#one i might skip even though it’s my favorite and the professor has already knocked my grade down 10% for not attending | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

After the announcement of the deal with Yahoo!, there were 170K signatures of unhappy Tumblr users petitioning to prevent the sale in 2013.

#one i might skip even though it’s my favorite and the professor has already knocked my grade down 10% for not attending

sarahwroteathing · 3 years

Text

English 284 (4)

Word Count: 3612

Summary: You and Steve break off from the group to get to know each other better and clear the air.

Warnings: Language and innuendo (romance novels)

A/N: Woo! I did it! I’m going to do my best to post something at least every 2 weeks. I miss writing, and I miss you guys! I’ve got new daily hobby goals for myself, so hopefully that’ll help me get back into the swing of things. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Steve’s Perspective

Catch up here!

In the end, extricating yourself from the group was relatively painless. Steve waited by the door while you returned to the table, passing the glass of water to a grateful Sam and retrieving your coat and bag.

“Bailing on your own party?” Tony questioned as you shrugged into your coat.

“While I’m sure you’ll all miss my dazzling personality, I’m starting to get a headache, and it’s a bit too loud in here. Steve offered to walk me home.”

Sam choked on his water, but you kept your eyes on Tony as he studied you with a small frown.

“Alright, kiddo. Feel better. Text me when you’re home safe?”

“Kiddo,” you repeated with a snort, ruffling his hair as you turned to leave.

Steve was tapping idly at his phone when you joined him at the exit. He flashed you a hesitant smile, shoving his phone back into his pocket as he pushed the door open and followed you outside.

The temperature had definitely dropped since you arrived earlier that evening, and you snuggled deeper into your jacket before turning expectant eyes on Steve.

“So, where are we headed?”

“Not a fan of surprises?”

The words were playful, but the tone was unmistakably nervous. Your stomach flipped, an unfortunate decision made for you by the tension lingering in broad shoulders and the hesitancy in a smile that should have glowed.

“I’ll allow it,” you said carefully. “On one condition. Can we get an uncomfortable conversation out of the way while we walk? So we can enjoy the rest of our night?”

“Rip it off like a bandaid, huh?” he asked, and though his face was slightly scrunched, he didn’t seem inclined to fight you on it.

“Pretty soon we’ll be expected to maintain good professional and personal standing with each other for a full five months,” you reminded him. “Honest and direct seems like the necessary way to go here.”

“You’re right,” Steve said quietly, clearing his throat and scuffing his shoe against the sidewalk. “Walking and talking it is. You want to start?”

He gestured to the right, and you fell into step beside him, taking a moment to organize your thoughts and hoping you’d have enough time to get past the cringiest bits before reaching your mystery destination.

“Okay, well,” you pulled in a deep breath. “I’ll start by saying that even with my limited exposure, you seem like a really amazing - Are you cringing already?” you broke off with a laugh.

Steve’s features were in fact twisted into a definitive wince, but he had the decency to look apologetic about it.

“Sorry! It just sounds like a polite rejection, and I’m not even sure what you’re rejecting.”

“Yeah, alright, I hear it. Let me try again,” you said with a self-deprecating smile.

You took a moment to reorganize your thoughts.

“We haven’t spent much time together so far, but what time we’ve had has been split between a… A sweet and fun Steve and someone more... tensed up. And after seeing you in there when Bucky was talking about the contract, I just feel like it might be something we need to talk about.”

You peeked over at him, butterflies beginning to flutter to life in your stomach as you watched him bite nervously at his lip.

“I mean, I know that story sucked, but it seems like there’s maybe more going on with you,” you ventured hesitantly.

“Okay, let me...” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck, releasing a sigh and looking for all the world like he was considering throwing himself through a storefront window to avoid this conversation.

“I- I don’t really do… romance. And relationships,” Steve forced out, immediately looking thoroughly disgusted with himself in a way that made you want to laugh.

You locked it down, fighting to keep a neutral expression. Laughing now could easily be misconstrued as mocking and make him less inclined to open up to you. That wasn’t something you wanted to risk.

“That’s not - I don’t do the casual thing either. I don’t do anything in that… arena,” he corrected.

His exasperation was unspeakably cute. Punk.

He glanced uncertainly in your direction, and you gave a nod of encouragement.

“Right… Um. Well, I’ve always had my reasons I guess, but by this point it’s just not really something I think about. Not in a way that applies to me, anyway. But then Bruce was texting me about helping out his friend in the English Department, and Bucky was instantly convinced that we’d… Well, you know. And he and Sam have just been… sprinting with it ever since.” Steve heaved a sigh, reaching up to fidget with his hair. “It’s kind of got me mixed up, I guess. I know it’s stupid, but -”

“It’s not stupid,” you interrupted.

Steve’s lips curled into an unconvinced frown, and you reached for his sleeve, guiding him to a stop.

“It’s not stupid,” you repeated. “You trust them, and you know they care about you. If they talk something up enough, of course you’re going to consider it. It would be weird if you didn’t.”

“Well, I’m not exactly known for being easy to convince. So if it’s not stupid, it’s definitely troubling.”

My god, was that the beginnings of a pout you were seeing?

You giggled, reaching for his arm again to set you both back on course. He fell into step beside you again, leveling a thoroughly unimpressed look at his shoes.

“Maybe you wanted to be convinced this time,” you tried.

“Oh, yeah. Developing a crush on someone you’re not allowed to date and constantly being reminded of the horrifying precedent does sound like a good time,” Steve mumbled.

This time your stop was involuntary, a function of stumbling over your own feet in embarrassing surprise. Steve caught your hand, his other resting momentarily at your waist to stabilize you before falling away just as quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, but you were still clutching his hand, heart racing from your near fall, face growing warm under his gaze.

“You don’t have to apologize, “ you said breathlessly. “I just - So, they did convince you then?”

He cleared his throat, and you let each other go, shuffling to the side for a moment to make room for a tipsy group passing in the opposite direction. You reclaimed the sidewalk once they were behind you, taking a breath and already deeply regretting your question as you traveled several steps in silence. Who just asked people if they had a crush on them. Tony, probably, but certainly not you.

“They introduced the idea,” Steve corrected quietly, still looking straight ahead of him when you chanced a peek in his direction. “But you’re the one who convinced me.”

Your heart gave a hop, skip, and a jump in your chest, and it was your turn to bite your lip anxiously. Nobody this cute was allowed to have a crush on you. Illegal, dammit.

And once you got around to signing that contract, it almost would be.

“Well, my condolences,” you struggled out. “But you started it.”

You forced yourself to meet Steve’s eyes when he glanced over at you in surprise.

“Did I?”

“Shut up,” you laughed, knocking your shoulder into him. “You know you’re cute.”

“I… Well, maybe a little.”

You shook your head, smiling at the tiny, pleased grin on his face and walking another few paces in silence.

“Right. So air cleared, yeah?” you asked. “We’ve established your feelings aren’t stupid. They’re… y’know. Matched. But romance is off the table, so you don’t have to worry about that. Can we be friends now? No more cold, tense Steve?”

You reached your hand into the space between you, reveling in the gentle smile the gesture earned you as Steve gave it a definitive shake.

“We can be friends.”

---------------

Several minutes later, Steve reached across you, pulling open a shop door and gesturing inside with a gallant sweep of his arm. The sign read Insomniac Booksellers, punctuated with a charming owl logo.

You hurried in with a delighted smile.

“Oh, you are so going to regret this decision. Did you really just bring an English professor to a bookstore?”

