries to work you up. And your death glares are enough to send him over the edge and make him do it more.

📓He really finds your jealousy cute and amusing.

📓In a P.E. or dance class he loves messing with you. Like if he’s trying to teach you something he has a habit of putting his hands on your hips and you have a hard time concentrating.

📓“Ruki, hands to yourself.” You’d smile.

📓Mouths ‘I love you,’ from across the room.

📓If you’re a cheerleader he likes to watch you practice.

📓He especially likes it when you’re stretching.

📓It gives him some ideas.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓When you study you are usually in his room or in the library at school or at the house. He prefers to study at home most times though, this way you two are never interrupted.

📓Plus it means he doesn’t have to hold back.

📓If you’re in his room you usually sit on his bed and try to figure out the work and he sits in his chair.

📓It’ll be pretty quiet for a while since you’re trying to focus and he’s probably reading.

📓Although he mostly is focused on what you’re doing and observes, but will pretend like he’s not even paying attention.

📓If you catch onto his gaze you try to ignore it and hide your face with the textbook.

📓In times like these he likes to listen to your heart beat, especially if you feel shy to look at him.

📓He really likes it if you won’t admit you need help from him.

📓He enjoys seeing you get annoyed with a problem but be to stubborn to go to him because you want to figure it out.

📓He’d come by to see you’re still on the same problem from like 40 mins ago. “Y/n, do you want help?”

📓“No, I can figure it out.”

📓“Okay, but just remember you would substitute first not divde.” He’d point out making you feel dumb which caused you to pout.

📓“I’ll come by to check on you. If you don’t figure it out by then, you have to do what I ask if I help.”

📓“But I didn’t ask for your help.” You’d pout.

📓“I’m the only way you’ll graduate.” He’d tease.

📓“As if! You’re the reason I won’t graduate.” You’d retort.

📓“Oh, so I’m a distraction?” He’d tease.

📓“Yes.” You’d laugh, with a smile on your face.

📓“Well, you seem to like getting distracted by me.” He’d smirk.

📓“Shut up!”

📓Sometimes if you’re at home you just read in your underwear. And he really likes that. I mean this is just an invitation to him.

📓When reading he likes to play games too.

📓“Read it out loud and if you mess up, take your clothes off.”

📓If you hate reading books he finds it very amusing, and forces you to read.

📓He literally will make you read things out loud and you usually end up reading it but go silent if the scene gets sexual.

📓“And then he—Ruki, this is sexual!”

📓“That’s the point.” He’d state.

📓“The point of what? It's rough and explicit.”

📓“Right, but its nowhere near what we do.” He’d grin, making you throw a pillow at him.

📓You’d cover your ears in disgust, “You’re disgusting! Why do you have to be such a perv!?”

📓“Says the hypocrite who’s always under me.” He’d smirk.

📓“I’m not.” You’d disagree as he approached you on the bed, leaning down to look at you face to face.

📓“Just admit that you like it, Y/n. You always cum when I don’t ask you to.”

📓“Shut up!”

📓Omg what am i doing

📓Most times though, you read silently but while your reading to him he tries to finger you.

📓It usually starts with just his hand on your thigh but then gradually through his caressing, he tries to sneak a hand up your skirt and this is where you pause to look at him.

📓Before you can say anything though, he whispers in your ear to continue reading, which you end up doing, and soon enough he gets what he wants.

📓if you're sitting in his lap and his hands are up in your skirt, he will slide your panties down.

📓Although if he’s not being sexual he likes that you sit on his lap and do your homework with him. Especially likes this when he’s explaining what to do.

📓And laughs if you make a mistake.

📓“Stop, you’re making me nervous!” You’d say almost about to laugh with him poking your sides as well.

📓If you’re ticklish he loves to distract you with his hands while you’re trying to read or write something.

📓He also pushes your hair away from your neck and sometimes bites you.

📓Will sometimes nibble your ear lobe or bite your cheek just to have you shriek which makes him chuckle.

📓If you chew the end of your pencil that will really have him.

📓Corrects you on things and says you need to pay up with a kisses or by stripping.

📓If you two are in the library things are different.

📓For example, when getting him a book he is helping and tends to hover over you.

📓Mostly because the genre of the book he wants is behind you.

📓And finds the opportunity to tease you by cornering you.

📓“I don’t see it. I give up. Any luck?”

📓“Nope, I don’t see it.” He said disinterested and looking off into another direction.

📓“Are you even trying to look for it? I—“ You’d pause as his arm rested above your head, keeping you from moving as he towered over you.

📓“What’s the matter? Cat caught your tongue?” He’d smirk lifting your chin up.

📓”S-sto--mm” You’d stammer only to be kissed on the lips.

📓Other times if you bend down to look at the other books on the lower shelves he comments on your skirt length being too short since he see your panties.

📓“Nice lace.” He’d smirk, causing you to turn around and be shocked.

📓Sometimes he will just tell you to continue to look and say its probably in the next bottom shelf. This way he can continue to see your underwear. “Look at the one more over to your right.” He’d tease while checking you out.

📓And he’d just continue to have you give him a show for a longer time, “A little more, you know, its actually on the other side.” At some point you caught on to his antics and you were upset at him.

But he will eventually get you to not be upset at him at some point.

📓When checking out a book or helping you get from a high shelf he makes the excuse to touch your ass.

📓”Ruki!”

Kou:

⤵︎School with him:

📓Tries to make time for you despite his busy schedule.

📓Takes selfies with you at school all the time, but never posts them because he doesn't want his fans to attack you.

📓Does everything in his power to piss off Subaru, and you constantly scold him for it.

📓"Kou, quit it. I don't want you to get hurt."

📓"Aw, is my kitten saying that I can't take that guy on."

📓"No, I'm just telling you to not be stupid.”

📓"Relax, kitten. It's just a bit of banter."

📓He tries to keep your relationship with him secret for as long as he can.

📓Although at some point he will just not care.

📓He makes sure you never get bullied so he is usually around you and tries to be in the same classes as you.

📓He probably has some charm bracelet he likes and gave you a matching one.

📓Ruffles your hair before parting ways.

📓He likes to get you coffee before going to school.

📓Sometimes he likes to take the train to go to school.

📓He likes to do your hair in the morning.

📓He hardly attends school though, so you may not either.

📓If you’re on a sports team or part of dance group he likes watching you practice.

📓When he wants privacy with you he likes to go to the roof top with you.

📓In the cafeteria he usually steals your food because he is literally always hungry.

📓He tries to bribe you to give to him your food sometimes but you already know what he wants so you just give it to him.

📓Although you sometimes tell him no.

📓“C’mon why not?”

📓“Kou, you can’t just take my food all the time.” You’d complain.

📓“Yeah but you’re my girlfriend.”

📓“Ask one of your fangirls, they’ll buy you something.” You’d sass.

📓“C’mon please, I only asked them when you were sick that day.” He’d whine.

📓You’d sigh before handing him your bread, “Fine, but don’t get jealous. If I ask Ruki for help in the kitchen if I want to make something for myself.”

📓“Okay--hey wait mintue you know how I feel about that.”

📓“Fine then, no bread.” You’d state taking it back from him.

📓“Okay, I won’t get jealous. I promise.” He’d say, giving in to what you asked before handing him food.

📓Gets you gift baskets sometimes when he’s been fighting with you.

📓let's you listen to his demos during break.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Winks at you in class.

📓He makes sure to sit next to you if he can.

📓Kou sorta depends on you if you’re his partner.

📓He literally almost does nothing on a project. But he does all the talking when it’s presentation time.

📓He sometimes whipsers very suggestive things in your ear that have you choke practically.

📓If you’re to shy to share something he pushes you to.

📓Or rather mentions what you wanted to say.

📓He sometimes likes to embarrass you by calling you kittycat and you get upset.

📓“Hey kittycat.”

📓“Shut up, we’re in class.”

📓Usually forgets his books so you have share with him.

📓If you have P.E. with him and you guys are taking a break he likes to rest his head on your lap.

📓He will make excuses that you’re not feeling good to the teacher just so you could go home early with him.

📓”Hey kitten.” He’d whisper trying to get your attention.

📓“What is it?” You’d whisper back.

📓“Do you wanna go somewhere?”

📓“Sure, where do you wanna go?”

📓“You’ll see, now act like your head hurts.” He’d wink, before getting the teachers attention.

📓”Excuse me, miss, Y/n, is feeling well can I take her to the nurse?”

📓You’d turn to look at him confused. “Kou, I’m not even sick.” You’d mumble.

📓“Shh, let’s get out of here. I promise it will be fun.”

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He never studies and he tells you that its not that important.

📓Although he does get curious about what you’re learning about but then is disinterested in the next five minutes.

📓“Gosh, why is math so abusive.” He’d groan.

📓“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you studied every once in a while.”

📓“Probably, but I don’t have all that time. Besides people love me as an idol.” He’d grin.

📓You’d look over at him, “Still, it never hurts to learn some stuff.”

📓“Yeah but you’re smart, Y/n.” He’d point out causing you to sigh.

📓He will be on his phone and you usually snatch it away from him so that he can focus.

📓One way he likes to study is also by cuddling with you.

📓Mostly because he can plant kisses on your neck.

📓He honestly finds his study sessions with you to be an escape but also an excuse for sex since he is busy a good portion of the time.

📓So rather than studying he wants to do other things so he gets pretty suggestive sometimes.

📓“We should have some fun kitten, its been a while.” He’d wink, pulling you in close.

📓He sometimes likes to teach you new dance steps when he’s messing around.

📓Kou usually does this as an excuse to corner you or to put you in a vulnerable position where you usually end up falling on top of him.

📓“Oh so kitten wants to have some fun~” He’d tease, pulling you in to kiss you.

📓It typically would end up as a makeout session on the the floor.

📓He sometimes brings you gifts, he one time bought you cat ears.

📓 “Do you like um? I was thinking they’d be fun. Say, why don’t you put them on for me right now?”

📓“Uhhh Kou, I don’t think its a good idea---” You’d stop due to the fact that he had just put them on you.

📓“Oh my gosh, you look so adorable, look!” He’d gush, showing you with the mirror he had in his hand.

📓“I guess, they are cute.” You’d smile, causing him to smirk as he got a scandalous idea.

📓“Yeah, and you’re gonna be my pet later, kitten.” He’d wink leaving you to blush.

📓Insists that you guys take breaks literally every five minutes.

📓“Hey, kittycat, let’s take a break.”

📓“But Kou, we just had one.”

📓“Yeah, but that felt like ages ago.”

📓But when on a break however, he likes to let you listen to his music demos.

📓You end up cutting your study session short because he just can’t concentrate on shit.

Yuma:

⤵︎School with him:

📓He’s always the one to get you out of bed tbh

📓And he doesn’t care how he wakes you up he just gets it done.

📓Yuma never kisses you to wake you up, instead, he uses his loud voice.

📓“Hey, little pig, get up already.”

📓“Mmm. . . I’m tired.” You’d respond.

📓He’d sigh removing your blanket, “We’re going to be late, so no more snorin’.”

📓“I don’t snore!”

📓“No, but you drool.” He’d smirk whipping some off your mouth with his thumb just to prove it.

📓“Shut up! It only happens if I’m in a deep sleep.”

📓“So, it’s all the same.” He’d chuckle as you threw a pillow at him.

📓He sometimes will tickle you out of bed too which usually gets you to wake up instantly.

📓Other times he might get a little more mischievous if you don’t respond to tickles and instead remove the blanket and take off your pants.

📓And if that doesn’t work he will scoop you up from the bed and throw you into the bathtub, or throw a bucket of cold water on you.

📓“Yuma!”

📓“Don’t blame me, you wouldn’t wake up to nothing else.”

📓He usually sits on the bed and waits for you to come out in your towel he can’t help but find it amusing how much smaller you are.

📓Usually, this results in you sitting on his lap since he pulls you in.

📓“Yuma, I need to get dressed. We’re going to be late.” Even with you saying this he doesn’t budge.

📓“Nah, we got two hours still.”

📓“What?! So you made me get out of bed early for nothing?!”

📓“Nah, I made you get out of bed so we can do this.” He’d say, pinning you to bed with your arms above your head.

📓Unlike Shu, he doesn’t race you to school—he’ll chase you. So basically he wants you to run from him as fast as you can but if he catches you, you’re in trouble.

📓“If I catch you before you’re in the building, we’re doing it at school, little pig.”

📓“But we already did it before school! Isn’t it enough?”

📓“It ain’t ever enough. Now start runnin’ or am I gonna win already?” He’d grin.

📓“Fine, but no powers.” You’d say before running off in the direction of your school.

📓And like always you almost never make it in time because he uses his powers.

📓“Yuma! You cheated!”

📓Sometimes you have won but right when you’re at the entrance of the school he ends up teleporting in front of you to pick you up.

📓“Gotcha, little pig.”

📓“No! Put me down, I won fair and square this time.”

📓“No, I said if you get inside before I catch you, but you’re outside . . . now I get to throw you all around the room.” He’d smirk carrying you inside.

📓If you take the limo with him and his brothers, he makes you sit on his lap all the time even though there’s room.

📓Although you two usually walk there because he likes to get the fresh air and move around.

📓It tires the hell out of you. And of course he’s walking behind you and you’re in front.

📓Mostly cause he likes watching you from behind.

📓But if you don’t look when crossing he will pull you back by your backpack to keep you safe.

📓Sometimes you are really slow and he ends up walking faster which means your behind him and he stops to look at you like “girl hurry up”.

📓“Hey, you’re really slow.”

📓“Sorry, my legs are kinda tired from everything.” You’d say averting your eyes.

📓At first he was confused but soon realized what you meant. “You--Ohh, I see what your sayin’. I wore you out, huh?” He’d smirk.

📓You’d blush as he thought for a moment, “But we’ve done this before, you should walk just fine.”

📓“I would but . . .” You’d try to explain before his gaze was too much to bare but he already interrupted you.

📓“But, what?” He’d look at you with an annoyed expression.

📓“ . . . It feels different today.” You’d mummer.

📓His eyebrow would twitch, “You gotta be kidding me, I wasn’t even rough.”

📓You’d pout before whining to him, “Yuma~”

📓He’d sigh before putting a hand under your legs and scooping you up to be in his arms, “Alright, alright, c’mere. But don’t fall asleep, because you do that sometimes.”

📓“I promise.” You’d swear with your pinky interlocking with his.

📓He always likes that you pinky swear with him mostly cause your finger is so much smaller than his and he finds it cute.

📓After a while during your walk, he would apologize, to you though. “Hey, little pig. I’m sorry, I’ll be careful.”

📓You’d smile before kissing his cheek, “Thank you.”

📓He’d smirk as he felt like teasing you a little, “Gosh, I didn’t think you’d be that sensitive. I thought you could handle me.”

📓“Shut up! You always ruin the moment.”

📓He catcalls you from far away in the halls just to get your attention.

📓Likes to touch/grip/clutch your ass in front of male students so they get the message that you’ve been taken.

📓he even does it in front of teachers.

📓He likes to carry you a far amount of time and doesn’t care that you’re wearing a skirt. He literally doesn’t care if your underwear shows because you're his anyways.

📓In the cafeteria you sometimes sit across from him and he usually looks at the food on your tray and if he sees one candy he gets upset and tells you that you need to eat vegetables instead.

📓Although he usually tries to have you sit on his lap instead and tries to feed you but you usually get upset.

📓“Yuma, I’m not a kid.”

📓 “Oh, no? Then why are you so small? You can barely do any work in the garden when I ask you to.”

📓“That’s because the stuff is heavy.” You’d complain.

📓“So a watering can is heavy?” He’d look at you disappointed.

📓“Yours is, it's made out of metal.” You’d frown, making him sigh.

📓You can definitely count on him to open your locker if you can’t

📓He also carries your books for you and hardly has you carry anything even though you argue with him about carrying things.

📓Although sometimes he likes to see you struggle and have you ask for help.

📓“Yuma, a little help please?”

📓“I thought you said you were strong?” He’d tease, ruffling your hair before taking the stack of books out of your arms.

📓He walks you to all your classes before going to his since he can just teleport to his.

📓Plus everyone at school knows just how glued to you he is.

📓He is your number one fan so if you’re on a sports team or cheer team or you win an award he cheers you on.

📓One time you were awarded something he made you embarrassed.

📓“Yeah, that’s my girl!” He’d shout, catching a lot of the crowds attention, even though others cheered its still embarrassing to you.

📓“Yuma!” You’d frown, almost wanting to cover your face.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Is always trying to touch you in some way.

📓which causes you to move away bc you want to listen to the lecture.

📓Likes to see how thick you look and admires you from behind.

📓“Yuma, you should just sit next to me.”

📓“Nah, I like watchin’ you from behind.”

📓Although he does like sitting next you, he says a lot of things in your ear if he’s horny.

📓And he doesn’t hide it all, and if by any chance its class where you walk around and work on things for a project he will brush himself against you, especially if he got “excited”.

📓“Yuma, not here.” You’d whisper, before returning to your work.

📓“What, I didn’t do anything.” He’d smirk, clutching your ass through your skirt.

📓“Stop it, people will see.”

📓”Let ‘Em.”

📓He has tried to have you sit on his lap in class but some of teachers get annoyed.

📓If by any chance you’re asking the teacher a question and someone interrupts you, Yuma will literally call that person out.

📓“Hey! My little pig’s askin’ a question. Don’t interrupt.”

📓He will braid your hair though, especially if the teacher hasn’t showed up yet. He has this orange ribbon he likes to put in your hair.

📓If you fall asleep on the desk he will try to cover for you.

📓However if it’s after school that you fall asleep he likes to poke your cheek to see if you’re wake up.

📓He will even move your hair out of your face if needed, but he honestly finds you cute.

📓But he’s also amused since he will probably bring it up later.

📓One thing he can’t resist is if you twirl a lock of your hair.

📓If you’re being bullied or mistreated he gets so mad.

📓In fact if you got hit on he’d be even more upset.

📓You’d try to calm him down but he never listens to you.

📓“Hey, who hell do you think you are to hurt my girl’s feelings?!”

📓“Yuma, please. Just let it go.” You’d frown trying to pull him away from the fight.

📓Once the bell rings he always gets your things and carries your backpack.

📓Sometimes he carries you out of there too.

📓He always partners up with you because he likes working with you, plus if you’re shy to present he will do the talking.

📓Oh boy he gets protective of you if some other guy is checking you out.

📓He literally will adjust your skirt for you and claim it was too short.

📓“Yuma, what are you doing?” You’d turn around to look at him while loosening his grip on your skirt.

📓“That guy keeps looking at what isn't his, why did the school make these so short?” He’d ask annoyed, pulling on your skirt again.

📓“Yuma stop, leave my skirt alone. You’re going to rip it!” You’d complain, trying to push his hand away.

📓If you bent down he’d stand in front so that no one else would see your underwear.

📓Although if he’s the only one seeing it he’d just smack your ass.

📓Gives you his sweater if you’re cold. He really likes who big it looks on you since its like a dress.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He doesn’t like to take breaks.

📓Brings you healthy snacks though.

📓Argues with you about eating carrots. But he knows you’d prefer apples but h

📓“Eat it, it’s good for you.” He’d insist.

📓“Yeah but carrots are gross.” You’d say, making a face.

📓“You’re so picky.” He’d sigh before giving you a snack you actually like.

📓Scratches his head when the subject becomes too difficult and tells you to figure it out instead.

📓“Man, I don't think I can do this. Eh, good thing I got my little pig to figure it out.”

📓“Yuma! I can't just figure this out on my own. Two brains are better than one.”

📓”Yeah, but mine's tired and needs some nourishment.”

📓“Wha-” You’d be cut off by him pulling you in to drink from you.

📓Will poke/clutch your ass while you're sitting down and attempting to study just to annoy you and then he accuses you to be slacking when it's just him fuckin' around.

📓“Yuma, we have to study.”

📓“What? You're the one provoking me.”

📓Sometimes takes his shirt off is he gets too hot, but this is really just to distract you since he can no longer concentrate.

📓“Damn, all this thinkin' is makin' me hot." He'd say, tossing his shirt to the side, leaving you to gawk at him for a light second before returning to your senses.

📓“Yuma, quit it and get back to work.”

📓“Hey little pig, you should take yours off too.” He’d suggest taking your shirt in his hands to undo the buttons.

📓“No!” You’d yelp as you blushed.

📓Anytime you get up to get something he clutches your ass.

📓He likes it when you sit on his lap to study mostly because he can play with you under your skirt.

📓He’d literally catch you so off guard, it would come as a surprise to you.

📓You were also trying hard to ignore what he wanted since you had an upcoming exam but he wanted to see you whine and twitch in your spot a little.

📓This makes him really turned on, especially if you end up moaning or whimpering. And then he won’t leave you be.

📓In fact, one thing that really gets him is if you keep moving when in his lap. He tells you not to move so much and you only figure out why until it’s too late.

📓But he’s never ashamed by it at all.

📓In fact he tries to act like nothing’s wrong. Even if he’s arguing with you or if you’re explaining something.

📓“Alright so then what do you do?” He’d ask, while you sat in his lap before moving again.

📓“Then you have to find the x?” You’d explain, adjusting again.

📓“Alright But why do you have to?” He’d say playing dumb and waiting to see you’d catch on to his growing problem.

📓“Because you just have to.” You’d explain, feeling something minor brush your thigh as you adjusted before continuing, “Its just—its just a rule they have.”

📓He’d grin seeing you’d still hadn’t caught on, so his hands rested on your hands to have you sit down on that area again, “Huh, then how about this one?” He’d tease, of course you wouldn’t have expected all this.

📓“Oh well—Uhh, ummm . . .” You’d attempt to explain but your expression changed due to shock.

📓“What?” He’d play dumb.

📓“Y-your—Just ask Ruki for help with the rest of it.” You’d blush, getting up from his lap.

📓“Why you acting like this?” He’d grin seeing you get shy.

📓“I’m not doing anything . . . you’re the one with the problem.” You’d mumble the last part of your sentence as it felt to awkward to explain why you wanted to shut him out.

📓“Babe, c’mon this is natural.”

📓“Yeah but this is weird!” You’d exclaim.

📓“Huh, too shy to say you like it?” He’d smirk, seeing you were trying not to look at him.

📓“S-stop—shut up!” You’d shout, playfully hitting him as he chuckled at your blushing state.

📓You’d try to change subject, “We’re supposed to study.”

📓“Huh, says the girl who can’t even look at it.” He’d tease.

📓“Shut up!”

📓And he usually just tries to find a way to have you sit still if you don’t he’s just gonna rip your underwear off because he’s tired of having to suppress himself.

📓Will sometimes nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck when you're studying just to see your reaction.

📓But if you kiss his head in this scenario, he's really amused and tries to invoke things further.

📓“Mm, should we carry this to the couch?”

📓“Yuma, we-,”

📓“Too late.” He'd say, quickly throwing over his shoulder and bringing you over to the couch, being quick to get on top of you.

📓Will sometimes kiss your neck to throw you off guard.

📓“Heh, guess I turn you on.”

📓“Yuma!”

Azusa:

⤵︎School with him:

📓He feels bad to wake you up, seriously.

📓But he does get your backpack and things ready.

📓You too are usually not late but it does happen sometimes.

📓Sometimes packs lunch for you and himself to take to school, to which you both enjoy partaking on a bench in the school's garden.

📓Keeps a blanket in his locker and sometimes wraps it around you, especially if you're both hanging out outside and it's cold. It's honestly so cute.

📓He gives you his sweater if you’re cold too.

📓Likes to hug you from behind for no reason, it's just because he's affectionate that way.

📓Likes to read to you during the break, even if it's just a small quote he found interesting in class.

📓Also likes to talk to you about his spice collection and what combination he wants to add to Ruki's next family meal.

📓He really likes spices.

📓He walks with you hand in hand.

📓During the limo ride, he likes to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

📓adjusts your uniform ribbons if they're out of place.

📓likes to brush your hair for you when getting ready for school, and if there's time, he may tie it up into a ponytail or braid it.

📓When at school, he likes to walk beside you, but an inch behind to protect you just in case anyone wants to prank or try anything stupid.

📓You constantly remind him that you can protect yourself, but he insists.

📓“I like . . . protecting you.”

⤵︎Class with him:

📓If you get an answer wrong or got a low score he cheers you up.

📓He brings you flowers sometimes if you are feeling sad.

📓Other times he will tell you not to worry about the score and to just try again.

📓If the teacher tells you to partner he will always ask if you want to partner up, in case you may not feel like it.

📓But you never refuse him.

📓If you fall asleep in class he covers for you because he doesn’t want you to get in trouble.

📓If you don’t know the answer in class and he does, he’ll just tell you because he feels bad.

📓Really enjoys it if you have to give a class presentation.

📓He actually listens and he’s so supportive.

📓After your presentation is over, he’ll literally cheer you on to do it again

📓This man is so precious. Protect him.

📓Might even send you a note or two to get your attention or to ask you to go to some place with him later since he sometimes gets too shy to put things into words.

📓He waits for you to pack up after class is over and if you two happen to be the last two to leave the classroom, he puts his hand on your lower back and leads you out.

📓If you’re cold, he gives you his sweater.

📓He always has the textbooks and any pencil or eraser in case you forget.

📓Saves you a seat no matter what.

📓Takes you to the nurses office if you’re not feeling well.

📓If you have P.E. together or a game if you play sports he cheers you on and encourages you, he is your number one fan.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓Brings you snacks because he knows you’re working hard.

📓He even shares the food with you.

📓Though he does depend on you for help.

📓He usually studies on the couch with you and grabs a blanket.

📓He honestly makes it too comfortable for you.

📓Sometimes you fall asleep on his shoulder when trying to steady and he just finishes your work for you.

📓He also just cuddles closer to you and kisses your forehead.

📓Even if you stress over something he always tells you to not worry about it all.

📓He likes to give you massages during your breaks and you always tell him what is bothering you and he just listens to you.

📓If he does know how do the homework and you don’t he is actually pretty helpful.

📓Like he’d sit down with you and help you every step of the way and even encourage you.

📓“Don’t worry Y/n, . . . you’ll understand. Even if . . . it takes . . . all night.”

📓Although Azusa doesn’t say much I think he might actually have a good memory so when you don’t remember the formula or what a word means, there’s a good chance he does.

📓If you hand nice handwriting he compliments you on your notes and asks if he can use them since he has scribbles for writing.

📓He tries to the divide the work with you that way you can get things done faster.

📓Although Azusa is pretty productive when he studies he does sometimes like to have fun by teasing you sometimes.

📓Like its not always but he does get like that.

📓One time you both were laughing about something, and he pulled your sweater down and got a peak of your boobs.

📓“Azusa, what are you--”

📓“Shhh, let’s play.” He’d grin, making your jaw drop at his advance.

📓He also likes to randomly kiss you while talking about something to him.

📓He likes taking pictures of you while you’re studying.

Tsukinami

Carla:

⤵︎School with him:

📓He may be the king but he's kinda lazy when it comes to getting out of bed since he just prefers to lay there with you instead.

📓“Are we skipping today?” You’d smile, cuddling up next to him.

📓“Hmm, maybe.” He’d say, tracing your spine with his hand.

📓He is usually pretty quick to get dressed, you usually take longer but he is willing to wait.

📓One thing Carla will not stand for is if you want to take the bus/train or walk to school.

📓“A lady, all on your own? I will not have it.” He’d insist, pulling you back from leaving.

📓“Carla, this is very normal in society. Loosen up a bit.” You’d laugh, as he made you sit in the car instead.

📓“More than I want you to be happy, I want you to be safe.” He’d say, leaning in to kiss your temple.

📓He is pretty quiet in the car ride but he does occasionally stare.

📓Helps you out of the car like a gentleman.

📓He walks with you to class like he’s your bodyguard. It's honestly hilarious and also a little cute.

📓Carla honestly intimadates people, so hardly anyone approaches you when you’re with him.

📓Will carry you around school if he sees that you're too tired to walk around.

📓If you feel sick, even just a little, he won't waste time in picking you up and taking you to the infirmary even though you insist you can walk there yourself.

📓Will wrap his scarf around you if he sees that some guy is hitting on you.

📓“If you were cold you could’ve just asked for me, now lets go.” He’d say smiling at you, distracting you from the boy in front of you by pulling you aside and walking away with you.

📓Calls you his future queen or princess.

📓He's always finding every excuse to stay by your side.

📓Likes to check out paintings with you in the schools art studio.

📓He almost never smiles but he does when he sees you.

📓He likes to walk with you when you’re not in class and you two will just talk.

📓He doesn’t typically ditch school though.

📓He will always kiss you before parting and when meeting up with you.

📓It’s just something he does to secure his love for you.

📓He kisses your forehead if you feel sick or if you’re tired.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓He sits in the back not only cause he is tall because he watches over you.

📓Even though you always tell him not to worry he still is looking out for you.

📓Will mess with you by occasionally kicking your desk with his foot but then quickly retracts back the minute you turn.

📓And he’ll act like in never happened even though he almost wants to laugh at your expression.

📓Of course after class you will call him out for it.

📓“Do you always kick a girl’s seat, Carla?” You’d tease.

📓“Only if she’s worthy enough of having my attention.” He’d express, smile creeping up onto both of your faces.

📓He doesn’t really answer questions in class he prefers to stay quiet but he is engaged and if he’s asked a question he will answer it.

📓He will always chose you as his partner. Like no one can change his mind, not even his own brother.

📓Although he does focus on the lecture he does get distracted by you sometimes, even when you’re not doing anything.

📓He’ll just be thinking about where he wants to go with you after this is all over.

📓So that usually leads to surprise dates after school or during.

📓Yes he’d ditch class for you, of course he’d make sure it was marked as an “emergency” this way he wouldn’t look bad.

📓And Shin wouldn’t have his ass.

📓He doesn’t particularly mess with you in class but sometimes he can be a little teasing. This is usually when the class requires an activity that allows you both to talk.

📓Although, he might slip you an occasional note, saying that you’re tempting him by looking so focused in class.

📓Or, he may pass you a note to meet up with him somewhere later since he wants to take you out.

📓And you can best bet he keeps these dates a surprise since he obviously wants to surprise you.

📓Everytime you ask him where you’re both going, he always gives the same answer.

📓“Carla, where are we going to go?”

📓He’d chuckle at your eagerness to know, placing his hands on your hips. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise anymore, wouldn’t it?”

📓He’ll offer you an eraser/pencil or whatever if he sees that you forgot yours since he’s prepared for class.

📓He never takes notes in class because he already knows so much, so it’s utterly useless. If he does, it’s only because you’re absent and he takes them for you.

📓If he’s sitting next to you, he might rub his foot against your ankle just to get your attention, to which you roll your eyes and scoff at him for, to which he just returns a smirk because he’s amused by your reaction.

📓He’s even more amused if you move your ankle away from him in this case. It really riles him up and he’s just going to be persistent and try to do it again just to annoy you or get you to be called out by the teacher.

📓Asshole.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓He’s pretty old so he knows a lot of things, so you can ask him for help.

📓Carla usually doesn’t have to study though since he already knows a lot of stuff.

📓Especially if its something like history, or art history.

📓He’s just going to be tutoring you at that point.

📓I could also see him being well versed in literature and is smart in math.

📓When you two are studying he’s usually just sitting at the table waiting for you to ask questions.

📓Mostly cause he knows you're bound to ask something.

📓Although he does find it amusing if at first you try not to bother him because you’re determine to figure out the math work on your own.

📓He likes watching you read so he will end up staring at you.

📓Which causes you to look at him with the look of “what?” plastered on your face.

📓And he’ll just smile and tell you its nothing.

📓If you’re taking history you usually try to ask him to tell you a story so that you can hear him talk the whole time.

📓It’s mostly cause you like hearing him talk and when he catches on that it isn’t infor you need he finds it amusing and will tease.

��“You enjoy my voice more than the professor’s.”

📓You’d blush hearing this and say, “Well, I just listen more when it's a one-on-one lecture.”

📓“I suppose . . . although I’d say you prefer me as a professor.” He’d smirk, walking towards you to push you down on the couch and attack you with affection.

📓“Carla~ stop” You’d giggle, as he played around, kissing and biting your neck.

📓One thing he likes is when he tells you the rules of royalty and you mess up and he just ends up laughing.

📓”What? What did I say? Carla, c’mon you have to tell me what I messed up on.” Despite what you said he’d just continue to laugh.

📓He asks you to get him a book just to watch you move around and do something, it gives him the excuse to look at you.

📓If you’re learning a language and he happens to know it he likes to “teach” you it by having you sit on his lap.

📓So he’d say something sweet or romantic and he expects you to responde, to which you do which only leads him to kiss you.

Shin:

⤵︎School with him:

📓You sometimes wake up earlier than him, well you at least think so but he is always pretending to sleep.

📓This way he can surprise you by pulling you in and kissing you out of nowhere.

📓Other times he waits for you to kiss him when he’s sleeping just so he can call you a perv.

📓He also sometimes likes to pretend he’s asleep until you get out of the shower because he loves scaring you.

📓Like you’ll come out of the shower in your towel and he’ll just get your attention which causes you to scream.

📓“And you didn’t even think to wake me.” He’d smirk.

📓“AHH!” You’d scream before realizing it was only Shin.

📓He’d approach you with a smirk on his face, “Well, I suppose I do enjoy the surprised look on your face.” He’d chuckle.

📓“Shin!” You’d complain, a frown on your face as you turned your back to him being upset.

📓“Not to mention this small towel of yours.” He’d answer smugly, back hugging you.

📓You’d smile, turning to him, “We need to get to school, Carla will be mad if you miss again.”

📓He’d move strands of your hair out of your face, “Then let’s make him mad.” Shin would insist, giving you a kiss.

📓He is sometimes sitting up in his bed shirtless, waiting for you to wake up. And you can best believe he already has breakfast laid out for you.

📓“Shin, sweets are not breakfast.”

📓“Ah, but I did this to spend time together.”

📓Likes to help you get dressed, and you miss place your clothes a lot. Well he makes you think so.

📓He will occasionally stare/glance at your body which makes you want to hide yourself a bit, to which he teases you for.

📓 Takes you to school in his wolf form sometimes.

📓 Usually you tell him no tho. Even Carla tells him no.

📓“Shin, were going to be late! I can’t believe you lied to me about the time. I can’t keep missing school, I’m going to get in trouble!” You’d complain, grabbing all of your belongings and stuffing them into your bag.

📓“Well I guess it means you liked this morning a lot.” He’d chuckle causing you to hit them.

📓“You’re horrible!” You’d express, walking up ahead of him and trying to ignore him.

📓He’d sigh before having you stop with his response, “I was only teasing, love. I’ll get us there in my wolf form.”

📓“No, I’ll just--Shin!” You’d exclaim after half explaining since he turned without notice.

📓Of course you couldn’t say no to him, otherwise he’d just play tug-a-war with your backpack.

📓“Stop, don’t put bite marks on the bag! Just give it to me, I’ve already decided I’m walking.” You’d complain.

📓Sometimes he pulls your skirt instead too.

📓“Cut it out! This isn’t funny. . . Yes, I did make it longer in case you’d rip it. I learned the first time.” You’d argue, almost wanting to facepalm since you were arguing with a wolf.

📓Sometimes if you refuse a ride he walks with you in his wolf form along side you.

📓And he is such a protective dog, it even gets on your nerves, he even gets clingy.

📓Like he’ll sometimes nuzzel his face into your thigh, when a guy is looking at you and he gives them a huge death glare.

📓But in worse cases when he wants to play he will lick your thigh since his face is close to it and it causes you to jolt or freak out.

📓And if there are other people on that street you just brought all that attention onto yourself.

📓He sometimes gets mad at a guy who is checking you out and will chase them which means you will run after him to get him to stop.

📓if some guy hits on you at school, he honestly likes getting into a fight with them to show who's boss.

📓It's mostly because he considers fighting to be a sport.

📓Apart from this when you two arrive and he’s still in his wolf form you finally realize that he’s naked when he turns back, but before you can say anything he’s already turning back. So you are shoving him into the locker room as fast as you can because you find it so embarrassing.

📓He’s honestly laughing that you won’t look at him and that your dragging him by his hand to the locker room and tell him to wait you to come back with clothes.

📓And when you do, he likes to play games. So you will be looking for him and he surprises you from behind which causes you to turn and forget he’s naked which then makes you embarrassed.

📓”Oh my god!” You’d gasp, shutting your eyes as you turned around and threw clothes at him.

📓He always makes you get so embarrassed.

📓In fact sometimes when he’s naked here he tries to coax you into getting naked or he’ll tease about you checking him out even if you’re not.

📓And realistically in the games there’s indication that founders can read minds so he’s going to tell you everything you think/feel at that moment.

📓“You may deny it but it doesn’t change how you’re thinking about the founder prince’s body.”

📓“I’m not thinking that!” You’d blush.

📓“Your mind says otherwise, you’re so weak you’re giving away everything. Right now you’re telling where you’d like for me to touch you.” He’d whisper behind your ear while his hands snaked down to your wasitline and then to even lower.

📓”Sto--” You’d gasp a little as he sneaked his hand up the front of your skirt while planting kiss down the nape of your neck.

📓He makes out with you more than he attends class, and its usually in the storage room or somewhere that is secluded so that no one will bother the two of you.

📓But Carla is usually able the find the two of you like this. And then Shin gets mad because he ruins the moment since you get embarrassed.

📓Sometimes you two get into fights and you won’t talk to him for a while even if he is with you practically 24/7. So instead, he will cause a scene to get you to talk, and he just does a bunch of annoying things to get you to talk to him.

📓One time you were walking in the hallway to get to your locker, and he literally stopped you and asked if you were a new student.

📓He pretended that he didn’t know you and hit on you and he got everyone’s attention since he was so loud and he’s trying to ask you out again.

📓He even wolf whistled to get your attention and it was so annoying.

📓“Excuse me, sweet heart. I don’t believe we’ve met.” He’d approach, smirking at your shocked expression turning sour afterwords.

📓You’d try to move away from him, only for him to come up in front of you to stop you again, “Perhaps you didn’t hear me love, I was talking to you.”

📓Seeing you were still ignoring him he’d grow desperate in trying to get you to talk to him again.

📓“C’mon now, what’s it going to take to have you listen?”

📓You’d cross your arms at this and sigh, still walking off as he followed. “What do you want, Shin?”

📓“For you to smile. . . . Go out with me.” He’d say more pleadingly, leaving you to huff as you opened your locker.

📓“I don’t bite, love.” He’d add on making you feel more pressured as others were sorta watching the two of you.

📓After seeing his sincere smile and him playing with your hair as he waited, you knew he was truly sorry so you forgave him.

📓“You do realize I’d hate to lose you, Y/n?” He’d admit.

📓“Shin, it’s only been a few hours.” You’d giggle.

📓“It’s decades to a founder.” He’d say, pulling you in for a kiss.

If you are sitting at a bench and he sees you he will come up to you and surprise you with a kiss on the mouth.

⤵︎Class with him:

📓Loves to mess with your hair, like even if you had a clip in it he’d pull it out.

📓He will try to get you both in detention just to say that you're naughty.

📓If you fall asleep on your desk he likes to mess with you, usually by kissing you.

📓And it causes you to wake up.

📓“Well, if it isn’t my princess, I thought you’d never be up, love.”

📓Will make small paper balls and throw them at you in class to get your attention.

📓Or if he wants to get even more obnoxious, he'll even spit-ball them at you, to which you send him glares for.

📓One time, you ended up scolding him for in front of the entire class because you were so fed up, but totally forgot it was in front of everyone.

📓This resulted in you getting detention since the teacher believed you accused him and he was more than amused for the rest of the day considering you got in trouble and he didn't.

📓"Well, love, I guess this punishment suits you. Afterall, you did yell at me."

📓"Shut up! You're the one who got me in trouble?"

📓Loves being in detention with you because the teacher is too distracted to pay attention to you both.

📓Although he doesn’t have every class with you, (he tries too) he is very protective over you.

📓One time he found out that a guy kept hitting on you in one of your classes so he decided to show up and pretend like he was in that class.

📓He ended up sitting next you which took away the guy’s seat and even after the guy tried to get his seat back he made him back off.

📓“I don’t seem to understand why you’d want to sit next to this lovely girl when she doesn’t like you. . . . Y/n, fancies another man.” He’d answer smugly while winking at you, causing you to look away and want to hide from all the attention the class set on the both of you.

📓The good thing was that he got the guy to back off but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t going to tease you after class.

📓You’d be heading out of the class when he’d follow right after you to say, “So does my Y/n want to say something to me?” He’d grin.

📓“Yeah, what were you thinking?! You could’ve gotten in trouble.”

📓He’d sigh, “I was a expecting a thank you but I will take your worry for me as a compliment. . . . I do hope you don’t think I was delusional everytime you came from class uncomfortable.”

📓“Still, you didn’t need to tell him that.”

📓“What? It’s no secret that you fancy me, love.” He’d grin as you playfully smacked his arm.

📓After P.E. class since you two get sweaty you shower and he ends up joining without notice.

📓Which causes you to scream, mostly cause you thought you’d be alone in the girls locker room, afterall you were the last one in there.

📓It’s funny because he puts a hand over your mouth to worn you to calm down.

📓“Shh, It’s me. It’s just me, love.”

📓“S-shin, what the hell are you doing?!”

📓“Showering, what else would I be doing?”

📓“Why here!?”

📓“Oh you don’t want to see me?”

📓“It’s not--ugh! Just forget it.” You’d groan, giving up on arguing with him.

⤵︎Studying with him:

📓Like Carla he’s old so he probably knows a lot of things.

📓So he uses his knowledage against you, this way when you ask for help he can benefit out of it.

📓He never studies and always bothers you about studying.

📓“Just go out with me, love.” He’d say trying to persuade you.

📓“No, I have to study. I already told you that I have an important exam coming up.” You’d shake your head no, your back turned to him as you looked at the shelf of books you had for school.

📓He walked up behind you, ”Aww c’mon love, it’ll be fun.” He’d say softer but you still didn’t budge.

📓“I don’t have the time.” You’d frown.

📓”Not even for the prince of founders?” He’d tease, resting his hands on your shoulders as he moved closer to you, his lips near your neck.

📓He smirk as heard your heart beat skip faster at this, “You should be punished for such a thing.” He’d growl, before attacking your neck with kisses.

📓“Shin, stop!” You’d yelp, trying to push him away.

📓He kisses you while you are trying to study which you tend to not like so he does it more and more.

📓Be aware that Shin does like to scheme, and he’ll go out of his way for this.

📓So, after a while of studying, he’ll just stand up and say that he’ll be back quick. You’ll resume your studying and sooner than later, you begin to notice how much time he’s been gone, it being a long while by a certain point.

📓So with this, you decide to go look for him. And with this, he takes full advantage. So while you’re out looking for him, he likes to jump out at you and scare you, just because he gets a kick out of it.

📓”Shin! You scared me!”

📓”Aw, c’mon, love, it’s just a little joke.”

📓While you’re studying, he’ll take your books away from you and hold them up high so you can’t reach them.

📓“Shin, c’mon, give it back. I have to study.”

📓“Aw, love, why don’t we take a break.”

📓“You said that five minutes ago.”

📓“And what’s the harm in us taking another break?” He’d smirk, hinting at a different kind of break.

📓Another thing he really loves to do is read your notes, and if you have small doodles or thoughts written down he sometimes gets interested.

📓Especially if its about him, and then he’ll start to read it out loud and add things to it.

📓”To-do list, hmm let’s see, homework, shopping, and uh--oh me. Well you’re a naughty one.”

📓“I didn’t write that!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

˗ˏˋ 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑦 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑑𝑜 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 ˎˊ˗ ©𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟔~Present

#diabolik lovers #anime #diabolik lovers headcanons #anime headcanons #dialovers #diahell #anime requests #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #carla tsukinami #shin tsukinami #mukami azusa #mukami kou #mukami ruki #mukami yuma #tsukinami carla #tsukinami shin

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perelka-l · 6 months

Note

(Drayton really calls Hassel danna??!) hey I've been wondering, besides the Kitakami siblings do you have any other Drayton ships particularly at the forefront of your thots recently? Like for me, I'm thinking of an AU where Drayton graduates (lol) and while interning under Raihan they naturally start hooking up. Or maybe while in Galar he also dates Bea who sorta reminds him of Kieran bc of her love of sweets and hardworking discipline.

And actually, while I'm asking, any other Kieran ships too?

YEAH!!!! (I am a bit sad this didn't carry over to eng version... He's calling him master Hassel in my heart ;w;)

On a Drayton shippy note, let's start with that: bratty Drayton/trying to resist good teacher Hassel? But both are Dragons and Hassel kind of gives into his instincts and get to teach Drayton a lesson to not do it again (Drayton is a very bad student though and an even worse dragon).

(Drayton graduating sure is an AU xD)

Aside from Kitakami students, I like to consider that Drayton absolutely has a Thing for cute freshmen and such case is Crispin who, and that's a Drayster take, is a perfect wife material. Attentive, will cook for you, is a cute shota, what more can a guy want from life? (It's not very serious of a relationship but Drayton deeply appreciates he can just swoop in and demand comfort and get some in an instant, 10/10, Crispin would be a perfect wife.)

Back home, there is ofc Iris for sweet sweet incestuous angst plus I think they would be really cute together. Drayton definitely has plenty of unsatisfied big bro instincts (Kyoodaaaaii) so there is that.

And yeah, I did mention his massive grandpa issues. Like, you can't look me in the face and tell me he wouldn't jump Drayden given a glimpse of a chance. Like, Drayden is a hot gilf and I bet that bisexual awakening for Drayster has arrived pretty much the second he looked at his grandfather the moment he started to feel any sort of attraction. He has issues. He just wants to bury his head in those giant packs and get hugged by those strong arms (like he surely saw Drayden carry dragons arround, that would make any sane person salivate), he doesn't have normal issues, he has grandfather issues. (This one is heavily impacted by a series of comics from JP twitter on which younger Drayton sleeps around with older white-haired man and doesn't care about who they are and where they come from - if that's not Drayden, he really doesn't care.)

On that note, he'd Pay Attention around Drake (muscular dragon gilf with admirable facial hair and sweet bonus of having his tits out? Bruh.)

One more that comes to my mind is him and Benga. I feel like they are of at least similar age, so they could be buds when teens and before Drayton went to BB... I deeply enjoy the thought that they could so contrast in undertaken paths! Drayton is a slacker and went as far as he could (namely, BB Championship) and just left it at that, he's in his comfort spot. Benga always aims to go higher, to become better, things like championship of little to no meaning to him. At the same time, they have such nice contrasting visuals, Benga feeling more natural, more attuned to nature (he carries stuff to make fire on his back gdi) while Drayton is more modern. Kind of a theming matching to Unova lads, plus Benga has some Dragon theming surrounding him, he pretty much only has (and gives out) dragons when you ignore his Volcarona lol

In terms of Kieran... Crispin also comes to mind, it's the shota magic~ Plus they are classmates, so I feel like they could have plnty of excuses to come close.

Tbh nothing else comes to my mind, I blame that entirely on Drayton being a whore lol

#answers #anon #anonymous #umm do itag #aw heck lessgo #trainer drayton #elite four drayton #raihan also sounds nice......... /fujo trash sowwy #nothing else comes to my brain atm maybe ther eis more but i dont remember now hh

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dejasenti99 · 4 months

Note

1 and 2 for any (or all.. :3 jk) Deja Senti OCs, 12 for Bowie and Eros, 3 for Prey AND/OR Psyche ANDDDD last one (im sorry </33), 21 if you want :3 (at least I didnt send 1-21 like I said wanted to AJHGSHJ)

ok for the first two i chose who i wanted to talk abt the most

1. nerve is super fun bc he’s very comfortable with expressing his very fluid gender identity in the way that he dresses :-) his pronouns are he/they and if he was asked he would say that “””male””” is just. not what he is lol they’d probably just shrug vaguely and be like 🙂↔️

2. eros doesn’t label his sexuality and neither does psyche, but it’s kind of two different ways?

eros feels like he isn’t obligated to give the world an answer to what he is. if he wants you, he wants you and you should feel lucky. people are more toys than anything to him so sexuality doesn’t matter to him. psyche on the other hand just doesn’t really process affection and ‘love’ the way another person may, so he doesn’t feel comfortable with putting his sexuality in a box and feeling like he’d have to stick to that. it’s too restricting and makes him feel overwhelmed.

3. prey pretty plainly started looking for any attention from whoever would give it to him starting from a young age. in high school, he moved away from seeking that ‘any’ attention from teachers and the likes and wanted more of a romantic connection. he was able to figure out quickly after starting this adventure in life that girls were just not it for him lol.

12. bowie really hasn’t had any reason to not be secure in her sexuality but eros struggled HARDDDD with internalized and blatantly external homophobia when he was in high school sadly. not towards bowie but just in general @ himself bc he’s most important in the whole world duh. he’d turn his attraction to the guys in his classes into anger and was like. a huge ~ bully ~ for a WHILE partially fueled because of that. he didn’t understand why he felt like that and it scared him real bad. if he HAD to label it he’s a bisexual w a male lean for sure.

anyway he didn’t have parents around to monitor what media he was consuming, and while bowie went down a more accepting and educational path that allowed her to come to terms with being a lesbian early on in high school, eros was busy fucking around with fake punks that just wanted an excuse to be bigots using their subculture as a shield. and then one night after him n bo graduated he got reeeeally drunk at a house party and hooked up with a guy for the first time and was like oh! guys are just as easy to get to do what i want and give me what i want as girls are. this opens so many more doors. so to speak :-) and somewhere along the way he just fkn stopped caring about The Gays bc it didn’t benefit him to waste his energy

21. sexuality in deja senti is gonna be really fun to explore. the way they all handle it and still have to learn as they go bc they’re all still pretty young is something i’m very excited to show :-) they WILL fuck up and do and say problematic things, and we just gotta watch the consequences of those actions from the sidelines i fear

#ask game #ask #youredreamingofroo #the way i analyzed these mfs

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shiningwonderland · 9 months

Text

Ren Jinguji (Repeat)

Translator: Mimi (Twitter: _mimisaurora)

February — February Elegy

I'm summoned to the principal's office shortly after the beginning of February.

Haruka: I-I’m so nervous…. I wonder what it could be….

I take a deep breath and step inside.

Haruka: Please excuse me. …Ah.

Jinguji-san’s brother is here….

Seiichiro: Hello.

Haruka: U-Um, I'm terribly sorry for turning down the offer on such short notice.

I bow to him repeatedly.

I know it must have been a huge inconvenience to have canceled my study abroad so abruptly.

Seiichiro: There’s no need, I acted rather hastily as well. Please don’t worry about it. More importantly, I came here today to ask a favor from you.

Haruka: A favor… from me?

W-What could it be...?

Seiichiro: Yes. I would like to hire you to write a commercial single for our upcoming new product release.

Haruka: A-A commercial single? From m-me!?

Shining Saotome: Hahaha. What a great opportunity! You should give it a go!

H-He may be saying that now….

But I’m still a student….

I couldn’t possibly….

However.... I am grateful that despite having turned down the offer to study abroad, they're still wanting to work with me.

And most importantly, I think this is a good opportunity.

Seiichiro: George has told me about you. It seems that Ren speaks very highly of your music....

Oh….

Jinguji-san has talked about me…?

Seiichiro: He rarely gives out compliments. And yet he went so far as to say that you are the perfect person to become a composer....

…Actually, I do remember him telling me I “really ought to continue pursuing becoming a composer” some time after the school festival.

Seiichiro: I've only had the chance to listen to your songs during the school festival, but even so, I can tell that they are wonderful.

Haruka: B-But they… Um…. Well, thank you.

Seiichiro: Your humility is also admirable. I would like to take the opportunity to develop a strong relationship with you before your graduation.

Besides, if we grow closer, I might finally be able to get a better understanding of what goes on in the mind of that unworthy little brother of mine….

He mutters something to himself under his breath.

Seiichiro: Would you be willing to accept this job?

Select the phrase!

Yes! (+0 Love +10 Music)

Seiichiro: Then I look forward to working with you.

He extends his hand for a handshake and I firmly take it in mine.

Haruka: Absolutely! I will do my best.

And so, I landed my first job through Jinguji-san's older brother.

Ren: Hey, Lady. You sure took your time. It’s rare to see you be late.

As I walk into the recording studio, Jinguji-san welcomes me cheerfully.

In his hand is the sheet music I had written, and words were scribbled onto the pages of a notebook nearby.

I wonder if he had been writing lyrics up until now.

I peek down at the notebook.

There I found numerous phrases written in snippets.

“The passion of a newfound romance”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this”

“My heart feels like it's going crazy because of this”

“It’s too precious to touch

I want to embrace you and this dream of yours”

“Allow me to fulfill this dream for now”

“You are a patch of sunlight that tenderly opens my heart”

“I really wish I could gather you in my arms”

Ren: It’s not polite to peek like that. I'll show you the completed version when it's ready, so just hang tight and wait until then.

Jinguji-san took the notebook away while I was still looking at it.

Even so, what was written in it is what one would expect from Jinguji-san.

He's very passionate….

Haruka: …Okay. Oh, right. Um… Actually…. I was called up to the principal’s office…. And… um….

Why am I acting like this after taking up the job so readily...?

Now that I think of it, Jinguji-san and his brother have a rather complicated relationship....

I wonder if mentioning his name would make him upset....

But I’ve made that same mistake before, and not telling him back when I was going to study abroad only ended up offending him…. I need to speak up this time.

Haruka: I got a job offer from your brother, he wants me to write a single for a commercial.

The moment I bring him up, Jinguji-san's complexion changes.

Ugh… I knew it….

Ren: And you… took it?

Haruka: …Yes. Um… I figured it was a good opportunity. B-But, I’ll still be putting all of my effort into the graduation audition!

T-that's right. Taking on this job means I'll have less time to devote to practice.... That is worrying.

....I might be able to get away with it if I cut back on sleep or something.

In any case, I'll do everything I can to make sure I don't cause any trouble!!!

Ren: Of course. I know that very well. You’re a hard worker, my Lady. …Truthfully, that’s why I’m worried.

Jinguji-san places a hand on my cheek and slowly traces the skin underneath my eyes with the pad of his thumb.

Ren: Being a girl, it’s no good to let yourself develop dark circles.

He gazes into my eyes, and I gaze back into his.

Jinguji-san flashes a bittersweet smile, carefully kisses the tops of my eyelids, and lets go.

Haruka: Ah! What… was that just now??

Ren: It’s a charm to prevent dark circles.

Haruka: S-Seriously?

Ren: It's a joke. You were so defenseless that I just had to tease you. You need to start being careful, or else some wolf might come along and eat you up.

Haruka: Defenseless…?

What did that mean?

I tilt my head, not quite understanding.

Then….

Jinguji-san flicks my forehead.

Haruka: Ow!

Ren: You're a professional now, so you can't leave yourself open or act so carelessly. ... This is all for the sake of your dream, right?

Saying that, Jinguji-san lowers his gaze.

Haruka: Um… Jinguji-san….

What did I do wrong?

Did I say something rude?

I grow worried and peer into Jinguji-san’s face.

Ren: That's why… I'm telling you to not make that kind of face.

Jinguji-san pats my head with a wry smile.

Haruka: I’m sorry….

Ren: I don't like the client, but... You're a professional now that you've taken the job. It'd be a problem if you don't pull yourself together.

His smile brightened as he spoke, but…

Huh?

Something still seems to be weighing on his mind….

Haruka: Um…. Are you… upset with me? Ren: Of course not. …Why do you think that?

Select the phrase!

Because I made the decision on my own (+25 Love +0 Music)

Haruka: I should have talked to you about it before I decided anything. I’m sorry…. It was just a spur of the moment….

Ren: A spur of the moment, huh…? You don't have to ask me for advice on every little thing, but.... I suggest you think through things a little more.

I admire your willingness to do what is asked of you and your commitment to working hard. You do, however, have a tendency to get easily carried away in certain situations.

Haruka: I-Im really sorry. I’ll be more careful….

Great.

I think he’s right….

Ren: What upsets me is the way my brother is going about getting you involved….

Haruka: I don't think it's like that....

Ren: In any normal situation, it would be unthinkable for a student to be handed a job so suddenly.... Well, with talent like yours, it's not impossible, but.... That's not what matters....

Knowing that the person who offered you the job is my brother.... I just have a suspicion that there's something behind it. And if that's the case....

Haruka: I don’t know if that's true, but maybe, don’t you think it’s possible he might be worried about you?

Ren: Him worried? About me? …Please….

Haruka: I figured that he might be using me to try and find out how you're doing....

It also sounded like George-san was asking about Jinguji-san too.

They're probably trying to learn more from me.

It's what I wholly believed.

Ren: If so, then... It's to surveil me.... I bet they're testing to see how useful I can be. And this is the reason why I don't like the way they are doing it!

I really…. don’t think they’re trying to surveil him.

Why is he being so negative about all of this?

Haruka: Do you not like your brother?

Ren: …Who knows? If anything, I’m the one who’s disliked.

Haruka: Is that… so?

I didn’t perceive it to be that way at all.

His brother seems kind.

Ren: We have an age gap and our faces look nothing alike.

Haruka: Ah, b-but… They do when you both smile.… At least that’s what I think.

He frowns when I say that.

Ren: Don't feel compelled to try to make things better.

Haruka: I’m not feeling compelled to do anything. I’m being serious.

Besides… I thought he was a good brother. He gave me the impression that he really cares about you.

Ren: …I see. If you feel that way, then maybe it's true.

He smiles softly for a moment.

Ren: If there is an ulterior motive behind my brother's actions, I’m ready to do all I can to protect you, but.... If he's being completely genuine about this job offer….

It's not my place to interfere. You should be able to handle it professionally. The only thing I can do is... Ah, yes.

I can give you time. Starting tomorrow, I'll just be working on my own, at least until your work settles down.

It’s a good opportunity. Let's agree to not meet for a while. We should fight on as individual professionals, on our own.

Select the phrase!

But… (+20 Love +0 Music)

Haruka: Um… I can do my best at both!

Ren: This is not something to be done half-heartedly. It's better that you finish one thing at a time. Particularly given your clumsy nature. You can't possibly pull both off at once, can you?

Maybe Jinguji-san is right.

This is my first time doing anything like this, and I don't even know how much time it will take.

I have to give it my all given this is something I can't slack off on….

Haruka: Alright. Ah. B-But… I’ll try to finish it as quickly as possible so that we can get together again.

Ren: There’s no need to rush. Go and make a good track record for yourself. We can worry about the audition later.

Jinguji-san pats me on the shoulder and offers some words of encouragement.

I start working on the commercial single soon after that.

I sought advice from a teacher who had actual experience composing them, and listened to many commercial songs for reference.

I visited the company building and met with them many times, discussing things like the product concept and idea for the song.

The staff in charge of product development weren't familiar with how composing music worked, so oftentimes they had no response when I would ask them what they thought about a certain vision for the single.

There were many questions I wanted to ask that I simply didn't know how to, and it wasn't like they knew what to answer back with either.

So, we continued to go back and forth.

In the end, I received several song references and the product proposal.

I gather as much information as I can come across and begin forming my own image of the song.

I consider my first impression of the product and the key point I want to convey, packing sounds into a few dozen seconds.

I then create it, submit the rough draft, and check to see their reactions.

“This is a little different from what we imagined. Please try writing a different jingle.”

Receiving the e-mail back, which read more like a request to rework the whole thing rather than revise it, left me feeling dejected.

It's not easy to make something perfect the first time.

I'm very aware of that, but it's still discouraging having to retake it.

Still, I get myself together and begin making the single again from scratch.

Before, it had a slightly fast tempo and sounded quite pop, so I decided to try writing something more mellow this time around.

I give it everything I've got to try and make it as good as I can....

I focus on the part that will be played in the commercial while also considering the overall structure of the song.... Think....Think.... Think....

Thin....

Ah.... I feel dizzy....

My vision... is getting blurry....

Haruka: H-Huh?

That’s strange. I was in the recording room just a second ago….

Tomochika: Ah, you’re awake. Good morning. …Your face is still red. You should rest a bit more.

Haruka: Um…. Why am I here?

Tomochika: You don't remember? You ran a fever and passed out in the recording studio.

Thankfully, Jinguji-san happened to find you and bring you here....

Who knows what would have happened had you stayed passed out in the recording room that whole time. Make sure to thank him later.

Haruka: Of course….

Jinguji-san….

I wonder… if he worried about me….

Tomochika: ...Did you overthink yourself into a fever?

Haruka: Huh…?

Tomochika: You've been sitting at your desk, groaning and mumbling to yourself over the past couple of days.

Haruka: …Yeah….

Whenever I would be in my room, I spent a lot of time contemplating a lot of things while listening to all kinds of music.

Tomochika: I get that you're excited about working on your first job, but you won’t be able to accomplish anything by overworking yourself.

Haruka: But….

Select the phrase!

I was asked to retake it (+0 Love +5 Music)

Tomochika: Believe me, I know how it feels to agonize over someone's requests being too ambitious or too vague.

My partner tends to get these fixed ideas in his head, but.... He's terrible at conveying what they are. He'd always whine about how what I’d do is not what he wanted.

Hearing that all the time gets exhausting. When people constantly deny you, you start to shrink back and lose the ability to fully express yourself.

Anyway, you should hear out what could be improved upon, but don't let it eat away at you too much, okay?

When in doubt, try asking around instead of dwelling on it all by yourself. You may come up with some good ideas that way.

Haruka: Ah… but the NDA….

Tomochika: Well, yeah, but…. It's still worth asking for as much input as you can get on what it is you can share.

Haruka: You’re right… Thank you.

I wake up early the next morning and, despite my fever, end up feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep.

I decide to make my way to the recording studio first thing in the morning, but....

Of course, nothing comes to mind, so I reluctantly leave and go to class.

My heart was once full to the brim with music.

Now, not a single sound can be heard.

I feel lonely.

Consumed with anxiety.

Haruka: …Sigh. What should I do…?

Ryuya: Hey, Nanami. What’s wrong? You look upset.

Haruka: Ah… Sensei.

I run into Hyuuga-sensei and Tsukimiya-sensei as I walk down the hallway.

Ringo: By the way, how's that new job coming along? I'm still so impressed that you landed one while still being in school. But of course, if anyone would, it’d be one of Ryuya's students.

Ryuya: ...All this praise isn't going to give you a bonus.

Ringo: Gosh, you’re so stingy…. Hey, Haru-chan. But really, are you doing okay? You’re looking pale.

Haruka: I am. I'm feeling fine, but… The song isn't coming out right….

I caught a bit of a fever yesterday, but after getting some good sleep, I was feeling better.

Ryuya: What is it? Are you in a slump? That's pretty unusual to hear, coming from you.... Now that you mention it, didn't they ask for a retake?

Haruka: Yes, they said it didn't fit the image they wanted for the product. The singer's vocals were also in a different key than from what I was initially told.

Ah, but that wasn't the main issue.... The problem is the idea they have is too abstract... It doesn't even sound like they know what they want.

And so, it leaves me a little confused. Do they want something passionate? Pleasant? I can't quite make out what the song should sound like.

Ringo: Hm. I see. Well, when dealing with corporate clients, things do tend to change from time to time.

I remember filming a commercial once, and at first they wanted me to take on this girly fashionista type of role, but when I arrived on set....

I was at a loss finding out they wanted me to be more of a mature, handsome older brother type of character instead.

Haruka: What do you do when that happens?

Ringo: Oh, well. I've learned how to be adaptable nowadays. If you are too set on an idea from the start, it becomes difficult to adjust quickly....

It’s better to decide on a general direction and then work out the rest onsite. That way, it’ll be a lot easier to work with.

Haruka: A general direction….

Ryuya: It's not something you'll get the hang of any time soon because it comes with experience.... You're the type to only do things once.

I would take a guess that handling retakes is hard for you because your music tends to come practically complete. The slightest change would throw it all off balance.

There are those who write music by exploring and adjusting it through multiple takes, and others who are more black-or-white. It's either all or nothing for them. I'd say you're more the latter.

Of course, when it clicks, the impact and artistry of your creation is extraordinary, it becomes something that no one else can imitate.

The odds of you creating something of that caliber are in your favor. That's why, if it's something not immediately speaking to you, don't even bother messing with it again and start over from the beginning.

Haruka: B-But… They did mention they liked the chorus.

Ryuya: I see… In that case, you might be getting overloaded with information.

You're humble by nature and because you tend to cater to others a little too much, you waste time trying to listen to all of their requests.

And yet, you are so self-indulgent when it comes to the music you write that you go on to compose excellent songs so unique to you.

You may not be aware of it now, but you're struggling with this conflict in the back of your mind.

It's both your desire to listen to what the company wants, and the desire to stay true to your own musicality. That's why the music is not coming to you as it should.

At least that's what I imagine is going on. In my experience, nothing will help in that kind of situation.

The deadline is coming up, so you can't afford to take too long, but go somewhere, clear your head, and try resetting your mind.

Ringo: I agree. That sounds like a good idea. Since you're already partnered with Ren-chan, you should ask him to take you out.

I'm sure he knows lots of wonderful spots, and he's very considerate towards girls, so why don't you go have fun and forget about work for a while?

Haruka: But I don’t want to be a bother….

Ringo: It’ll be fine. I'm sure Ren-chan would have a harder time knowing you're feeling too upset to write a song.

He’ll definitely help. Alright? Now, go on.

Haruka: Alright… I’ll give it a try.

Ryuya: Exactly. A proper partner is one who lends a hand in times of need.

And well, if it still doesn't work out, come and talk to me about it. It's a teacher's duty to help his students.

Haruka: Thank you so much!

Tomo-chan, the teachers, and even Jinguji-san too....

Everyone is so kind.

This isn't the time to throw myself a pity party.

I have something I have to accomplish, no matter what it takes.

Ren: Hey, Lady. Good morning. Has your fever gone down?

Haruka: Ah, yes…. I’m sorry. I know I've given you a lot of grief….

Ren: You really have. Had you needed to be hospitalized, it would have put your client at a loss, and had you needed to resign from the job because you failed to fulfill your obligations….

It would have damaged the academy's reputation. Who knows how many people would have been affected.... This isn't some kind of game.

Haruka: …I know.

Jinguji-san is absolutely right.

This is something I really need to work on....

I keep my head down and he gently strokes my head.

Haruka: Jinguji-san….

I lift my head and look at Jinguji-san, who's faint smile looks a bit sad. He then sighs and composes himself.

Ren: Lady, you are sincere inside and out, always on the straight and narrow. That in itself is not a bad thing.

He removes his hand from my head and looks me straight in the eye with a dead set expression on his face.

Ren: I would even go as far as to say that they can be considered some of your strengths. But you have to realize that sometimes, that alone is not enough to overcome barriers.

You shouldn't just take them at their word, but also learn how to read between the lines.

The parts that are not visible on the surface. That is where the truth is hidden. It happens sometimes. But you may not be able to see it yet.

Haruka: Read between the lines….

Ren: If that term is not to your liking, you can call it being "perceptive". Try putting yourself in their shoes.

Right now, you're focusing solely on the product and the client. But what is the client focused on?

Haruka: What the client is focused on….

Select the phrase!

The future? (+10 Love +10 Music)

Ren: Well, broadly speaking, yes. But first, you need to look at the bigger picture.

Haruka: Bigger picture…?

Ren: What is the purpose of the commercial? What does the company ultimately stand to gain from it? Who is the message intended for?

These are all things you should think about a little bit more, Lady. You can't tell what someone really wants just from looking at them.

Even after hearing what Jinguji-san had to say, I still couldn't come up with a clear answer for myself.

Time continued to tick by.

I couldn't produce anything of quality that I could deliver on time.

I soon noticed that the originally intended deadline had long since passed.

Shining Saotome: You understand why you were called here, right?

I'm called to the principal's office a few days after the deadline.

Haruka: Yes.

I failed to submit a proper response by the end of the deadline, causing the client a great deal of trouble.

Shining Saotome: Now that you've taken on a professional job, claiming you’re a student is no longer an acceptable excuse.

Haruka: I understand.

“It's because you're a student....”

“I want you to show me what you can do because you have no track record.”

That's what the client had told me.

They don't trust me much because I'm not a professional.

That's the reason why.

The deadline allotted to me was shorter than usual.

If I couldn't finish the job within that window of time, they would drop me and ask someone else to do it.

If I failed to deliver good quality work within that window of time, it would be as if I had never done the job at all.

The company took measures to ensure they would minimize any losses to themselves, but still dared to take a chance on me.

If I were to quit now....

I will likely never become a professional.

Shining Saotome: Both people and money are already in motion. There is no turning back the clock now. Do you understand?

Haruka: Yes.

If it were April or May, the story might have been different.

But it's February now. Graduation is just around the corner, and many students will soon be making their debut.

For a whole year, students are trained to be successful in their field.

That is what the academy likes to boast, but if I turn out to be useless....

I would tarnish the academy's reputation.

I absolutely could not let that happen.

Shining Saotome: One week. You have one week to show us results. Otherwise, I'll have to ask you to leave the academy.

Haruka: ….

The principal's words are harsh but....

Given his concern for the other students and the school, I believe it's a reasonable measure to take.

Shining Saotome: This is all I have to say. You can’t quit halfway through. You're a professional now.

Haruka: I understand.

Haruka: …What am I going to do? I can’t think of anything.

I have studied the client's email with corrections over and over, reviewed the proposal, looked at the product, and listened to the music I borrowed for reference.

I've cycled through all those steps countless times.

But I can't bring myself to write a single note.

Nothing comes to mind.

My heart is a void.

It's as if I were a child with an empty toy box that once used to be full of fun toys, and now I don't know what to play with anymore.

I'm at a loss.

Haruka: I have one week.

Before, that would have been enough time to draft out four or five different songs.

Now it feels like not enough time.

I find the day goes by without even a single phrase being written....

I stare at the sequencer, unable to motivate myself to type anything, and time simply passes by.

Haruka: I should… ask Jinguji-san for advice….

He's probably practicing in a recording studio somewhere at the moment....

I stop by the staff room to check and find the recording studio Jinguji-san is currently occupying.

Ren: My lady…. What’s wrong? Finish the song already?

Jinguji-san questions me with concern when he sees my face.

Haruka: No… Not yet….

Ren: Then that means you shouldn't be here. I heard how you missed the deadline.

He sighs and softly pats me on the shoulder.

Haruka: I did….

Ren: If I could take your place, I would. Unfortunately, though, I'm a singer, not a composer. So I can't step in for you. Isn't that right, Lady?

Haruka: …Right.

Jinguji-san gently and calmly explains to me.

And I think he's certainly right....

Ren: I have no more advice to give right now. ....You're only wasting your time here.

Haruka: ….

Am I… really wasting my time?

I stare straight at Jinguji-san.

I felt like I might be able to figure something out simply by sharing this space with him, and it made it hard for me to leave….

Ren: … It’s best if you leave now.

Jinguji-san puts on a gentle smile, places a hand on my shoulder, and urges me to head for the exit.

And then, he carefully opens the door to the recording studio.

I automatically catch onto the edge of Jinguji's clothes at that moment.

Haruka: Um… Just a little longer…. Please, just let me stay a little longer….

The hand on my shoulder grew firm and held me for just a split second.

But he soon quickly lets go, grabs me by both of my shoulders and pulls me away from him.

Ren: …No. You can't do that, my Lady. You have work to do.

His eyes are cold, piercing.

A gaze that shuns me.

Haruka: ….

Select the phrase!

It’s… hard. (+10 Love +0 Music)

Ren: Is there such a thing as an easy job? There will be challenges to some extent. Running away from them is simple. But….

The second you make that call, it will all be over. And I won't stop you if that's what you want to do.... Will you… let go?

My arm falls limp to my side.

Ren: …Thank you. I'm glad to see you didn't disappoint.

He flashes me a small and faint smile.

Ren: There's nothing else I can do for you in the coming week. It's up to you to overcome this barrier, not me.

It will mean nothing if you don't recognize and work through it yourself. Don't you agree?

Haruka: …I do.

Ren: I'll wait for you on the other side. But keep in mind, I'm not a very patient person.

If you make me wait too long, I might just leave. Do you think you can make it back to me while I'm still here?

Haruka: …I will. Without a doubt. I’ll finish this and we will both debut together….

I have no confidence that I can do it.

It's a total bluff.

But I felt that if I didn't put up a front right now, I would break down at any moment.

Ren: I believe you can do it. I trust you.

Jinguji-san looks me straight in the eye.

Haruka: Thank you!!

Jinguji smiles kindly and strokes my head as I respond.

Upon returning to my room and staring at the blank monitor, the tears I have been holding back begin to spill down my cheeks.

I know if I ask for help, I'll get it.

They would treat me kindly.

But no one can ever take my place.

I have to fight the battle on my own.

The same applies to my partner.

I am the one who writes the music.

I am the one who accepted this job.

Despite the overwhelming doubt and anxiety, I push to cheer myself on.

This is not the end.

There is more to come.

And there, Jinguji-san is waiting for me.

I know he's being hard on me because he believes in me.

It's precisely because he's so kind that he's displaying such tough love, so that I can do my best.

I have to somehow make this happen while he's counting on me, waiting for me....

If I fail now, he'll surely be disappointed.

After finally gaining his trust, I would lose it.

I can't let that happen.

No matter what....

Mini Game

Ryuya: The graduation audition is coming up soon.... So? Is the song ready to go? I won't have many chances to give you pointers from this point forward.

But since this is one of the few opportunities I'll have, I'm going to make sure you’re set. Come on, let's hear it.

I know it's going to be a little more difficult to play now that the song has been completed a little more, but be sure to make every note count.

All right, let's begin. Music, start!