“You said Alex ruined your favorite one, so I thought I’d offer a replacement. This place is open 5 pm to 7 am. It’s usually pretty quiet. And the little cafe in the back is almost suspiciously good,” he said, lowering his voice to avoid disrupting the peaceful atmosphere.

The wood floors creaked quietly beneath your feet as you stepped further into the store. Dark wood shelves dominated the space, lining the walls and nearly reaching the ceiling, a scant two feet of the deep green painted walls exposed above them. To your left, a large desk took the place of a checkout counter, an employee reclining in a puffy leather chair behind it, her feet propped on the edge as she read a battered sci-fi novel. She looked up long enough to offer a welcoming smile and wave before returning to her book.

More shelves stood in sets of three in the center of the store, narrow aisles between each affording you glimpses of small sitting areas tucked among the stacks, clusters of plush mismatched chairs positioned around coffee tables and charging stations. The wider center aisle led straight back to a small coffee counter, where another employee spun absently on a stool while writing in a notebook.

“Steve,” you said with a smile. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Up to your standards, then?” he asked, holding his hands up in surrender when you shot him an incredulous look. “Just checking.”

He trailed after you as you did a quick circuit, familiarizing yourself with the way the shelves were organized before heading with purposeful strides to the shelves that housed plays. You ran your finger across the spines until you found what you needed and plucked it off the shelf to offer to Steve.

No Fear Shakespeare: Hamlet.

“Wow, no faith in me, huh?” he asked with a grin.

“I know you’re capable of picking up the language, but until then, it’s important you can check what’s going on when you get confused. Or encounter a page-long sentence,” you explained, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes at his knowing smile. “Obviously try the original language side first, but I’ve got no problem with you checking the modern translation when you need to. I’m not an asshole.”

“Alright,” Steve agreed, tucking the book under his arm and reaching for his phone. “I actually need to get the rest of the books on the list too if you want to point out your favorite editions. I know that matters to people like you.”

“People like me?” you repeated, pressing your hand to your chest as if deeply offended.

Steve rolled his eyes and handed you his phone, the screen displaying a note page listing the books from your syllabus.

“You’re not the only English professor I’ve met, you know.”

“Would my predecessor happen to be Sue of the infamous lemon bars?” You moved efficiently through the store, snagging the books from the list and adding them to a growing stack in Steve’s arms.

“Maybe.”

“Her shortbread is divine too. If she ever offers you any, take it and treasure it,” you advised.

As you placed the last book on the stack, you gave it a final little pat.

“Right. These are on me.”

“Uh, no. I was going to buy them anyway. You just saved me a trip,” Steve protested.

“Well, I’m at least paying for this one,” you said, wiggling the No Fear Shakespeare out from under his arm. He huffed in annoyance but couldn’t stop you without dropping the rest of his books.

“And something fun!” you added. “Do you read for fun?”

“I - yes, but I didn’t bring you here to buy me presents.”

“Bringing me here was a gift. I’m trying to reciprocate. What kind of books do you like?”

Steve blinked at you, pressing his lips into a firm line, a childish gesture of refusal that made you laugh.

“The silent treatment? That’s how you’re gonna play it? Alright, then I’ll have to guess.” You eyed him carefully, trying to keep the grin off your face. “I’m feeling old lady romance. Watercolor abs and billowy shirts,” you said decisively.

“Damn. How did you know?”

Not willing to be the victim of a called bluff, you raised your eyebrows in challenge, making a beeline towards the romance shelves.

“Oh, God. No! Wait!”

You bit hard on your bottom lip, trying to contain a laugh as you heard Steve fumbling to follow after you, no hands free to halt your progress.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, Steven. My friend Wanda and I bought each other some last Valentine’s Day and read them together. Of course she chose hers on the internet, not realizing that she was handing me a 900 page soap operas straight from the 80’s. But we meet every Saturday to talk about them, and let me tell you, that is some outstanding entertainment.”

“You’re really gonna do this to me?” he sighed.

You pulled a book from the shelf, holding it up with a cheshire grin.

“Look at that. Equal opportunity eye candy. We love to see it.”

“St- ” He swallowed his protest in favor of dropping his books into a nearby chair and snatching the book from your hand, hiding the cover against his chest.

“Really enthusiastic about it, huh? Don’t worry, I’ll buy it for you,” you giggled.

“I’ll buy you a worse one,” he threatened.

“Are you sure you’re prepared to undergo the research that threat would require?” you asked, and despite the glare he was leveling at you, there was amusement sparkling in those eyes.

“Try me.”

“Well then, Steve Rogers, it is my honor to introduce you to the time-honored game of Find the Phallus. Choose your book.”

The muscle in his jaw twitched, but his eyes betrayed nothing, staying fixed on yours as he reached blindly toward the shelf and pulled a book free. He set the other down on the chair beside him.

“Going with blind luck, huh? Bold choice. Works okay for Wanda, though.” You turned toward the shelves, eyes flicking over the titles before choosing one that sounded promising.

“Rules?” Steve asked, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a fight.

“On the count of three, we both open our books. First to find a sex scene wins.”

“Call it.”

You initiated the count through a smile, shifting into your game face as you rifled quickly through your book, skimming a few sentences from each page before moving on. Enemies to lovers, pirates vs navy. Classic. Your eyes caught on a particularly colorful euphemism, but as you opened your mouth to claim victory, Steve’s voice rang out.

“Got it! Page 15. They’re really not much for conversation apparently.”

“I literally just found one. This is a conspiracy,” You groaned, moving to peek at the page he was displaying for you. “Damn. ‘Pulsing manhood’ definitely earns you some bonus points.”

Steve snorted, snapping the book closed and returning it to its space on the shelf with an overplayed grimace.

“You’re not allowed to hate a game you just won,” you laughed.

“Beginner's luck I didn’t particularly want. I think I’m scarred for life. This game was Tony’s idea, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Although Bruce is actually the current champion. He’s very proud.”

“I’m sure he is,” Steve laughed sarcastically, taking the book from your hands and skimming the back of it. “This sounds terrible. I’m buying it for you.”

You smiled, taking an identical copy for Wanda as well as the romance novel Steve had placed with the reading list books.

“Deal. If you put it in the middle of the stack, the cashier will already be halfway through small talk by the time she gets to it and therefore unable to comment.”

Steve smiled back, rearranging the order of his books accordingly as he gathered them back up into his arms.

“Thanks for the advice. Are you ready to go, then? If we leave now, we should have time for stop number two.”

You nodded eagerly, following him to the front and keeping up a cheerful conversation with the cashier through both transactions.

Once outside, Steve guided you one street over and several blocks back the way you had come, stopping before a tiny shop with a vibrant awning displaying a shop name in a language and alphabet you could not decipher. You looked to Steve in silent question, but he only smiled, pulling the door open for you and letting the flood of warm cookie-scented air answer for him.

The inside was stark white - walls, floors, lights, everything but the tiny chairs and the shelves behind the counter, which were a vibrant lime green. The girl behind the counter seemed to recognize Steve, smiling widely before turning to prepare something.

“Come here often, do you?” you asked jokingly.

“Once you taste their culinary masterpiece, you will understand.”

By the time you reached the counter, there was a paper bowl waiting, half full with a broken up chocolate chip cookies, melted chocolate running freely as steam rose from the container. A small glass bottle of milk went down next to it with a soft clink, and two spoons were stabbed into the cookie pieces.

“You’re new! I’m Cory,” the girl introduced herself to you with a friendly smile. “Sorry for assuming, but trust me, this is the best thing on the menu, and you’ll want to share. Everyone shares. Except Bucky, but he always regrets it.”

“Oh, he doesn’t regret it,” Steve laughed, handing over the proper payment.