S Rank

Ren: Don't let yourself be satisfied with a performance of this caliber. The professional world is unforgiving. You need to aim higher. Don't let me down.

Haruka: I won’t!

Jinguji-san….

He recognizes me as being a professional.

I need to live up to his expectations.

I must make this project a success, at any cost.

Chapter End

#ren jinguji #ren repeat #utapri

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twilightmalachite · 1 year

Text

MIRAGE - The Most Beautiful Mirror in the World 4

Author: Akira

Characters: Yuuta, Shinobu, Hinata, Koga

Translator: Mika Enstars

Proofers: Bella & feesh

"You’ve probably never experienced this, Shinobu-kun, but there’s a lot of such people who don’t view those born at the lowest reaches of society as human beings."

Season: Winter

Location: Cafe

Yuuta: Anyways, moving on. Point is, when we all meet up, we’ll eventually be able to see the producer, right?

At that time, I’ll pretend to be “Aoi Byakuya” instead of “Aoi Yuuta”.

Shinobu: So, what’s the reason to do that…?

Yuuta: To make the producer have to guess who I am.

I or rather, Aoi Byakuya, plan to be chummy with him the whole time. I’ll put on a flawless performance of being “Hinata’s older brother, Byakuya”!

Not that a person like that actually exists. If that producer takes a look at me and exclaims “Who is Aoi Byakuya!?” just like you did, Shinobu-kun… He passes.

We can avoid repercussions by saying something like, “Do excuse us! It was just a little prank! That’s just how our characters are, we’re little punks who often misbehave!”

However, if the meeting ends without him sensing anything was up… If he never realizes that there’s no such person as Aoi Byakuya…

If he doesn’t even know that 2wink is “Aoi Hinata and Aoi Yuuta”, and not “Aoi Byakuya and Aoi Hinata”…

Then we’ll know that guy doesn’t actually have interest in us, and that he’s an enemy.

The producer sent us a letter this time claiming he regrets his previous request and wants to apologize.

I wanna see if it’s just lip service, or if he seriously feels bad.

If he feels nothing off with the existence of Aoi Byakuya, he’s guilty as charged.

It’ll mean that he never knew a thing. He’d have never seen anything.

He’s probably just pretending to be sorry to appease our bad mood, with no real thought put into it.

It’d just be to put us in a good mood so he can use us to his heart’s content, since 2wink’s been rather successful lately…

In other words, he’d be looking down on us—making fools out of us.

And if that’s the case, I’ll make him pay for it no matter what.

I’ll ruin both of them—the meeting and the program. Just in a clever way that won’t backfire on us.

I’ll make him suffer the same humiliation I did by any means necessary.

Shinobu: W-why would you…

Yuuta: …I’ve run into his kind countless times, even back when I lived alone alongside Aniki.

You’ve probably never experienced this, Shinobu-kun, but there’s a lot of such people who don’t view those born at the lowest reaches of society as human beings.

Shinobu: …

Yuuta: Every time we came across someone like that, I swore at the bottom of my heart—

That one day, I’d teach all of them a lesson.

Those who turned a blind eye to a starving child, who pretended they saw nothing…

I refuse to let those deceive us and exploit what little we have to their convenience—not our labor or our money. None of it.

I’ll show them… At the very least, I’ll let them take a bite of the poisoned apple.[1]

To all those people who didn’t see us as humans like themselves… I’ll make them regret it.

To all those who have done so much harm, all while remaining blissfully ignorant.

I will get my revenge. I’ll make them pay. I’ll at least give them the same amount of scars.

…We’ve grown a little, and we’re a bit stronger now.

And so, “that time” has come.

Shinobu: …

Location: Yumenosaki Academy Light Music Club Room

At the same time, at Yumenosaki Academy’s Light Music Club Room…

Hinata: —Something like that, yeah!

The time has come! Revenge is mine! Dudun-dun~♪

Koga: Why’re ya tellin’ me all this?

I don’t give a shit, this is you guys’ problem.

Hinata: I know, I know~, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to. If Sakuma-senpai hadn’t graduated from Yumenosaki, I would’ve gone to him instead.

Koga: S’cuse me? It ain’t like he’s disappeared or dead. If you wanna see him, why don’tcha go to ES?

What, is it ‘cuz it’s too tricky to sneak in without bein’ seen, ‘cause he’s from a different agency?

Hinata: Do I look like someone who cares about something like that?

How should I put it… Well, I won’t beat around the bush. If you ask Sakuma-senpai for advice, he’ll deal with the problem himself instead of actually advising you.

But when he does that, we end up never figuring out what was up in the first place…

Because of that, we’re never able to improve ourselves or grow, and then we’re doomed to repeat ourselves sooner or later, y’know?

Koga: I get what’cha mean. Nobita-kun doesn’t end up growin’ from his problems when Doraemon takes the lead and goes around solvin’ them for him.[2]

Hinata: Ooh, it’s rare to hear you talking about manga, Oogami-senpai!

Koga: Cuz doin’ anything in BB Band will get’cha Forehead pointlessly recommending manga. Then you guys’ll hop on that bandwagon and then that’s all you guys talk ‘bout.

Hinata: Ohhh. So you felt left out not being able to join our conversation and started reading manga for beginners, huh?

Koga: Shaddup… You got a problem with that, you bastard?

Hinata: Not at allll! ♪ I’m actually pretty happy that you’re tryna approach us like that!

Koga: It’s too late for me to approach him now, though.

No… I didn’t even have to approach him. I should have already been beside Yuuta, but I couldn’t even see his face.

I should’ve been able to understand what had been hurtin’ him and makin’ him angry more than anyone else.

It wasn’t until my hind legs got stuck in the sand did I realize that he was hurtin’.

I hurt him a lot, puttin’ on airs actin’ like some guardian there to protect him.

Even if I did try gettin’ close now, he’s not gonna like it. He’ll just run away.

← prev | story directory | next →

A saying that more or less means “get what’s coming to them”, a poisonous apple being a negative backfire of being a greedy glutton.

In Doraemon, each story’s formula basically goes: Nobita runs into a trivial problem → Doraemon presents a super-powered tool that’ll fix Nobita’s problem magically → Because this “fix-all” never allowed Nobita to learn how to navigate the problem, it all backfires and they’re back to square one.

#yuta aoi #hinata aoi #koga oogami #shinobu sengoku #translation #mirage #scout

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captawesomesauce · 2 years

Text

Proust Questionnaire

I was tagged by @somethingwendythiswaycomes. Thanks!!!

-- What is your idea of perfect happiness?

I guess I'm lucky to state that I've had it many times in my life. The moments when Mystic (The AwesomeCat) would lay down in my arms or across my chest, or when he'd fall asleep in my lap. The quiet times I get to spend with W, like when we went to the beach for her birthday, or when she is laying next to me and we're both reading.

I'm really an easy man to please... I like to laugh, I like good music, I like to read, and I love it when those I love are in my arms and beside me. Give me a big mug of ice water and I'm good to go!

-- Which historical figure do you most identify with?

I don't think there are any. I wouldn't even know where to begin ... I don't think I ever really see myself in anyone, but I know I am an amalgamation of so many that I have learned about, learned from, and those who have left a mark on me, both good and bad.

-- Which living person do you most admire?

I feel so let down by so many... those I respected that turned out to be just awful fucking humans, so filled with hate... I just don't have an answer for this.

There are those who I served with who rank highly in my mind, those who I fought fires with and responded to disasters with, those who do so much good in the world... and yet... to name one that I most admire... from cartographers to authors... I have a lot of people I think of.. but I really can't name one.

-- What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?

My inability to understand my physical condition and limits. I still think I can do anything and everything and my body is like NOPE... but I don't have my head in reality yet... and it gets me in a lot of trouble when I push it.

-- What is the trait you most deplore in others?

Lack of critical thinking and people who are full of hate.

-- What is your greatest extravagance?

Ask W, I'm not really one to spend money on stuff. The only thing I do NOT skimp on is food! Eat well and live happy is one of my strongest beliefs.

Do not starve yourself, do not eat crappy tasting shit, do not torture yourself with carboard and licking wallpaper!

My rule is simple... all bills are paid, a nice chunk goes into savings, and the biggest expense is good food.

But unfortunately, that's "within reason" ... It's been a very long time since I bought crab legs, or oysters on the half shell. Even a good steak has become less and less since COVID made prices skyrocket. But flank steak is now 8 bucks a pound and a good strip is 10 so we got some :)

-- What do you consider the most overrated virtue?

Sentimentality is the first thing that comes to mind... and I'm a very sentimental person when it comes to things I own and experienced.

But the truth is, so many people use it as an excuse to not try new things, explore new places, or even just appreciate the joy that is the here and now.

People use it all the time as a cover for being afraid of change, and that's bullshit.

-- On what occasion do you lie?

I used to tell Mystic that he was the smartest cat... he was an orange tabby... you can figure that one out.

-- What is your greatest regret?

Not graduating from LMU...

--When and where are you happiest?

In a lazyboy, at night, with a big thing of water, some sunflower seeds, a good book, and a cat asleep on my lap.

-- What do you consider your greatest achievement?

The next one.

Sounds flippant doesn't it? For all I have achieved, for all that I have done, for all that I have experienced in my life... that was yesterday. Tomorrow is the intimidating thing.

I'll take a recent example for you - I remember looking at all of the emergency management training certifications.. AEM, CEMS, APS, PDS, NEMBA..... and going... NOPE... I'd never be able to take those classes, and I'd never pass if I did. There's too many, they're really difficult to get into, they're even harder to pass.

I now have 3 of the 5 and I only have one more class to get the NEMBA.

But those things are over... yes they were hard, yes they took so much out of me, yes I'm proud of them but...

It's one of those things where things I don't have seem so freaking incredible and amazing and difficult... but once I get them, it loses that AWE'ness... and I'm always chasing that for some reason.

Now if you ask me what am I most proud of - that's different.

I'm most proud of W... I somehow figured out the right combo of words and actions to get us to where we are today. I'm proud of our relationship, I'm proud of our life together, and more than anything, I'm proud of who she has become. Her work, her brand, her growth has been phenomenal... and so has her healing from both familial issues and the crap she went through in academia.

-- If you could choose to come back as something, what would it be?

I dunno... a capybara maybe?

What is your most treasured possession?

Probably half and half between my camera and my books.

-- Where would you like to live?

Orange County or San Diego by the beach. In a single family home with a backyard and a nice garage. I want the nice weather, the nice access to all the things to see and do, the solitude of no noisy people above me or sharing a wall with me, and just all the things that make me happy.

-- What is your favorite occupation?

The space i'm in right now... pretty fond of occupying it to be honest! Next to me is pretty amazing too.

But job wise... I've always had a belief that work pays you to live life. You work to afford the things that matter... work doesn't. Work is a means to more! my I've had a lot of jobs... As a teen I helped my father now and then with his electrical contracting business... which meant that more often than not I was just a delivery driver or working in the warehouse. I also helped my mothers boyfriend who was a P.I which meant I would often plant listening devices, deliver hidden cameras, and even just sit on a curb with a hidden camera cause no one would think twice about some kid just sitting there for hours reading a book.

I did a lot of different things in the Marines... mostly with electronics and communications... I was a police and fire dispatcher... I was a firefighter and EMT for a long time... wildland, urban, even fire boats!

I have done emergency management, disaster response, and even humanitarian aid missions around the globe.

I worked for a newspaper for a little bit... I was an incident and arson photographer for the department....

I worked in the Career Counseling office at UCLA.....

I know I'm forgetting a lot... but I always worked... I always put in at least 56 to 96 hours a week, on top of going to school.

OH! I just remember another one, I handled police officer involved shooting investigations for a law firm.

But honestly, I don't think I ever had an occupation that was a favorite... if I had to pick just one... it'd be cartographer. Making maps makes me happy in a way no other job ever did, enough that I'm willing to keep doing it in my free time.

-- What is your most marked characteristic?

2 things - Mike Jokes and Mikepedia. People know me for my really really bad jokes, some people call them awful, some people call them terrible.... some people will warn you to beware of when I go "full on Mike!" I go through laugh smiling, happy, and laughing.... everything strikes me as funny.... even at the worst of times. But when you saw the things I did, did the things I have done... you don't survive without being a bit bent. Other drink, do drugs, go dark... I went light... I went with bad dad jokes.

Mikepedia is a special thing, or as W calls me, her personal F1 key (for those that don't know, if you press F1 on your keyboard, the help info appears!)

The #1 thing I hear pretty much every day from people is "How the fuck do you know that????" I know - a lot - about a lot. I started my educational endeavors as a BioChem major with a CompSci minor. I have papers that have fancy titles on them that say Earth Science, Meteorology, Geography.... I study fire, environmental science, urban planning and housing, geomorphology, disasterology, geology, and oceanography to name a few....

On top of that, I read... I read a lot... I read about history, and politics, and war, and recovery - recovery from war and disaster. I read about mysteries, and spies, and this and that, and more stuff!

I follow historians and news journalists and war correspondents and OSINT and this and that's on twitter and elsewhere so I get a good understanding of what is happening here and abroad.

And I still keep my feet solidly in the compsci/tech world, learning new languages, programs, technologies, and skills.

So yeah... between what I've done and what I've learned... it's a wide gamut of information to draw from.

--- What do you most value in your friends?

Honesty, a good sense of humor, being a good person, good critical thinking skills, not being judgmental, and actually giving a shit about people and friendships.

--- Who are your favorite writers?

First and foremost is Douglas Adams... his ability to make me laugh is 2nd to none. I don't even care about the plots or the stories... just the way he wrote was incredible and I'm so glad I got to read his books when I needed them the most!

Second would be Gerry Carroll. His death was a great loss to the military fiction genre. His books were so good I have them in hardcover, paperback, and ebook because I read them so much!

And a special mention to a guy of many names: Nicholas Cain. He wrote under the names of Nik Uhernik, Jack Hawkins, and Robert Baxter to name a few... but all of his books were some of my absolute favorites. From his Chopper 1 series to Saigon commandos, they're just my #1 non-guilty pleasure when it comes to reading.

--- Who are your heroes in real life?

At this point, I'm so tired of what I see in the world... it's anyone who has a good heart and isn't a fucking moron.

--- How would you like to die?

In my sleep, 10 decades after my 100th birthday.

--- What is your motto?

“This is not the end, it is not even the beginning of the end, but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.” - Winston Churchill

“Do it or don’t do it — you will regret both.” - Søren Kierkegaard, from Either/Or

“I just took my mind off the hook for a bit. I reckoned that if the world wanted me badly enough it would call back”

and

“…there is no point in driving yourself mad trying to stop yourself going mad. You might just as well give in and save your sanity for later.” - Ford Prefect in Douglas Adam’s The Life, The Universe and Everything

#personal

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crazyw3irdo · 3 years

Text

i don't have an actual tweet thing for batfam twitter au/dickwing au/whatever im calling this for today so here's some headcanons(?) for that au (are they headcanons if you're the one making the au? eh some of these are just headcanons for the characters in general so i guess it still applies)

-bruce has been batman for a couple of decades now, he started in his early 20s and now he's in his late 40s

-the public thinks of bruce as this well-meaning (albeit himbo leaning) dad whose trying his best. back when he first started being batman his public bruce persona was just very much happy-go-lucky himbo (how can bruce be batman? bruce doesn't even know how to tie his shoelaces) but he's now graduated to tired dad (how can bruce be batman? he has six kids to take care of and a company to run)

-and yeah six kids, duke is officially adopted into the wayne family in this

-no, alfred does not have a twitter. he's got too much to deal with already. however, he does know everyone's account information, so yknow, in case a masked vigilante gets beat up really bad then it's not like their civilian account suddenly stops posting

-and yeah alfred is alive. he cannot die. i refuse to believe it. i'm already saying fuck canon i'm not stopping now

-i've seen people in the tags asking/speculating about this, but i've been going on the assumption that each character has two phones: one for vigilante-ing and one for civilian-ing. if one gets stolen or hacked then its not like the thief will suddenly have access to their identity. plus it's not like bruce can't afford multiple phones.

-dick started dickwing because he was bored and thought it would be funny; it becoming a "well no one will think dick grayson is nightwing because they're dating" thing was 100% unintentional but also 100% the immediate excuse he gave when asked by the rest of the fam why he did that.

-dick is a theatre kid. which is obvious from the way i've been writing him but i felt it needed to be said again. i wanna say his fave musical would be newsies but i haven't seen newsies personally so,, i mean, of the musicals i really like and am familiar with, i'd say it'd be cats. now if you're familiar with cats you're like "okay yeah i can see it" but if you only know about it from that terrible movie let me justify myself: it's a dance-heavy musical with lots of amazing feats of athleticism in the dances. also, look up what rum tum tugger looks like in the actual show and then remember dick's discowing costume. i'm right about this.

-cass still doesn't know how to read. she uses a text to speech program to have things read out for her. she's also mostly nonverbal

-babs uses a wheelchair in this. i know some canon stuff does the whole "yeah but she got better" but once again i don't like canon

-no one in this family is neurotypical but the ones i feel most strongly about are bruce and cass are autistic and dick has adhd. pretty sure they all have some form of ptsd too but ngl that seems kind of obvious. and yes bruce being autistic is canon i love reminding people of this :3

-speaking of canon things i like reminding people of because it's often ignored in canon, dick is romani! and bruce is jewish!

-bruce, dick, steph, and tim are bi. or yknow, some kind of mspec, i don't think dick is a big fan of labels, steph probably says she's whatever sexuality makes her joke funnier, and tim is still figuring it out. babs is also bi and that is solely because my mom is bi and babs is her favorite character. cass is a lesbian and you could tell me jason, dami, and duke are whatever sexuality you want and i'd believe you. ngl i don't personally feel comfortable giving dami a sexuality hc myself bc i don't really like shipping/imagining child character in relationships but eh you do you as long as its not actually sexual

-genderwise dick is nb. i am nb and he's my favorite character. i have the right. he's fine w all pronouns but mostly uses he/they. once again he's not really a labels kind of guy. and yes i am still obsessed with that official post that used they/them for damian i know they didn't mean it but yes he/they damian my beloved. also she/they selina kyle.

#im not main tagging this one. this post is for the true fans /j #mini banger of a post #crazwaz posted #fun sized banger of a post #certified banger of a post

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cheesy-cakey · 3 years

Text

note this is a hatter au from a wattpad book I wrote.

You Weren't there

Kalim X Reader Angst

We had graduated.

We got married.

He inherited his family's riches.

We had a son.

We were happy...

We WERE.

I gazed out the window of my quarters.

I was no longer a Hatter... I was now an Al-Asim.

The Hatter name had died out the moment I decided to be a part of Kalim's family. I still owned our land and property. But I had no use for it.

I thought that this was going be our happily ever after.

Holding the one I love close. Kalim embracing me and our son.

But I guess reality doesn't have a happy ending... Especially us Hatter's.

As I watched the scene out the window.

In the garden was Kalim... With his 2rd wife and daughter.

Yes, that's right. I may be Kalim's first wife... but that doesn't mean I'm the only one.

I watched as he held her hand while with the other he carried his daughter.

I moved away from the window and sat on the plush bed of my quarters.

"How could I be so stupid. How could I be so blind. why did I think... That out of all the people in the world. I would have a happy ending." I muttered to myself as I leaned back on my arms tears pricking out of my eyes.

I went back to the window watching them hold each other close. I traced my hand on the glass feeling the coolness of the material.

I kneeled on the floor hand on the window sill while the other was on the floor.

"If happy ever after did exist~" I sang as I wrapped my arms around myself.

"I would still be holding you like this~"

"All those fairy tales are full of sh*t"

"One more f*cking love song I'll be sick" I sobbed as I was never meant to have a happy ever after.

3rd POV

Little did Y/N know that someone came to visit.

Watching through the crack from the slightly opened door.

Ali Al-Asim watched as his mother broke down crying.

"Why... why of all people... why does it have to be mother that suffers?"

He walked away knowing that it's better to not disturb her like this... He knew seeing him would just remind her of the happy ending she could've had.

He returned to him quarters and sat in one of the chairs in his room.

"Mother... You shouldn't be suffering like this... You told me father loved you... You said he loved you more than the stars in the sky... then why... why does he treat you this way? why does he neglect you? weren't we happy? weren't you happy?" He leaned his head back as tears pricked out his eyes.

"I never get to see you smile anymore. The smile that could shine brighter than the sun. Your eyes became dull... no longer full of hope and happiness like the stars."

he slammed his first into the table Infront of him as tears fell from his face.

"WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A HAPPY EVER AFTER!?"

The 15 year old couldn't bear to see his mother like this...

He's seen her cry too many times...

-Time Skip-

It was Ali's 16th birthday.

Which means a big celebration...

But his mother as much as she wants to attend she couldn't bring herself to leave her room.

The Hatter that used to be full of life, laughing, singing, dancing. The Hatter that enjoyed parties and seeing her friends smile... lost her spark.

-At the celebration-

"Happy Birthday, Young Master, Ali!" The servants cheered.

"Happy birthday, My son!" Kalim exclaimed as he greeted his first born.

"Thank you, Father!" Ali exclaimed with a smile.

"You're 16 now, which school do you wanna attend, Ali!?" His father asked excitedly.

"I want to go to Night Raven College! That's where you went to right, Father?"

"Yes, I did! Me and your uncle Jamil went there together!"

"Then it's settled, NRC it is!"

"I could have the headmaster make you dorm head as well!"

"No, Father. I wish to become dorm head with my own skills." He stated.

"Haaaah? fine, if that is what my son wants. Now everyone! enjoy the party!"

he walked away as he went to meet other guests.

A lot of people were here. His uncles from NRC. His Friends. even his half sister.

But there was only one person Ali wanted to be here.

Ali stood up from his seat and sneaked away.

He went to the quarters of someone he held dear.

he knocked on the door and heard a come in.

"Good evening, mother" he said with a soft smile.

"Ah! Ali, Happy Birthday" She replied with a tired but loving smile.

she was sitting by the window with it being wide open allowing the wind to enter.

He went closer the his mother and kneeled beside her.

"How are you feeling?" Ali asked.

"I'm feeling very well. So how is your birthday?"

"Nevermind the birthday. I just want to stay here with you" he said as he buried his face into her dress resting his head on her lap.

The lady giggled at her son's statement, watching him with caring eyes.

"I have a present for you" She said as she brought out a box.

Ali raised his head.

"Mother... you didn't have to" he said as he received it.

"Oh, but I do. this is something I've been meaning to give you"

Ali opened the box to see a top hat, a golden silk snake wrapping around the hat with a single Jasmine flower.

"It used to be mine. Sometimes in the Hatter family we give it to the person we marry but sometimes we also keep it. But this time it's time to pass it on to the descendant. I redecorated it for you. do you like it?" The elegant lady smiled as she remembered her memories with the hat and proud to be able to hand it down.

Ali looked as the hat.

"I love it... thank you mother" He thanked as he lied down on her lap once again.

"I'm glad you do, my dear son" She placed a hand on his white hair exactly the same as his father's.

Sher stroked his head gently as the moon shone down on them through the window.

-Timeskip-

It was now time for Ali to go to Night Raven College. He said farewell to everyone and as he was about to get on the Ebony Carriage he looked up to a window to see his mother smiling at him. he smiled back and entered.

-at the dorm sorting-

Ali was up next to be sorted.

"State thy name"

"Ali Al-Asim"

"The shape of thy soul... I see you best improve in Scarabia."

He stepped away from the mirror and joined the other students that were sorted into Scarabia.

He will make his mother proud.

-Time skip-

It had been a week since he had arrived. And just like that he had became a dorm head not from money but from skill.

He was currently in potions taught by Professor Crewel.

His phone then suddenly rang.

"Excuse me, Professor. I need to take this call"

"Of course, pup. but next time I won't be allowing it."

Ali answered his phone and it was one of the servants.

He was analysing his potion while he answered.

"What is it? I told you not to call me around this time because I'm in class."

"Apologies, young master. But it's about Lady Y/N"

"Mother? what about her? does she miss me? tell her I'll visit this weekend."

"It's not that sir"

"what is it then?"

"she umm"

"spit it out"

"The lady has passed away"

Ali suddenly dropped the beaker shattering it to a million pieces.

"Al-Asim! bad pup! what are you doing!?"

Ali stood up knocking his seat over. He slammed his hand on his desk that still had the shattered glass and spilled potion. good thing that the potion doesn't give much effect since it wasn't finished.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN PASSED AWAY!?" He yelled as tears pricked from his eyes.

"Al-Asim?" his professor called out worried.

"I mean what I exactly said, young master. The lady passed away earlier this morning. when the servant went to serve her breakfast she didn't wake up. they tried waking her up then realized she wasn't moving. they called a physician... and he said the lady had passed away"

"no... you're lying"

"Ali Al-Asim, what's wrong? Get your hands off the desk your starting to bleed." Crewel said as he took the boys hand from the broken glass and started cleaning it.

"Mother... is she really dead?"

"yes, sir"

"wait... your mother?" his professor asked

"As in... Y/N? she's... no longer with us?" his eyes wide as saucers.

Ali fell on his knees tears spilling not showing any signs of stopping any time soon.

"Mother... no... no... no no no NO! SHE CAN'T BE GONE!" He sobbed.

"Ashengrotto, take him to the infirmary to clean his wound up. The rest of you dismissed. I need to speak with the head master."

"Yes, professor"

-time Skip-

currently Ali was in the head masters office.

"Al-Asim. I heard what had happened. I'll let you go home for as long as you need. I apologize for your loss. You can use the mirror to go home." Crowley said as he watched the boy sob.

he himself wanted to cry since one of the most lovable students he had, had passed away.

"Your mother... was an incredible woman. Not only as a student but as a friend to the rest. It's a shame she... had to leave us so early. I thought that maybe... I'd be dead by the time she leaves."

"Thank you, headmaster... I'll be... heading out now" Ali exited the room and went to the mirror and went home.

Once he had arrived he was greeted by the servants but he just walked right pass.

His sister also greeted him, but he continued walking.

soon he arrived at his mother's bedroom. He saw her... looking like she's sleeping soundly... knowing she's never waking up again.

He walked to her bed side. held her now cold hand and feel to his knees and sobbed uncontrollably

"Mother!... Why.... WHY DID YOU HAVE TO LEAVE! I WAS GOING TO GIVE YOU THE HAPPY ENDING YOU DESERVE! BUT WHAT!? YOU ENDED YOUR STORY WITH LONGING THAT WAS NEVER FULFILLED!? WHY!?" he cried... not leaving her side for the rest of the day.

During her funeral, all her friends from NRC came. Tears spilled everywhere as they found their dear friend no longer with them.

they approached Ali who just stood by her coffin.

"Sorry... for your loss... Ali"

He just kept silent.

For the long duration of her funeral... Not once did his father... the man his dear mother loved and longed for, show up.

This had made the boy even more upset. but that did not overpower the sorrow he had.

-Time Skip-

The funeral had long ended...

His mother was buried...

he returned to school but barely spoke.

"Al-Asim... pup. I suggest you go meet with Professor Yuu. You need it"

Ali merely nodded as he went to his magicless professor who taught about monsters and health.

"Ali... take a seat"

Ali sat down across him.

"You haven't been sleeping have you... you have bags under your eyes. You look pale. Ali"

He just sat there.

"I know... I know you're depressed... Your mother was my vice prefect back in our school days. she was a wonderful woman to be with... she laughed... she sang... she smiled... but you know what I love most about her?"

Ali looked up and looked at Yuu.

"She makes people around her smile as well. She wouldn't want you to act like this. Y/N, She too lost a parent in her younger days. But that didn't stop her from being happy... She always had joy in her eyes... and you know you have her E/C eyes as well"

"So please... Don't let this bring you down. Your mother... Be like her. someone who smiles, laughed and most of all makes others do the same. sure reality doesn't have a happy ending. But you're writing your own story so make sure it leads to one."

Ali thought about it. looks back down... looks at the mirror in the room and looked straight into his E/N coloured eyes.

"You're right, Professor. Even if mother is gone... I should make her proud" Ali stood up with smile.

Ali bowed.

"Thank you, Professor Yuu!"

"Just call me, Yuu."

Ali smiled and ran off back to his dorm and to his room.

Yuu on the other hand stood up and went to the window and looked at the sky.

"I wish... I could've held you one last time... Y/N... I loved you so much" Yuu said as he let the tears fall.

Ali pulled a box from under his bed and opened it...

It may not fit his outfit but it doesn't matter.

he stood up holding the object and went to a mirror.

He looked straight at it and placed the hat he was given on his head.

"I'll prove... that I can give us a happy ending, Mother"

and with that Ali changed... He changed for the better. all the old staff watched him... and it reminded them of someone who they once cherished in this school.

-Time Skip-

it's been 2 years since Y/N's passing. Ali Al-Asim was now 18 years old. A third year.

But what's interesting is. when his 1st year ended the mirror had announced something... He was transferred to a different dorm.

-Flashback-

Just as they were all about to leave.

"Wait... It seems someone's soul had reshaped into something new." the mirror had stated.

"What? but that's not possible" Crowley said in surprise.

"Ali Al-Asim... Step forward"

Ali hesitantly stepped up.

"Yes... it seems your soul had reshaped... though you are still suited to be a part of Scarabia... Your heart... Is perfect for the Ramshackle Dorm"

"Isn't that"

"Your mother's old dorm... well it seems like you're becoming just like your mother" Crowley smiled as he placed a hand on the boys shoulder.

-end of flashback-

And since then he became the dorm head of the Ramshackle. His hat suited his outfit. he was happy.

And right now the 18 year old was going to make a decision that'll change his life.

Currently standing Infront of his father, Kalim Al-Asim. wearing a somewhat butler outfit somewhat similar to that of what his mother wore back in her younger days as a Hatter.

"Father... I don't wish to be an Al-Asim anymore."

"What? could you repeat that?"

"I don't want to be an Asim."

"But son! you're my eldest! you're my successor!"

"And I don't want to be your successor!"

"why!?"

"I want to continue mother's legacy!" Ali yelled as he gripped his wrist behind his back while looking down.

"what?"

"I want to be a Hatter! I want to carry on the Hatter name! I want to do this for mother! it the least you could let me do"

"the least I could let you do?"

"Yes! The most you could do was probably be there for her!"

"Ali"

"You left her all alone! making her cry every night! every night for you!"

"She didn't get her happily ever after! Cause you weren't there there for her! you weren't there for us!HECK She would've been contented with just you being there even if you didn't love her anymore!"

"YOU DIDN'T EVEN COME TO HER FUNERAL!" Ali snapped.

"I know you are aware that You're naive, gullible, oblivious and all that. but please... just see it... the least you could do" Ali looked up and looked Kalim straight in the eyes.

Kalim staring back into E/C colored orbs that was exactly the same as his wife that had recently passed away.

He looked down and took a deep breathe

"Alright"

"Huh?"

"I'll... let you go..."

"Really?"

"yes... as you said... it's the least I could do for not even attending the funeral."

"Thank you... father" Ali smiled as he walked away.

this was a new start for Ali... Becoming just like his mother. Writing a happily ever after for them.

We can't say the same for Kalim though.

He sat at his chair.

His 2rd wife entered the room and sat beside him.

"What did he want?" she asked.

"To leave the family"

"what?"

"He... wanted to become a Hatter to continue Y/N's legacy."

"I see... don't worry I'm here... and besides I'm sure we can make a new heir."

"I'm not in the mood"

"But, dear~"

right then and there Kalim snapped.

"I SAID IM NOT IN THE MOOD!" He yelled.

"BECAUSE OF YOUR DAMN FAMILY THREATENING TO HURT MY SON AND MY BELOVED WIFE I WAS FORCED TO NEGLECT HER!"

"IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR DAMN FAMILY I WOULD PROBABLY BE HOLDING HER RIGHT NOW WITH ANOTHER CHILD!"

"ALL BECAUSE YOU WANTED ME TO LOVE YOU! YOU'RE DELUSIONAL IF YOU THINK I WOULD!"

"What is it... WHAT IS IT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T!?"

"My heart... that's what it is... SHE WAS MY EVERYTHING! HER SMILE THAT WAS PRACTICALLY MY SUN! HER EYES THAT SHIMMERED LIKE THE STARS!"

"SHE DESERVES TO BE DEAD! SHE'S NOT FIT TO BE YOUR WIFE! SHE'S NOT FIT TO HAVE YOU! ME, ME, ME! IT WAS ME WHO SHOULD HAVE YOU! SHE'S HIDEOUS! SHE'S DUMB! SHE'S NAIVE! SO WHY WON'T YOU LOOK AT ME!"

"DON'T YOU DARE THAT ABOUT HER! FIRST OF ALL SHE'S THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN TO HAVE EVER EXISTED THAT EVEN VIL SAID SO! YOU WOULD NEVER BE AS BEAUTIFUL AS HER! SECOND SHE GRADUATED FROM NRC WITH TOP GRADES FITTING INTO THE TOP 50! SHE KNOWS MORE THAN YOU EVER WILL! AND THIRD OF ALL SHE'S NOT AS NAIVE AS YOU THINK! SHE EXPERIENCED THE CRUELTY OF THE WORLD TO THE POINT SHE WAS ALMOST BROKEN! BUT SHE JUST SMILED AND SAID THAT EVERYTHING WOULD BE JUST FINE! I BET YOU WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO HANDLE IT IF IT HAD HAPPENED TO YOU! FACE IT I'LL NEVER LOOK AT YOU THE SAME I DO WITH HER!"

"THAT'S WHY I KILLED HER SO YOU WOULD ONLY LOOK AT ME- MPH!" she clasped her mouth shut trembling from what came out.

"what? WHAT did you just say?"

"n-nothing!"

"WE HAD A DEAL! YOU WOULD LEAVE THEM ALONE IN EXCHANGE FOR ALL OF THIS!"

"I-I didn't mean to!"

"DIDN'T MEAN TO MY *SS! AS IF I'D BELIEVE THAT! JAMIL!"

Soon Jamil entered the room. in truth he was about to enter till he heard screaming and heard the entire thing.

"Yes, Kalim"

"Take her away. make her confess EVERYTHING that she had done. After that could you call Azul? I want to have a talk with him to deal with something."

"Yes, of course" Jamil left with the 2nd wife being taken away by guards.

"WAIT! KALIM PLEASE! I LOVE YOU! DON'T DO THIS TO ME!"

As they all left the room Kalim sat down and tears started running down his face.

"Why was I so stupid? thinking I could protect you without having to hurt anyone but as a result I ended up hurting you... then lost you. I should've dealt with them from the start. I should've just been there for you... now I not only lost you... but I lost our son too... haha! why am I so stupid?"

For the rest of the night Kalim just cried. knowing can never bring you back.

-END-

"isn't that an interesting timeline."

"Didn't know that there would be a bad ending to their story. I hope this timeline won't stick it would be so sad~" a voice said as she closed a book that's titled 'You Weren't there'

soon the book started to become grains of sand.

"oh? what is this?"

"The timeline is disintegrating"

"I guess that means that story won't be sticking around."She then pushed up her glasses as she looked back at the millions of books being written each having a pen that glows with inspiration and life."I wonder who's story would be finished next~ would the story disappear? or will it be part of the official collection?"

"Let's see what endings are in-store~ After all"

"I am the story keeper~"

#twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst kalim #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #kalim x reader #scarabia

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kuroliondragon · 3 years

Text

You are not getting away! (Ace Trappola x Reader)

Υou have a crush on Ace and keep on avoiding him. Until he finally has enough and confronts you about it…

Warnings: slight angst, fluff

“We will wait for Ace-chan and then we can all go to the cafeteria together!” Cater chirped cheerfully.

The moment you heard your friend’s name, you instantly turned to face Cater with blushing cheeks. “W-Wait! We are going with Ace?!” A cloud of panic was visible all over your face.

“Well yeah. It would be bad if we let Ace-chan alone.” Cater explained.

“Ohh, yeah…guess your right.” You awkwardly swallowed, hoping you didn't sound suspicious.

You looked at all your Heartslabyul friends, sweating as you thought hard for an excuse. “Oh! I just remembered!” you squealed as you found the perfect excuse.

Everyone turned their attention to you while wondering what has gotten in to you all of a sudden. “Is something the matter Perfect?” Riddle's silver eyes flashed at you with concern.

“Yeah… you see…I have left my notes for Crewel’s Alchemy class back at the dorm!” You nervously exclaimed.

“I see.” Riddle said as he placed a finger on his chin thinking. As he remebered something, he reached for his bag.

“So… I should really go.” With a shaking voice you signaled your head towards the other end of the hallway while hoping your little lie had worked.

“No need.” Riddle lifted his head, holding a notebook in his hands. “You can have mine instead.” He kindly offered.

“But are you not a second year?” You titled your head in confusion.

“This one has notes from my first year." Riddle held the notebook in the air. "I often lend it to Ace, Deuce or any other first year when they forget theirs.” His expession darkened a bit as he clicked his tongue in annoyance . "We wouldn't want to violate a rule now would we?" Riddle said while giving an intimidating smile to Deuce.

Deuce let out an embarrassed laugh while kept apologizing to his dorm leader with pleading eyes.

“Anyway, you can have it.” Riddle offered you his notes with a soft smile.

“I’m sorry. I can’t.” You nervously declined, clenching the hold of your bag. The truth was that you hadn't forgotten anything. Your notes for Crewel's class were safely secured in your bag but you― no matter what― needed an excuse to get away from Ace. You had to get out of there fast, and even if you wanted to be close to him you couldn't. After realizing your feeling for your dear friend, you couldn't be near him not even five minutes without being nervous or blushing red.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed Perfect.” Riddle spoke softly, placing his hand on your shoulder in an encouraging gesture. But his silver eyes suddenly narrowed, giving off a threatening aura that soon was matching his face. “Ace is the one who should be embarrassed, for making us wait for so long.”

“If he keeps this up, he’s going to violate rule 366: 'You shouldn’t be late more than 10 minutes before going to lunch on Wednesdays'. The dorm head gritted his teeth, his patience was running thin.

“Dorm leader!” A voice yelled, in your mind it sounded familiar― way too familiar for your liking.

All of you turned to the unexpected shouting, to find Ace running towards your group. “Dorm leader!” he shouted, his heartbeat rapid as he tried to take a few deep breaths, finally reaching you. "Dorm leader, there is a crisis at the dorm!"

"What crisis?" Riddle raised an eyebrow.

Ace gasped for air. "The flamingos are loose!", he panicked.

"What?!" Riddle,Trey and Cater yelled in unison.

"Yes! You need to head there fast!" He pointed towards the Mirror Chamber at the other end of the hall.

Without a second thought they all rushed to Heartslabyul to resolve the situation, while leaving you and Ace alone. Once they were gone, you slowly turned to face your friend― sweat was already forming in your forehead. "You know…I really have to go." You nervously voiced as you tried looking anywhere but Ace's red eyes, "So…it would be best if you followed them." You suggested, praying to any of the seven get him as quickly as possible off your back.

You hurriedly took a few steps towards the other end of the hall. But Ace grabbed your arm, stopping you in your tracks as he stared at you, "I lied."

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"I said, I lied." He gave out a sigh. Observing your still confused expression he decided to provide you further context. "The whole flamingos incident…is a lie. I made it up, there is no crisis."

"Then why did you-" you couldn't believe what you were hearing. Why would he do such thing?

"Because I needed an excuse to be with you…You were about to run off again." He confessed with a sadden expression.

"I wasn't. I was just-" you tried to make an excuse.

"-trying to get your Alchemy notes that you left in your dorm?" He sarcastically asked. "Yeah, I know", his voice sounded more and more disappointed as his red eyes travelled to the ground.

Your eyes widen as you gasped in shock. "How did you know that?" You imidiatly shifted your body and faced him. He was still holding your hand. Maybe he had no intention of letting go...

"I overheard your conversation." He said as he kept his gaze down and for the first time you thought you heard just a bit of shame in his voice. Shame...Ace…Ace Trappola being ashamed… This must have been the greatest joke of the century! There is no way that compulsive liar would be ashamed for anything! He wasn't ashamed when he challenged his dorm leader in a duel for the dorm head position. Why he would be now?

He swallowed hard. "Why are you avoiding me?", he frowned. Oh no…

"No, no, no, no. NO!" You cried in despair. "Why?! Why are you asking me the one question I can't answer you?!" You said trembling as you lowered your face in your hand― hiding from Ace's view.

For a few moments there was pure silence. None of you spoke, only the wind and the chatter of some students was heard. What could you say?! What he could say?! This had turned out a mess. There was no saving your situation. You could just tell him your feelings. The idea appeared in your mind like a flash of lightning. But Ace was a bit of a special case. Yes, he was your friend. Yes, you two may or may not have done some awesome pranks together. Yes, you have also been in a lot of trouble together. But that did not mean that you could just confess to him! He would laugh at you in no time. Once he knows, he will never stop. He will keep teasing you until you two graduate, if you are lucky! Because if not, he would tease you until you die. So, why would you pour your heart out to him?

All of a sudden you heard a deep sigh and a pair a hands pushed yours away, revealing your troubled expession. "What?" You snapped at him, your voice stained with melancholy, while you turned your head away from him.

"Hey!" He slightly slapped your cheek to make you face him.

You did face him but with an expression he had never wished to see on your face. You were about to shed tears.

"Hey…don't…don't cry." He slowly placed his palm on your cheek as he cupped you cheek with a sincere gaze. "I'm just worried."

"I know. I know." You reassured, placing your hand on the top of his. "But it's hard to say what I feel…" you pressed your lips together in a tight line.

"Then say it. Don't hesitate because of me. " He encouraged with a smile.

"You will laugh." You twisted your gaze to the side, hoping he would leave the matter alone.

Only for him to brought your face to look at him once again, "I won’t."

"You will because you are a little shit." You almost laughed yourself.

"True." He gave you a small giggle. "But I want to know." He sofly stared at you. You still refused to give him any information about what you wanted to tell him. So he moved onto plan B. "Alright then, how about this: I will try guessing and you will tell me if I am close or not." He gave you a toothy grin.

You let an exasperated sigh, "Fine, because you are not going to leave me alone either way."

He gave you a mischievous smile. "Is it about..." he thought a bit, "...that you don't want to be friends with the best prankster of NRC?" he said playfully.

You bursted out laughing, "Cold, very cold."

Oh, now it was beginning to be fun! His red eyes twinkled craftily. "Is it because you are in love with some one?"

You bit your lip, averting your gaze from him, "Warm."

"Is that person close to you?" He suddenly brought his face close to yours.

"Warm, very warm!" You yelped, turning red.

"Is this person me, perhaps?" He cooed.

Your nervousness reached it's peak after Ace had asked the question. Something inside you, a gut feeling, was whispering to you that Ace knew exactly what he was asking, as well as, what the answer was. So, you shallowed and opened your mouth to answer. But you had no time to; without a warning you were met with Ace's lips on the top of yours, forcefully wanting access to the inside of your mouth.

Once he pulled away, you were left dazed, staring into thin air, while trying to catch your breath like a fish gasping for air. Ace laughed at your silly expession. "I surprised you, didn't I?~", he gave you a playful wink.

Still dazed as you were you could only utter one word, "Warm." You still couldn't believe the fact that Ace Trappola had just kissed you.

"And it's about to get warmer." He huskily whispered, grabbing you by the collar of your shirt and diving for another deep kiss.

"ACE TRAPPOLA", a furious shout was suddenly heard.

You and Ace quickly pulled away from each other, dread filling both of you as you realized whose heels were angrily tapping in the halls.

The two of you turned towards the sound, finding a Riddle seething with rage while being followed by a concerned Trey and Cater. "Dorm leader, I can explain!" Ace cried out as he saw Riddle marching towards him.

"Riddle at least let him explain." Trey pleaded.

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!!!" The dorm leader screamed as he unleashed his unique magic.

210 notes · View notes

weelittleweasley · 4 years

Text

sheer brilliance (f.w.)

prompt: being a teacher’s assistant at a local college, you are assigned to a philosophy professor who is notorious for being young, cocky, and undeniably handsome. does his arrogance get in the way of you getting or job done? or is it his looks?

pairing: professor! fred x teacher’s assistant! reader

warnings: typically frowned upon relationships (oopsie i love forbidden romances that are legal and consentual mwah), language, food, drinking, alcohol

word count: 15k (I am so sorry I really couldn’t help myself)

author’s note: there won’t be a direct part two of this, but you can bet ur sweet booty that i will be writing more prof!fred in this universe because he’s just so HNNNGG

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @PaintballKid711 @vogueweasley @freddie-weaselbee @freds-slut @missmulti @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @valwritesx @sweeterthansammy @loonylovegood13 @lostaurorax

“It’s so nice to see another young face here,” a blonde haired girls sighs next to you as you swipe your ID card to enter the university building for your first official day of work. “I thought I was going to be the only new TA here,” she confides in you as your shoes click down the corridor as you make your way through the halls.

You flash her a comforting smile, “Same here. But I think there’s more of us on the way. Besides, we’re relatively early.”

As a last year graduate student, you needed to be a teaching assistant in order to get your degree and finish your course requirements. It wasn’t an opportunity you were thrilled about, but it would give you hands on teaching experience in a university setting that could be very valuable. That was, if you had the right professor.

“I’m Luna, by the way,” the girl next to you chimes as she fixes the strap of her purse, offering you her hand to shake, gladly accepting it. “I’m a TA for Women and Gender Studies,” she adds proudly.

“I’m (Y/N),” you smile, “TA for Philosophy.” Luna looks impressed as you tell her about your area of study, making you laugh. “I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds. I quite like it, actually. Just hoping the professor I’m assisting is a good one,” you nervously speak, turning the corner to walk to the Dean’s office.

Luna shakes her head, “I hear you. It’s definitely nerve wracking, but Hogwarts University has some of the top rated professors in the country, so I really don’t think we’ll have many problems in that department.”

You suck in a deep breath as you nod. The university was quite prestigious, you were shocked when you were informed you would be assisting here, but honored nonetheless. However, there was still a pool of nerves that swam around in your stomach as you thought about the professor you would be assisting. You could have a someone who was so knowledgeable in your field of study or someone who was a complete ass. It was a dice roll. “One can only hope,” you sigh before arriving in front of the Dean’s door, placing three knocks on the wooden door.

The door swings open to reveal a happy looking man, brown hair combed back and a toothy grin on his face. He wore houndstooth pants with a white button down tucked in and a neatly tied bow tie around his neck, matching the color pattern of his pants. His face glowed with excitement as he beamed, “Ms. Lovegood, Miss (Y/L/N), so glad to finally have you with us!” You and Luna offered him a warm smile in return as he opened his office door wider for the two of you to enter. “Welcome to Hogwarts! I’m Dean Longbottom, but you two can just call me Neville,” he smiles as he sits behind his desk adorned with small succulents and stationary. “I’ve been anticipating your arrival along with the other teaching assistants for awhile. It’s so nice that we have such a large pool of you for this semester. The professors are quite lucky to get quite a brilliant bunch like you,” he compliments.

“Speaking on behalf of all the TAs, I think I can confidently say we feel honored to be here,” Luna smiles softly as the dean chuckles and you nod.

Neville nods his head, “We are honored to have you.” You and Luna thank him before he begins again, ��So, the two of you have some time before you are reporting to your classrooms for lecture. How about I give you the tour of the campus? A proper Hogwarts welcome?”

You and Luna excitedly agree and Dean Longbottom starts to walk you through the hallways of the beautiful university. The university had once been castle during the Gothic era, still maintaining the same structure. Beautiful hallways, paintings of founders hung in the walls, windows adorned with stained glass as sunlight seeped through. “The dining hall is on the left over here,” Neville gestures, revealing a large room lined with tables, school flags hanging high as students varying in year gather to chat and eat. “And if you look ahead, you’ll find the campus courtyard. It’s beautiful this time of year with the flowers in full bloom,” Neville smiles to himself. “Across the street are the campuses houses. Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Syltherins, and Hufflepuffs,” he points as you see tall houses, coated in paint of their respective colors. “I myself was a Gryffindor when I was a student,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you and Luna. “Other than that, I think that concludes the tour. Here are your staff lanyards and your professor assignments have been forwarded to you in your emails. There’s still some time left before lecture, so feel free to hang around campus or in the staff lounge. If you need anything, please, don’t hesitate. I’ll see you two very soon!” he waves before disappearing down the hall.

In this moment, you take the time to look around the hall to see the bustling student body, smiling and laughing as they make their way down the halls. You softly smile to yourself, reminiscing about when you were an undergraduate. A freshman in the halls, excited for university. Now, you were nearly done with graduate school, soon to be a certified professor. Time had flown by in the blink of an eye.

“You want to take a peak in the staff lounge?” Luna disturbs your thoughts.

Turning to her, you give her a smile and a nod before walking up the stairs three levels to reach the staff lounge. Inside were a few professors scattered here and there, but mostly there were TAs. The room radiated buzzing nervous energy as red lanyards signifying TA status hung around a few necks. One of the boys sitting at the table spotted the red lanyard and spoke cooly, “You’ve found the right place.”

He rose from his chair and walked over to you and Luna with a shocking amount of confidence. His jet black hair was gelled back neatly, a crisp light blue button up and handsome tie clung on his neck as he stuck out a hand for you to shake. “Name’s Harry,” he proudly shook your hand. “I was a TA here two years ago, now in charge of the TA program and coordinator for the math department. You two look new. Not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just I could sense it,” he laughs.

“(Y/N),” you shake his hand firmly as he smiles. Luna does the same with a small smile. “You’re right about the new part. It’s both our first semesters here,” you confirm.

Harry nods and walks back to his chair, leaning back, tucking his hands in his pockets. “Nice. What’s your area of focus?” he asks.

Luna grabs a seat and speaks, “Women and Gender Studies. You by any chance know a Ginevra Weasley? She’ll be the professor I’m assisting this semester.”

Harry lets out a chuckle before an unfamiliar voice speaks up, “Oh, Potter is familiar here with Ms. Ginevra Weasley. That’s his fiancé.” You turn around to face a smirking face as he sips on his piping cup of black coffee. “I’m Seamus Finnegan. Head TA for the chemistry department,” he introduces. “You’ve lucked out,” he tells Luna. “Ginny is the best in the department. She’s a hard ass, but you’ll learn a lot from her.”

Luna smiles to herself, “Very excited to get started then.”

“What about you?” Harry nods to you as Seamus slides into a seat next to Harry. “Area of study?”

“Philosophy,” you reply cooly. Seamus gives you an impressed look as Harry smiles lightly. “Specifically Ethics,” you add on. “I’m assisting another Weasley, actually?” you look at Luna. “Are they by any chance related?” you ask Harry and Seamus.

The two of them just chuckle as Harry sighs, “Yeah, the whole family basically teaches here. You’ll learn fast. They all got jobs at the same time since their father is on the board of directors. All of them deserve to be here though. Brilliant professors, all of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief that you didn’t realize you were holding in. Confirmation that you had a more than capable professor was good news.

Seamus continues on Harry’s tangent. “Basically one in each department,” he shrugs. “Ginny is a women and gender studies professor, Percy is the head of the business department, Charles is in the vet school, Bill is an adjunct professor now, but he’s in the language department with a focus in French, Ron is the European History professor and by the looks of it, he’ll be the head of the department next year, George is the chemistry professor I assist, and then there’s Fred w-”

“That’s the one,” you interrupt. “He’s the one I’m assisting this semester. How’s he? Do you have any intel that could help a new bee out?” you ask hopefully with a glimmer of jest in your voice. But the look on Harry and Seamus’ faces make your stomach do a flip. They look at each other knowingly as Seamus lets out a small chuckle. He mutters a small yikes before sipping on his coffee and excuses himself from the table to go attend his lecture with George. “What was that look about? Is he a lazy professor?” you groan.

Harry lightly laughs and shakes his head, scratching the back of his neck. “Fred Weasley is a great professor, no need to worry about that. He’s just...how do I put this without getting fired?” he whispers the last bit to himself as your eyes widen and you lean in closer with a what?, making Harry shake his head. “It’s not bad, I swear, he’s not like...unstable or anything. He’s just very cocky. Fred is good at his job and he knows it. He doesn’t let anyone forget it. He’s been ranked top professor at the school for the past three years and wears it like a badge of honor.”

Great, a cocky professor. A narcissist. Just what you needed when starting a job that could determine the fate of your career. You sigh and flop back in your chair as Luna gives you a sympathetic look. “Bloody brilliant,” you huff.

“He’s a great professor though!” Harry tries to make light of the conversation. “Fred has been teaching straight out of university, so he knows what he’s doing. Students really admire him and his lectures are some of the best that I’ve seen. He knows how to have fun in the class, but he doesn’t take any bullshit,” Harry reassures you as you give him a weak nod. It was nice to hear that he was at least respected and admired by the students. Maybe you could learn to do the same.

Luna takes a look at her watch and gives you a nudge. “It’s twenty minutes until the new lecture block. Reckon we should introduce ourselves to our professors?” she asks as you sigh with a reluctant nod. After that bit of information you just received, you were less excited to meet your professor. “It was nice meeting you, Harry,” she beams to Harry as you two rise from your seats.

“Lovely meeting you two. I’m sure I’ll catch you around in the halls,” he winks friendly before you both exit the staff lounge.

Nervously, you played with the cuffs of your turtleneck, walking down the halls, parting with Luna, wishing the other good luck in their first lecture. As you strolled the hallway of the fifth floor, searching from room 523 where Philosophical Ethics would take place. You wondered how he would look. Old, no doubt. Harry said he’s been teaching since he graduated which had to mean he was in his late forties. Was he a cranky old white man? Great. Just fantastic. He probably had the traditional way of teaching which meant he sat at the front of the classroom and spoke at the class for three hours. Your worst nightmare. How could someone ruin something you loved?

You stumble upon the wooden door with golden paint etched into it 523. With a confident inhalation, you push the door open and enter the classroom, neatly set up for the next lecture. Three rows of eight, one next to the other. In the front of the classroom was a large chalkboard with the words Welcome to Ethics written in sloppy handwriting. Gently, there was soft jazz music playing from a small speaker, filling the classroom, saxophone and trumpet melodies echoing. Everything looked normal. Except for who sat at the desk.

At the front of the classroom, sitting at a dark brown desk was a tall, lean young man with tuffs of orange hair styled back. He wore a freshly ironed white button down that was tucked neatly into a pair of chestnut corduroys with matching brown chukka boots. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, showing off his muscular biceps and toned arms. A shiny silver Rolex watch was strapped on his left wrist as he tapped a pen against his desk. But you couldn’t get over how young he was. The youth in his face was lively as his dark chocolate eyes scanned over a paper in front of him. Your presence was unknown to him as he continued to flip through papers, dragging his pen across the margins.

Politely, you clear your throat, causing him to look up from his paper, looking up at you. When his eyes landed on yours, you gulped thickly. His whole face was undeniably attractive. His angled jaw, full lips, soft eyes. He gave you a confused look. “Lecture isn’t for another twenty minutes,” he told you before looking back down at his paper, almost dismissing you. “But feel free to have your choice in seat. I hope you don’t mind the music. Let me know if it’s distracting,” he tells you before flipping the pages again.

You inhale deeply. “Actually, Professor Weasley, I’m (Y/N),” you introduce yourself. Professor Weasley looks up at you with confused eyes, trying to put together your identity. “Your TA for the semester?” you speak with a small smile. “I’m very excited to get started with you.”

But before you can ask him what you could do to help set up the classroom, he speaks, “I didn’t ask for a TA.”

His words take you aback for a moment. Instead of an introduction or even a simple hello, he told you he didn’t ask for a TA. “I beg your pardon?” you ask with almost a laugh.

“I didn’t ask for a TA. I don’t need one,” he clarifies to you, rising from his desk as you gulp, taking in how tall he was, standing proudly above you. “I’ve never needed a TA in the past, and I don’t know who decided I needed one this year. After being voted best professor since I got here, I don’t understand why this is the year I need one,” he laughs, making his way around the desk, leaning against it, tucking his hands in his pockets.

You give him a disturbed look. Harry telling you that Fred Weasley was cocky was a damn understatement. The bloody guy was telling you to your face that you weren’t wanted or needed here. That he could do his job perfectly fine without you. “I’m sure you don’t need one, Professor, but this was my assignment. Dean Longbottom assigned me here and I’m just following what I was told to do in order to get my degree,” you tell him, trying to remain cool and polite when you’d rather tell him to suck it up and deal with it.

Fred run his fingers through his hair before placing them on either side of his body, leaning back into his desk, tongue pressed against his cheek. His biceps flexed underneath his tight white shirt, making you gulp, trying not to get distracted at the fact that your professor was not only a dick, but an incredibly handsome one. “Neville assigned you?” he laughed. “Alright. Well, I’ll go down to office and get this sorted away,” he huffed before standing up straight.

But before he could take a step further, you stopped him, now getting frustrated that this guy didn’t even try being nice to you. “Hold on,” you stopped him, fixing the strap of your purse on your shoulder before placing it on the desk next to you. “This job was assigned to me. There are no other TA positions available in the philosophy department this late in the game. I’m not gonna lose this job just because you allegedly don’t need a TA,” you try to keep cool, but the venom leaks out every now and then.

Fred gives you a light chuckle before speaking, “Not allegedly. I don’t need one. There’s a reason why I’m one of the most successful and youngest professors. I can run this class by myself without some grad student’s help.”

Now, you are pissed. “Alright, you know what?” you fold your arms over your chest. “I don’t appreciate being spoken to like this. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am and I will be respected. Regardless if I am a TA, or a student, or a co-worker. I am here to do a job and I will do that job no matter what anyone says,” you tell him as he just stares at you, a cocky smirk on his face that makes your blood boil. It was like he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. “So how about we save ourselves the dramatics and just be satisfied with the fact that this is the situation?”

Fred just exhales and rubs hand over his face. You could tell he didn’t want you here, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to be here either after his little stunt. You were quite sure he was capable of running his own class, but you weren’t here to take his job. You were here to be an assistant to his teaching, being there to support and help him. This was a requirement for you, not a pastime. “Alright then,” he eventually states, making the way back to his desk. “You can grab a desk from the rows and bring it up to the front, I guess,” he huffs as you remain standing with your arms still folded across your chest.

He looks up and gives you a look. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” you ask with venom pouring from your glossed lips as you give him a sarcastic smile.

Fred gives you a sarcastic smile back as he drops his pen and speaks, “Fred Weasley. MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. Cambridge Graduate. Cum laude.” The pride dripped from his voice as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “And you are?”

You wanted to throw your shoe at his head, your blood was boiling at how arrogant and prideful this man was. “If you were listening before, you would know my name is (Y/N). MA in Philosophy and Human Ethics. University of Oxford. 3.98 GPA,” you mimic him.

Fred gives out a chuckle as you grab your purse and start to settle yourself in the room. “Oxford student? Fitting that our universities are rivals,” he huffs before pulling a desk and chair over for you, placing it near his desk.

“And why would that be?” you ask sarcastically as Fred bites the inside of his cheek, trying not to snap a snarky response back at you. “Listen, Fred, I’m just here to do my job and do it well. I’m not here to step on your toes. I’m here to finish my requirements so I can get certified,” you tell him as you stand beside your desk, smoothing out your plaid skirt that your turtleneck was tucked neatly into.

As you stand there, Fred’s eyes rake up and down your body, taking you in as a whole. The first time he’s done this since you walked in. His eyes are like magnets, scanning every inch of your body and how you carry yourself so confidently in the space. When his eyes reach yours, you inhale deeply, trying to prevent the heat from rising to your cheeks as your handsome superior checks you out. “I’m not worried about you, darling,” his thick accent coos. “You’re the least of my worries.”

Just as the words slip out of his mouth, students start to file into the classroom, greeting Fred with good mornings and how are you’s. You tell yourself to calm down, to remain friendly, and cool. As the students file in, Fred greets them all with a warm smile. “Welcome back everyone. This is Philosophical Ethics with Professor Weasley. You all can call me Professor, Professor Weasley, Fred, Professor Fred. Just not Freddie, that one is reserved for my mum,” he teases, earning a few chuckles from the class. He glances over to you with a small stare and begrudgingly introduces you, “This is (Y/N), my TA for the semester. She will be here with us for...?”

“The whole semester,” you remind him with a sweet smile contrasted by your daggers for eyes. “Looking forward to working with you all,” you tell the class with a warm smile, receiving a few back in return.

Fred sighs, “Right. Well, anyway, let’s take roll and then get right into things, yeah?” The class nods as you sigh. “Alright, who can talk to me about Nietzsche?”

This was going to be a long semester.

Three hours of the class went by at a sluggish pace. Not to mention, Fred didn’t extent an invitation for your opinion or thoughts during the lesson. You didn’t expect him to let you teach the class, but instead, you just sat and listened to him run the class.

Although he didn’t let you say much, you had to admit that his lecture was quite good. He led the class in a really interesting way, almost like a Socratic seminar type. He let his students make observations and create open dialogues about the philosophy you were covering. Fred encouraged student’s thoughts rather than shut them down and he tried to encourage everyone to participate to make sure everyone said what they wanted to say. But you, he didn’t extend that offer.

Instead, you took notes. Notes on Fred Weasley. The way he spoke with his hands, how he sloppily wrote on the board with chalk, underlining words, circling, and drawing small diagrams. How he folded his arms across his chest when someone brought up a provocative thought. How he nibbled on his bottom lip when a student asked him a question. How he glanced over at you every once in awhile, catching your eye and smirking when he caught you looking at him. You would roll your eyes and continue to scribble down his mannerisms, what he focused on in class, and how he conducted it.

The students ate up everything that fell from his lips. It was like magic, the way he could capture 20 students attention about something as niche as existentialism. But you couldn’t lie, Fred Weasley was captivating.

“Okay, for next week’s class read Nicomachean Ethics and start drawing comparisons and differences between Aristotle and Nietzsche,” Fred announces as he closes his book and dismisses his students for the day, a chorus of thank you’s and have a good day’s echo in the classroom.

The final student exits as Fred retires back to his desk, sorting papers and filing away miscellaneous papers. You click your pen as you watch him, waiting for him to break the silence. But instead he sits at his desk and starts scribbling into his planner. With a sigh, you break the silence and speak, “You give a really informative lecture. You engage with the students really well.”

You thought a compliment would be a peace offering. An olive branch of sorts. But Fred took it as an opportunity to dig into you. “I know. That’s why it’s a full class and I’ve got a waitlist 30 kids long,” he speaks without looking up at his desk.

The guy was cocky as all hell and he was letting you soak it all in. The grip on your pen grows tighter as you click your tongue against the roof of your mouth in irritation, trying to maintain a steady facade. “So,” you breathe out as you grab your bag, pulling your notebook from your back. “You want to talk about lesson plans? I see that you’ve assigned Aristotle for the next week and a half. Maybe a smooth transition would be going into Kant and talking about the categorical imperative?” you suggest, sitting on a desk in front of Fred’s.

He peers up at you through his lashes, your legs dangling from the desk. He gives you all of his attention as he pushes his sleeves further up his arms, fiddling with the lock on his Rolex. “I’ve already taken care of the lesson plans for the rest of the semester. It’s all planned out. It has been since last month,” he explains to you as you nod your head, thinking he would offer something else for you to do.

“Okay,” you trail off. “Is there...anything you want me to do? Coordinate office hours? Set up my own as well so I can be a resource to the students. I can give you my phone number and email to put on the syllabus, so the students know they can reach out to me if they have any questions,” you tell him as you start to scribble down your email and number.

But Fred shakes his head, “Won’t be necessary. If a student needs you, they’ll come to you. Besides, they should really come to me if they need anything since I have more knowledge about the course.”

His passive comments were starting to pile up on you as you inhale deeply, your chest heaving. The turtleneck around your body felt very warm as anger started to bubble in your chest. “Maybe if you told me about the course, I could be a valuable resource to students. Remember, I’m just as qualified as you. I just haven’t graduated yet,” you remind Fred as you lean back on the desk, legs swinging back and forth as Fred starts to pack up his briefcase.

“Yet,” he looks up at you with a smirk, pink lips curled upwards as he leans over his desk, gathering his things. Even though the smirk was condescending as all hell, it did something to you. In more than one way. It made anger gather in your chest, frustration tingle in your temples, but butterflies pitter patter away deep in your stomach.

“So what exactly do you want me to do?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest as Fred grabs his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in the other as he does a once over his desk.

Calmly, Fred speaks, “You can start by filing away those papers on my desk and then once that’s done, make a list of the students in grade point average order. I want to know who needs the most help and who is fine on their own.” After he gives you that direction, he starts for the door.

With a scoff, you hop down from the desk. “And you’re just going to leave?” you laugh at him as he place his hand on the door with a shrug. “You know I am a teaching assistant. Not your personal assistant,” you spit at him.

Fred swings the door open and stands there with a smile. “Teaching is more than just standing front of a room as talking out of your ass, dear,” he tells you as the nickname makes you bite your tongue from yelling at him.

“You really are arrogant, you know that?” you sneer at him with your hands on your hips, glaring at him. You stare at him as he stands in front of the open door, jacket laid over his forearm, leather briefcase in hand, his other hand combing through his fire red hair.

Fred smiles lightly to you before sighing, “I’m bloody brilliant, (Y/N). You would be arrogant, too.” His words make you shake your head with a scoff. “Sort those papers for me, won’t you? I’ll see you tomorrow in here. Early. 9am sharp.”

But before you can ask him why, he’s out the door and calling after another professor, leaving you alone to your own devices. You let out a frustrated groan as you cover your face with your hands. Of course, you got stuck with the prick professor who takes advantage of an extra set of hands. You walk over to his desk and see a small stack of papers to be sorted and filed away along with the list he wanted you to organize.

You plop yourself into the desk seat and carefully start going through each file, examining each student’s credentials, organizing them by GPA and last name. You note who could be a tutor and who needs a tutor, who is at exit level, who is at entry level, so on and so forth. The task was interesting, but so time consuming. It was a way you could start to learn more about your students, even if it was through paper.

It had been an hour and a half and you were on your last file when you hear a gentle knock at the door. Slowly, it creaks open to reveal Luna and Harry together. Luna carries two lattes in her hand and smiles, extending her arm out to give it to you. “You are a saint, you know that?” you laugh as you accept the warm, caffeinated beverage.

“You’re still working?” she asks in disbelief as you finalize some last notes in the margins of one student’s file. “But class ended almost two hours ago.”

You look up at the both of them. “Oh, I know. But Fred left after the lecture and insisted I do the filing and note taking whilst he got to leave on time,” you speak through gritted teeth, finishing scribbling your last note and flopping the pen down, leaning back in the desk chair with a huff. “You weren’t lying when you told me he’s a self-righteous fuck,” you talk to Harry.

Harry laughs and digs his hands into his pockets with a huff. “Well, I didn’t use those words,” he laughs as you give him a look through your mascara coated lashes. He gives you a sorry sigh and leans over the desk, “Fred is a great guy one on one, but as a professor...he just likes having reign over his classroom. It’s not just you. His last TA was three years ago and he made the kid miserable. The kid, Dean Thomas, was so sick of philosophy after he switched to psychology. Now he’s a first year professor.” You roll your eyes and push yourself out of the desk, grabbing your purse and notebooks, piling them all in as Harry continues. “What happened today?”

Recounting the moments of the day made you frustrated, but you allowed yourself to vent to your co-workers. “Well, when I walked in, he thought I was a student,” you speak as Harry and Luna give you an apologetic look, Harry muttering an ouch. “Oh, that’s not even the worst part. Then I told him I was a TA and he told me he didn’t need one, because he’s more than capable of running his own classroom,” you mimic his pompous attitude. “He had the gall to threaten me to go to Neville’s office and find me a replacement class! I mean, sure, he’s a great professor, but that doesn’t mean he’s the only good one in this bloody school!” you exclaim, frustrated failing your arms, earning a small chuckle from Harry and Luna. “I’m sorry, I’m just very frustrated that this is how my first day on the job went,” you run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head.

“No need to apologize,” Luna walks over and touches your shoulder gently. “He sounds...unpleasant...” she tries to be as cordial as possible, earning a giggle from you. “But maybe you’ll warm up to each other? It’s only the first day. We have a whole semester ahead of us,” she looks between you and Harry cheerfully. In a weird way, her light, happy tone made you feel a little better.

You sigh, “I guess so. Ugh, a whole semester with Fred Weasley...”

The three of you start out of the classroom and start to make your way down the halls, retiring to the staff parking lot and bus stops. But before you can make your way to the public transportation, Harry suggests, “Hey, a few of us are headed to the bar to grab a drink before headed home. Do you both fancy coming?”

Luna perks up and shakes her head with an eager yes please. The idea of grabbing drinks sounded great and just what you needed after this gruesome day. But the looming thought of having to get up early and meet Fred in the classroom tomorrow at nine sharp hung over you like a storm cloud. With a sigh, you speak, “Wish I could. But Fred is making me meet him at nine to talk about lesson plans or something. Last thing I need is showing up hungover to my second day on the job.”

Harry and Luna groan in protest. “Oh, come on! You can’t let Fred rob you of your autonomy!” Luna stomps her foot and grabs your hand. “One drink won’t hurt! We’ll both have one pint and then I’ll take the bus back with you. We’re only one stop away from each other on the blue line,” she tries to convince you.

Harry starts dancing backwards to his car as he beeps it open. “I’ve got an extra seat,” he sing songs as he opens up the door for you.

A small smile creeps up on your face as you sigh. One drink couldn’t hurt. Just one cheeky little drink and then home away you would go. The night was still young, so you’d still be in bed at a reasonable hour. One drink. “You guys suck,” you laugh as you start walking to Harry’s car as Luna claps her hands in glee and Harry triumphantly punches the air, making you laugh.

-------

The morning sun creeps through your window, making you groan and roll over. The sunlight hurt your eyes and made your stomach churn as a headache pounds through your cranium, making you feel sick. “Bloody hell,” you whisper as you sit up and rub your eyes.

You slowly start to remember the events of last night and everyone there. It was all the TAs, including some of the younger professors. You met another Weasley, Ron you think. The history professor. Absolutely nothing like Fred. He was charming and goofy in a lovable way as he sat next to his wife, Hermione, a classical literature professor, an arm draped over her shoulders. Seamus was also there along with a few other chemistry TAs as they sat at a high rise table, pointing and whispering about the business professors and TAs who sat all the way in the back, drinking scotch and making mild chatter.

“No bother meeting them,” Seamus told you as you sipped on a gin and tonic. “The business professors and TAs are all little shits. The one with the blonde hair is Draco Malfoy. He thinks he’s better than everyone because he got his PhD, but everyone knows his dad paid off the university to give him the doctorate. His TAs all kiss his ass to get in his good graces. Zabini, Nott, Goyle, all of them,” he groans before taking a long sip of his ale, making you laugh.

You had tried to tell yourself that you would only stay for one drink, but then you started yourself in conversation with the other TAs about undergrad and grad school, realizing the mutual friends you had with each other. And then, you found yourself being convinced by Ron to do a green tea shot with him as he toasted to all of the new TAs of the semester. And with that, one drink became six.

With a groan, you slump yourself up in your small studio apartment and rub your temples. As the sunlight leaked in through your white linen curtains, you check the clock. The hands pointed to 8:25am which made you gasp and rise to your feet. “Motherfucker,” you huff to yourself as you run to the bathroom. You had to meet Fred at 9 and it already took you twenty minutes to get to campus which left you with virtually no time to get ready. “Shit, shit, shit,” you turn on the shower quickly, running to your closet to grab a fresh pair of plaid pants and a jumper. “I’m so dead,” you whisper to yourself as you scramble to get ready.

You frantically rub soap all over your body with one hand and brush your teeth with the other, needing to freshen up after a long night out. The shower was cold and unpleasant as you shivered before hoping out and throwing your clothes on, opting to skip a full face of makeup and just pop on tinted moisturizer and lip balm.

Checking the clock again, it was 8:35 and you groan in frustration. “I am a fucking moron,” you curse at yourself, grabbing your purse and notebooks and pens and papers, trying to get yourself organized before racing out the door to catch the bus. You run to your pantry to grab a granola bar as your phone starts buzzing on your nightstand. “Who the fuck is it?!” you scream as if your phone could hear you.

Stomping over, you grab it and see it was Harry calling you. “I’m kinda rushing to get out the door, Potter, make it quick, what’s up?” you babble as you slip your shoes in your Oxfords, lacing them up quickly.

Harry chuckles over the line. “I figured as much. You were a bit of a mess last night,” he tells you as you groan. “I’m only teasing you. But that being said, I’m passing your street in like two minutes, do you wanna catch a ride instead of betting on the bus?” he offers.

You sigh the biggest sigh of relief as you immediately respond. “Harry, you are a life saver,” you huff as Harry laughs. “I’ll be downstairs in a hot second. I just need to grab my coat and keys,” you tell him before hanging up.

Someone had your back today and sent Harry Potter to you. Rushing over to your coat rack, you grab your trench coat and your keys, doing a once over of your apartment, making sure you had everything, turned off all the lights and faucets. With a confident sigh, you exit your apartment, lock the door, and rush down the stairs.

As expected, Harry sat in his car with a ginger haired woman in the passenger seat. You give him an exhausted smile as you open the back seat and slide in. “Morning,” he chimes as you shut the door and buckle your seatbelt. “How are we feeling?”

You give him a knowing look. “Fuck off,” you grumble as he laughs. “I can’t believe I let myself get carried away like that last night.” You never let yourself loose track of time like that; you felt so irresponsible. “If you didn’t call me, I would surely have my ass handed to me by Fred today.”

“Fred?” the woman in the passenger seat chimes in. “Are you the poor TA who has to deal with my brother this semester?” she asks as you sigh and nod. “Good God, I apologize on his behalf. He can be a dick sometimes. I’m Ginny by the way.”