“Well, he should,” Cory replied, handing back the change she already had waiting in her hand. She reached out and poured the milk over the cookies, placing the bottle on a tray of empties beside her.

“What if I wanted to stay here and eat it this time?” Steve argued, lifting a disposable spoon with mock disappointment.

“We close in thirty minutes, and it would take you at least an hour to get out of those tiny chairs. Now, scoot.”

“Rude!” he protested when you laughed, snatching up the cup and turning toward the exit. “Goodnight to you too, Cory.”

Cory winked as you followed Steve out the door.

“Excuse me, I thought we were sharing!” you said when you caught up, snatching the extra spoon from him.

“Maybe both spoons were for me,” Steve teased, but he shifted to hold the bowl between you, smiling as you tried to assemble the perfect bite. “Careful. Everything in there is an extreme temperature.”

You took your first bites at the same time, and Steve hummed in amusement when your eyes widened.

What the hell was happening in your mouth? The cookie was virtually molten, almost burning your tongue before clashing with the near-frozen milk. Chocolate, brown sugar, and the perfect amount of salt lit up your taste buds, and Steve was fully laughing at you now as you smacked his shoulder excitedly.

“Oh my God!”

“I know!”

“I wasted so much time not being your friend! How do you know the most magical hidden places in the city?”

Steve smiled smugly, taking another bite of cookie and milk as he shrugged.

“I’m gonna die here on this sad, damp sidewalk, and I won’t even be mad about it,” you insisted, taking another bite yourself.

“Or I could walk you home so you can die somewhere more comfortable. If you want,” he offered.

“Probably a good idea,” you said, checking your watch. “Wanda is only supposed to watch Faucet for another hour. Oh! That’s my dog - ”

“I know,” Steve laughed. “Bucky has told me a lot about her. I honestly think he might love her more than he loves me.”

“Well, she is extremely lovable. I’d appreciate the company, but I don’t want you going too far out of your way. I live back towards the college,” you said, pointing with your spoon.

“Me too! Won’t be a problem.”

You shared contented smiles as you turned back towards home, walking closer than before to share the dessert. You weren’t sure which made you feel warmer.

The sidewalk, previously uncontested, became more populated the closer you got to campus, groups of students filtering out of bars and returning home from parties. You weaved between them, keeping your head down to avoid traumatizing anyone with the experience of running into their professor while drunk. Beside you, Steve did the same.

These groups thinned out again before disappearing entirely as you headed off the main streets towards the residential areas, and you carried on a quiet conversation until you came to a stop in front of your building.

You hesitated a moment, studying Steve’s face before speaking.

“Earlier tonight, I said that we needed honest and direct communication, and I want to keep that up. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” Steve answered, a touch of concern entering his eyes.

“So, believe that I mean exactly what I say when I ask if you want to come upstairs for a little while. To talk, rest a little, and meet my dog before you head back home. Those are my honest intentions,” you said carefully.

“I get to meet Faucet, huh?” The smile he gave you was tinged with shyness, and his eyes flicked up towards the windows.

“If you want to. No pressure, though.”

He thought for a moment, shifting slightly on his feet before looking back down at you.

“I’d love to.”

------------------------

Ah!! How do we feel about the crush being out in the open now? Who would you want to challenge to the romance novel game? MOST importantly, do you think Faucet will like Steve? Thoughts, opinions, speculation, I want to hear them all!

As always, replies, reblogs, and asks make the world go round! Your reactions brighten my day!

Tags: @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @intricate-melody @tessa-bl @wxstedhexrt @im-a-light-child @ohswald @mrsbarnes32557038 @kindaace @auskitty @wxstedhexrt @londoncallingbutiwontpickup @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff

117 notes · View notes

hongnanglen-arina · 3 years

Text

The Ulzzang Project - Part 3 | Jeon Wonwoo

Read part 2 Read part 4

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

Genre: a little fluff and angst, crack

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Warnings: well, not too angsty I guess but I didn’t re-read.. oh and alcohol consuming

Words: 3.3k

A/N: Hello hello! Sorry for the rather long wait! I thought it could spice it up if someone else is thrown into the pot hehehe (: as always, I’d be happy to know your thoughts about it. Please remember that English isn’t my first language so excuse my grammar ♡

⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━ ⋅𖥔⋅

You tapped the pencil against your chin. Working on a presentation wasn’t your thing and especially the beginning was the most stressful part, always. A brainstorming sketch was on a sheet of paper in front of you and between the person you were with. It was nice to work on it at a public place and you loved to have cafe sounds in the background. That’s why you suggested this cafe in the first place. You’ve already finished on a couple of presentations here and the vibe this cafe was giving you helped a lot. But you weren’t sure if it was the right decision today - for this presentation. You couldn’t hear the familiar sounds of people talking and relaxing with the coffee machine preparing the next order. All you could hear was whispering. Loud whispering. And you could feel the stares shooting holes in your body from every angle possible.

“We should write down some notes for the first part. Hasn’t be too much. Like in 20 minutes we compare our notes and decide what’s best?” You tried to ignore the glares you got, looking at the boy in front of you.

Yoon Jeonghan.

Actually you liked your professor but his idea to team you up with Jeonghan for this statistics project was stupid. All your prayers that he would change his mind or that Jeonghan would complain so much that you would get a different partner were useless. After he saw who you were, he even insisted doing it with you and you didn’t understand why.

So you just settled with the thought of doing it. Not that you had another option anyways.

But all those girls who were watching you two made you uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable.

Your project partner leaned back. “I’m fine if you start. I’m sure your pretty head is very useful for this.”

Somehow it didn’t surprise you. His attitude was exactly like you had assumed after everything you head… and also after seeing his Instagram. Was this boy really of no use? Tall and handsome but an asshole? Although you weren’t surprised, you still had some hope that not all good looking people were bad. Best example, your best friend Wonwoo.

The thought of Wonwoo caused you to sigh. Yesterday at this time, you were sitting outside on a bench with your friends. You could even see the place from where you were stuck with Jeonghan if you looked outside the window. After you discovered the new post with Wonwoo’s text, your break was over and everyone left for their next subject. Up until now you weren’t sure what he meant with it. It had to be a joke. Just something to gain more followers and likes. Something fitting for your fake couple page. But why did it make your heart skip a beat when you first saw it? You didn’t know what to say to your best friend or how to address the topic so you thought you would let him take the first step, which hadn’t happened. It made you angry for no reason.

You sighed again. This time louder.

“Are you mad at me?”

Jeonghan’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You didn’t react when I was talking to you so I got worried.”

Quickly lowering your gaze, you flipped around an empty page, readjusting the pencil in your hand. “Oh no no, don’t worry. Everything’s okay. I already have some ideas for our project. Just give me a moment.”

The person in front of you smiled widely at your reply, which you missed out on because you were already scribbling down while your brain was working and distracting itself from your male best friend.

“Oh great! I can leave then, yes? Thank you y/n. We can discuss our project later. Maybe tomorrow, same time same place?” He got up from his chair and was about to turn around with a ‘bye’ when you stood up as well, calling his name.

“Yoon Jeonghan, let me remind you. This is a group project. A group project is supposed to be done as a group. In a group. You may decide who will focus on which part but what you just said sounded as if you expect me to do everything alone. Please tell me I’m wrong.”

He turned around to face you again, the smile still on his lips. “I knew your pretty head was useful. You got it absolutely right. I’m looking forward to the outcome. See you tomorrow then, y/n!”

He really was an asshole.

“Stop you little shit!”

Suddenly it was quiet around you but you didn’t care. You were angry.