She turns to you, offering her hand to shake as you gladly accept it. “The women and gender studies professor, right?” you ask as she proudly nods. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m (Y/N), philosophy,” you tell her with a smile. “You and Harry are engaged, if I remember correctly?”

Ginny smiles happily and flashes you her engagement ring. “Just recently, yeah,” she confirms with an admiring look to Harry as he drives down the road, a small smile on his lips. “We met when we were both TAs and have been together since,” she recounts with a smile. “Enough of that though, how are you finding Hogwarts so far? With exception of my bothersome older brother,” she reframes the question.

“So far, so good,” you tell her honestly. The staff at the university was class. Everyone was so warm and welcoming and made you feel at home instantly. “I think last night I also met your brother, Ron. He kept handing out shots to the new TAs,” you recall as the pang in your head agrees.

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Yeah, that’s him. Ron likes to mess with the new bees every year,” she speaks. “Here, take this,” she hands you a piece of spearmint gum and a tube of mascara. “It’ll make you feel better, trust me,” she winks as you thank her. “Harry should have given you a heads up on that one,” she elbows him.

Harry shakes his head, “Ron has been my best mate since grad school, I’m not revealing his tricks to anyone no matter how good of a friend they are.” And with that, Harry pulls into the staff parking lot of Hogwarts as the time reads on the dashboard 8:55am. 5 minutes to spare.

As Harry puts the car in park, you unbuckle yourself and say, “I hate to rush out like this, but I quite literally have to dash to get to this meeting with Fred on time. Ginny, it was lovely meeting you. Harry, I owe you one. Thanks so much for the ride,” you slide out of the car as you dash towards the school.

“You can buy me a round of drinks!” he teases after you as you shake your head, dashing through the halls of Hogwarts to get to classroom 523.

You dart in between students as you run up the stairs, purse in hand, hair flowing as you make a mad dash. Finally, you reach the classroom and push the door open to reveal no one in the room. “Seriously?” you huff out of breath. You just ran here for no reason. Fred was no where to be found. But after closer inspection, there was a small sticky note on the chalkboard that read be back in ten. You huff and throw your bag down, walking around the classroom, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing headache.

The classroom is neatly decorated, plants here and there, the windows open to draw in fresh air as you inhale deeply. Then you remember from yesterday. There was a small speaker by Fred’s desk, connected to the desktop on his desk. You walk over and press the power button, making the speak bleep on with a blue flashing light. You press play and see what was on the queue. Soft jazz music starts playing, specifically Frank Sinatra’s I’ve Got You Under My Skin. You smile to yourself, how fitting.

As the jazz music echos lightly, you allow yourself to sway gently to the music, smiling to yourself. The song reminds you of working late in the library when you were in school, listening to music to maintain your focus. You hum the melody to yourself, dancing around the classroom, looking at the bookshelves, letting your fingers trace down their backbones. You allow yourself to start softly singing the lyrics as the tempo picks up, swaying back and forth as you pluck a book from the shelf, scanning it’s contents.

The song picks up, the brass section wailing as you dance around, reading the first few pages of a random book from Fred’s collection. You continue to sing out loud, a little off key as you smile to yourself. In this moment, you were content, regardless of how gross you felt. “’Cause I’ve got you under my skin,” you sang gently as you continued to dance back and forth, cradling the book in your arms.

But you are pulled from your day dream when a voice speaks, “You’re a fan of old blue eyes?” You let out a light squeal as you see Fred standing there, watching you with a small smirk on his mouth, holding two coffees in his hand.

You place a hand over your heart, monitoring how it thuds against your chest from being startled. You looked at Fred and sighed. He stood there, in a light tan khakis, crispy white shirt with a maroon tie hanging from his neck. A pair of square glasses sat on the bridge of his nose as his chocolate brown eyes peered at yours through them. “Sorry you had to see that,” you chuckle. “Sinatra is one of my favorites.”

Fred chuckles, “No need to apologize. Frank is one of the greats.” He walks over to you and hands you a coffee as you tuck the book in your hands under one of your arms. “Figured you’d need one of these,” he refers to the coffee. “TAs usually have quite the night out of the first day of work,” he recalls with a small smile. Was he...being friendly? But before you could ask how he knew you went out, he answered, “Ron is my brother. I know his ways. Because he learned them from me.” You laugh and shake your head. “I don’t know how you take your coffee, but I assumed a latte with an extra shot would suffice?”

You give him a soft smile, “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thanks so much. I appreciate it.” Fred nods and sits as his desk with a huff, pulling himself close to the desk. “So, what did you want to talk about?”

Fred pulls his glasses off of his face and twirls them in between his fingers as you watch the glasses spin around and around. “I wanted to talk about expectations for the class and for you,” he speaks as you nod and take a sip of your warm latte that almost instantly helps with your headache. “I...I realize that we may have not gotten off to the best start yesterday...and I apologize for my behavior,” he speak as you nod.

An apology was a good start. “You’re forgiven,” you simply state.

“Thank you,” he adds before rubbing a hand over his lips. “As for the class, I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. This class is a prestigious course. One of the harder ones in the department. That being said, I think it’s best for me to have the reigns on the class and lead class lectures. You are free to observe and aid in answering questions about assignments or papers,” he tells you as he leans back in his chair, thinking he made a reasonable bargain. But it was quite the opposite.

You weren’t here to sit around and listen to another philosophy professor spew a scripted lecture. You did that for four years in undergraduate school. You were here to learn how to teach a classroom, how to run a lesson plan, how to gain hands on experience. Being a puppet in the corner was not going to accomplish any of those things. “Fred, I appreciate the apology. But this offer is not acceptable,” you state calmly. “I’m your teaching assistant. I’m here to help in any way I can, of course, but I’m also here to help teach and instruct the class. You are suppose to help me learn how to teach the class.”

Fred nods, “And you can do that by matters of observation.”

His way of brushing you off made you infuriated again, just like yesterday. Did he do this to everyone? “But don’t you think it would be more helpful for me to have some actual hands on experience? Like actually teaching the class?” you tell him more than ask him.

He rises from his chair and sighs, “I don’t need you creating a new lesson plan. I’ve been using this one since I got here and it works. If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Fred walks over to the board and writes in bold letters, Aristotle, preparing for today’s lecture. The way that he so nonchalantly stated that to you and started writing on the board as if he didn’t insult your intelligence made you infuriated.

“You’re a fucking prick,” you flat out spew. You wish you could take it back, you really did. As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted what you had said to him. Insulting your superior was surefire to get you fired and released from your job, making you ineligible to graduate. But damn did it feel good to say.

Fred turns around to look at you, eyebrows furrows as if you just spoke in a foreign language to him. “I’m a fucking prick?” he repeats, folding his arms across his chest, leaning back on the chalkboard, crossing his legs as you stand in front of him, completely enraged, fists tight next to your sides. “Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that,” he laughs, combing his fingers through his hair, as if what you said was a compliment.

“Well the people who said it before were right! You’re cocky and arrogant and self-righteous and pompous and self-absorbed. You clearly have no intention of helping anyone but yourself! That’s probably why you like being a professor! So everyone listens to every last bit you say,” you start to ramble. Now that you had said what was on your mind, it was almost impossible to stop. The words flew off your tongue like a jet.

Boldly, Fred pushes himself off the chalkboard, hands dug into his pant’s pockets as he walks closer to you. A small smirk dances along his lips as his tongue darts out and drags across his lower lip. The action makes your breath hitch in your throat as you mentally curse yourself, wanting to be annoyed with him, but yet you found yourself aroused. “Keep going,” he urges. “Go on. Tell me how unbearable I am. You’ve only known me twenty four hours, but it seems like you have me all figured out,” he speaks, just a foot away from your body.

Adrenaline is coursing through your veins, your lips slightly parted as you take heaving breaths, making your chest rise and fall quickly. Fred’s eyes scan your face, soaking in your annoyed and confused expression. You suddenly become very aware of how close he is to you and you shake your head, taking a step back. “I only need a day to know an asshole when I see one,” you simply state, folding your arms over your chest. Your expression reads as if it were Fred’s turn to take a dig at you.

Fred chuckles lowly before speaking, “Here’s your problem, darling.” The endearing terms makes your stomach curdle. “You don’t get the hands on experience your second day on the job. You’ve gotta prove to me that you can run a class and keep their attention for three hours. You think it’s easy keeping the attention of a bunch of twenty year olds when you’re talking about philosophy? It’s not as easy as you may think it is,” Fred explain as you roll your eyes. “I was in your shoes once before, so I know what you’re experiencing.”

You laugh, “Oh, don’t pull that card. You’re a professor now. You did your time in my shoes. Don’t pretend like you’d give anything to go back.”

“Oh, honey, you couldn’t pay me enough to go back!” Fred retorts, now with an edge. “You know what. I could let you run today’s class,” he chuckles at the thought. “I could let you run it and watch you crash and fucking burn,” he emphasizes with a shrug. “I could watch those students trample all over you, you know why?” he asks looking at you intently as you gulp. “Because they don’t respect you! They don’t know who you are. In fact, they see you as one of them! If I mistook you as one of them on the first day, then what made you think they wouldn’t?” he asks as you inhale deeply. “Respect is earned when you are in a position of authority. Even if you’re just a professor. And you, (Y/N), haven’t earned that yet from the students. And I honestly don’t know if you have it from me.”

And with that last dig, the first student enters the classroom signaling that the first lecture of the day was ready to begin. Fred and you don’t acknowledge the student, just staring at each other. Fred’s words stung. Like a fresh wound, you were bleeding out. His words were sad, but true. You were a TA, but you were still a grad student. Fred worked to get to the position he was at. You just needed to prove to him that you were capable of handling yourself in a classroom setting as a teaching assistant.

You retreat back to your desk at the front of the room and sit down with a small huff, pulling out the attendance sheet, marking students as present as they enter the classroom.

Fred rubbed his hands over his face, feeling guilty for his out burst. He knew you were brilliant. To be quite honest, Fred knew he was going to get a TA. He had checked out your academic profile, seeing that you graduated undergrad with a nearly perfect grade point average and extra circulars that were sure to blow any one away. Your thesis statement made Fred laugh to himself, it was similar to his own when he was in university; the effect of utilitarianism on free will in our post-modern society. In a weird way, you reminded Fred of himself. Confident, smart, and ballsy. But where you differentiated with Fred is your adaptability. How you could adjust and go with the flow, that was Fred’s downfall.

Soon the classroom was full of students again and Fred took a deep breath, trying to regain his focus and composure to teach the class. He didn’t dare look at you, it would just make him upset. And you didn’t want to look at him. Fred sat on his desk, his long legs almost hitting the floor even when he sat. “Hello everyone,” he addressed the class, some students chiming back. “Let’s get started for the day. Shall we?” he claps his hands together. “Who can talk to me about eudaemonia?” he asks the class.

You looked out at the classroom along with Fred, anticipating a slew of hands but instead you got nothing. Students sat in their chairs in silence, some twiddling their pens, others scribbling in a notebook, some still groggy this during the ten o’clock lecture. “Someone’s gotta know about it. Come on then,” Fred probes the class as they remain silence, only sound is some kid yawning in the back. Fred allows the class to remain silent for a moment. “Alright,” he huffs. “Rough morning for a lot of us,” he speaks, hoping to catch your attention with that line, but you scribble nonsense into the margins of your notebook. “Maybe (Y/N) could give us a definition?” he suggests.

Your head shoots up like a rocket from your paper as you look at Fred with panic in your eyes. He looks at you with a small smile and encouragement, almost as if this were his way of making amends. A twisted way. You look towards the class and see twenty sets of eyes on you as you gulp before shaking away your nerves. “Um, yeah,” you clear your throat. “Eudaemonia is the greatest good, the aim for all human thinking and rational. Another word for eudaemonia is happiness,” you simply state, making the students start scribbling in their notebooks. Pride swells in your chest as you realize what you was valuable to the students. “Eudaemonia is achieve through action in tandem with the human soul and psyche. When eudaemonia is at its highest form, it is known as virtue,” you explain further as the class continues to scribble down what you were saying.

Slowly, you look towards Fred who gives you a small smile and a nod as you just give him a curt nod and turn back to your desk. But when you look away, it’s hard to cover up the small smile on your lips as you fiddle with the pen in your hands. Fred notices your grin as smiles to himself before speaking, “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Maybe today would be better than yesterday.

--------

Another two weeks had gone by and the work relationship you had with Fred improved significantly. He let you interject at certain points in his lectures, let you pose questions to the class, and even assigned you students for office hours. Finally, you started to feel like you were doing what you came here for and you were loving every moment of it.

Fred was a great professor and an even better mentor. He commanded a classroom unlike any other professor you have ever seen. He spoke with confidence and coolness and the students ate him up. It must be rewarding for him, watching students love his work as much as he did. You would watch him with a small smile as you jotted down notes here and there. Fred would catch your eye every now and then in class and gave you a small smile or cheeky wink that made your heart stop every now and then as you turned away from him, biting the inside of your cheek to make you stop smiling.

“Remember to finish Kant’s Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals for tomorrow’s class! If you haven’t turned in your paper on Nicomachean Ethics yet, do it by 4pm or else I will personally send (Y/N) to find you and hunt you down,” he teases the class as you roll your eyes, making the class laugh. “Happy Friday. Now scram,” Fred dismisses class as students file out.

When the majority of them have dispersed, you walk over to Fred’s desk and huff, “Good lecture today. Katie brought up some good questions about the differences between hypothetical imperatives and categorical imperatives.” Fred leans back in his desk chair, flopping his notebook down on his desk.

“Yeah, she did. But god, I wanted to punch Brian in the face. He kept talking over her while she was saying something poignant. I get it, Brian, there are different formulations, but damn, shut the fuck up,” Fred groans, making you laugh as you grab your bag and get ready to pack up for the day. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news...” he trails off as he rises from his seat.

You groan and throw your head back as you spin on your heels to face him. “Please, don’t tell me...” you start as Fred nods his head sadly. “Come on, Fred. It’s Friday night! Beginning of the weekend! All of the TAs are getting drinks at the pub tonight and quite honestly, I’d rather be doing that than grading philosophy papers,” you whine to him.

Fred mockingly places and hand over his heart and speaks, “First off, I am offended that you don’t want to spend time with me grading papers on the brilliance of Aristotle through a twenty year olds eyes.” The comment makes you chuckle, but he pushes on, “But I want to grade this papers tonight and finish them tonight so I, well we, can have the weekend free. You can get drinks any other night with the TAs. But we’ve got to do this tonight.”

You stomp your foot in frustration like a toddler, making Fred chuckle as he places his glasses on his face. “But tonight it’s dollar drafts! Dollar drafts happen once a week!” you beg him. “Why can’t we grade tomorrow?”

“Because I need to put these grades into my grade book before the students start wondering if they’ll ever be graded for something in this class,” he explains. “How about this?” he proposes. “We meet back here at 4:30pm. I’ll get take out for the both of us and we can drink coffee and energy drinks like we’re back in undergrad cramming for an exam. It’ll be fun,” he shimmies his shoulder making you giggle.

With a huff, you say, “Fine. But if we’re here past midnight, I’ll never forgive you.”

You start out of the classroom as Fred calls after you, “It’ll be fun!”

Shaking your head down, you start down the hall and see Harry and Luna talking as they leave their respective classrooms. “Heyo,” Harry calls out to you before slinging an arm around your shoulder. “So, for dollar drafts tonight we were just gonna take a cab there at around 5:00. Ron is going to be late because he’s going to wait for Hermione to get out of her night class and they’ll come together. But Seamus, Luna, Cho, and I will all be there and I think Dean said he’s coming and bringing some friends from grad school. It should be a great time,” Harry explains with a big grin.

Your ‘fomo’ was kicking in hard core as you sigh and speak, “About that...I can’t make it tonight.” Luna gives you a sad look as Harry groans and throws his head back. “Fred and I need to grade papers tonight to make the first quarter grades. If I get out early though, I’ll call and see if you guys are still there,” you offer as Harry slumps over.

“At least it sounds like things are going better with you and Fred,” Luna tells you and you nod with a smile. “Are you learning from him?”

“Absolutely,” you tell her. “Fred is actually a great professor and the class adores him. I’ve been enjoying it a lot recently.”

Harry wiggles his eyebrows, “Yeah, I’m sure you have.”

You slap Harry’s shoulder at his cheeky suggestion that something was going on. “Oh, quit it, Harry,” you say through gritted teeth. “Fred and I have a strictly working relationship. He and I are co-workers and are professional. All of my relationships are here. That’s more that some people can say,” you tease him about his engagement to Ginny as he rolls his eyes and mimics you. “Besides, there is nothing romantic or sexy about grading papers about ethics. In fact, it’s the opposite thing.”

Harry laughs, “You never know. Maybe you two will get so caught up in talking about morals that you just start to...” he mimics the sounds of sloppy snogging and moaning as you slap his arm again, Luna giggling. “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you! But if you can meet us at the pub, give one of us a call and we can hail you a cab,” he tells you as you hug Luna goodbye and then Harry.

“Will do. Have a drink for me. Lord knows I’ll need one,” you huff, watching them walk off to catch up to Dean and Seamus.

Instead of getting drunk at a bar after a long week of work, you would be grading papers all night with Fred. Which honestly, maybe, didn’t sound so awful.

A few hours past and you and Fred were at on opposite sides of his desk, empty Chinese take out boxes scattered around you along with empty coffee cups and cans of energy drinks. It was ten o’clock at night and you had hardly made a dent in the papers. You throw your head on the desk with a thud, making Fred chuckle. “This is hell,” you groan. “Do they even proof read their sentences?” you ask Fred who shakes his head. “Seriously. Some of these papers are just bad. Weak thesis and an even weaker argument,” you slap the paper in front of you.

Fred scribbles in red ink on one paper and circle the letter grade on it before shifting it to the done pile. “Honestly, if it’s horrid and you struggle to make it past the third page, just skip to the end, read the conclusion and if it reads fine, give them a C minus. If they have a problem, they can come to office hours and talk about it with me,” he tells you as you laugh. “I’ve done that with two of them already.”

You place a C minus in red ink at the end of the paper and shift yours into the done pile. “How many more do we have left? We’ve been here for nearly six hours,” you tell him.

Fred examines the pile and huffs, “About four more. So two more each and then we’ll be done. The papers are ten pages long, so only twenty more pages of absolute garbage to read before we are done.”

Eh, that wasn’t so bad. You sigh and examine the room around you. Your eyes land on Fred whose eyes scan over the page as he nibbles away at his lower lip, glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose, red pen tucked behind his ear. He made markings on the paper here and there, adding comments as he sees fit. He’d mumble a bloody hell here and there if something was really bad, making you giggle. He’d catch your eye and a proud smile would form on his lips when he saw that he’d made you giggle.

After another hour and a half of grading, you were finally finished with the thick stack of papers on Fred’s desk. The two of you let out a sigh of relief as you leaned back in your chairs. “Freedom!” Fred cried out as you laughed, running your fingers through your hair. “And before midnight!” he points to his watch, the hands pointing to 11:37pm. “I think I know what this calls for,” he speaks wiggling his brows as you watch him stand up and pulls out a drawer to reveal a small handle of whiskey.

You laugh and shake your head. “Ohhhh, no,” you laugh and wave your hands.

“Really, (Y/N)? Eight hours of grading papers and you don’t want one drink?” he pours one glass, waiting to pour yours.

You think for a moment. You were supposed to call Harry and Luna and tell them that you would meet them at the bar. But quite honestly, you didn’t feel like leaving the classroom and the pleasant company of Fred. Maybe some one on one time could strengthen your relationship...as co-workers, of course.

In defeat, you sigh, “Fine.”

Fred smiles and pours you a nice, hefty glass of the brown liquor before handing it to you and sitting in his chair. “To a job well done,” he toasts as you clink your glasses together, sipping from the glass. The whiskey is smooth and warms your chest up delightfully as you relax further into the chair. The two of you rest in comfortable silence before Fred starts, “So...after you’ve finished your job here, where do you hope to go?”

You think for a moment and lean on your elbows on his desk, letting your hair flop forward. “Not too sure really,” you admit. “I know I want to teach at a university level, but it’s just a matter of where positions are available. Maybe I’ll go back to Oxford and see if there’s any availability in their department,” you toss around as Fred boos you, knowing the rivalry between Cambridge and Oxford is still fierce. “But I’m trying to go with the flow and see where the demand is.”

Fred nods his head and huffs, “Well...what if I told you that there is going to be an opening in position here at Hogwarts for next fall?” You give him a confused look as you sip from your whiskey. He says, “Professor McGonagall? She’s been here for ages and she’s retiring after nearly sixty years of teaching.” You widen your eyes and nod your head. Impressive. “The department is looking to hire a new, fresh face and I think you might be right for the job...” he takes a sneaky sip from his glass.

“It’s a really kind offer, Fred, really thoughtful of you,” you tell him. “But I want to know that where I apply for a job I’ve earned it. I didn’t get the job because someone pulled the strings behind the scenes,” you tell him. This was true. Anyone would kill for a job at Hogwarts University, but you wanted to know that you earned your title here and not because a friend handed it to you.

He leans forward and speaks, “This wouldn’t be me pulling any strings. (Y/N), you are a brilliant person and the students adore you. Just last week four students asked for your contact information to reach out about private tutoring. Neville loves you and the department sees the work that you’ve been doing and is throughly impressed. You’ve earned this position and the respect that comes along with it,” he tells you, honestly shining in his eyes, making you melt in your chair at his gaze. You feel heat rising to your cheeks as you look away from him, sipping from your glass. The sight makes Fred’s heart skip a beat.

“Are you saying I’ve earned your respect?” you ask him with a teasing smile as he chuckles.

“Yes. You earned it awhile ago. You’re an incredible woman,” he tells you as you smile, looking down at the glass in your hands, too meek to meet Fred’s gaze now.

It’s quiet for a moment before Fred clears his throat and stands up, turning on the speaker as Frank Sinatra softly starts playing again as you laugh to yourself. It Happened In Monterey starts to echo in the classroom as you smile at Fred. “One of my favorites,” you tell him.

Fred nods, “One of his best hits,” he says as if it were a fact. “Give me your top three. Go.”

You think for a moment before speaking, “It Happened In Monterey, The Way You Look Tonight, and Girl From Ipanema. I think those are his best.”

Fred smiles, “Agreed. His version of The Way You Look Tonight I prefer much over Tony Bennett’s.”

“Oh, easily! Don’t get me wrong, Tony Bennett has some great hits, but he doesn’t hold a candle to Frankie,” you tell Fred, making him chuckle. The two of you chat about music for a little while longer before Come Fly With Me comes on and Fred claps his hands. “My mom loves this song,” you smile, fondly remembering her singing in the kitchen to this song.

Fred rises to his feet and immediately grabs your hands and brings you to his feet. He places your drinks down on the desk as he spins you around, making you laugh. “You can’t not dance to this song,” he tells you, placing his hand on your waist, the other holding your other hand in his larger one. The contact makes your heart flutter in your chest as you giggle as he spins you around again, this time into his chest.

Your back is pressed against him as he sway with you in his arms before spin you back out, dancing around and around the classroom, the two of you laughing messes as you dance to Frank Sinatra, still in your work clothes from this morning. As you dance, you steal glances of Fred. How his hair was messy from running his fingers through it, his tie loose around his neck, impressions of his glasses in the bridge of his nose. He was so effortlessly handsome and it made your stomach sway at the sight of him. How he could be so handsome without even realizing it. Without even realizing how he made you feel. All warm and fuzzy inside, giggling like a child as he spun you around in his arms, making this moment feel like something out of a movie.

The song slowly fades away before Autumn in New York starts play, changing the tone of the room. You two catch your breaths before looking at each other in the eyes, Fred’s hands on your waist as your hands rest on his chest. The two of you look at each other, and slowly start to sway as the orchestra of the song starts to swell. Frank’s clear voice echos in the empty classroom as you slowly wrap your arms around Fred’s neck, him pulling you close to his body as you start to slow dance in the middle of the classroom, neither of you registering what is happening. You two were purely acting on instinct. But god, it felt so right.

The two of you dance gently to the music as Fred’s hands rest on your lower back, his thumbs tracing small circles into your jumper as you lace your fingers around his neck. No words are spoken. You just listen to the music and stare at the other, taking each other in during the dance. How could something that started off so innocent turn so beautiful?

Your mind was reeling, watching Fred look at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You wanted to tell him everything that’s ever happened to you in this moment. Everything that you’ve gone through that brought you to this moment. Something about Fred made you feel safe. Something you hadn’t felt in years.

As the music starts to come to a close, you can feel Fred lean down gently and press his forehead to yours as you inhale a shaky breath. So desperately you wished to close the gap between you two, pushing your lips together, giving into him. But before anything can happen, the horns blare over the speaker, Brazil blasting over the speakers, making the two of you jump, startled at the change in pace.

You place a hand over your heart as Fred races over to the speaker to lower the volume. “That scared the living hell out of me,” you breathe out as Fred laughs and nods. The two of you stand there, wondering what to say, knowing that you were both thinking the same thing. But no one says anything. “Um,” you clear your throat. “It’s quite late. I should probably get going...” you trail off as you walk over to grab your purse and notebooks.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he tells you with a nod, cleaning up the mess of take away boxes on his desk. “You need me to call you a cab?” he asks.

“No, no, it’s fine, I got it,” you tell him with a smile as he nods, throwing out the garbage and sorting away miscellaneous papers. “Um, I, um...”

“I had fun with you,” Fred finishes your sentence for you as you exhale and smile gently with a nod. “I’ll see you on Monday then?”

You nod your head, “Absolutely, yeah.” He grins and digs his hands into his pockets.

You start to make your way towards the door, but Fred stops you and says, “Hey, (Y/N)? On Monday, I’d like you to run the lecture. For both classes.” Your eyes widen as you look at him in disbelief. You try to protest, but Fred speaks, “I think that the class would benefit from your perspective. And your sheer brilliance.”

A small smile forms on your lips as you let out a breathy laugh. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. For sure,” you tell him with a nod as Fred smiles. “Thank you, Fred. This is...wow. Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” he tells you. “You’ve earned it. You’ve earned it all. Now, get going and get a goodnight’s rest. That you surely deserve.”

And with one small wave, you exit the classroom and start down the hall, feeling like you were on cloud nine. Nothing felt as good as this.

------

Monday rolls around as quickly as Friday left and you enter campus with a pep in your step. Today you were teaching the class and you were beyond prepared. You had your lesson plan in your bag, a coffee in your hand, and your favorite jumper on. You felt invincible.

As you walked into the staff lounge, Harry sat with Seamus, sipping on coffees and munching on provided breakfast. “Morning, you lot,” you chime merrily as you place your bag on the table and walk towards the breakfast tray and grab a crossiant.

“You’re too cheery for a Monday morning,” Seamus says with a look on his face. “What’s got you so bright eyes and bushy tailed?”

You smile to yourself as you walk back to the table, tearing open the croissant to slab some jam on it. “Fred is letting me run lecture today,” you reply happily.

Seamus looks over to Harry with wide eyes, the two of them in complete shock. “Wow,” Seamus says. “That’s...incredible. Good on you, (Y/N),” he tells you as you thank him with a smile. “I didn’t know Fred let his TA run a class. The most he let Dean do was take roll,” he told Harry.

Harry took a sip from his coffee and wiggled his brows, “I didn’t think so either. I guess our very own (Y/N) has made him have a change of heart.”

You roll your eyes and speak, “I earned this, Harry. I’ve been working my ass off and after a long night of grading papers, Fred offered me the opportunity which I gladly took.” Harry nods his head with a mhm as you throw as piece of croissant at him. “I’m serious!”

“I’m not saying you don’t deserve it, (Y/N)! You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met; you deserve this like humans needs to breathe!” Harry exclaims. “I’m just...shocked that Fred let you make a lesson plan, nevertheless teach a whole class,” he speaks as you shrug. “Guess you bring out the best in Fred Weasley.”

You smile, “Is that such a bad thing?” Harry chuckles as Seamus shakes his head with a huff. “Well, if you excuse me, I have to get ready for my lecture,” you joke as Harry rolls his eyes.

“Don’t let this thing get to your head!” he calls after you as you flip him the bird, making Seamus laugh.

As you walk to 523, your heart patter against your chest with excitement, but also lots of nerves. What if they preferred Fred over you? What if Fred was more engaging with them? What if someone fell asleep? What if someone asked you a question you couldn’t answer?

Soon your confidence began to waver as you entered the classroom, Fred clearing the chalkboard, getting the room ready for you. “There she is. Professor for the day,” Fred claps his hands. “You excited?” he asks. But you don’t answer him. You nervously place your purse on the desk and start gnawing at your nails. This makes Fred worried as he walks over to you and places his hands on your shoulders. “You alright?” he asks, concern washing over his face.

You relax into his touch as you sigh, “Yeah, I’m okay. I’m just...nervous.” Fred gives you a sympathetic smile. “What if they like you better than me? What if I say something stupid and they all laugh at me? What if I forget everything? I mean, how much do I really know about Mill? Probably nothing,” you ramble.

Fred laughs and gives you arms a squeeze, forcing your eyes up to him. “Hey, look at me,” he speaks as you huff and look into his comforting gaze. “Everything is going to be just fine. You are brilliant and the students love you. You’re gonna get up there and smash it. I know it,” he tells you with a confident smile, making your heart flutter and your stomach flip. “I was nervous for my first lecture too, but once you start, the adrenaline gets pumping and you feel on top of the world.”

You give him a shaky nod, “Yeah. Okay. I can do this, yeah?”

“Absolutely,” he laughs. “You’re more than capable,” he reassures you. “I believe in you. I always have,” he speaks, tilting your chin up with his fore finger as you gulp thickly. Fred’s eyes dart to your lips back up to your eyes as he smiles softly. “You’ll be brilliant.”

“Thank you,” you speak just above a whisper as Fred nods.

Slowly, he pulls away from you and sits at his desk which prompts the first student to enter the classroom as you gather your notebook and a piece of chalk, writing on the board in bold letters, Mill and Utilitarianism. You wipe your hands on your pants and look over to Fred who gives you a thumbs up.

Soon enough, the classroom fills up with students as you try to keep yourself calm and not let the class see your nerves. “Happy Monday, everyone,” Fred speaks from his desk. “I hope you all had a great weekend. Your papers on Aristotle have been graded and the grades are posted online. Some of you did great, some of you did shit. If you have any complaints, you can see me or (Y/N) after class to discuss,” he speaks, earning a few laughs from the class. Fred speaks, “Brian, I wouldn’t laugh if I were you. (Y/N) couldn’t make it past page three of yours before handing it off to me.” This earns a loud roar of laughter from the class which eased your nerves. God, Fred knew exactly what you needed. “Speaking of (Y/N), she will be running lecture today. I’ll be playing the role of TA and you’ll give her the same amount of respect like you give me. Understood?” The class nods. “Brilliant. (Y/N), you have the floor.”

You smile at him, “Thank you, Fred, for the introduction.” Fred nods. You turn to the class. “Alright. Let’s talk about Mill’s Utilitarianism. After reading it, what are our thoughts? How do we feel about Mill in comparison to Kant or Aristotle?” you ask generally trying to ease into the lecture.

The class is motionless for a moment before Jessica raises her hand and you nod. “I found it interesting how he acknowledges the objections in his work,” she tells you as you nod. “Not many philosopher’s explicitly do that in their works.”

“Great,” you smile at her. “Let’s take a look at that. Everyone open up your copies and turn to page seven. Mill writes, ‘Life has no higher purpose than pleasure? What are we, swine?’ What do you think this means?” you ask the class. The stare blankly at you as you inhale deeply, this being a fear of yours. But before you can allow yourself to freak out, you think about what Fred would do. You repeat the quote again and add this time, “Are we swines? I mean, I don’t know about Brian, but I know that I’m not a swine.”

This causes the class to erupt with laughter, Fred included, and Brian blushes a deep shade of red before he raises his hand to answer the question. Ah, victory.

The class continues on and the discussion was incredible with both classes you taught. The students had such provoking conversations with fruitful discussions on the topic. It made your heart swell that they were so good for you and you felt like you were in your element the whole time.

Fred couldn’t help but smile to himself as he watched you give the lecture, bouncing off points, connecting ideas, and posing new questions that he couldn’t even think of. You were electric and the students were infatuated with you, even more so than they were with him. He couldn’t help but feel proud of you. He loved watching you smile and laugh as you talked to the students.

“Okay, well unfortunately we are at time, but next week bring in your annotated books along with your first drafts of your papers!” you tell the class as they thank you as they leave the class one by one.

After each student has left the classroom and the door shuts, you turn to Fred who springs from his chair and runs over to you, scooping you up in a hug and spinning you around as you laugh. “Sheer brilliance,” he places you down with a beaming smile. “I’ve never seen students so excited to talk about moral philosophy,” he shakes his head as you grin widely, holding your hands behind your back. “That was great, (Y/N).”

“I feel great,” you tell him with a smile. “Seriously. It blows my mind how smart they are sometimes. Bloody Brian had such great talking points today!” you beam as Fred laughs. “But really, I learned everything that I did today from you. You are the great teacher,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Fred rolls his eyes, “Oh, don’t give me all the credit. I mean...give me some, but not all.” You laugh and shake your head. “Kidding, kidding,” he tells you as you smile at him, taking in the way his face looked as the sun started to set behind him, signaling the end of your day. “Um, I’ll walk with you to the lot?”

You nod your head as the two of you pack your things and make your way to the parking lot with Fred, the both of you making light chatter about the class discussions and how thought provoking they all were. As you walk in the halls, you pass Harry who calls out, “I’m guessing it went well!”

“Shut it, Potter!” you call back as Fred chuckles.

Soon enough, you reach the staff parking lot and Fred digs around in his pockets for the key to his car. “Well,” Fred huffs. “You did a great job today, (Y/N). I would say I’m impressed, but I knew you would do brilliantly.”

You beam, “Thank you, Fred. Really. I know how much this class means to you and I thank you for trusting me with it.”

He smiles and leans against the hood of his black Audi, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows before leaning on his hands. “It’s my pleasure. I know how much teaching a class meant to you and I’m happy I could help,” he tells you as you nod.

The two of you stand there, watching each other as the sun sets behind the castle. Fred’s eyes glossed over your body and how pants hugged your curves and how the jumper clung onto your figure. He took a deep breath in before smiling to himself as you gulped and cleared your throat, trying to diffuse some of the tension between the two of you. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow, Professor,” you tease Fred as he chuckles.

You start to walk away and towards the bus stop, but Fred’s voice stops you. “(Y/N)?” he speaks as you turn back to him, walking back to him. “I’ve got a quick question for you.”

“What’s up?”

“So, Mill said ‘There's no time for all this calculating when we're faced with an actual moral decision.’ And I’m afraid that I have a moral decision of my own,” he speaks with a smirk as you heart races at the sight of the smile you’ve grown so fond of over the past few weeks.

You smile at your feet before looking up at him. “And what would that moral decision be, Professor Weasley?” you tease him as he chuckles.

“That night, we spent grading papers,” he starts as you tuck your hands into your back pockets. “I wanted to kiss you.” His confession makes your heart race as face heat up. “And ever since then, I’ve been trying to find a moment where I can finally suck it up and kiss you,” he smirks. “So, what I guess what I’m trying to say is, is it alright if I kiss my teaching assistant in the parking lot of this bloody school?”

You lightly laugh and speak, taking a step closer to him as he snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you close as you place your hands on his chest, “Well, if we are talking about this in the terms of Mill, would kissing your teaching assistant bring you pleasure?”

Fred smiles, “Without a doubt.”

“Then I think you’re morally obligated to,” you tell him as he chuckles.

He hesitates no longer and dips his head down to connect your lips together as you inhale deeply, wrapping your arms around his neck. His lips are soft, but passionate against you as they gently move against yours. His hands squeeze your hips gently as you press yourself against his body, making Fred lightly moan into your mouth. His tongue slips past your parted lips, caressing his tongue with yours as you let out a soft moan, making Fred inhale deeply. Your heart is pounding against your chest as you gently pull at the roots of his hair, relishing in the way his lips feel against yours. His mouth moves slowly and lazily against yours, making your head spin and desire grow. It’s everything you imagined it would be as cliche as it sounded.

Gently, you pull away as Fred smiles lightly. “Thank you, John Stuart Mill,” he breathes out, making you laugh. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess to him, arms still wrapped around him as Fred squeezes your hips, placing another soft kiss to your lips. “Now that you’ve accomplish that moral dilemma, do you have any idea what your next one is?” you tease him, wiggling your brows.

Fred shakes his head, “Oh, we’ve got the rest of the semester to figure that one out.”

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universalistotalis · 3 years

Text

Stiff That You Love

Ushijima Wakatoshi (Timeskip!) x Female reader

Masterlist!!!

You never thought you'd see him again. You almost choked on the truffle pasta that you ordered in this café when a certain beautiful giant waved and made his way to you.

"Holy damn." You whispered underneath your breath as his strides made their way towards your table. You knew he was already a show stopper back then, but now???!

You were so sure everyone would drop dead at the sight of him.

"Hi." He greeted with his deep voice. "Do you still remember me?"

Surprise filled your expression at his question but you smiled politely and nodded your head. "How could I forget? How are you Ushijima?"

You swore you saw a glint of relief and excitement in his eyes but it immediately wavered as he motioned to the chair in front of you.

"May I?" He asked again, holding the back of the chair.

Is he really going to sit here with me?!

"Sure, of course." Your voice squeaked at the feeling of your heart bursting out of your chest. His greeting was enough to kick the air out of your lungs but a whole conversation?! You didn't know how long you would last in his ever- intimidating presence.

It was already the last year in college and you were so determined to graduate with latin honors. Every single minute of your life, you dedicated it to studies, friends and family. They were all that mattered. And so you stayed until the wee hours at certain café spots around the university or at the library inside the campus. You went to meet up with friends during the weekends only for a simple dinner or lunch. You called your family members every chance you get during free time. That was your life. And you were content.

But then this boy came in to the picture.

"You will be partnered together and I shall assign the pair. Make sure you finish the written output, video presentation, and oral defense at the end of the semester." Those were the words of your professor during one of your classes before yours and his name were called out together.

You swore it was fate. Romance was really not in the forefront of your mind but as they say, "You'll find it best when you're not looking".

AND MY GOD WERE YOU SO WRONG!

This man named Ushijima Wakatoshi who came out from nowhere, looking as good they come, had no ounce of romance nor funny bone in his muscular body. He was the most dense, most serious, most infuriating man you've ever met in your whole life!!! He was a whole perfectionist, always so blunt at his comments about the outputs that you showed him. He was also so strict with the deadlines, not considering that you had other classes than this that had much more weight and importance.

You were so close to giving up but...

"Y/n?" You knew that voice only belonged to the certain antagonist in your story right now.

Your hands trembled as you wiped the tears streaming down your face after your meeting together at the library.

"Ushijima, hey!" You pretended to be your usual chirpy self as you turned around to face him.

It was already late so the lights surrounding the university casted an unworldly glow on his face. He was always so breathtaking no matter where you put him but damn those looks! He was just as heartless.

"Are you alright?" He asked with a worried tone.

"I'm fine. I'll be going home now. See you next week." You excused yourself.

"Wait." His cold fingers caught your arm and that made you stop your tracks.

"Is there a problem, Wakatoshi?"

He bowed his head before slowly releasing you in his grip. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"W-what?" You wanted to make sure if what your ears heard was right. He does not seem the type to apologize.

You heard another deep sigh as he looked at you. "I've always been told that I come off too much to others. I didn't realize it until recently when one of my friends told me."

"Oh, well..."

"I'll try to be better though. I'll be more careful from now on. And I'm really sorry if I ever hurt your feelings in the past." He said with all seriousness that you can't help but sigh and just nod.

"You can be really mean sometimes." You agreed and chuckled, letting a tear escape your eyes.

"You've been crying." He stated flatly as if he was reciting a trivia. "I'm still so sorry."

You giggled. "Yeah, I forgive you. Anyway, it's getting late, Wakatoshi. We have to head home."

"I'll walk you home." He said with a finality in his voice. You were again, surprised by his actions but just agreed because this was such a draining day.

And as you were nearing where you stayed, you were again surprised at how comforting his presence was.

You did find his presence after that night relaxing. He became more tactful and he started to insert jokes during your meetings which shocked you so much the first time that he felt a little offended. You became such close friends that his team mates in volleyball were again, shocked that he managed to get a friend outside the team. It was just a matter of getting used to, you thought to yourself. He's just so honest, mechanical, and straightforward to a fault and you got to master how to tell him off when needed. He also developed to trust you so whenever he needed advice, he would always go to you and trust your honest words.

Looking at him now, it made your heart warm at how far he'd come. It's amazing to have known him then. To have seen how he grew as an athlete, a student, and a person. He may still be a little stiff but that's just the Wakatoshi you've come to love.

"Soo..." He started while sitting back down again after claiming his coffee from the counter. "I am not disturbing you, am I?" He pointed at the laptop and papers next to you.

You laughed. "Not at all! I finished them anyway."

"How have you been then?" He asked. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands were holding on to the cup of coffee. The sight was a little funny considering his giant built was leaned onto a very small table.

You smiled gently. "I've been good! I got the job that I dreamed of having and I own some businesses too. Ho--"

"Your eyes sparkle the same way." He cut off.

"What?" You asked, surprised at his random comment.

"Your eyes..." He pointed out. "They sparkle the same way they did in college when you were talking about something you like."

"How did you notice that?" You laughed.

"I'm known to be observant." He smirked slightly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Okay, Mr. Oh-So-Observant, how are your matches going? I've been tuning in since the first tournament and it looks like you're going to the semi- finals!" You cheered not hiding your pride and excitement for the country's national volleyball team. When you searched on how to watch the live games, you insisted that you were there to cheer for the country and definitely NOT to cheer and simp for a certain brown- haired, serious player. Definitely NOT!

"You've been watching our games?" He asked, eyes slightly widening at the thought of you cheering for him. What he didn't know was that you were always watching his games since college, not missing even one match. You were always there, crying at how proud you were of him. Also, crying at how much he could never be yours.

"Of course, I have, silly!" You chuckled and pointed at your laptop. "I've been watching here and you're just so amazing and strong!"

He suddenly paused at your statement, silently raising a brow at you and smiling softly.

"I- I meant that your whole team is amazing and strong." You clarified, a blush automatically painting the whole of your face and ears.

"Would you like to go tomorrow?" He blinked, setting down his cup on the wooden surface. "To the game, I mean?"

Your eyes widened at his offer. "Are you serious?!"

He chuckled at your reaction. "Of course! We're allowed to bring spectators for the games, I'll just give you the tickets."

"Wow, Ushijima, thank you so much! It's an honor!" You chimed excitedly, jumping a little on your chair.

"The honor's mine." He replied, grinning at you.

He already knew back then that you were one of a kind. No one ever really stayed and tried to understand his demeanor and personality but you did. You were so honest and kind and you always knew what to do or say to keep him at ease. You accepted him for who he was and he's so thankful to have met such a beautiful soul. Even when you were doing nothing, even when you're just sitting across this table from him, without you knowing, you already made up his entire exhausting day. Hell, you made up all those exhausting years of not seeing each other since you two graduated. He suddenly imagined if being with you would always be like this. So peaceful and just pure bliss...

"You've got to be shitting on me! Is that Ushiwaka?" The pair sitting next to the glass walls of the café was oblivious of the red- haired tower and group of men walking past the street. All of them were wearing coats and casual attires as they're planning to go for lunch at their favorite restaurant for a little reunion. The all powerful Shiratorizawa Volleyball Team, headed by Ushijima in high school, cowered like puppies at the name of their captain being mentioned.

"Where?!" Goshiki stopped and shielded himself from an invisible force. "He said he couldn't make it!"

"I guess our baby's growing up, look!" Tendou hummed and pointed at the two of you laughing and looking at each other with heart eyes. "I bet they don't know that they're shooting hearts at each other."

"I never thought he could smile like that." Semi whispered.

"Yeah well, he's been crushing on that girl since college." Tendou filled the silent wonder of the whole group. "That's why she looked familiar! He kept sending me photos of them together studying or something..."

"Studying, my ass!" Shirabu laughed as they continued staring and hiding behind a post at the same time.

They all burst out laughing and again Tendou chuckled. "No seriously, they were studying!"

"Yeah well, they look good together. I hope he'd have the balls to ask her out. Please god!" Goshiki put his hands together as if seriously praying.

"Bet you 10, 000 yen, we'd be attending his wedding two years from now." Semi challenged.

"Nah, I'll go with a year." Tendou offered.

The men casted their bets on how long you and Ushijima would get married. They knew their captain so well to be sure enough that he was serious with you. Safe to say, Semi won the bet.

Reblogs are appreciated! <3

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arvinsescape · 4 years

Text

Meet mum.

A/N: I do not think Nikki would be like this. Written for entertainment purposes only. As always hope you enjoy! I only changed the setting of the request.

Based on this request: Hey I was wondering if You could do a Tom imagine where he brings the reader home to meet his parents and brothers but his mum don’t like her and judges her but Tom gets angry and sticks up for her ect.

Warnings: Language.

W/C: 2.5K. Wow how’d this get so long?

To say you were nervous too meet Tom’s family was an understatement. The only member of his family that you had officially met was his brother Harry, who you got on with really well. You were going to a restaurant in town, completely Tom’s idea, he was adamant that it was time you met the rest of his family and you were excited but also nervous.

You finished up getting ready and made your way downstairs were Tom and Harry were waiting.

“Sorry, I just needed to finish my hair off. It wasn’t cooperating.” You said as Tom grabbed his keys, wallet and jacket. He moved towards, placing a swift kiss to your cheek.

“That’s alright darling, we’ve got loads of time. You look beautiful by the way.”

“You look so nervous Y/N! Lighten up, my family are amazing, I’d say you’ve met the worst of us when you met Tom.” Harry laughed as he took in your tense posture.

“Oi! Don’t start already, you only get worse when Sam is with you.” Tom laughed as he gave Harry a light slap to the back of the head. “He’s right though love, they’re lovely, they’ll love you.” Tom reassured you with a smile as he grabbed your hand and you all made your way to the car.

The drive to the restaurant was quite relaxed, making your nerves die down slightly and you mostly had Harry to thank for that. He was consistently making jokes in order to settle your nerves. As you pulled up you realised that you were the first ones to arrive, having not spotted anyone else’s car. You made your way in, taking your seats at the large table, looking at all the empty seats, reminded you just how big Tom’s family was, and the nerves came back quicker than they’d settled.

“Sorry I’m late! Didn’t finish work on time!” A voice pulled you from your thoughts. You looked at the male as he approached the table, this was Harry’s twin Sam, that much was obvious. “You must be Y/N! I’ve heard a ridiculous amount about you.” Sam teased as he pulled you into a hug. “Sam, the better twin and superior brother.” He joked as he punched Tom’s arm before hugging him too. Okay maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“This is going to be a long dinner then?” Tom groaned as he watched the twins greet each other. You engaged in small conversation as you waited for his parents and final brother to arrive. It wasn’t too long after that they did. Paddy making his way over first.

“Hey guys!” Paddy said as he approached the table, taking a seat next to Sam.

“You won’t get a hug from him Y/N. He’s a typical teenage boy, I’m sure stuff like this has inconvenienced his night somehow.” Harry laughed as he watched Paddy pull his phone from his pocket.

“Shut up Harry! You were a teenager once you know. Hi Y/N, it’s nice to finally meet you.” Paddy said as he offered you a small smile.

“Where’s mum and dad?” Tom asked as he furrowed his brows.

“Dad was parking the car and mum went straight to the loo, they won’t be long.” Paddy answered, more interested in his phone than the conversation. You laughed at his typical teenage response to social events, reminding you of how you were at that age. Just after he’d said it you watched another man arrive at the table, presumably Tom’s dad.

“Y/N, this is my dad Dom. Dad this is Y/N” Tom said as he got up to hug his dad. You stood up as well extending your hand for him to shake unsure of what he would have expected as a first response, a hug would be too much maybe?

“It’s nice too meet you.” You said shyly. Dom laughed as he pulled you into a hug, startling you at first.

“We’re huggers if you hadn’t already gathered. Well, everyone except Paddy, he needs a couple years.” Dom laughed as he let go of you and took his seat next to Paddy. Tom grabbed your hand under the table, giving it a small squeeze to reassure you that this was going well.

“Paddy how many times do I have to tell you, it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” A woman’s voice suddenly interrupted the light conversation. You looked up at Tom’s mum, she was beautiful. Paddy groaned before shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Hi Tom.” His mum said as she hugged him, she eyed you up and down, before mumbling a quick ‘hi’ and sitting down in the final seat. Your nerves were back, had you done something to offend her?

Tom cleared his throat awkwardly before engaging in conversation with Sam. Harry leant over towards you. “Ignore her, she can be like that sometimes, she’ll snap out of it.” Harry whispered as he gave you a reassuring smile.

You all ordered after five minutes and light chatter, started out amongst the table. As the starters were served, Dom switched the attention to you, which in hindsight, you really wish he hadn’t.

“So, Y/N? What do you do for work? Tom’s told us a lot about you but at the same time not all that much.” He laughed.

“Yeah it’s cause he’s always talking about how pretty she is.” Paddy mumbled as he stuffed his fork into his mouth, Tom’s cheeks burned red as he mumbled a ‘fuck off’ in his brothers’ direction. Paddy laughed at him before adding. “Not that he’s wrong! I didn’t mean that in a bad way, it’s just all he usually talks about when you come up in conversation.” Paddy stumbled over his words as he thought he may have caused offence, you laughed, again being reminded of when you were an awkward teenager and thinking anything you said would be taken as offence.

“I’m a book editor. I’m hoping to move into script editing because I think that’d be more fun but for now, I’m with the books.” You answered confidently as you smiled at Dom. Your smile faltered as you heard a scoff come from Nikki’s direction. Tom eyed her carefully before he cleared his throat and spoke up.

“Yeah, it’s great. She gets to travel with me a lot because she doesn’t have to go into a workplace to do her job.” Tom said as he finished his starter. Shortly after they were cleared. Tom took your hand again under the table, interlocking your fingers.

“That’s great! How long have you been doing that?” Dom asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“About three years, I graduated at 21 and got straight into it.”

“Ah, so you’re the same age as Tom then?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, he’s a couple months older than me.”

“So how did you meet? Like I say Tom has told us a lot about you but at the same time nothing at all.”

“We met in a pub actually.” You laughed as you recalled the memory. “I wasn’t sure Tom would remember talking to me let alone remember he’d taken my number. He was really drunk.” You teased as Tom went red again. Everyone laughed except for Nikki, who eyed you in a way that made you feel quite small all of a sudden.

“So, did you know who he was then? When you gave him your number?” She asked in an accusatory tone.

“I mean yeah, I’ve seen all the marvel films, so I did know who he was, but that didn’t really matter to me. I liked Tom for Tom.” You answered carefully.

“I’m sure you did.” She said as she gave you a sarcastic smile before sipping her drink.

“Mum.” Tom groaned before squeezing your hand that was still in his.

“What? I’m just making small talk.” She answered as Sam and Harry rolled their eyes. Paddy shifted awkwardly in his seat as he watched the conversation unfold. Luckily the main course arrived to settle the tension.

“So are you hoping to get into script editing through Tom’s career.” Nikki asked. Dom choked on his drink out of shock as you dropped your fork back onto your plate. The question completely taking you off guard. Tom’s hand found your thigh as you saw him tense next to you.

“You don’t have to answer that Y/N.” Sam said as he smiled at you.

“No, it’s okay. That’s not how I’m hoping to get into script editing. I’ve been applying for different companies for a while now, before I met Tom actually, I just haven’t had any luck.” You answered as your eyes met hers.

“But surely you would have hoped Tom’s career would help if you haven’t had luck.” She sneered.

“Nikki.” Dom hissed.

“No that’s not it at all.” You answered, slightly offended. You knew what she was implying but it wasn’t true. You could make your own way in the world.

“We’ll see.” Nikki said as she continued to eat. The atmosphere around the table had shifted dramatically it was incredibly awkward now.

After you had finished your mains, things hadn’t got much better. Everyone was engaging in small talk, but no one dared shift the attention back towards you. Well, for a while anyway.

“That’s a nice necklace.” Nikki suddenly said out of nowhere. You clutched the necklace that was around your neck, it suddenly felt very heavy around your neck.

“It’s from-“

“Tom? Yeah I’d have guessed. Is it real gold?”

“Yeah but-“

“Of course it is.” She sneered as she rolled her eyes at you. You suddenly felt like this wasn’t going anywhere and you felt the tears brewing in your eyes. You excused yourself from the table, finding your way into the bathroom.

“What the fuck was that?” Tom asked his mum as his nostrils flared.

“Don’t swear Tom.” Nikki replied. Paddy was eyeing the exit at this point. He knew it wasn’t going to end well.

“Okay, sorry for my language. My question still wants an answer. What. Was. That?” He asked through gritted teeth. He’d never in his entire life felt so angry with his mum. He looked at his dad who just offered him a small smile.

“I don’t know what you mean. I was just making conversation.”

“No, you weren’t. You were being rude. Why?”

“I’m just making sure she’s good enough for you.” Nikki answered her son, honestly.

“By making her look like a money grabbing, opportunity seeking bitch?” Tom fired back. Trying to keep his anger under control. He didn’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a restaurant. Nikki just shrugged and he felt some of his anger spill over.

“That’s not fair mum! I pursued her! She hasn’t once asked me to help her further her career, in fact she’s very careful to try and keep herself distant from what I do and what she wants to do. That necklace you felt the need to point out, came from her grandma, it was left to her after her grandma passed away. Something her granddad bought for her grandma. But of course, you’d have known that had you let her speak. I am so beyond angry with you right now, mum. You had no right to speak to her like that, you don’t know her, I do. I’m also a little offended that you take me for someone who can fooled. I get it you want to protect your kids, but you can’t treat people like that. You need to give her another chance, because I love her, and your little show tonight won’t change that.” Tom felt some of his anger dissipating. His brothers and dad looked at him, almost as if they were proud?

Nikki’s expression dropped at her son’s words. She suddenly felt immensely guilty. Tom was right, she’d taken it too far and judged the poor girl without giving her a chance.

“I’m sorry Tom.” Nikki said sincerely trying to meet her son’s eyes.

“Not me you should be apologising to.” Tom crossed his arms as he refused to meet his mum’s gaze.

“Your right.” Nikki swallowed as she got up from her seat.

“I swear if you’re on your way to upset her again, I’m going home.” Tom called after his mum as she made her way into the bathroom. He sighed as he looked at his dad.

“I know your angry son and I know she had no right. But forgive her yeah? She had your best interests at heart even if she went about that the wrong way.” Dom said as he offered his son a reassuring smile.

“I know. It just upset me that she treated her like that.”

You’d managed to stop the tears and you were splashing your face with cold water trying to get rid of the redness in your face. Would Tom believe you if you said you weren’t feeling well and let you go home? No, then you’d be taking him away from his family. You were pulled from your thoughts as another person joined you in the bathroom. You didn’t look at them, didn’t want to draw attention to your tear stained face.

“Y/N? I’m sorry.” You heard you were shocked as you turned around to see Nikki. You didn’t say anything, not wanting to upset her further.

“I mean it. I’m sorry. I just get so protective of him you know. He has had girlfriends like that in the past and I’m just scared someone will take advantage of him again. I know I shouldn’t treat him like he’s naive, but I can’t help it sometimes. I’m truly sorry for the way I have treated you tonight. It was unfair of me to judge you when I don’t know you.” She said as she smiled at you. You sighed as you took in her words.

“Look, I get it. I get that you want to protect him but I’m not like that I swear. I really do love Tom for Tom. I’d love him whatever he did for a living.” You said sincerely. Nikki smiled as she pulled you into a hug. You hugged back.

“Okay, let’s get you cleaned up. Let’s start again?” She asked you hopefully.

“I’d like that.” You mumbled as she helped you fix your appearance. You made your way back to the table Tom, instantly standing and pulling you into a hug.

“Are you okay? Did she upset you again?” Tom whispered protectively into your ear. “Tell me if she has, we’ll go if that’s what you want.”

“It’s okay Tom. She apologised. We’re going to start again. I get were she was coming from in a way.” You whispered back as he squeezed you tighter.

“Doesn’t make it right.” He mumbled and you hummed in agreement before whispering “let it go, okay,” kissing his cheek before you both sat back down. He didn’t let go of your hand all night. The rest of night went by without any more awkwardness, in fact when you left, you’d argue that you and Nikki had gotten quite close. Tom let his anger towards his mum disappear over the course of the night and when you all left to go home you made plans to do the same again next week and everyone left far happier and content than when they’d arrived.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #tom holland x y/n

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1kook · 4 years

Text

some way, some how

jeon jungkook x (f) reader

Summary: Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you. Warnings: emotional constipation, toxic ex, internalized misogyny, jk has bad experiences w/his ex’s dad, one scene where jk throws up, brief episode of panic, mentions of terminal cancer (minor); smut; fingering, praise kink, face fucking, spitting kink, cunnilingus, unprotected sex on top of a car im sorry Misc: autoshop owner!jk, businesswoman!oc, slice of life, childhood crushes, friends to lovers, ex gfs, pining, country bumpkin pjm w/crush on oblivious oc, ex-bf kth but it’s not real lol Wc: 19.4k (wow!!!)

the spirit of auto shop jk possessed me n next thing i knew i was 11k into a drabble. if ur curious: the 1975 corvette, car at the end, the tweed suitskirt (not actually chanel ☹️sowwyyy) also: this is the longest fic I've written!!!!! clap for me!!!!! i proofread the first few paragraphs n was like thats enough professionalism for the day

inspired by ain’t no mountain high enough one of my fave songs ever🥺 the title is a lyric from the song bc i love it so much enjoy !!

The garage is mostly dark when you enter, the faint hum of a radio quietly filtering through the stagnant room, its source coming from the back wall, where the only light is. It’s a rolling lamp, shining down an ugly yellow glow onto the figure of one man.

Jungkook’s sitting in that same rolling stool he always is, the metal one that’s rusted beyond repair, the cushion so uncomfortably flat. He’s caught up in whatever paint job he’s been tasked with this time around, a classic muscle car from what looks like the 80’s. He’s humming along to the radio, so caught up in stenciling out his design that he doesn’t notice you creep behind him until you’re very purposefully rattling the tool cart beside him, a teasing “boo!” making him jump.

“Fuck, you scared me,” he gasps, rubs over his chest as if to check if his heart is in fact still there. You grin, brandish your bag of takeout out for him before he can lecture you on the dangers of startling people who work around very complex machinery. Instead, all he says is, “you’re an angel.”

Once you’ve got the food carefully scattered across his work bench, your cherry cola tucked next to a canister of gasoline like that’s the safest practice, Jungkook wastes no time diving into all the details of his project, the 1975 Chevy Corvette behind him. The longer you look at it, the more you feel you’ve seen it somewhere. Probably a car show, you presume.

“Purrs like a kitten,” he sighs dreamily, completely ignoring the way half his toppings slide out from the opposite end of his cheeseburger. You don’t, and you swipe a fallen pickle from his tray before he can catch you.

“A kitten?” You ask, glance over at the car. It’s desperately in need of a paint job, and you only realize this now as you stare at it more in depthly. The niggling feeling that you know this car is still there, but you ignore it in favor of indulging your best friend. “Don’t people usually compare cars to bigger, better cats?”

There’s a taped stencil running alongside the car, a thick stripe followed by a thinner one, and you suppose Jungkook’s trying to spice her up, give her back the same youthfulness she probably had in her prime. What better way to do so than by adding some classic stripes alongside it.

Jungkook hums, gulps down his soda noisily. “Not this one. Never heard an engine as soft as hers.”

You roll your eyes. For a minute, the two of you quietly chew through your burgers, the radio filling in the gaps while you analyze the car. You know this car, but you can’t remember where. Jungkook coughs into his palm, probably from trying to inhale his fries too fast like he does every time you go to the diner you’re eating from today.

The diner.

A mouthful of braces. A pretty waitress. A strict dad.

“Holy shit, this is Sojin’s dad’s car,” you inhale, the memories from high school suddenly hitting you full force. Jungkook chokes, out of surprise this time, and furiously goes to deny your claims. “This is totally his car. The one he tried to run you over with when he caught you trying to put her on the back of your bike.”

“He didn’t try to run me over,” Jungkook whines, and the tips of his ears are red from your revelation.

You glare. “Why are you fixing that asshole’s car for him?” You interrogate, the last quarter of your burger forgotten in favor of squeezing the truth out of him. You’d had enough of that treacherous woman and her equally deranged father causing Jungkook trouble, and to catch him still helping her now, almost ten years later, was enough to make a brain vessel pop.

He shrugs, avoids your eyes as he picks through his fries. The radio is still on, some tune you recognize from those old days at the diner when Jungkook had become so unbelievably smitten with the part timer that served you milkshakes every Wednesday afternoon.

He had been in love with her the moment he saw her, and the look in his eyes was only magnified by those dorky glasses he wore pre-lasik. You'd been his friend long enough, recognized the jump of his scrawny thigh beneath the table. Like a bunny, thumping in excitement at the sight of her.

Sojin was... full of surprises.

She was nothing less than a supermodel, long legs carrying her around the diner as if it was her runway. She was nice too, so you hadn’t originally had an excuse to dislike her. She was nice, and so endeared with your best friend that it was inevitable when they began dating. Her presence consumed the end of your high school careers, overtook the time that should have been yours and Jungkook’s last year before being thrown into adulthood. He decided on studying at a technical school nearby—per your encouragement to save money—while you travelled five hours out for your degree in business. That last year, when you had finally come to terms with your feelings, had been so painfully ripped away by Sojin and her never-ending list of teenage drama, and by Sojin’s dad and his overbearing need to police her and Jungkook every chance he got.

Jungkook still hung out—“Sojin was busy, do you wanna do something?”—but more often than not those hang outs consisted of Jungkook telling you about her and her dad, about how hard he tried to get into his good graces.

The bike incident had only been one of many. Times where Jungkook would put his heart—and life—on the line for that girl only for it to be in vain every time she broke up with him over the simplest things. You’d heard stories from Jungkook, all told with a tight smile, of a handshake that would bruise, a man chasing him with a bat, of a car following him to school. All things he put up with for a girl who didn’t care for him. One day, after Jungkook had grudgingly sat through an hour long dinner with her family, the stare of her father piercing through him, she broke up with him because she didn’t like how long his hair had gotten.

(If anyone were to ask you, he was handsome with long hair. Dreamy even.)

He cut it that same day.

As her childishness grew, you quickly came to dislike her. She strung Jungkook around, you thought, and just when you thought she was finally done toying with him and making his life difficult in the sneakiest ways, the damn kid started hitting the gym. His growing frame, toned arms and now straightened teeth had turned him into a heartthrob, and Sojin was just as aware of this as you were. “Don’t we look perfect together?” She’d ask, twirl around him like they were on the cover of a magazine and not standing on his chipped front porch.

Needless to say, by the time graduation had rolled around you despised the woman. You absolutely disliked how she treated Jungkook, how she let her father treat Jungkook without ever stepping up and defending him. Granted, you didn’t know exactly what went on in her household behind closed doors, you’d seen enough of her uncaring attitude to want to ram her and her dad’s head against the hood of the car.

Which is why seeing the old car, in Jungkook’s shop nonetheless, was rekindling a boiling hatred in your chest. “That man should rot in hell for all he put you through,” you huff, glare at the car like it holds some magical connection to him and he can feel the intensity of your stare.

“___,” Jungkook scolds, swirls his cup around to distract himself. “He was just trying to protect his only daughter,” he defends, quietly, like it’s what he tells himself to justify all those years of mistreatment. Even when he and Sojin had continued through college, it had never stopped. You, being five hours away, couldn’t do a damn thing. “Besides, the guy’s old as hell now.”

You snort, finally breaking your staring match with the car. Glancing at Jungkook, he’s got that same forlorn expression on his face, the one he started wearing when he first came to terms with the fact that her dad would never like him. There was a time it was stuck permanently on his face, the pressure and the discomfort that came from the father of the girl you’ve dated for five years looking at you like you were nothing more than a speck of dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

When you came back from school, educated and confident, you almost didn’t recognize your best friend. Tall and broad, tattoos splattered over his arm. Hair long like you loved it, but eyes still as round and wondrous as they’d been when you were kids. He had his own place now, he told you, and you vaguely remembered all the times he mentioned him and Sojin moving in together, mentally preparing yourself to see that wench for the first time in a while.

Much to your surprise, there was no Sojin in sight. No lingering artifacts of her presence. Nothing that showed she existed in this space besides an ugly orange mug she’d given him for his birthday one year, tucked into the very back of his cabinets. They’d broken up, he explained. Almost immediately after graduation.

After stringing him along for the better part of five years, she had decided this wasn’t what she wanted. No, what she wanted was a man ten years her senior with an abundance of cash to flow. Jungkook hadn’t cried. Hadn’t even looked the tiniest bit upset when you ordered pizza and drank some beer, watched your favorite episodes of The Simpsons like you were seventeen and avoiding your homework again.

You stayed the night, a little too tipsy to drive home. Besides, Jungkook had a spare bedroom. It was a room beside his, just a full bed with a chest of drawers. You liked it, liked the scent of him surrounding you after only seeing each other for a couple weeks in between months of distance. You liked it, because when he shifted in bed you realized the beds were pressed against the same wall, and you liked it until the shared wall spared you no secrets, and you listened to him quietly sob into his pillow.

“Old or not, he’s still the devil,” you murmur, snapping back to the present where Jungkook is wheeling himself closer to the car again. “Where did you find that thing anyway?”

He stays silent, quietly pretending like he still has something to do on the car besides paint it. Then, “I bumped into Sojin at the store.”

You sigh, drop your head between your shoulders. You can only imagine what whirlwind of a sob story she had to throw on him to win this favor.

“Kook,” you start, gauging his reaction only from his backside. His muscles ripple beneath his dark t-shirt, his usual red jumpsuit knitted around his waist. “What happened?”

Again, silence.

You say nothing, let him sort through the hurt on his own while you creep up behind him, sliding your hands over his shoulders and pressing down on the cricks behind his neck. He melts into your touch, head lolling forwards as a quiet sigh escapes him.

“She told me she was low on cash, and she needed the car to get to work,” he confesses, and from his ducked position, his voice trembles. You roll your eyes.

“And the paint job?”

A particularly rough press of your fingers has a whimper escaping him. God, this boy needed to see a chiropractor and a masseuse soon. All that hunching over and under these cars was doing a number on his back.

“I… I figured I might as well fix up the exterior too.” Of course he would, you think, Jungkook’s heart was stupidly big and easy to manipulate. He would get so swept up in it sometimes, trying to do the best he can for everyone’s benefit that he’d ignore himself.

You sit in his confession, fingers digging into his skin for a few minutes as you consider what to say.

The mature adult in you, the logical half of you, wants to hit him upside the head, scold him for letting that wench into his life again so easily. You were going on twenty-six now, all three of you, and you didn’t have time to be fixing him every time that childish woman decided to toy with him. Granted, it’s been four years since you last saw her, since you heard him muffle his cries on the other side of the wall, and you liked to think Jungkook was a respectful adult of society now. He didn’t have time to get dragged around by self-absorbed women with insane fathers.

The other part, the best friend since childhood, wants to run away. Wants to pack Jungkook into a suitcase and take him far away from here and from her. Unlike you, who now lived in the city, Jungkook had stayed in your small hometown, a quiet place just outside the bustling city. It was difficult to ensure his happiness when you were always forty-five minutes out of reach. It would be so much easier to just take him and fly to another province, maybe on the beach, Jungkook loved the beach.

“Listen,” he says, successfully pulling you out from your spiral. “I know what you’re gonna say and I just wanna tell you it’s not like that.”

You blink, hands stilling on his shoulders. Your lack of movement allows him to spin around on his chair, gaze up at you with the same shiny gaze he’s given you ever since you were kids. “I’m just doing her this tiny favor. She looked...” he trails off, face scrunching to find the words.

“Like shit?” You propose, and he smiles. “Like flaming dumpster shit behind a club?”

Jungkook laughs, loud and beautiful. You want to kiss the mole beneath his lip.

“She looked bad, okay?” He settles, reaches forward to take your palm in his. You’re standing between his thighs, and you wonder how he would have acted if you were Sojin. “Don’t think things worked out with that CEO she was dating. I’m just giving her a push.”

You sigh, try to push those crestfallen sobs to the back of your head. “Okay,” you agree, briefly glancing back at the damn car. “You fix her car, and that’s it,” you state. Jungkook nods, makes a little X over his heart. He knows how much you hate that woman. “No funny business.”

“No funny business,” he agrees, then reaches down for a white spray can. “You wanna spray some dicks on it before I paint it?”

“Please,” you laugh, taking the face mask he offers you with a grin.

—

One day your car starts making a weird noise as you pull out of the underground parking garage of your building. It’s somewhere between a pig squealing and metal scraping. You’ve been around Jungkook long enough to know this is probably something to do with your breaks, something about them being loose or old, one of the two. You have a short day at work today. There’s repairs being done to the office you work at, so everyone’s been spending more time working from home.

You leave work a little after two pm, head pounding from the hour long meeting you sat through, the mediocre business proposals your boss had asked you to look through and file. There’s a hefty load of emails waiting in your inbox, mostly the interns requesting you write them a recommendation letter. You’ll have to look through those later, pick out the good ones and write them each a unique piece kissing the ground they walk on.

The scent of freshly fried donuts hits your nose as you pull into your old town; the bakery down the road from Jungkook’s has their windows open. You can already taste the sweetness on the tip of your tongue, the iced coffee cooling your insides as you sit and watch Jungkook work on your car.

Jungkook’s shop is on the corner of the street, takes up a huge chunk with it’s massive garage and driveway; the office area is tiny compared to the sheer size of the actual work floor. There’s music blaring through the overhead speakers, and when you pull in you recognize it as Jimin’s playlist.

“Morning, Miss,” the country bumpkin says, leaning against your car door as you rifle through your purse. “What’re you in for?”

“Hi, Jimin,” you reply sweetly, take his hand as he helps you out the door. You very vaguely explain the noise your car had made that morning, glancing around the shop as Jimin gets to work inspecting it. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin’s waving over some other employees, all greeting you in their matching red jumpsuits. “Kook’s in the office,” he tells you, and it’s almost sensual the way his hand glides over your palm for your keys. God, you needed to get laid. “Has some lady friend in there with him.”

You pause, the bustling of the crew behind you fading into the background. Something inside you snaps, and you whirl around the garage, before catching sight of a 1975 Chevy Corvette, almost unrecognizable from how you’d last seen it. It’s bright red now, a color you only briefly saw before you’d left the other night, with two, lightning bolt racing stripes decorating each side. It looks new, almost in mint condition, and the fact it’s still here has you storming through the garage.

Your heels clack loudly, the crew moving to the side as you torpedo straight into the offices. You barely remember to greet the receptionist before you’re stomping straight into the main office.

There’s no knock, no warning given, before you’re flinging the door open, seeing exactly what you’d expected.

“___,” Jungkook stutters, jumping onto his feet from his position on the couch. He looks frantic, wide eyes flickering between you and the woman sitting in front of him, her back turned to you. But you’d recognize that silhouette anywhere.

“Did you say ___?” She says, and she’s still as tall and as beautiful as you remember her. Had it not been for the heels you wore, you don’t doubt she’d tower over you. She flashes you a killer smile, lips carefully painted red. It almost looks murderous. “My! ___, you haven’t changed a bit,” Sojin exclaims, rushing around the couch to pull you into a tight hug. You don’t return it.

You let her cling to you for a second, before pushing her away as gently as you can by the shoulders. As much as you’d like to rip her in half, tear her apart for all she did to Jungkook, you won’t. You’re older now, elegant in all the ways you weren’t before. It would be a huge disservice to your maturity if you shoved your heel up her ass right now.

“It’s lovely seeing you, Sojin,” you smile, taking her hand in yours.

Besides, being a woman in business meant you knew better, more creative ways to strike.

“And your boyfriend?” You ask, tilting your head in staged confusion. You even glance around the office, like you’ll find the geezer hiding behind the potted plant or Jungkook’s frozen figure. “The rich one with the huge company? Did he come with you today?”

Her smile tightens, red lips pursed as she gauges you with those cat eyes that haunt your nightmares every now and then. “My ex-boyfriend,” she corrects after a minute, pastes a forlorn expression onto her features. “We’ve separated, and you know how it is for women like us,” she jests. “We need a man to push us along—“

“Do we?” You ask, think back on all those years of school, of studying and working and pushing yourself, all the time you spent investing in yourself for yourself. “I don’t think so,” you contemplate. “It’s really embarrassing if you can’t care for yourself without the help of a man. Almost like you don’t trust in your own abilities, and ride other’s coattails instead.”

A beat of silence. Two completely different worlds, and Jungkook hovering awkwardly beside you.

Two palms grasp your shoulders from behind, and when you turn Jungkook is smiling at you, forced and stressed like he can’t stand to be in this uncomfortable situation any longer. “Well,” he announces, pushing you behind him as he guides Sojin towards the door. “There was an issue with her car, so I’ll just check on it real quick, okay?”

You nod, feel empty as he takes her by the wrist, and not you. He hands her her purse, palm on the small of her back as they exit the office. When the door clicks shut behind them, you throw your own handbag at the ground, barely stop yourself from stomping like a child.

Instead, you breathe in, hold it, and exhale, just like your Tuesday yoga instructor taught you. By the time you’ve collected yourself a few minutes have passed, so you kneel down to gather your fallen lipstick tubes and cellphone from the floor, scooping them back into your purse.