“The fact that I was writing and actually trying to be productive wasn’t a hint for you to stand up and go away. I want to do this because I have to. No matter if you’re my partner or someone else. Knowing you better shows me that I would probably be happier with someone else that’s not as ignorant and dumb as you. I really hoped you would prove me wrong but it’s just the looks that you have. Everything else is bad. Anyways, if you leave now, I will talk to our prof and tell him about it. I won’t do it with you if you let me work alone. I will give you one more chance or I’m the one that’s off. So?”

Jeonghan looked at you with wide eyes.

You were the first girl. The first that wasn’t following him. That wasn’t only agreeing to everything he said. The first girl that wasn’t head over heels for him.

You were different.

“So?” You repeated, slightly impatient. There were quite some places you would rather be right now than here with Yoon Jeonghan and is admires who were glaring at you for not treating him as the hottest and most wanted man on campus. Who came up with this nonsense anyways!?

“What.. do you… want me to do?” He finally asked you and the way he was standing in front of you seemed as if he was confused, scared even.

“The presentation. It has to be done. And for that, you and I will sit here and work on it.”

He slowly flops down on his chair again and for once you thought he looked cute but you quickly shook the thought off before sitting down again as well, taking your pencil again.

As you wanted to continue writing, you heard him clear his throat, causing you to look up from your paper. “What is it?”

“… can you give me a pen and paper?”

It took you a second until you gave him the things he asked you for. Maybe he had nothing to write. Whatever the reason, you felt great that you made the ‘holy’ Jeonghan work on the project. Maybe he wasn’t an asshole after all.

—

You sat on the floor, back resting against you bed as you took a sip of the new smoothie your mother made. There were too many ingredients, you could only remember it had apple, chia, spinach and banana in it.

Without noticing, your sleepy mind trailed from how you were working on your presentation with Jeonghan to the boy from your shared Instagram account. There was still no message on your phone from him. Did he just write it underneath the post without a meaning? Were you the only one who was trying to read between the lines to understand what he might wanted to say?

Absentmindedly you grabbed your phone to catch up with the things you missed while being with Jeonghan the whole day after your classes. After seeing again that there was no new message from Wonwoo in you chat app - only one from Chan, asking you if you had seen the new choreography video of a dance team you two liked - you changed the app and scrolled through your Instagram feed. Nothing interesting nor new. On Wonwoo’s personal page was no update. On your shared one was no update. Bored, you clicked the like button on a photo of Dokyeom and his selfmade pizza which looked amazing and a photo of Hoshi’s tiger plushie with the text ‘horanghae’.

Sighing, the thought of your friend still bothered you. It unusual for him to be this quiet all day. Maybe you should take the first step and just start a conversation? Casually? There was still a high possibility that he wrote the sentence without a meaning so why not say hi?

[Y/n] Hey, what’s up?

Was that casual enough?

2 Minutes passed. No response.

5 Minutes passed. Still no response.

“Why is he like this?!” You whined, letting yourself fall to the side so you were lying on the floor when your mother came into your room after knocking twice.

“Are you alright dear? Are you exhausted from uni? Or is my smoothie bad?? You can tell me honestly, I won’t get mad, I promise.”

You pouted and mouthed ‘uni’ and she nodded understandingly. “Rest then. You know, if you need anything, tell me. I can cook your favorite dish or prepare dessert. I can read you a book or cuddle you to sleep-“

“Mom!”

She laughed and waved apologetic. “Understand. My little girl isn’t so little anymore. Just call whenever you need me. I’ll be in the living room watching my drama.”

You thanked her and watched her leave your room.

Automatically you looked at your phone again, opening Instagram. While you were working on your presentation with Jeonghan, you two exchanged numbers and followed each other on the app. You had an actually nice conversation and got to know him a little better. He wasn’t so snobbish as you though he would be.

Your eyes were glued on Jeonghan’s update from 2 hours ago. It was a photo of you how you were concentrated on writing down your part from your project, two milkshakes in front of you. His had less while your own drink was almost full and untouched because you had a rush of ideas and decided to write them down before it disappeared. You didn’t know he took a photo. That’s when you saw the text he added to the photo.

Interesting. She might become a candidate (:

A candidate for what?? Cocking your head to the side, you wanted to know what he meant with it when your phone chimed, telling you about a new message. When you saw that it was from Wonwoo, your fingers tapped faster to read it.

[Wonwoo] Bored to death. You?

[Y/n] Same. Park in 30? Crave ice cream…

Maybe you replied too fast but you didn’t care. You were just happy he was talking to you even though you weren’t sure why you were worried he wouldn’t. There was no issue between the two of you or was it?

[Wonwoo] Deal. See ya

Although you were relieved he replied and even agreed to seeing you but something in you was still worried for some reason. But you couldn’t deny the little excitement in the back of your mind.

After finishing your smoothie and making your mother happy with it, you complimented her before leaving the apartment to meet up with Wonwoo. Even though it was dark outside, the fact that you were going to meet your childhood friend made your mother worry less. She knew that he was a good person and if something scary would occur, he would defend or help you first.

With the familiar cheers and wishes that ‘your mother would be overly happy if you two would finally get together as a couple’, you left your home and made your way to the little park. You wondered if Wonwoo was already there.

While you were walking, your thoughts traveled to everything that happened over the last few days.

Last weekend, when you decided to start your shared Instagram and act as an ulzzang couple just to see how many likes and followers you could get within a month. The seemingly normal texts under his posts that made your heart skip a beat. The way he babied you more than once which he had never done before. The overall vide he gave was different. You could still recognize your bestie but there was something that had changed but you weren’t able to tell why that was or what it caused.

Then to uni. Your presentation with the infamous Yoon Jeonghan who you disliked from the second you were introduced to him through your friends and their knowledge about him. He was too handsome that he just had to be arrogant and ignorant. It turned out that he is from the outside but strangely after you scolded him in front of everyone else in the cafe, he was very nice and cooperative all of a sudden. He even told you that he would work on the middle part and you could go through it tomorrow. You still didn’t fully believe him so you might prepare something in case it was all a lie. But you could do that tomorrow. Today your priority was Wonwoo.

When you arrived at the park, he wasn’t there. Maybe you were too happy and walked too fast?

Looking around and making sure that he really wasn’t around, you slowly made your way to the swing and sat down, slightly moving back and forth with your feet on the ground and hands around the chains on each side. You looked down when out of nowhere fear crept up your spine.

Oh your friends: the ‘what if’s’.

What if he was disappointed in you for whatever reason? Maybe for not texting him sooner? What if he was mad at you for not using your shared account? At least not as often as he did? What if he wasn’t happy about Jeonghan teaming up with you for the presentation? But then again, it wasn’t your decision. He couldn’t blame you.

You shook your head. Those questions should go away.

You knew why they have appeared.

Because you missed your best friend.

And combined with the fact that you felt his attitude was different over the last week just added to your pile of anxiety.

A soft tap on your shoulder caused you to snap out of your thoughts. Wonwoo was standing beside you with melon ice cream in his hands, offering you one.

“Heard you wanted ice cream?”

Immediately, you smiled at him, a warmth rushing through your body as you finally saw your friend again and him paying attention to you intensified the relieve.

“Thank you.”

You took one and started eating it while Wonwoo sat down on the other swing, both of you enjoying your ice cream in silence. The noises of your surroundings were kind of far away from you, looking for words to start a conversation.

Once you finished, you looked at the boy beside you, just to notice that he was looking at you too.

“I missed you,” you said in unison and the moment your brains progressed it, you two looked away sheepishly.

It was stupid, you had to admit. It only had been a little over 1 day that you haven’t seen your friend but because of the overall situation, you were were like this.

Again, you were looking for words to form a sentence and to distract yourself from the red cheeks. “W-what were you doing when I sent the message?”

His head turned back to you when he started to talk, “I was playing an online game but it wasn’t my day today. They always killed me with ease. Wherever I was hiding, whatever I thought was a good tactic, they found me and ended my sad life. Your message helped. What about you?”

“Did nothing. Well, complimenting my mother on her new smoothie?”

Suddenly Wonwoo was chuckling. “Sometimes I envy you for not living alone as I do.”

“You’re not alone. I’m literally always at your place.”

Your reply made Wonwoo sigh and you tried to figure out why he was feeling down all of a sudden, waiting for him to answer your silent question but he asked you something else, changing the topic.

“How is your presentation going?”

It took you by surprise but you decided to give him an honest answer, just being happy to have a topic to talk about.

“At first I hated Jeonghan but he’s okay. Really. After I got angry at him, he actually worked on it with me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, he even volunteered to prepare the middle part. You know, the most important part of the whole thing. He also listened to me and-“

“You got angry at him?”

“U-uh… yeah. That dude wanted to leave me alone and don’t help with it. Can you imagine? He really thought he could get away with it. But not with me, ha!”

He chuckled again, seemingly approving your previous outburst of anger with the other.

While you were watching Wonwoo from the side and admiring his crunched laughter, you remembered his Instagram post and started chewing on the inside of your cheek.

Wonwoo didn’t notice your nervousness as he was shaking his head at the thought of you making a scene in front of his fanclub. He wished he would have seen it happening. Something told him that it wouldn’t be the only occasion for you to lose your temper with him and that he may see it the next time if he sticked to you more often.

“Wanna skip tomorrow’s morning lectures with me?”

The question left your lips faster than you could think and surprised you as well as him when you met Wonwoo’s expression, but his was quickly followed by a smirk.

“Do I smell a mario kart session with greasy food?”

“Yep.”

Hearing his amused snort made you happy for some reason and when he got up and held his hand out for you to grab and follow him, you did as he wordlessly asked and went to his place, hand in hand. Like you often did.

It seemed as if your anxiety was for nothing. He was the same when you arrived at his place, got out of your shoes and offered you a can of beer. He was the same when he asked you what you wanted to eat. He was even the same when he took the last bite of your dish without asking beforehand. And he was the same when he started a fight when he lost against you at mario kart 4 matches in a row. You felt as if it had been a decade since you laughed as much.

You made a mental note not to think too much again when it comes to your best friend.

After a while you two changed to more comfortable clothes as you opened your third can of beer, Wonwoo was on his fourth. That was exactly what you needed. Although it wasn’t the best decision but numbing your previous doubts and fears and enjoying the company of your bestie was the best right now.

“I love spending time with you y/n.”

Thanks to the alcohol in your system, you weren’t too shy to react to his words and felt kind of adventurous. “Thanks for the kind words but to be honest I expected to hear that you want to take your sexy photos now that I’m drunk.”

“Ha ha ah… you’re not completely wrong though.” Wonwoo readjusted his glasses and took a sip of his beer when you said, “Okay. let’s do this.” Your friend nearly choked on the alcohol but asked again what you just said, just in case he heard wrong.

“I said, let’s take those photos for our Instagram.”

64 notes · View notes

emptysatellite · 3 years

Text

breaking and entering according to hy + gar-bear

Ao3

one.

“This is a horrible idea.”

“No, it’s genius.”

Hyacinth was skipping ahead in the moonlit field while Gareth just mopped in amazement. It was midnight and they were at the one place they shouldn’t be; Clair House.

They were only there because of that stupid journal Hyacinth was translating. Gareth’s grandmother, Isabella, had written it throughout her entire marriage, when she moved to England with her new husband. The journal was written in Italian, a language Gareth couldn’t understand in the slightest, leaving Hyacinth to translate for him (although, as she made clear, she was not fluent). Most of the entries centered around Isabella’s daily life, but Hyacinth discovered a secret; a little while before her death, Isabella hid diamond jewelry in the house so her money hungry and gambling-obsessed son couldn’t sell them.

Once Hyacinth found this out, she rushed to Gareth’s, demanding they go to his father’s property at once. Lucky for them, Mr. St. Clair was out of town on a hunting trip, leaving the house completely empty.

“Hyacinth,” he attempted to reason with her, “we could get in trouble for this. Like real, legal trouble. Trespassing and breaking and entering are crimes.”

“Good thing my brother’s a lawyer. Anthony would defend us, no questions asked,” she retorted, hiding behind a tree to get a good look at the dark house.

“I think there would be lots of questions asked, Hyacinth. Lots of questions asked,” he leaned against a nearby tree, although completely in sight of any passerbys.

“I don’t think so. I’m Anthony’s favorite sister.”

“I don’t think that matters in the court of law… Aren’t you studying law? Shouldn’t you know this?”

“I’m studying politics and international relations, actually,” she tore herself away from the tree, strolling closer to the house. “Do you have a key to this place?”

“No.”

“What? Why not?” she froze in place.

“I don’t live here, why would I have a key?”

“I don’t know, you used to live here so I just assumed,” Hyacinth whisper-yelled, turning back to him. She gave Gareth a pointed look, “how are we supposed to break in if we don’t have a key?”

“We could break a window like they do in all those karate movies.”

“This isn’t a karate movie, Gareth! Besides, we can’t break a window; the neighbors might hear something and call the cops!”

“Like the neighbors wouldn’t call the police if they saw two suspicious individuals go through the front door when they know my dad lives alone and is out of town.”

Groaning, she said, “well, do you know anyone we could get a key from?”

“My grandmother, maybe?” he suggested, his calm exterior crumbling upon meeting her angry gaze.

“Professor D?” she demanded.

“I’m sure. She has a collection of keys from homes and apartments she doesn’t live in.”

“Perfect,” Hyacinth gave him a wide smile of pearly white teeth. “I’ll call her tomorrow morning and get the keys by lunch so that we can both come back at nightfall.”

“Aren’t we going on a date tomorrow night?” asked Gareth.

“Oh right! Well, we’ll come here after our date, then.”

There was no point arguing; when Hyacinth’s mind was made up there was no use debating it. They’d be back tomorrow, no doubt in Gareth’s mind.

two.

“God, I love your grandmother.”

“More than me, apparently.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Hyacinth gave Gareth a light shove, playing with Professor Danbury’s key to Clair House in her free hand.

“I wore the cologne you like to dinner and you still wanted to come here to find some stupid diamonds instead of back to my apartment,” he replied.

“Okay, well, three things. First, diamonds are not stupid, they’re my best friends. Second, I love the cologne you wore to dinner, it smells so Gar-bear St. Clair. And third, I still want to go back to your apartment, but when we get the diamonds,” she explained, taking a tangle of manila rope out of her bookbag, with a (seemingly) heavy rock tied to an end.

Her whole statement was questionable. Gareth barely knew how to respond. “Gar-bear?” is what he finally managed. “What is that ?”

Hyacinth laughed, covering her mouth with her hand in order not to wake the neighbors. “It’s your nickname,” she said at last. “Isn’t it cute? I think so. I came up with it last night, when I was making this!”

She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Read it and weep,” she thrust it into his hands.

“ Breaking and entering according to Hy and Gar-bear? ” he demanded. “What the fuck , Hyacinth?”

“I’ve done loads of research on breaking into houses. I’m practically an expert,” Hyacinth replied, throwing the rope up onto the balcony with a huff. “I just thought I should add your name too, even though you didn’t contribute because we’re partners. Get it? We’re partners in crime .”