Tugging the door shut behind you, you mindlessly wander down the hall, until you reach the small receptionist area and nearly get jumped by Kim Taehyung. “Holy shit, you won’t believe this,” he gasps, takes you by the shoulders and nearly shakes you until your brain falls out through your ears. You would have slapped him, had this been any other man, but he’s quite possibly the only man besides Jungkook you’d let jostle you like this. “You’ll never guess who just left the office with J—wait,” he pales, suddenly connecting two and two, your exit from said offices definitely a key factor in whatever conclusion he’s drawn. “You were in the office with Hwang Sojin and you didn’t kill her?!”

You huff, let him shake you again until you’re nearly tripping in your heels. “Yes, I know,” you groan, finally slap his hands away when you begin to feel this morning’s breakfast bubbling from all the motion. “I’m surprised too.”

“Wow,” Taehyung marvels, leans back against the receptionist desk even though the poor girl has told him time and time again not to. He ignores her, something he can do as second best friend to the boss. “Remember when she showed up crying outside his mom’s house and you threw a potted plant at her? Oh how the great have fallen.”

Rolling your eyes, you drift over to the plexiglass window in the office that looks out across the entirety of the garage floor. In the corner, Jungkook’s got the hood of the Corvette open as he works away on something, Sojin tapping at her phone beside him. “Why are you here, Tae?”

He steps beside you, tuned into the same scene. “Can’t visit my ex-girlfriend every now and then?” He teases, you groan.

“We dated for three days, dude, let it go,” you whine, and watch with rapt attention as Jungkook motions for her to start the engine. She does, and it purrs to life, soft and silky just like Jungkook said it does. She squeals and claps, launches herself into his arms in thanks. You look away.

“Yuck,” Taehyung gags and you couldn’t agree more. “Can’t believe you ended the best 72 hours of my life for that pinhead and the hussy attached to his hip.”

He shrieks when you pinch his side, and you take great satisfaction in the judgemental stare half the crew sends him through the glass. After all, they weren’t soundproof. “You embarrassed me and my brand,” he huffs, crossing his arms as the two of you return to watching Jungkook and the hussy.

“He’s not a pinhead,” you softly retort, watch him wipe a bead of sweat off his forehead as he waves her off. Sojin sends him a brigade of air kisses, none of which he catches. A sick sense of glee consumes you at the sight, but then he’s turning to stare directly at you and Taehyung through the glass, and the both of you quickly whirl away.

“His ability to find you in less than a second is so weird,” Taehyung shivers, and you ignore it, taking the candy from the bowl on the receptionist desk. She doesn’t care, having heard these conversations more than enough times to get the general gist of what you and Taehyung gossip about. You’re surprised she’s never mentioned it to Jungkook before.

Regardless, you listen to Taehyung complain about his life for a few more minutes, before Jimin’s sweet voice pops into the room. His ash blonde hair is all ruffled, and there’s something dark smeared over his otherwise perfect skin as he tells you your car is fixed. Taehyung bids you goodbye, and Jimin walks you back to your car out on the garage floor.

“All set, miss,” Jimin grins, puts a hand against the car so you don’t hit your head as you go in. You thank him, and don’t miss the way he lingers by your window.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, tilt your head quizzically. Jimin’s cheeks flush, and he looks shyly at the ground.

“Actually, I was wondering if—“

“___,” Jungkook calls, jogging over beside Jimin, who looks almost ashamed to be caught doing...whatever it was he was gonna do. Jungkook glances at him, catches him in some weird staring contest before crouching down to your window. “You needed your car fixed? Why didn’t you tell me?”

You blink, don’t know how to politely tell him he was too busy kissing the ass of his toxic ex-girlfriend to help you out. “Jimin helped me,” you smile, the same practiced expression you’ve mastered since college. You usually get by, usually trick people with that look, but not with him. Jungkook knows you too well, knows that look, and knows you’re holding yourself back. “You were busy.”

His lips part in surprise, tugged downwards with the hint of a frown. “I,” he stutters, looks at Jimin, who doesn’t seem that impressed with him either. “I… I would’ve came if you called.”

You tug your sunglasses out from their little case, slide them over the bridge of your nose as you strap your seatbelt over yourself. “Would you though?” You ask, flash him another polite smile before shifting your car’s gears. Jimin walks off, clears the path for you to exit, and with just Jungkook standing there, you speak freely. “I would hate to distract you from something important.”

—

Some of the proposals end up being better than expected, and after carefully sifting through them, your boss asks you to sit through presentations for the next few days. Your time gets consumed in graphs and budgets. There’s a multitude of businesses you have to look into, some big and well-known, and others small and local. You drive around the city one day, visiting business after business, until your ankles hurt in your heels and your cheeks hurt from all the smiling. Your only comfort is the nice Chanel skirt suit you’re wearing that makes you feel like the most important person in the room wherever you go.

By the time the week’s over, there’s a thin cut forming on the back of your ankles from all the walking you’ve done in your heels. You slump against your front door, tossing your heels in the vague direction of the closet before padding through your house.

You nearly scream yourself sore at the figure in your kitchen, hunched over what looks to be a hastily made cake with a number three candle. “Oh my god,” you seethe, turning the overhead light on to illuminate Jungkook’s grinning figure, dirty and sweaty from work. You glance at the clock on the stove; it’s only been about an hour since his garage closed.

“Surprise!” He exclaims, and you’re not the slightest bit amused when he begins humming the happy birthday song on a day that is definitely not your birthday.

When he’s done, you don’t clap and his beaming smile doesn’t waver. “It is not my birthday,” you calmly state, placing your leather padfolio on the counter.

Jungkook blows the candle out for you. “It’s the birthday of when we first met,” he explains, and gets to cutting the cake. How he remembers such a day, you don’t know. You do know that this is his mom’s birthday cake recipe, and you love that. “Can you believe it? Friends for almost three decades.”

“Almost,” you repeat, dutifully sitting across from him and taking the plate he offers. He nods at you like a bobblehead.

His eyes are sparkly and big, like he’s drunk, and it’s only then you notice the red wine on the table, bottle open and halfway done. You set your fork down, grasp the neck of the bottle in your hand. “Have you been drinking?” You ask, even though the answer stares you right in the face. You frown. “You hate drinking.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, shovels more cake into his mouth to delay his response. “Needed it,” he offhandedly explains, nearly eats the candle but you jump forward to snatch it off his fork before he can.

“What do you mean?” You inquire. You’re not hungry anymore, too interested in whatever’s going on in his head to make him think he needs to be drunk around you.

Jungkook gulps, reaches forward for more wine but you cradle the bottle to your chest. You nearly gasp when he levels you with a real, stony glare, the expression out of place on his face. “Cuz you’re mad,” he huffs. “At me.”

There was a time you would coddle Jungkook’s every mistake, never let him think he was at fault for anything. You’d grown out of it shortly before high school, recognizing boys were stupid no matter how much you tried to prove otherwise. Since then, you’ve watched him get into trouble time and time again—Sojin being the prime example—and only intervened when absolutely necessary. Some part of you, the half that hates seeing him upset, wants to tell him you’re not. The mature part in you, however, doesn’t let that happen.

“I am,” you agree, watch his eyes widen almost comically at your admission. You set the wine bottle back on the table, leaning your chin on your palm as you level him with the most unimpressed gaze you can. “I’m furious, actually.”

He whimpers, actually whimpers like a kicked puppy, and you can almost see the metaphorical ears pressed against his head and the tail tucked between his legs. His lips are big and pouty, stained from the wine. You’d love to know what they feel like.

Jungkook’s vulnerability lasts all of three seconds, before he’s shaking himself out of whatever emotional pit his foggy brain has him in. “Well, it’s dumb,” he spits, and it’s your turn to sit in shock. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

“Excuse me?” You ask, incredulously, because this has never happened before. Are you overprotective and sometimes overbearing? Sure. Has Jungkook ever voiced discomfort with that before? Never. “I’m not telling you what to do,” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest.

He rolls his eyes, pushes away from the table like a moody teen. You know it’s because he’s drunk, because he’s not himself, but you have to remind yourself that he obviously felt this way somewhere in his heart to voice it to you now. “You’re not my mom.”

You choke. “I’m not!” You angrily agree, pushing away from the table as well.

Jungkook snarls, “well you sure do love acting like her.” He picks up his plate, glances over at you with a look in his eyes that can only be likened to that of a sneaky cat, and then purposefully shoves the bread and frosting down the garbage disposal in the sink. You shriek, fly around the table and shove him away.

“What is wrong with you?” You seethe, push him away rudely with a hand on his face. Jungkook stumbles back, slips on the floor and nearly cracks his head on the corner of the counter. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, abandoning the sink in favor of watching the way his face twists up at the sudden motion, stomach contracting beneath his black t-shirt, cheeks puffing. “Oh god, oh god,” you stammer, tugging him to his feet with the strength only a panicked individual about to see an entire cake regurgitated onto their kitchen tile can have.

You’ve barely kicked the door to the bathroom open when Jungkook begins throwing up, gooey vomit spewing from his mouth and onto the floor. It touches your arm, and you shriek before shoving him in the general direction of the toilet.

“Ew, ew,” you freak, shoving your hand under the sink faucet to get that gross feeling away. You wanna vomit yourself, but you tell yourself there can only be one sick person at a time, and right now it’s Jungkook.

He’s got his head in the toilet, disgusting sounds echoing off the ceramic of it. By the time you’ve calmed down and washed your arm thrice, you move over to pull his bangs away from his face, letting him hurl in peace.

“I’m sorry,” he mopes, spews another round of birthday cake into the toilet.

You look away, blindly reach out to turn the bathroom fan on. “Mhm,” you nod, rubbing a hand over his back. Jungkook nods sadly against the toilet seat.

“‘M sorry,” he repeats, gags around nothing but the gross feeling left in his throat. “I-I know you just want…” a pause as he considers throwing up some more, “...want what’s best for me.”

“I do,” you agree, wipe a hand down the side of his face that he leans into. “Not trying to be your mom,” you assure him, and he snorts.

“Be a good mom,” he murmurs, so soft you don’t hear him. You hum, leaning closer and he repeats it. “You’d be… a good mom.”

Not knowing what to do with that information, you just pat his back until he falls asleep, cheek against the toilet seat.

—

“Woah, the sexual tension in this garage is off the charts,” Taehyung blurts from behind you, and you smack your clipboard against his chest. “Oof,” he grunts, rubbing his chest like it actually hurt. “You doing finances for him again?” He asks and you nod.

In an ideal world, Taehyung would leave upon finding out you’re busy. In this world, he simply leans into your personal space, nearly knocking you into an empty tool cart. “Oooh, an extensive list of all the money Jungkook’s stupidly blown this month. How much did he spend on neon signs this time?”

You relent, showing him the shop’s finances. Anywhere else, revealing a business’s finances without the consent of the owner would be a federal crime. Here, it’s the equivalent of showing Taehyung Jungkook’s browser history. “He spent how much on window tint?!”

“A lot,” you say.

There’s a whistle from across the garage, the shop’s resident country bumpkin Park Jimin standing at the huge garage doors with his hand on his hip. “No fraternizing, please.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Boooo,” he shouts, peels himself away from you to flick an impolite finger Jimin’s way. “He’s just jealous,” he tells you, and you frown.

“Of what?” You ask, and Taehyung nearly loses his shit.

“My precious ___,” he sighs, leans his forehead on your shoulder. “So beautiful and smart, yet so slow.” You flick the side of his forehead just as Jungkook strolls by and, seeing your attack, slaps the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Why do you guys hate me!” Taehyung exclaims, jumping at least five feet away from you and Jungkook’s giggling forms.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring Taehyung’s soulful cries as he glances over your shoulder at the clipboard. You tilt it his way, but he stands close anyway, until you can feel his breath huffing against the back of your neck.

“Okay, but you’re spending a lot of money stockpiling on things that haven’t shown signs of running out yet,” you explain, pointing at the window tint that had astonished Taehyung only a moment ago.

Jungkook grimaces, pink tongue swiping across his lip as he looks at the total amount he’s spent the last three months. “Well, it’s a good thing I have my accountant,” he grins, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

“Not your accountant,” you correct, “just a friend who doesn’t wanna see you run your business to the ground from overspending.”

Jungkook waves you off, and Taehyung tries to sneak into the receptionist office behind you, but Jungkook catches him with his free hand. “This is the life,” he sighs, wistfully gazing over the garage floor. It reeks of motor oil and car paint.

“Count me out,” Taehyung snorts, voicing your disinterest toward such greasy and smelly work. He tries to wiggle out of Jungkook’s hold, but the muscle bunny only straps an arm around his neck, until Taehyung’s squirming and clawing for air against the red sleeve of his jumpsuit.

“My own successful business, a shitload of sexy cars, and of course,” he pauses, squeezes the two of you tighter until you’re both groaning. “My two best friends.” The sap has the gall to peck the top of your heads, and that seems to be the final straw for Taehyung who rips himself away.

“Have this lovefest somewhere else, man,” Taehyung says, flattening his rumpled clothing down. “You’re really putting a nail in my reputation around here.”

Jungkook cackles, mindlessly goes to wrap himself around you from behind. “Your reputation has been trash since that scream you let out the other day,” he informs him, swaying the two of you back and forth. Your heart thunders in your chest, and you just barely manage to avoid Taehyung’s pointed stare.

“Whatever, I’m outta here.” With Taehyung peaced out, you’re left in Jungkook’s arms, gazing over his business like two old lovers. It makes your chest tight, so you quickly go to shake him off.

“We’re okay?” Jungkook murmurs, so soft you almost don’t hear. He’s got his hand wrapped around your wrist, thumb massaging over the bone there like he’s afraid you’ll bolt the second he lets you go.

You nod, tuck the clipboard to your side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Those sad puppy eyes, pouty lips turned southward. You want to wipe that look off his face. He sighs, glances at where your skin meets and gives it a squeeze. “I’ve been an ass lately,” he settles on saying. “Said some mean things and ruined your bathroom rug—I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what to say.

Jungkook takes your silence as understanding, reaching down to hold both your hands in his slightly dirty ones. “It won’t happen again. I’d rather lose a million friends than lose you,” he confesses, and something about it feels too real, too raw. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You nod, the constricting feeling in your throat only tightening when he smiles at you, those gentle eyes and plush lips for only you to see. You want to kiss him, swallow him whole. Right here on the garage floor so everyone knows he’s yours.

But you can’t because he’s not.

You settle on swinging your arms between you. “Just don’t do anything stupid,” you warn him, narrowing your eyes playfully. There’s a heavy feeling in your heart, something akin to anguish, but you could never voice it out loud.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises.

—

Jungkook visits again on a weekday, and you nearly send him straight home when he brandishes another bottle of wine in your face. “It’s nonalcoholic!” He exclaims before you can shut the door on him, foot lodged against the frame. You give in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, curling up on the couch in just your shorts and huge t-shirt. Jungkook pops the bottle open, pouring the wine into two limited edition Shrek 2 cups you pulled out from the depths of your cabinet.

“Can’t hang with my bestie?” He throws back at you, snatching the remote from your hands before you can click on another episode of that dumb housewives show. You end up watching National Geographic, some documentary about the role of bioluminescent shrimp in the sea.

“Aw look, they’re kissing,” he cooes at a pair of seahorses that wander across the screen halfway through a shot of some school of shrimp. “How romantic.”

“Wonder what that’s like,” you comment, not thinking too much on the meaning behind your words until you can feel Jungkook’s stare pierce your cranium. “What?”

“You’ve never been kissed?” He blurts, and you choke on your wine.

“You were my first kiss,” you remind him, flush at the memory of the two of you sitting criss-cross applesauce on his bed, knees knocking in what was probably the worst first kiss in the history of first kisses.

Jungkook blinks. “Oh yeah,” he laughs. “With the Tony Hawk poster behind my bed, right?”

“The one and only.”

Jungkook hums, and the two of you melt back into the silence. Nice aquatic sounds fill the room, the camera panning over more colorful fish that Jungkook oohs at appreciatively. You don’t really pay attention, more interested in the way the wine swirls in your cup and the way you can feel Jungkook’s thigh pressed against your knee, like when you were thirteen and trying something new.

You know it doesn’t mean a lot to him. Just another silly childhood memory of you. Not like you have hundreds, thousands of them with each other. By the way he’d blurted the question, you doubt he even remembered it most days. But you did.

It plagued your mind all the time, the soft feel of his mouth and the trembling hand that had held yours. You wonder if he kisses the same still, lips gently puckered. He’s had years to learn, half a decade to get creative with Sojin, and the past four years of being a bachelor to explore more.

You’ve kissed too, plenty of guys who had no meaning and ones you thought would replace him. But it’d been a long time since you’ve let anyone into your bed, more content to please yourself without the overbearing weight of feelings and emotions to wrap around your throat.

Jungkook coughs, and you shake yourself from your thoughts.

He’s looking at you inquisitively, like he can’t get his usual read on you and would rather just ask what’s wrong. “You don’t,” a pause, “hang out with guys?”

It’s devastatingly cute, the way he asks if you’re fucking, and you want to pinch his cheeks. Instead you shake your head, try to hide the grin on your face from his inquisitive expression. “Just you and Taehyung,” you admit.

Jungkook nods. “Do you and Tae…?”

You shake your head furiously. “No! God no, we don’t do anything like that,” you clarify, the thought of Taehyung in your bed enough to make you want to gag.

Jungkook says nothing, just turns back to the documentary to watch more Nemos and Dorys flit across the screen. You polish off your cup of wine, leaning forward to settle it back on the coffee table. As you settle back into the couch cushions, Jungkook speaks again. “So you take care of yourself?”

You freeze.

“Yeah,” you admit after one complete meltdown in your head. Where was this coming from? Why did he want to know? You and Jungkook were close, but you never did this. You never divulged the details of your sex life, never bragged about who you slept with or how many there were. What was going on?

Jungkook doesn’t say anything after that, just turns his attention back to the tv screen, where you’re almost certain the sea horses from before are fucking. Not that you know what it looks like, but you hope at least someone in this room was enjoying themselves and not drowning in the mortification of having their life long crush ask them if they masturbate.

“So, do you use your hands or a toy?”

You choke, slap your chest to ease the pounding of your heart at Jungkook asking such a question. “E-Excuse me?” You ask, scandalized that Jungkook, your sweet and caring childhood friend turned Fabio, could ask you such a bold question about your personal affairs.

“What?” Jungkook says, like he truly doesn’t see the inappropriateness of the situation. He even raises his eyebrows at you, as if urging you to answer the question.

You sigh, fight the flush of your cheeks and stare idly at the cups on the table. “A toy. Hands don’t feel good,” you curtly reply, crossing your arms over your chest and straightening your legs off the couch, hoping that’s the end of his curiosity. This was enough to fuel your 3am anxiety meltdowns for the next five years.

Jungkook nods, and you can feel his penetrating gaze on the side of your face again. A great white shark swims across the screen. Jungkook strikes. “My hands feel good.”

“Jungkook!” You exclaim in horror (and excitement, but you’ll pretend it wasn’t there). “What has gotten into you?”

“What!” Jungkook defends, Bambi eyes looking at you like you’re the unreasonable one here. “We’re having a civil conversation in which I’m trying to open up your worldview.”

You’re flabbergasted. “This is not a civil conversation, what are you even talking about?” You scold, tug your arms around yourself like it’ll actually protect you from the words that don’t seem to be filtering out of his mouth properly. “Why are you so concerned about that?” You interrogate, hope your forceful tone will scare him away.

It doesn’t. Jungkook shrugs, some noncommittal i dont know sound. “I can’t be interested in what you get up to? What my best friend gets up to?” It’s the obvious emphasis on best friend that makes you step down.

“No,” you sigh, rub a hand down your face. “You can be interested,” you tell him gingerly. “We just never really… talked about... those kinds of things,” you rush out, turn away from him as the narrator on screen dives into the intricacies of bioluminescent shrimp in the animal food chain.

As if sensing your discomfort, Jungkook softens, scooting closer to you. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, too close and too warm. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, places a palm on your knee.

“I’m not!” You rush to assure him, facing him head on again. His eyes are big and implorative still, and you wonder why he became stuck on that of all things today. “It just surprised me.”

His lips quirk to the side, an unsure grin that has you leaning into his shoulder. You sit in silence, the rise and fall of his body with every breath lulling you into a sense of comfort.

A false one that Jungkook zeroes in on.

The documentary’s wrapping up, soothing ocean sounds and wind instruments playing as the credits roll across the screen, when the hand that had been laying so comfortably on your thigh inches up. At first, you don’t notice it, writing it off as Jungkook just shifting around. You tell yourself it’s just that, until his pinky makes contact with the end of your shorts.

Slowly, you turn towards him, catch his mocha irises lustfully lidded as he toys with the hem. “Kook?” You murmur, so soft, barely there.

“Hm?” He replies, continuing to play with the edge of your shorts, until he gets brave and his fingers slip beneath, index finger just barely grazing the panties underneath. You gasp. “This okay?”

Stuck between your arousal and your common sense, you flounder for a response. He’s so close, and smells so good, curls brushing against your temple the closer he gets. You want him so bad, want him to find his place between your thighs and put those pouty lips to use. But you know it’ll make things different, change whatever it is you’ve had for the past almost thirty years, and you’ll never bounce back. Another brush against your panties, pointer finger wiggling it’s way beneath the fabric, and you’re choking out a “yes.”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and something in your core tingles at the name, thighs clenching together. “Uh uh,” he chides, nudges them open. “Stay still for me,” he commands, and you do, for all of ten seconds, but then he’s pressing his finger on your clit, panties and shorts muting the sensation. Still, it makes you squirm, fingers clutching the couch cushion beneath you as you struggle to keep them open. “Too much?” He asks, and you shake your head no.

“I-It’s fine,” you whisper, and Jungkook smiles.

He pets you, almost wondrously, for a few beats, watches the way the muscles in your thighs twitch with every press against your mound. Eventually, he decides it’s enough. “Hands don’t feel good for you?” He inquires, your words from earlier obviously having left their mark on him. Slowly, you shake your head. He glances down at the fist you have on the couch, composed features sliding up your face. “Well, yours are so small, princess. Of course they don’t feel good.”

He manhandles you around, tugs you onto the couch until you’re laying down, legs sprawled on either side of him. Pleased with the arrangement, Jungkook glances back down to your bottoms. “These have to go,” he tells you, hooks his fingers in the waistband and abruptly yanks down, leaving you just in your t-shirt.

You go to shy away, but Jungkook stops you, palms resting on the insides of your thighs, thumbs pressing into the skin soothingly. “My fingers are long, see?” He says, raising a hand to wiggle his fingers at you. You nod, heartbeat thundering in your ears. “They’ll feel nice inside.”

You know they will.

You can tell he knows his way around a woman’s body just from the way his hands glide over yours, carefully like he’s mapping you out. Ever so slowly, one hand grows closer, until his thumb is gently circling your clit, and you inhale sharply.

“So wet,” Jungkook hums, his other hand traveling further down, until he’s spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, trailing them through the arousal that gathers there.

You’ve never been so attentively cared for, never had a man zero in on your cunt like it was his first meal in ages. Jungkook’s eyes are clouded with lust, tongue peeking out from between his lips as he watches your pussy lips flutter at his touch.

He swirls his hand over your clit, pressing down. The first sound escapes you, a soft whimper that has you clamping your hand over your mouth in embarrassment. Jungkook grins down at you, shifts closer to press a kiss to the knuckles over your mouth.“Don’t hide from me,” he purrs, pulling away and pressing a kiss to your neck.

You cry out when he gets back to it, massaging your pussy with gentle hands and a thumb against your clit to placate you. “Jungkook,” you choke out, and he beams at his name, takes it as a sign to finally slip two fingers inside. “A-ah,” you whine, arching beneath him.

He basks in your noises, leans close again to press a kiss beneath your ear, against your jaw. “This okay?” He murmurs, curling the fingers inside of you. You mewl, throwing your arms around him as he begins working you open. “How does it feel, baby?”

“G-good,” you pant, turn your head until you can bury your nose in his hair, drown even more in his all-consuming aura.

Another kiss to your neck, before he’s suctioning his lips right below your ear, nipping and sucking at the skin to brand you his. “You like my hands?” He husks, and the patch of saliva he leaves on your neck feels cold without his mouth there. You nod, and Jungkook rewards you with a soft smooch over the hickey he’s left.

His fingers inside you curl and scissor, brush against every inch of your walls until you’re quivering beneath him, gasping his name out. You could melt if his fingers weren’t holding you together. “So tight,” he groans, curling his fingers. The movement touches upon something sensitive within you, and you moan his name loudly.

“O-Oh,” you pant, wiggling beneath him as you try to feel that again. Jungkook lets you, watches you desperately rut into his hands. He drifts away, lets his tongue mouth over your breasts, licking until there’s a damp spot on your t-shirt, the flimsy house bra you’d worn and the t-shirt combined not enough to hide your pebbled nipples.

The drag of his hands against your pussy isn’t enough, the motions not quick enough. Jungkook glances at your twisted features, your quivering pussy, and then, ever so gently, ducks over you, puckered lips letting one, long glob of saliva touch down on your pussy, trickling around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” you choke, watch his tongue swipe over his lip to break the thin bridge that connects you too. Suddenly, everything is smoother, the combined lubrication of your arousal and his spit making the glide of his fingers sinfully slick.

Frantic for release, you lose yourself in him, ready to free fall into your pleasure so long as Jungkook is there to catch you. “That’s it,” he encourages, picks up the pace of his fingers inside you. “Come on, beautiful, let me see that gorgeous face of yours when you come.”

“K-Kook,” you sob, and he smiles against your neck. His fingers work fast, until your muscles are all pulled tight, waiting for that final push to unravel. You make the mistake of glancing down, only to be caught by that pearly smile and adoring gaze. You’re in heaven, you know you are.

There’s no other explanation for this—the way Jungkook holds you like you’re his, hands so gently caressing your most intimate parts. You’re almost convinced you’re having a fever dream, a sick, too realistic dream, but then Jungkook’s biting down on your shoulder through your t-shirt, subtly rutting against your thigh.

“Cum for me,” he purrs against your neck, and you do, sobbing as your orgasm rolls over you, the heavy weight of his cock against your thigh. “Jungkook,” you cry, so pitifully, it has him lunging forward, a kiss pressed to the corner of your mouth.

You feel sweaty and gross, unbelievably tired from the gentle way he opened you up. Blindly, you reach down, feel the hardness of his cock beneath his sweatpants, but Jungkook nudges you away. You huff. “Let me,” you whimper, reach for him again even though you can see the slowness in your movement. “Need your cock in my mouth,” you drawl, almost sleepily.

“Shh,” he soothes, lips pressed against your neck, where he’s still licking and sucking over every inch of you. You whine. “You don’t have to do a thing, gorgeous,” he assures you, “just wanted to make you feel good.”

—

Work gets stressful shortly after. There’s a new batch of interns coming in this season, new faces who will mess up your coffee orders and jam the printers for a good few weeks. There’s normally a team of employees who train them, a mix of relatively older people from different departments who show them around; a girl in the finance department, the one who usually trains them, is on maternity leave. With no one else to fall back on, the head of the department pushes the duties off on you, claiming your flexibility and work ethic make you the perfect candidate for such a role.

Normally you’d thrive at the praise, eat up every single word like it sustained you. In a way, it did. It was nice to be appreciated and recognized for your hard work, to be thought of so highly, especially in a male-dominated company. However, this time, you know it’s out of convenience that the head kisses up to you, and you end up begrudgingly taking the role.

The gaps in your schedule you’d normally spend relaxing or catching up on other projects are filled with bumbling interns, calling for help every chance they get. It’s like they’ve never done anything on their own, this group, always asking you the correct way to do this, the right way to do that. You haven’t mentored interns in a while, so you spend the first day breezing over old powerpoints and print outs you made years ago. You remember why you’re not fit for mentoring when one of them asks you how to navigate Excel. You nearly rip their head off.

There’s so much going on, you barely get time to see Jungkook, let alone text him. You saw him once the morning after, stack of pancakes on your kitchen table as he rushed you off to work. The shop didn’t open for another hour. He was sweet, kissed your forehead as you left, but he’s always done that. You didn’t have time to talk about whatever the night before was, or what that made the two of you now.

On Friday night, one week into your nightmarish role, you pull into the shop. You'd like to convince yourself it was routine, visiting the shop, but that’s a lie. You desperately miss Jungkook.

Most of the garage doors that are usually pulled open during the day are shut, save for one. The last of Jungkook’s employees are leaving, bidding you adieu as you step out of your car. Park Jimin is there, repairing some rickety car in the back corner.

“Boo,” you call playfully, and Jimin doesn’t flinch, merely pulls his head from out of the hood to flash you an easygoing smile.

He whistles at the sight of you. “You look like you’ve been through one of helluva week,” he says, and you, despite your strong personality, feel yourself blush at his comment. Jeez, did you look that bad? Jimin doesn’t elaborate, just pulls out a stool for you to sit on beside where he’s working. “Penny for your thoughts?”

You glance at the plexiglass, the offices hiding down the hall. Jungkook could wait, you presume, settling down beside him. Your skirt tugs up as you settle onto the pleather seat, so you cover your legs meekly with your purse. “Work’s been crazy,” you explain, and Jimin laughs at the obvious.

“You’re telling me,” He hums, and you roll your eyes playfully. “What’s going on at work?”

What hasn’t been going on, you think to yourself, before launching into a full retelling of your new horrendous position, of all the interns with their clueless eyes and useless notebooks. Jimin chuckles, indulges you in a few comments here and there that only fuel you on. He’s just about done with whatever he’s doing to the car at the same time your story wraps up, explaining how you found yourself here, desperate for Jungkook to whisk you off to that arcade you loved as kids. “Jungkook?” He asks, and you nod. “He left a while ago.”

You freeze. “Huh?” You say, dumbly. You almost want to laugh at your own impulsiveness, for showing up without sending him a text or a warning to let him know you were coming. You almost do laugh, but then you remember you and Jungkook never did that anyway. Hell, he showed up at your house a few weeks ago unannounced and drunk. The two of you were hardly the type to plan ahead, so it was weird for him to not be here. He’s been at the shop almost every night since it’s opened, the days he’s not usually a holiday.

“Jimin…” you begin, glancing at the receptionist window once more. “Where’s Jungkook?”

Jimin shuts his tool box, kicking a cart off to the side. “He left with that lady,” he tells you, doesn’t hear the way your heart rips straight out of your chest. No way. “Tall, pretty. Had that nice Corvette he fixed up a while ago.”

“Sojin,” you mumble, and Jimin nods.

“Think that was her name.” As if sensing your tumultuous thoughts, he steps closer, one hand reaching out to steady you. “You alright?”

“God,” you exhale, pushing yourself away from Jimin and the garage and the window. The stool rolls away, almost hits the side of another car but Jimin catches it. He rushes over towards you, watching you wobble in your heels.

“Honey,” Jimin says, steady and warm beside you. “Sit down for me, yeah?” He guides you to a row of seats against the wall, nailed into the floor so you can’t push them away and make even more of a mess. Not that that’s your concern, your mind and heart too preoccupied with thoughts of Jungkook lying to you, going out with that woman again, despite your obvious hatred for her and his promise to you.

Jimin disappears, rushes over to the other side of the garage before returning with a water bottle for you. He cracks it open, presses it into your hands, and then against your lips when you don’t move. “Drink,” he encourages, watching you with worried eyes that only grow more and more concerned the deeper you fall into your thoughts.

You want to cry and beat Jungkook up at the same time. You want to scream at him for lying to you after treating you so nicely, holding you so warmly. Instead, you gasp for breath, clutching your face in your hands like it’s the only thing that grounds you.

There’s a beep outside, chirpy and cute in the way only older models are, and you whip your head up, the headlights of the Corvette painting you in shades of yellow as it rolls to a stop, the tears you hadn’t felt glistening under the light.

Jungkook flings himself out of the driver’s seat, and a sob catches in your throat when Sojin steps out of the passenger seat. Jungkook shoves everything in his path to the side, carts flying into the few automobiles on the floor, tools clanging loudly onto the cement, and just as those arms you love so much are reaching out for you, there’s a hand on his chest stopping him.

“What did you do to her?” Jungkook snarls, pushing Jimin roughly to the side. Jimin, smaller but not weaker, holds his ground, clutching Jungkook by the material of his jumpsuit a second time. “Let— go!” Jungkook shouts, finally worming away from his employee.

He nearly trips before you, stumbling to his knees as he takes your quivering hands in his. “What’s wrong,” he asks, throwing a nasty glare back at Jimin who watches silently from the side. Sojin is still by her car, leaning across the driver’s side now. “What did he do, what did he say?”

You shake your head, dropping your head to tuck your chin against your chest. You hate this. Hate letting him or Jimin or Sojin see you cry. It’s not the person you are, not the self-made woman you claim to be as you cry over the same man who is unknowingly defending you from himself.

“Let go,” you whisper, hoarse and choked. You shake your arms, but he doesn’t let up.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Jungkook pleads, inching closer to you. His breath is warm and he smells like oil, just like he always does. He also smells sweet and floral in a way only a woman could. He smells like Sojin.

You sob, rip your hands away from and scurry blindly towards Jimin, who catches you in his arms despite the shock that paints his face.

Jungkook watches with an expression of hurt, watches you snuggle into the arms of another man over an issue you won’t tell him about. Jimin says nothing, just rubs his palm over your back. He gestures towards the red corvette, the woman standing by it and Jungkook takes the hint.

You hear the kitten-like purr as it pulls off, the silence that follows afterwards. You don’t know where Jungkook is, if he’s here or if he left with her, and you don’t want to. “Tell me he’s gone,” you beg Jimin, quiet gasps against his neck.

He nods, slowly lets you untangle yourself from his arms as the two of you stare over the empty garage. The Corvette is gone, and so is Jungkook. Before Jimin can tell you where he is, you’re wiping a hand over your face, embarrassed at the moisture it comes back with.

“I take it he’s not supposed to be with her?” Jimin tries to joke.

Neither of you laugh.

You sniffle, process what just happened, how you acted. You’ve never felt that way before, never experienced such brutal heartbreak.

You don’t know what you expected from Jungkook. In your heart, you convinced yourself what happened in your apartment was the start of something new between the two of you, a natural result of your long friendship. Realistically, you know you should’ve waited until the two of you spoke, discussed whatever happens next. But you’d spent the past week comforted by the fact you’d finally gotten to experience something like that with him, daydreaming about him every chance you got.

Somewhere in your mind, you had convinced yourself your involvement with him would finally be what broke his connection with Sojin, the final nail that would make him forget about her. It’s painfully funny how such wasn’t the case.

Jimin breaks you out of your thoughts. “You okay to drive home?” He gently inquires, and you turn your gaze over toward your car.

Did you trust yourself to make it home without shedding a single tear? Absolutely not. But between Sojin and Jimin, you had let enough strangers see you fall apart over a man tonight.

“Perfectly okay,” you tell him.

—

The interns pick up on your sour attitude the week that follows. They don’t ask dumb questions, and don’t mess up your order. You talk them through a presentation, show them how to properly organize finance charts. There’s a slide that has clip art, a goofy dollar sign with a smile and shoes. Jungkook put it there when you first made the PowerPoint. After the little lesson, you go to the bathroom and try not to cry.

A week later, and the interns don’t need you anymore. They do well, and your boss praises you for being such a good mentor. You thank him and he lets you go home early.

Home is empty. Jungkook doesn’t show up unannounced, mostly because you’ve changed the number lock on the door. You want to eat salad today, for some reason, but don’t have any of the ingredients for it, so you walk to the supermarket a few blocks away.

The supermarket feels the same as it always does at night. That ghostly feeling of being watched in an empty aisle, the scratchy tune of whatever Top 50 radio station they settled on today. You get there and decide you don’t want salad anymore, so you buy ingredients for a stew instead, all of which you probably had at home.

When you step outside, the air around your bare thighs is cold. Summer was ending, which meant Jungkook’s birthday was coming up. You ball the receipt in your hand and fling it at the trash. You miss, so you hobble over to pick it up.

The trash is beside a red Corvette with two racing stripes.

“Hey,” Sojin says, arms crossed over her chest as she walks up behind you, sizing up your crouched form beside her car. “What’re you doing to my car?”

You breathe in, shake the crumpled up receipt at her, before stuffing it in the garbage. She says nothing as you stalk by her, and you’re back on the main road when she pulls up next to you, window rolled down to speak to you. “Get in,” she gestures, “it’s gonna rain.”

“No,” you say, and a fat raindrop falls right on your nose.

The door unlocks and you climb in, plastic bags crowded by your feet.

The drive is silent. You only live a few minutes from the store, and you point out an empty spot by the sidewalk for her to pull up to. A dry thanks is on the tip of your tongue, but you never get to say it.

“My dad has cancer,” Sojin says.

“That sucks,” you respond, feel bad right away and say, “I’m sorry.”