“Har-har,” his response was much more sarcastic than intended, “disrupting the peace is so funny.”

“We’re not disrupting the peace,” Hyacinth rolled her eyes. She added, “I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”

“For better or worse.”

“Little early to be saying that, don’t you think, Bud?”

“Nope, your face is adorable.”

“Damn, you know flattery gets you everywhere with me.”

“I know.”

“Climb up the rope.”

“Wait, what?” he was shaken out of the blind flirtation. “You want me to climb that?”

“Of course,” said Hyacinth. “That’s why I brought it. I thought you’d be too wuss to scale the building, so I thought the rope might help.”

“Is it even secure?” Gareth asked, glancing upwards, for any sign (or omen) he should not pull himself up the rope because it was a risk to his health. “Like, will that rock support our weight?”

“Yes; I wouldn’t tell you to do something if I didn’t think it was safe. And the rock should support us… I tried like five other rocks before picking this one.”

“You’ve… already tried this?”

“Obviously.”

“How heavy is the rock?”

“Not sure.”

“Why are we climbing up to the balcony, anyway?”

“To go through the balcony door. Duh.”

“Why can’t we just go through the side door. No one would see us.”

“No one would see us go through the balcony door, either.”

“But going through the balcony door seems more complicated.”

“You know, we’re spending all this time arguing when you could just climb the damn rope and we could find the damn diamonds.”

“No.”

“Do you want me to go first?”

“Yes, that would make me feel better.”

Without another word, Hyacinth caught the rope, pulling herself up in a way that vividly reminded Gareth of secondary school physical education class. Still, she made it to the balcony.

“See, it’s totally safe!” she called down. “Now, come on.”

“I don’t know, I’m still nervous, Hy!” he replied.

“I’m holding the rope tight,” promised Hyacinth, “I won’t drop it!”

“If you drop it, we’re breaking up and I’m suing you.”

“Noted. I won’t drop you.”

And she didn’t. Gareth was able to scamper up the rope safely to see Hyacinth’s wide grin at the top.

“I told you that’d you’d be fine,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved a hand dismissively. “You wanna do the honors?”

Hyacinth nodded, taking the key out of her pocket. Carefully, she put it in the deadbolt, twisting it unlocked, then doing the same with the door lever. “Aha!” she exclaimed, opening the windowed door. “It worked!”

three.

“Old Dicky may be an arsehole, but he has good taste in books.”

“Never once in my whole childhood did I ever see Richard in the library.”

“Well, then Grandpa St. Clair had good taste in books.”

“Right-o.”

“Hm,” Hyacinth ran her fingers along the book spines. “So much Shakespeare.”

“God, I hate Shakespeare,” said Gareth, fumbling with his flashlight.

“Literally stop. We’re breaking up. Right now,” she replied, turning her nose up. She sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“I have dust allergies, just so you know.”

“Good to know.”

“Now, Isabella wrote that the diamonds ―or another set of clues that will lead us to the diamonds―should be in the place where the imagination can run wild,” Hyacinth said, “so I assumed it was the library. What do you think?”

“It could also be the nursery,” suggested Gareth, “because my brother and I would play there all the time; I assume Dick and Uncle Ed would have done the same.”

“That’s true,” she scribbled a note on her arm. “We’ll check the nursery after we finish here.”

“Hyacinth?”

“Yes?”

“It’s going to take us forever to go through here,” Gareth said, spreading his arms for dramatic effect.

Hyacinth seemed to think on this for a brief moment, tapping her marker against her chin. “Hm,” she finally replied, “it won’t take forever if we get started now.”

“Capital plan,” he commented, rolling his eyes.

“I know right,” she retorted. “Besides, even if we tear this room up, we can just leave it; we’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. We’re not resting until we find these damn diamonds.”

“Dick is coming home in less than a week.”

“We’ll just have to be very thorough and efficient then,” she replied. “Now, do we want to start by ripping the books off of their shelves? Or go through all the drawers and cabinets by the desk?”

“I’ll do the desk and you do the shelves.”

“Works with me.”

They went to work, flashlights glowing in the dark library. They didn’t talk, concentration ruling their motions.

“I think I found something!” Hyacinth called, after less than an hour of searching.

“What?” Gareth replied, looking up from the stack of dust-covered papers he was flipping through.

“Hold on, I’m translating,” she paused. She looked up at him, saying, “basically, the hint is that the diamonds are in a washroom.”

“There are five washrooms in this house!” he groaned, collapsing onto the nearest chair.

and four.

“We’re literally going to jail. We’re going to spend the night ―and probably quite a few nights―in jail! ”

“It’s okay, Anthony will defend us in court. Simon will too, I’m sure; I’m his favorite sister-in-law. He got me a miniature pony for my sixteenth birthday, you know.”

“Hyacinth, I’m glad you and Simon and Anthony have good relationships, but we’re still going to jail! ”

“Lower your voice, you’ll upset the cop,” Hyacinth shushed Gareth, placing a finger on his lips.

“I think the cop is already upset,” he replied, grumpily, “because he just arrested us for breaking into my father’s mansion and we didn’t even find the diamonds.”

“Okay, to start, Richard is not your father ―” she started, waving her hand dismissively.

“Believe me, he’s made that clear―” Gareth interrupted.

“But Edward is.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Edward is your dad.”

“Edward? As in my uncle Edward ?” demanded Gareth.

“No, as in your dad Edward,” Hyacinth replied.

“Are you serious?”

“Of course I am.”

“Uncle Ed was my dad?”

“Yes, didn’t you hear what I said?”

“I did,” he breathed in amazement, “I just―it’s hard to believe.”

“You can come to therapy with me, if you want,” Hyacinth suggested. “I have my weekly sessions on Wednesdays.”

“Honestly, I might have to take you up on that offer…”

“There’s no shame in it. My therapist is the best, I’ve been working with her for years.”

“Nice, nice.”

“Oh! I forgot to add,” she reached into her jacket, pulling a trinket ―no not a trinket, a necklace, bracelet, and set of earrings―out of her pocket, “we did find the diamonds.”

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Gareth.

“Shh, the cop will hear,” she mumbled, untangling the jewelry from one another.

“I just… Hy, you’re amazing!”

“I know,” she flipped her hair with her free hand, “I’m told all the time.”

“Where did you find it?”

“In Clair House. Duh.”

“No, I meant , where in Clair House?”

“Under a floorboard in the nursery washroom. When we split up and you were in the master washroom.”

“We’re here, hooligans,” the policeman peered at the couple through the rearview mirror.

Hyacinth locked eyes with Gareth, slowly putting the diamond jewelry back into her jacket. She smiled at him and he returned a favor.

Still, they spent the night in jail.

#hyacinth bridgerton #gareth st clair #bridgerton #bridgerton fic

12 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Summary: Twenty-four years ago, Kimberly Harper met a boy who changed the course of her entire life before up and leaving one night. She spent years moving past the memories, building a stable, satisfying career as professor of folklore and mythology at the local university. Then the accidents start, and she’s forced to seek help among her hunter contacts. All it takes is a knock on her office door to send Kimber’s carefully built emotional walls crumbling to the ground.

Featuring: Teen Winchesters, high school romance, reunions, misunderstandings, high intensity emotional turmoil, Dean’s love of pie, Dean being adorable, Sam being adorable and maybe a bit nosy eventually, much group adorkable-ness, show-style investigation, mention of our favorite werewolf, gratuitous and obvious love of fall, DID I MENTION ROMANCE, fluff, smut, tension.

Warnings: Show level violence, show level parental neglect (let’s not John bash, I’m just saying), show-style witchcraft, show-level mental manipulation, stalking, bit of angst, sexual content (higher than show level),swearing, general yearning

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: At last!!! I almost didn’t make it, but here I am, literally in the eleventh hour (well, okay, three minutes to go until the eleventh hour, but still)! All the thanks to @mskathywrites , @fang, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and all that stuff I need. I still love this story, and I hope y’all will, too!

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist

Chapter 4

Kimber knows she’s staring, but she can’t stop herself. His fingers, rough and strong from years of the hardest work, brush circles over her wrists that send her pulse fluttering through her veins. So many emotions flicker behind his eyes, some of them mirroring her own, some of them alien and unreadable. So many years have passed, so much water under the bridge, as the saying goes.

The thing is, he was completely right earlier. She could have called him, once she learned who he and his family were, once she found a way.

But he had left town with her phone number memorized. He was in a much more logical position to get in touch, and right away, at that. And he never did. She knows he had a good reason, a completely reasonable one that would make sense if she just asked him.

But she’s scared and drained and confused and more than a little ashamed, and she’s tired of making a fool of herself.

She drops her eyes before the tears fully form and murmurs a quiet thanks as she loosens her hands from his grip. Though walking away is not what she wants to do, she forces her legs straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind her with a firm click.

She’ll feel better after a hot shower. That’s all she needs, a hot shower and a few hours of sleep. They’ll figure this out tomorrow, and then Dean and his brother will ride off into the sunset, and everything will go back to normal. She’ll go back to her classes as usual, helping out the occasional hunter or scholar with some lore, and she’ll bury all these feelings behind her heart again, drown them so deep they’ll never dream of resurfacing.

At least, that’s the fairy tale she tells herself as the scalding stream washes the saltwater from her cheeks.

She actually does feel moderately restored by the time she steps out of the bathroom. She feels a little ridiculous in Dean’s clothing. The sleeves of the t-shirt hang past her elbows, and the pants legs are rolled up several times to keep her from tripping.

At least the waist has a drawstring, she thinks as she rounds the corner back into the room. She pulls the towel from her hair, shaking it out a little just as Dean looks up from his laptop at the small table. His mouth opens, eyes widening. She’s not sure because of the poor lighting of the room, but his face seems to color a little as his eyebrows lift.

She is suddenly, acutely aware that she did not put her bra back on when getting dressed in his white t-shirt that is probably not nearly as thin as it feels.

Dean clears his throat, turning back to his computer, swallowing whatever comments have entered his mind. Kimber can’t decide whether to laugh or blush even harder and settles for the third option of hanging her office clothes up so they can air out a little before tomorrow.

With nothing else to do, she drops onto the edge of the bed gracelessly, feeling every minute of the last few weeks catching up with her. Uncertainty and fear claw at her, ripping away what little defenses she has left. The image of the mutilated doll flashes before her eyes, red paint splashed luridly on her favorite comforter. Her lungs clench, and she sags on the mattress.

She presses her fingers hard against her face. Acid burns at the back of her throat, bitter and biting. Her fingernails are just beginning to dig into her scalp when she registers the click of the laptop closing. Half a moment passes, then the bed dips beside her.

She doesn’t consciously decide to move; her body simply molds itself to his side as Dean slides his arm around her back. He turns into the embrace, his other arm gathering her tightly against him. His cheek comes to rest on top of her head. The silence between them is the comfort she needs, his warmth and solidity the anchor that keeps her from drifting too far into panic.

When he finally speaks, his words rumble through her nerves, settling heavy and soothing in her chest.

“We’re gonna get this son of a bitch, Kimber. I’m sorry they got into your house, but I’m glad I was with you. I…” She rises gently with his deep inhalation, pressed as she is against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

She hears what he isn’t saying, and her hands drop from her face, her arms slipping around his middle as her eyes close.

“Me, too, Dean.”

...

“That pumpkin pie was somethin’ else,” Dean murmured. His arms were folded behind his head as he stretched out on top of Kimber’s bedspread. He crossed his ankles, settling in like he belonged there. His thin t-shirt stretched across his wiry frame, jeans lying enticingly low on his hips, and she could just see a glimpse of pink toe through a hole in one of his socks.

A pleasant, off-balancing thrill skipped down Kimber’s spine, twirling through her stomach and making her head spin a little. Dean’s jacket was hung carefully on her desk chair, his boots lined up on the floor underneath, and his button-up overshirt folded neatly on the desk.

Her parents had gone to bed long ago, and she had snuck Dean in the back door. After their exhilarating but chilled stroll that afternoon, she’d decided against the treehouse. Dean had been amused but willing, although he’d had one stipulation that had nearly made her laugh aloud.

“We get caught and your folks kick me out, you’re bringing me your mom’s leftovers to school every day for breakfast. I’m not missin’ out on home cooking just because you can’t stand to be away from me.”

Now, seeing him so comfortable on her bed, like he just belonged...Kimber knew the smile on her face was on the goofier end of sappy, but she couldn’t help it. He was just so damned…

“Cute,” he said, smirking up at her. “I know what you’re thinking. And I’m not cute. I’m adorable.”

She sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. “Fine, you’re gorgeous, adorable, vital, the absolute most. Now close your eyes so I can change.” Smirk still firmly in place, Dean dutifully closed his eyes. She knew, despite the short time she’d known him, that she could trust Dean to keep his eyes shut.

She spent a few seconds regretting the lack of any silky, dramatic nightgowns or cute, sexy little matching pajama sets. Oh, well; couldn’t have everything. She stripped quickly, tossing her school clothes into the hamper and slipping on her “Aaahh!!! Real Monsters” t-shirt. Thick socks and plaid pajama pants completed her night ensemble.

That she had just been naked (however unseen said nakedness had been) in front of Dean Winchester had not escaped her. She licked her lips, cheeks warm, and turned slowly back to the bed. He lay still, chest rising and falling steadily, and she marveled, not for the first time, that he was here, in her room. Just for her.

Her pulse jumped, her lungs tightened, and for just a second, Kimber panicked.

“You can, uh...you can open your eyes. I’m gonna go brush my teeth; I’ll be right back.”

She fled silently down the hallway, brushed her teeth in record time, and then stared in the mirror. Her hair was just her hair, nothing amazing or horrifying; no point trying to fix that before bed. Maybe…make-up?

“Kimber. What the hell?” she muttered. “You’re not seducing him, just be cool. Jeez. You can’t wear make-up to bed.”

She splashed cold water on her face, scrubbing her skin dry with a hand towel more forcefully than necessary. She gave her reflection another once-over and took a deep breath.

“You’re his choice, too,” she reminded herself. “Just chill.”

She found him exactly as she’d left him, completely relaxed on the bed, eyes still closed. She thought for a moment that he might have fallen asleep. Kimber wasn’t sure if she felt more disappointment or relief.

“You left in a little bit of a hurry,” he murmured, eyes still closed, and she started. “Everything okay?” She almost put him off, could feel the brush-off on her lips, but his eyes slid open, pinning her on the spot. She got the eerie sense that he would know, that he already knew she was trying to put on a front, and she deflated a little.

“I’m nervous,” she finally admitted. The heat in her cheeks turned up a few degrees, spreading down her neck, and she crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “I’ve never...snuck a guy to my room before. I just...this is mostly new to me, but with you, I want...I don’t know.”

Without a word, Dean slid from the bed and crossed the room, his mesmerizing eyes never leaving hers. He stopped a few feet away and waited, his arms open. With the bed suddenly out of the equation, Kimber felt a hidden knot of anxiety untie in her chest.