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by it, shifting the Corvette out of drive and cutting the engine. “He’s probably not gonna see Christmas,” she adds, and you don’t know what to say. You don’t care about her or her crazy father. “I wanted to do something nice for him before he, y’know.”

“Died,” you fill, and at that she glares.

“Yeah,” she huffs. “Before he died. So I fixed up his car. But the place I took it to didn’t know how to fix an engine so old, and ended up fucking it up even more.” You nod, she continues. “Then I bumped into Jungkook and—“

“Took advantage of his kindness,” you finish, remembering the twinkle in his eyes when he’d told you about their encounter, that day in the empty garage that seemed lightyears away. “Well congrats. Hope your dad liked it,” you sigh, push open the door and get soaked to the bone immediately.

“Wait!” Sojin calls, hopping out after you. She’s still as beautiful as she was when you were seventeen, even with rain soaking her entire being. “I didn’t ask him to repaint it, but that’s what my dad loved the most.”

You want to go inside, make your stew, and cry in it.

Sojin doesn’t seem bothered by the bangs that stick to her forehead or the water that washes down her spine. “When I told him Jungkook did it… he wanted to see him. Apologize and stuff.”

You snort. “Apologize,” you repeat, tightening your grip on your shoppings bags. “For what, Sojin? For almost killing him with this car or for treating him like shit for five years?” She says nothing, stares at the hood of the car like she doesn’t know what you’re talking about. “He was crazy for you, you know that? He would have done anything for you and not once did you stand up to your dad for him. You let that man call him worthless, stupid, a waste of space. And for what? For you to break up with him for some rich asshole who would never treat you half as good as Jungkook did?” You sneer.

The rain feels cold and your groceries feel heavier, so you whirl on your heel and make for your building entrance.

“He never liked me,” Sojin calls out, and you wonder if she even heard the second half of your emotional outburst. You turn to face her with fire in your eyes, and are only a little surprised at the sadness that paints hers. “He never liked me the way he said he did.” You could knock her teeth out.

“You’re stupid,” you spit, and she rounds the car at an insane speed until she’s glaring down at you over her perfectly sculpted nose.

“He never liked me,” Sojin repeats angrily. “He was always busy looking at you—for approval, for attention, I don’t fucking know. He would hold me and touch me but it never felt real. It always felt like practice for him…” she sniffles and your breath hitches in your throat. “We dated all through college,” she says like you don’t know, like you didn’t stress about it for years. “Everyday closer to graduation felt like a ticking bomb. Like he was just waiting for you to come back. To come home.”

You remember it.

The excited texts he’d send you everyday, the plans he made for you. Jungkook was more excited than your parents about you coming home. The five hours had done a number on him, and after four years all he wanted was to have you close again. You remember the hug in his driveway, the way his mom had told you he’d waited all day for you. It’s weird hearing it from Sojin.

Too overwhelmed, you decide to deflect. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you murmur, and you’re surprised she hears it over the pouring rain.

A loud scoff. “You’re stupid,” she repeats back, jabbing a finger at your chest. You glare, and so does she. Like two animals in a cage you size each other up. “You’re stupid and ugly and I hate you,” she spits, and you drop your shopping bags to lunge at her.

You don’t swing, just grab her by the shirt and move to slam her against the wall, but she’s tall and a little strong, bony fingers wrapping around your wrists like spiders. “Why can’t you see how much he likes you?” She screams, like it hurts to admit it. “He’s been in love with you since forever, and all you’ve ever done is run away!”

“I never—“ you gasp, pushing her away from you. Sojin stumbles, but she doesn’t fall. “I’ve never run away,” you defend, heart beating in your chest too fast to be normal. “Some of us have careers and lives we want to live—I don’t want to depend on a man for the rest of my life!”

She growls, tugs at her wet hair like you’re giving her a headache. Stomping up to you once more, she pushes you hard with both hands, and you barely catch yourself in time. “He would have followed you to that fucking fancy school, but you told him it was better to save money here! Told him to not waste his time and just settle there! You did this to us—to all of us!”

You choke. Lightning flashes behind her, and for a moment all you can see is your gentle prodding, sitting behind him as he filled out applications, big wannabe business brain telling him the easiest way to save money for his auto shop was by going straight into technical school. The small frown on his face that day you’d packed for college, and the way he’d stood in your parent’s driveway until you couldn’t see him anymore, a little spec in your rearview mirror.

Sojin, sensing she’s made her point, says nothing. She scoops up your fallen grocery bags and shoves them into your trembling hands, stomping back to her car and pulling off with a roar, loud and ferocious, and nothing like a kitten.

The groceries in your bag end up in the trash.

—

Taehyung invites you to lunch one day, and you go. You’re starving and desperate to get away from work, where you’re paranoid everyone knows there’s something wrong with you. You meet up at a cute little bistro, and he smiles and hugs you when you arrive. You sit in comfort for all of two seconds before he jumps into his interrogation.

“What’s going on with you and Kook?” He asks, casually flipping through the menu. Your hand stills around your glass of water, and you eventually set it down without ever taking a drink. Your mind instinctively maps out a lie, but Taehyung has known you a while now, knows the quirk of your lips when you’re about to lie your ass off. “Don’t lie to me. I haven’t seen you at the shop in almost a month. And he doesn’t go out,” he mentions. “I think he spent four nights at the shop before I made him go home.”

You deflate.

Too embarrassed to explain, you flip through your own menu, and when the waitress comes you order the first words your eyes focus on. Taehyung doesn’t push you, just patiently gazes out over the bustling street.

Finally, you break. “We… did a thing.”

“Uh huh,” he nods, reading some ad on the side of a bus that passes by. “Need you to elaborate, babe.”

You squirm. “We… fooled around,” you say for lack of more appropriate wording. There’s a family sitting beside you, and you’d rather die than let some nooby pre-teen listen to the details of yours and Jungkook’s night.

“You fucked?” You choke, make a loud sputtering noise like it’ll drown out Taehyung’s voice to the other patrons. “What’s wrong with that? We all knew it’d happen sooner or later,” he shrugs.

“No,” you seethe. “We didn—I didn’t.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, the same way Sojin did that day on the sidewalk. You almost throw your glass of water at him. “We…” you sigh. “We did a thing, and then the week after he went out with Sojin.”

Taehyung scowls at the mere mention of her, so the glass of water is returned to its coaster. “Really? He went out with her right away? He’s cancelled.”

You nod, rubbing your hands over your face. “He… her dad has cancer and is literally on his deathbed so she wanted to fix up his car for memories sake, which he loved, so he wanted to apologize to Kook and thank him for fixing up his car,” you rush out, and now Taehyung chokes, water spewing out of his nose. You shriek, drawing everyone’s attention as you pat down your soaked blouse. “Tae!”

“I’m sorry,” he cries, wiping at the sting in his nose. “He-she, what?!” You ignore him, focus on battling the damp spot on your blazer. “God, that’s crazy,” Taehyung snorts, winces at the feeling in his nose.

After the two of you have settled, the manager kicks you out for your inappropriate conversations and childish behavior. You leave with your tails tucked between your legs. Taehyung holds your hand as he walks you back to your workplace, you quietly fill him in on all the other details surrounding yours and Jungkook’s fallout, from your breakdown in the garage to your weirdly dramatic confrontation with Sojin. “Well,” he claps, slamming a hand down on the traffic light button, even though both of you know it doesn’t work. “That explains a lot of things.”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing down the crosswalk when the light finally changes of its own accord. “Do you,” you pause, feet glued to the sidewalk. “Do you think she was right?”

Taehyung glances back at you, so small and unsure in the midst of a bustling crowd. He smiles, sweet and soft. Rare coming from him. His free hand ruffles the top of your head, and he brings you into his chest. “Babe, the hottest guy in your grade was intimidated by scrawny, pre-muscle bunny Jungkook. I’m pretty sure he feels some type of way towards you.”

Your lip wobbles dangerously, and you bite down on it to stop. Taehyung pats your head, barks at some old guy when he yells at the two of you for standing in the middle of the sidewalk.

When you’re outside your office, you speak again. “You were not the hottest guy in our grade, by the way.”

Taehyung snorts. “I totally was.”

—

You hideout for the rest of the week.

On Friday night, you finally have the balls to show yourself again, and you hop on the highway leading out of the city before you can overthink it. The buildings slowly melt away, replaced with cozier homes, tinier shops, and by the time you’re pulling up the street, you’re deep in doubt again.

It’s not that late yet, only a little past sunset, but the garage doors, usually open to the street, are all shut. You frown, pull around the block, reverse into a spot across the street. Locking your car, a gust of wind nearly trips you as you cross the street. The front office is dark, metal shutters pulled over the entrance.

Eventually, you stumble around until you find the tiny backdoor squeezed beside some dumpsters, grateful for the key Jungkook had given you so long ago.

Just as Taehyung predicted, a pair of red jumpsuit clad feet stick out from beneath a car. A nice car, an even older Corvette than Sojin’s dad’s, still shiny despite the model it is. It looks like a show car with the way it glints at you, black paint almost glossy. The only light in the entire garage is a lamp, positioned over the area where the legs are working, and a flashlight that occasionally beams at you when the holder loses his grip. No music today, just the hum of a rotating fan. You creep over.

Jungkook’s humming a song when you get to him, foot tapping idly on the ground. You suck in a deep breath and nudge his foot with the tip of your heel. You have exactly two seconds to jump away when he abruptly rolls out from beneath the car, concentrated features scanning quickly around until they land on you.

The garage is still, until Jungkook jumps into action. “___,” he stammers, stumbling to his feet. The rolling board drifts away, bumping into the corner of the metal table beside you. “Hi, um,” he flounders, brushing his fingers through his hair, palms wiping over the front of his pants. Finally, “hi.”

The bad bitch Chanel skirt-suit you’d worn today fails you for the first time in a long time. Your hands feel sweaty, so you clutch them behind your back. “Hi, Jungkook,” you exhale, and all the emotions you’d swallowed for so long, the feelings that tightened around your chest and throat like boa constrictors, come oozing out, until all you can see is his puckered mouth and twinkling gaze.

He coughs, tries to casually lean against the car, but greatly miscalculates the distance. “What, um, what brings you here?” He asks, foot tapping nervously against the ground.

There’s a box of takeout on the floor he tries to subtly kick beneath the car, and a plastic bottle of soda that makes a loud noise when he tries that too. You twist your lips, watching the anxious shuffling of his feet. You breeze over his question, plaster a tight smile into your face, and ask your own question; “how long have you been here?” Tentatively, you lower yourself onto a rolling stool. “It’s late,” you state the obvious.

Jungkook’s leg bounces, and he pats his hand over it nervously. “Um, an hour? Just working on something,” he answers, cheeks warm as his eyes flicker everywhere but you. “What brings you here?” He repeats, and you know you can’t deflect it this time.

Shrugging half heartedly, you wait for him to finally look at you. When he does, he almost looks away but the glint in your eye stops him from doing so. “We need to talk,” you finally say. Jungkook visibly deflates, lips pulling into a thin line. You contemplate letting him relieve his thoughts first, but you came here with a point to make, for questions that needed answering, and you’re scared one word from him will wash them all away.

“Listen,” you start, smoothing your hand over the edge of your skirt. “I know something weird happened between us, and then I kinda freaked out on you, but… I need you to tell me the truth.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate. “Always.”

You swallow, try to push back the frustration that builds in his throat. “Did you ever even like Sojin?”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh?” A snort. “You’re joking,” he snickers, wipes at faux tears in the corner of his eyes, before your unsmiling face registers and he’s schooling his features. “___, I did like her. I dated her for five years. How could I not like her?”He says seriously, like he can’t believe you would ever question such a thing.

You exhale, pick at your fingernails. “I met her,” you admit, and Jungkook’s face twists in confusion. “At the supermarket last week. She said you never liked her.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Of course she’ll think that—we’re exes. I doubt she remembers all our best memories,” he sighs, turning back to organize his tool cart like he’s done with this conversation.

Raising to your feet you call his name again, and he hums absentmindedly. “Sojin said you never liked her because you were always chasing after me,” you accuse, laying all your cards out on the table. Your claim startles him, and you watch as he jostles half the tool cart with his surprise.

“She, what?” He huffs, cheeks as red as his jumpsuit. He forces out a laugh, airy and tight like you’re starring in your elementary school play again and the nerves are eating him up. “I-I don’t know why she’d say that.”

He’s flustered, obviously so, as he scoops the metal tools back onto the cart, bumping into three other things before settling back down on the floor to roll under the car. He pushes himself under, and you sternly call out, “Jungkook.” He freezes.

You strut over, brush your hands behind your skirt as you crouch beside him. “Always,” you quietly remind him. Jungkook says nothing. For a moment, you wonder if you’ve grossly misread the situation, if this was just another one of her schemes to drive the two of you apart.

Slowly, Jungkook appears from under the car. There’s a new stain on his cheekbone, brown and slick. He sits up, wide eyes tracing over your features likes he’s trying to seal them in his memory. “Yeah,” he admits, lips twisting as he watches the surprise take your features, before he’s lolling his head back to stare at the ceiling, leaving you to stare at the column of his neck.

“I do,” Jungkook admits, pushing through his emotions. It’s hard for him to confess, you realize, watching the way his Adam’s apples contracts and his jaw twitches from having to say so. “I like you so much it hurts.”

His confession leaves you feeling weird. On one hand, you want nothing more than to spring yourself on him and kiss his face until the stray oil marks are gone and replaced with the outline of your lipstick prints. You want to smother him and hold him, let him know he’s yours, always has been.

On the other hand… it’s sad. Going on thirty years and never did the two of you guess your feelings for each other. You doubt either of you are good at hiding them, with the way everyone seems to have known except you two. Maybe you don’t know Jungkook as well as you thought you did. Maybe he doesn’t know you.

A hand touches your knee, and you return your attention to his downtrodden appearance, chin tucked against his chest. “Please,” he murmurs. “Say something.”

You say nothing.

Tentatively, you reach a hand out, run it along the side of his head, through his mane, chocolate waves touching his cheekbones. He almost looks like when you guys were kids, round eyes watching your every move. Your hand continues down the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck comfortingly. Jungkook leans into the touch, even though his shoulders are tense. You soothe your fingers over the tight muscles in his neck.

“Since when?” You inquire.

Jungkook blinks, lets your palm trace along his jawline and cup his cheek. “Since you dated Taehyung when we were sixteen.”

Mentally, you curse every deity in existence for putting Kim Taehyung in your life. “God,” you groan, burrowing your hands in your palms. Jungkook, surprised by your reaction, rolls closer, moves around until you’re crouched between his long legs. “Since me and that pinhead dated for twenty minutes?” You repeat.

Jungkook shifts closer, rubs your back. “It was 65 hours, actually,” he corrects, and the exact duration of your relationship makes you cringe. “I… counted.”

Small and shy, almost embarrassed. You glance back up at him. “Why?” You prod, and Jungkook’s cheek flush, palm stilling.

“Uh,” he starts. “I was nervous? That you two were in it for the long run. And I, I don’t know. It was easier to just count,” he lamely finishes, and his dangly earring whips around with him when he avidly avoids your gaze.

You sigh, catch his hand in yours. “Tae and I would have never lasted,” you tell him, remembering all the times the guy made you pick him up from one night stands in the last few years. “He wasn’t who I wanted.”

His foot jumps, toe tapping against the wheel of the car next to you. He wants to ask, you know he does, but Jungkook was quite possibly the only other person on this planet who could overthink something more than you.

Deciding to ease his worries, you give his hand a squeeze. “It was you,” you confess, feel like an elephant lands straight on your chest. “It is you,” you correct.

His forehead knocks against yours, hard, and you hiss at the bump that probably forms. “What the fu—“

“Tell me it’s not temporary,” Jungkook pleads, eyes crinkled in worry. You’re going cross eyed from trying to look at him like this, so you flit your eyes off somewhere to the side. His hand is heavy in yours. “Tell me you’re not just doing this for closure, or because you want to see what it would have been like, please,” he begs, “that would be so fucked up, because I’m so in love with you I actually think I might die.”

The dramatic confession makes you painfully warm. You nod, your lower lip trembling at the way he looks at you, like you single-handedly controlled this entire world with a flick of your wrist. “I-I love you too,” you parrot back, the first time you’ve ever said it, the millionth time you’ve ever thought it.

Jungkook visibly relaxes, pulls away from you to drop his head on your shoulder instead. Your legs are starting to cramp from the tight crouching position, ankles wobbly in your heels. His hair smells good still, despite the hours he’s probably spent beneath a car, and you gingerly pat the back of his head.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and you repeat it. “I love you,” he says again, and you repeat it. “I lov—“

“Me, yes, I’ve heard,” you cut him off, smile at the snort he releases, and when he turns his head, his lips brush against your neck. You’re instantly thrown back a few weeks, to that night on the couch with the limited edition Shrek 2 cups and the wine; the gentle touches that left you trembling for weeks. You inhale quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him away.

His eyes are too soft, face too relaxed as he stares at you. “My legs hurt,” you tell him, quickly getting up. You whirl around, facing the car and digging through your purse like you suddenly have something to do.

“Oh,” you gasp, watch two arms wind around your waist, the dirty red jumpsuit contrasting against the tweed material of your high-end Chanel jacket. Jungkook sighs lovingly by your ear, snuggles his face into your neck. “W-we should go out,” you blurt, nerves jumping when he squeezes tighter, burrows closer. “To celebrate!”

Jungkook hums. “Yeah?” His voice is too low. You’re in trouble. “Celebrate what?”

You squirm, breath catching in your throat when he presses you closer against the hood of the car. “Um,” you shakily exhale, hands splaying out over the sleek surface of the black hood to steady yourself. It’s so shiny you can almost see your reflection. “U-Us!” You finally manage to exclaim.

A kiss against the side of your neck, and your spirit just about exits your body. Your knees feel weak, and you're just about ready to throw another mediocre excuse his way, when something warm and wet traces up the column of your neck. “Kook!” You gasp.

“Shh,” he murmurs, deep voice instantly soothing over your nerves. His hips nudge against your behind, and you jump at the bulge that presses against your lower back. One hand unwraps from around you, gliding down your arm sensually until he’s trapping your fingers on the hood of the car with his own. A swift kiss against your ear. “You owe me, remember?”

You flush, remember the filthy promises your list-addled brain has spewed that night at your house, the almost erratic development of your thoughts as you became consumed in the thought of him. Reminisce on the prod of his fingers against your cunt, his hot breath against your ear.

Suddenly, Jungkook whirls you around, traps you with his gaze as two hands flutter to rest on the small of your back. He’s looking down at you with those lovesick eyes, hooded with lust as they trace over the dip of your Cupid’s bow. “You’ll do that for me, won’t you?” A soft brush of his mouth against yours, pouty lips guiding you through a kiss, until you’re sighing against him, and he’s pulling away.

Numbly, you nod, almost hypnotized by the soft smirk that overtakes his features as he pushes you down, watches you sink to your knees before him. The concrete feels cold and hard beneath your knees. His jumpsuit is knotted around his waist, and you shakily unravel it, the elastic waistband staring you in the face afterwards.

“Take your time,” Jungkook croons, hand coming to rest on the side of your face, knuckles brushing over your skin delicately.

You tug it down, and one flash of that underwear band has your nerves flying out the window. You shove his t-shirt out of the way, let your hands trail over the ridges of his abdomen in your haste. He helps you by tugging it over his head. With that gone, his black boxers stare you in the face, and you yank those down with no hesitation.

“Jesus, baby,” Jungkook chuckles, though it’s choked off when you grasp his engorged cock in his hand. You should be surprised, marveling at the sight, considering it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him like this. But you brain is working overtime, too immersed in the vein that runs alongside it and the tip that throbs back at you. Later you can worship it, you think. Right now, you needed it down your throat.

The tip is flaming and swollen, his cock still growing plump in your hold, your hands slowly dragging up and down the length. You lean forward, press a gentle kiss below the mushroom head, trail kisses down the length until you're meeting your knuckles, and trail them back again. Jungkook sucks in a tight breath, leans to rest his palms on the car behind you, as he watches you on him.

A head of precum escapes, and you lunge for it, swirl your tongue in and around the slit on his cock, until his entire body tenses up. “Fuck,” he grunts, watches you ease his cock into your mouth. You groan at the stretch, the drag against the corners of your lips making your eyes roll backwards. “___, baby, a little more?” He asks, voice hoarse as he watches you sink down further on his cock.

You comply, close your eyes and focus on relaxing your throat. There’s a hand on the back of your head, impatiently pushing you down his length. “Shit,” he cries, unconsciously ruts against you. You gag, and he shushes you with a caress against your cheek. “Sorry,” he huffs, “just a little more for me, okay?”

Eyes squeezed shut tightly, you let him push you down until his cock hits the back of your throat and you can’t take anymore. The prod against your throat has tears springing to your eyes. “Gonna move now,” Jungkook announces, thumb brushing away the tears that collect in the corners. “Be good.”

He drags himself out, your saliva coating every inch of him, and when just the tip is resting on your tongue, he shoves back in. You whimper, palms digging into his thighs. Jungkook brushes a hand down your hair, soothes you for all of two seconds before he’s pulling out and doing it all over again. He picks up the pace, loses himself in the feeling of your hot mouth around him, tongue dragging over his cock.

The feeling in your throat burns, each thrust of his hips against your mouth making your jaw more and more sore. But god, it feels good to have him so close, his scent swarming your sense, groans like music to your ears. You want to please him, want him to feel as good as you did at your place. You want it even more now that you know how he feels, know he’s probably thought about this before.

A brutal thrust has you gagging, throat contracting around his length. “Shh,” Jungkook sighs, the fingers buried in your hair flattening out to run over your head. “Doing so good for me, beautiful.”

You bask in the praise, let a hand flutter down to the apex of your thighs, pressing down to relieve some of the pressure. Jungkook groans, rolls his hips against you and keeps you there for a second. Your throat spasms, his dick pressed hotly against it, and you feel your panties grow embarrassingly sticky. Eventually, he draws back out.

“You like this?” He hums, rutting against you faster now, nose brushing against the sparse hairs on his pelvis with every slam of his hips. You nod around a gag, eyes clouding with tears, lips slippery with saliva and precum. One particular thrust is so hard, it nearly sends you knocking back into the car, Jungkook’s hand on the back of your head barely saving you. “Fucking hell,” he spits, “look so pretty with my cock shoved down your throat, princess.”

You moan around him, feel a subtle twitch against your tongue before he’s pulling himself out. “Shit,” he cursed, pushing you away as he goes to grab his own dick in his hand, tugging at it like a madman. “Wh-Where?” He asks, and you stare dumbly at the sight of him playing with himself, almost don’t realize he’s asking you a question.

You take too long, scramble for words too long, and even if you did have one your throat is far too sensitive yo answer. Jungkook grows impatient. Pulling you closer by the collar of your Chanel suit jacket, tugging it open until the flimsy buttons snap, and the tank top you wore beneath comes into view. He aims the tip of his cock towards your sternum, and a few jacks later, he’s coming, cum spurting against your chest. You watch the cum trail down between the valley of your breasts, until the feeling comes to rest against the inside wire of your bra, sticky and gross, sliding along the underside of your boobs. “Shit,” Jungkook repeats, eyes furrowed over you.

Your knees ache, and you nearly trip when you stand up, steadying yourself against the side of the car. Jungkook seems to regain his sense by then, hand trailing around your waist. You meet his eye, and almost immediately turn away, the blood in your face rapidly rising.

Jungkook laughs. “Don’t get shy on me now,” he teases, gets too close and your noses bump. “Sorry,” he smiles, too shiny and bright for the sinful acts you just committed in an auto shop.

“Put your dick away,” you huff, let him nuzzle closer to you, and when he doesn’t move to tuck himself into his pants, you go do it for him.

Jungkook frowns, swats your hand away. “This dick has places to be,” he informs you, and you scoff.

“Refractory period,” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes.

“Well I’m not exactly gonna stick it in you this instant,” he drawls. “Gotta stretch you out first.”

You go to complain, tell him he doesn’t have to over exert himself. Truthfully, with Jungkook you feel like one good session was enough to sustain you for weeks. After last time, your skin had flowed for an entire week. But then his hand is slithering up your backside, sneaking under your skirt to grab a handful of your ass.

There’s quickly drying drool collecting at the corners of your mouth, saliva from when he’d fucked your throat just a few moments prior, that he kisses away. His mouth slots over yours, and your heart and pussy both flutter at the kiss.

It’s gentle and sweet for all of ten seconds, his mouth moving against yours until you feel the wet press of his tongue against your bottom lip, tracing along until you open your mouth. He wastes no time shoving his tongue past your lips, letting it dance with yours as he pulls you closer, hands gripping the globes of your ass. You let him lick his way into your mouth, more and more saliva catching in the corners of your mouth until he’s pulling away with a wet pop.

He pulls away, doesn’t stray too far, proud smirk crossing his features at the sight of your slicked lips. “You liked that, didn’t you?”

“Huh?” You ask dumbly, tongue mindlessly swiping over your lips.

Jungkook’s eyes track the movement. “The saliva,” he clarifies. “The spit. You liked it at your place too,” he reminisces, moving in on you again. “Liked watching me slobber and spit all over your body. Isn’t that right, baby?”

You blush, discreetly rub your thighs together. “I-I do,” you admit, willing the warmth of your face away because at this distance he must certainly feel it.

Jungkook nods, doesn’t say anything else as he captures your lips a second time. He doesn’t bother with the gentle prodding anymore, jumping straight into tongue right away. He’s messier, letting his saliva coat your lips and drip down your mouth, and as messy as it is, you love it. You whimper when he pulls away, but gasp when his hand tugs at the hair by the nape of your neck, pulling you back until you’re looking up at him.

“Open,” he murmurs, and you do, tongue pressing against your bottom lip.

It should be disgusting, the rev of his throat, the sound of his saliva collecting, and the way his jaw shifts when he’s got enough. It should be filthy, the way he shoots it down your open lips, the way it splatters against the back of your throat. It should be gross, but god do you love it. “Swallow,” Jungkook commands, and you do, feel his spit drip down your throat like it’s your own, whimpering at the feeling. A quirk of his lips. “Good girl.”

You have to bite down the pride that grows in your chest.

Jungkook’s hands continue their mapping out of your behind, eventually ending with a hard squeeze that has you squealing. Automatically, your back arches in surprise, breasts pressing against Jungkook’s chest. He smirks down at you.

“Bet you taste good,” he says, pressing a kiss against your cheek. “Let me taste?”

“Please,” you beg, nearly losing your shit when he lifts you up onto the car, the cool metal making you jump, heel on your foot nearly kicking the side view mirror clean off. “Wait, Jungkook,” you sputter, glancing down at the sleek metal. “This is someone’s car.”

Jungkook ignores you, pushes your legs apart to slot himself between them. His palms run up your legs, over your thighs, until they’re toying with the hem of your skirt. Mocha eyes glance up at you, as if daring you to question him again, so you promptly zip your lips shut. The skirt goes, ever so slowly, over your thighs, bunches up at your waist until he’s staring at your lace panties.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh, nose faintly brushing against your skin. The kisses trail over your skin, until he’s hovering over your panties, and he’s staring like a man starved. He gives no warning, suddenly leaning down to press his mouth over your party-clad folds, nose flush against your clit. “Kook!” You squeak, hands flying to clutch at his hair.

Jungkook mouths at you, drags his tongue against your panties until they’re soaked in both your essence and his saliva, just how you like. A hand slithers around your leg, wrapping around until he’s got a firm grip on it that he uses to hold it open.

“J-Just take them off,” you gasp, squirm when his mouth moves towards your clit, lapping against you. “Please,” you cry.

He doesn’t.

Jungkook tortures you with those kitten licks, muted through your panties, until you’re begging him to stop, to take them off and do it right. He loves it, you can tell, dazzling smile peeking up at you every time you tug against his hair, until finally, he’s had enough.

The underwear comes off, dangling uselessly by your ankle, and then the show really begins.

“Wait,” you choke, head falling back against the hood of the car when he finally gets his mouth on you, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit. The niggling reminder that this is some stranger’s car he’s eating you out on rings in your brain, and perhaps that’s what makes it more exciting.

His mouth is warm, tongue flicking over your sensitive bud like it’s candy and he needs the sugar. The sounds are so loud and wet, the squelching of your pussy every time he pulls off a pop that resounds throughout the garage. He pampers your clit for what seems like hours, switching the movements of his tongue every time he gets the chance until you’re quivering.

When you think he’s done, he’s not.

Fingers slide up your thigh, featherlight, as they reach your drenched cunt. They drag over your lips, and you mewl, feeling the muscles jump and tighten at his touches. “Jungkook, please,” you moan, rolling your hips against him, but it’s hard and everytime you move, you feel the sweat on your skin weigh you down, glued to the metal beneath you.

The first finger breaches you, just the tip of his index slowly wiggling inside. You muffle a moan in your palm, and Jungkook pulls away with a huff. “No hiding,” he warns, slowly lowering back to your cunt with a stern glare. You nod, but can’t help it when his second finger pushes its way in and you bite down on your knuckles.

“Oh,” You sob, body quivering as he begins scissoring his two fingers inside you. With your attention focused on the digits sheathed inside you, he pulls away from your clit, bestowing one final kiss against it that has your foot kicking out wildly. “Th-there.” His other hand catches your palm in his, presses it against the metal by your head.

Jungkook smiles, curls his fingers around until he finds the soft spot inside you that turns you to jelly. “There we go, beautiful,” he purrs, pushing himself to his full height, leaning over your trembling form. “So sweet for me,” he sighs, licks his lips like he’s remembering your taste.

“I'm gonna,” you choke, become hypnotized by the dark cloud in his gaze, the arrogant smirk on his lips. He curls his fingers, palm brushing against your abandoned clit. The touch makes you jump, nerves tingling.

“Cum for me,” he encourages, silky tone swarming your head as your pleasure slowly washes over you. It’s probably the most relaxed orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, his low voice and delighted eyes guiding you through it, until your entire body clenches, dissolving in a puddle of contentment. Your arousal surges around his fingers, trickling down onto the metal.

“Oh, Jungkook,” you pant, overwhelmed from the touches and the kisses. Jungkook’s smile gets swallowed by your greedy mouth, desperate for more kisses now that he’s made you feel like this.

The kisses only placate him for so long, and when he presses his body against yours, there’s an awfully hard cock that slides against your dripping cunt. “Think you can go again, gorgeous?” He murmurs against your jaw, nipping at the skin on the way down. You nod, eyes falling shut at the warmth you feel in your bones.

Jungkook kisses your neck one last time, before leaning back once more to line himself up.

This was a scene straight from your teenage fantasies, a dripping, shirtless Jungkook at full mast between your thighs, looking at you so lovingly. It makes your heart thunder, imagining how long you could have been doing this if you weren’t both so stupid. As if reading your thoughts, Jungkook rubs a palm over your thigh, eyebrow quirked. You nod his concern away, squirm closer until the tip of his cock nudges against your hole.

“Fuck,” Jungkook sighs, moving his hands to your hips as he slowly pushes in. His fingers, bless their intentions, could have never prepared you for the size of Jungkook’s cock, thick and veiny as it pushes inside. You whimper, clawing at the hands on your waist that stop you from impaling yourself on it fully. “Waited so long for this.”

“Then fucking do it,” you beg, nearly pass out when he shoves in harshly at your tone. “J-Jung—“

“I got you, baby,” he assures you, jostles you until you’re flush against his cock, clit brushing against his pelvis. Your back arches, and Jungkook slips his arm around you, the other lingering on your waist.

Every subtle shift has him brushing along your swollen clit, and you sob at the sensation, begging him to move. He complies, changes his stance to make it easier, and finally begins thrusting into your throbbing pussy.

“So good,” he huffs, eyes zeroed in on where the two of you meet. You would have looked too, if your body hadn’t felt so completely boneless beneath him, the grinding of his cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine. “So pretty and mine.”

“Yours,” you choke, heart swelling in your chest at his words. It’s almost animalistic, the way he ducks down to bite at your neck, like some animal staking its claim, and you like it. You like it because it’s all you ever dreamed of for so long. “Faster, Kook,” you urge, wrapping your arms around him.

He does as you say, slow and careful thrusts transitioning into a fast piston that would have had you bouncing out of his reach if he wasn’t holding you so tightly. “Fuck,” he chokes, lost in the way you clench around him, lips dragging against his cock with each thrust. “Baby,” he grunts, sweat trailing down his temple, eyes furrowed shut. Eventually, his head falls into the crook of your neck, his weight pressing down on you uncomfortably, subtle ridges on the hood making you ache. At this point, you’re too far gone to care. “All I ever wanted,” he gasps.

You could cry, right now and he’d pull out right away, big heart fretting over your emotional well-being. Which is exactly why you hold your emotions in, let yourself get fully immersed in the feeling of Jungkook pounding you against some stranger’s car and not the inevitable emotional crash you’ll have later.

He fucks like he’s waited all his life for this, and you guess he sort of has if what he’s saying is true. You have no doubt it is, and when his lips suck a mark against your neck, you feel like you’re in heaven. “Almost,” you pant, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. Jungkook nods, his hair tickling your jaw and neck, as he picks up the pace. Your cunt swallows him up every single time, suctions him in until he’s shaking, and so are you.

It can only last for so long, your heart and body eventually reaching their peak, and you unravel. His arms are there to catch you, to pick up the pieces and hold you together. You want to cry, you really do, and when the coil in your stomach snaps, you finally do. “I love you,” you sob, and Jungkook shudders, glances at your tear-struck face to push himself off.

“Love you too,” he mumbles, grinds his cock against your spasming folds one last time, and comes mid-thrust, cum spurting inside you. He holds you, just like you knew he would, as you come down from your highs, hot breath fanning across your skin.

You feel warm, loved, and in love, body trembling in sensitivity afterwards. He’s pulled out since, soothingly rubbing a hand against your side. You’d like to say you wouldn’t be anywhere else, but one shift reminds you of where you are.

“Shit,” you groan, taking in your surroundings before letting your head fall back against the hood. Jungkook hums, round eyes looking your way. “We really just confessed and had sex on some stranger’s car.”

Jungkook snorts, leans away just the slightest to look you in the eye. He’s lost in thought, chocolate irises swirling as they drink you in. “Say thanks to Taehyung,” he finally says.

You roll your eyes, and when you shift beneath him, your sweaty skin sticks uncomfortably against the metal hood. “Yeah, let me thank Taehyung for dating me for three days and awakening your crush,” you huff sarcastically, resigning yourself to your new life stuck against the hood of some classic automobile from the 50s. Jungkook laughs, tucks himself back into his underwear. “Thanks Taehyung, for your noble sacrifice ten years ago that allowed me to fuck Jungkook on some stranger’s car—“

Jungkook hums, snuggles closer to you. “Tae’s car.”

“—after confessing our—Taehyung’s car?” You shriek, sitting up with the strength of three football players, Jungkook toppling off you. “Oh my god. No.” Jungkook rubs his elbow where he knocked it against the hood, looks at you with solemn eyes. Slowly, a smirk crawls over his features. “No,” you gasp, mortification crawling up your spine. “We didn’t.”

He tugs you off the car, tugs your skirt down when you wobble on unsteady heels. “Yup,” he says, pops the end of the word like a child. “Say hello to Taehyung’s new car!” He exclaims, patting the hood you just defiled. “Straight from the car auction he went to this morning,” he beams.

“Oh my god,” you groan, covering your face with your hands when you finally spot the puddles of... something on the black hood. “This is terrible.”

Jungkook ignores you, wipes up the mess with some napkins from his takeout bag, but there’s already some that's dried, only fueling your mortification. “Not like he’ll find out,” he shrugs, then narrows his eyes at you. “Or will he?”

“No!” You stutter, carefully rounding the car as if inspecting it for any more signs of the treacherous things you and Jungkook did on or around it. “I-I won’t tell him.”

“Uh huh,” Jungkook teases, settles on that rolling stool and pushes himself towards you. There’s a hand easing itself around your waist, tugging you between open legs. Still in shock, your hands flutter around his neck, muscle memory causing you to immediately begin massaging the skin there.

Jungkook sighs into the touch, eyes falling shut. “Too bad Jimin’s not here,” he sighs, and you visibly see his nose grow in arrogance.

“What? Why should Jimin be here?” You ask, pushing your fingers against the knots in his neck.

Jungkook levels you with an unimpressed, one-eyed glare. He scoffs, “maybe you are as dumb ad Taehyung says.” And then, “hey!” when you tug his ear. He isn’t upset, just tugs you closer until his face is buried against your stomach. “You know country folk like him marry on the spot right?”

“What are you even saying,” you huff, burying your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging his head back to properly look at him. “Why do you care who Jimin marries?” He doesn’t bother answering.

Instead, Jungkook sighs into the touch, an easygoing smile thrown your way, and for a moment you forget about the trauma Taehyung will have when he inevitably learns about this. “This is the life.”

#goldenclosetnet #ksmutclub #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jungkook fic #mine

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