She let out a breath and stepped into his embrace, her arms circling his waist in a way that felt easy and right. Dean’s lips pressed a warming kiss to the crown of her head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “This is your room, your space, but even if it wasn’t-” He paused, leaning back and brushing his thumb over her cheek. “Kimber, look at me.”

She did, and his earnest expression left no room to doubt his next words. It barely left room for breathing.

“ ‘M not here to make you feel uncomfortable or scared. I’m here because you want me to be. The second that stops, the second I make you feel something you don’t want, that’s it. Period. Does that work for you?”

His eyes, so plaintive and weathered in that moment, cut right to her heart. Never in her life had Kimber felt so safe, so protected, and so very sad. She couldn’t think of any words that lived up to the magnitude of what Dean had just said, so she simply squeezed him tighter, pressing her face against the side of his neck.

“Can you stay?” she asked. She knew he had obligations, probably needed to get back to his brother or at least check in with his dad. She felt terribly selfish in her warm, safe house with her parents right down the hall. Still, she asked.

“Yeah, I can stay for a while.” His smile, soft and open, laid her doubts to rest. They settled onto the bed, fumbling a little awkwardly to find a position they both liked. There was some bumping, mumbled apologies, until they finally sorted out a comfortable twist of limbs that didn’t set her heart beating out of her ribs or threaten to cut off blood flow to anything important.

She relaxed by increments, her cheek resting on his collarbone. He hugged her close with his left arm, his right hand combing slowly through her hair over and over. The silence settled around them like a second blanket, soothing and heavy.

“What do you want to do when you finish school, Kimber? College?”

“Probably,” she murmured. “I don’t know specifically, but I like research.”

He snorted, and she poked him in the side.

“Shut up, you jerk, I do. And I like sharing the information. I like helping people. I don’t really want to be a teacher, but maybe I can find something where I can do all of that.”

Dean resumed combing her hair, having paused when she poked him, and they settled a little more closely together.

“Dean?”

“Mmm?”

She blinked slowly, sleep pulling at her eyelids. Her thoughts spun out languidly, losing their urgency as his warmth seeped through the thin fabric of her pajamas.

“How about you?”

His answer came quickly, rehearsed and without thought. “Join the family business. Dad’s been training me for years. Don’t have a lotta choice, but I know I’ll be good at it. Was raised for it.”

Her fingers crept up, her eyes staying closed for longer and longer periods between blinks. She slid her thumb over his chin, just brushing the line of his bottom lip before sliding slowly up his jaw.

His words weren’t emotionless, but they were automatic. There was so much he never said, and she hated to push him, afraid he would just leave or shut down, but…

“But what do you want?” She persisted, drowsiness interfering with her usual restraint. “Who do you want to be?”

He was silent for so long, she nearly gave in to fatigue. She drifted on the edge of unconsciousness, fingers stroking through the silky strands of hair behind his ears. She felt his face turn, his lips press against her wrist.

“I want...this,” he said. Even half-asleep, she couldn’t mistake the raw longing behind his words. “I want...I want to work a boring, regular job and come home to someone who missed me all day as much as I missed her. I want my kids to cannonball into my legs so hard they knock me over. I want…”

His words choked off, and she stilled her fingers against his cheek, waiting for him to continue.

“I want a house. No...I...when I was little, Dad would come home, and he would just...sweep Mom up sometimes, swing her around, when they weren’t fighting. Even when they were, he’d do it sometimes anyway just to get her to laugh.”

She felt his face shift beneath her hand, but his smile didn’t feel quite right, and she moved closer. His arm tightened around her back, and he smoothed the palm of his free hand down to cup her jaw.

“I want a home. I want to be a dad, a husband. I want a family.”

She felt childish, shallow next to the depth of his simple declaration. Dean wanted what she had, what she took for granted every day of her life. This was the first time he’d spoken of his mother, and though curiosity burned hot inside her, she didn’t dare ask further questions, afraid she’d break the spell of the moment.

Dean’s voice dropped until she could feel it more than hear it, his lips pressing softly against her forehead.

“I want to come home and hold someone until I fall asleep every night. I want to wake up to her and know that my whole day, every day, is gonna be just that, all over again.”

She lifted her face to his then, and in the darkness of her bedroom she could only just make out the barest lines of his features. Their noses brushed, his hand gently pulling at the back of her head, and their lips met. His cheek was damp under her fingertips, and her heart clenched.

She pulled his head down, brushing her lips over the tears trickling down his cheekbones more by feel than by sight. Both his arms came around her then, pulling her against his chest as he buried his face in his hair. They breathed together, memorizing each others’ scents, heartbeats, rhythms as the night crept by.

The moment didn’t pass so much as gradually relax until Kimber felt him shift beneath her, smoothly sliding her off his chest and down to the pillows. He kissed her temple, and her face automatically turned to his, chasing his lips. She felt him chuckle against her mouth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I gotta go. Need to check on Sammy, make sure he got dinner, did his homework, all that mess. I’ll see you tomorrow. Walk you to school?”

She nodded, humming her agreement even as she blindly reached for him. Something soft brushed against her fingers, and she automatically pulled it down, cuddling against the fabric.

“Hold onto that for me. I’ll get it back from you sometime.” She felt a kiss press to her forehead, and then the click of her door closing. She breathed in, Dean’s scent surrounding her as she slipped under again, his button-up shirt pillowed under her cheek and tangled in her fingers.

…

Chapter 5

66 notes · View notes

drawlfoy · 5 years

Text

Soft Spot

masterlist request guidelines requests are open!

pairing: draco x hufflepuff!reader

request: yes! there are two of you who requested something very similar, so i’m knocking this one out first to take care of both of you!

summary: you’ve had a crush on draco malfoy for as long as you can remember,...but the funny thing is, you’ve never even spoken to him. he’s mean, he’s spoiled rotten, he’s everything that a hufflepuff could ever want...but you will keep it a secret, right? won’t you? because it’s not like he even knows you exist...

warnings: language and cringiness

a/n: this is gonna kinda be my farewell fic for the summer, something that breaks my heart. i’ll be slowly drafting other requests and i WILL start posting that dramione one once it gets to late fall for the ~aesthetic~. thank you to everyone reading this! you’ve inspired me to keep writing and growing my skills. i love each and every one of you, and i hope you enjoy this last little tidbit of my writing for the summer! but also... i might have a little cringe surprise of a fic i already wrote like 6 years ago saved for later on. this isn’t goodbye, it’s just a see you later!

also... i don’t really know if seekers shake hands at the beginning of the match. i think it’s just the captains but like....let me live and let the plot thrive in a slight harry potter AU where seekers shake hands before games okay

music recs: 1980s horror film II - the wallows

word count: 3,383

tags tags tags! @accio-rogers @geeksareunique

also i literally cannot believe myself i was supposed to write this over a period of a week not 3 hours wtf

“The more concise the flick, the more concentrated your magic will be. No, no, Longbottom, I said concise, not unhinged...try again.”

Y/N watched sympathetically as the Gryffindor struggled to turn the vinegar into wine, Professor Flitwick peering over his shoulder and cringing as the boy flailed about.

“Poor Neville,” Hannah murmured to her right, her vinegar already having been turned into a deep crimson. “You’d think they’d let up on him by now and just let him do his thing with Herbology.”

“Yeah, but then again, he is abnormally talented at that,” Y/N said, watching the boy carefully. “He probably has the skills. He just needs to tap into them.”

Hannah smiled at her, leaning back into her chair. “Oh, Y/N, always seeing the best in everyone.”

“Oh, stop it. I’m just optimistic.”

“Are you, now?” Hannah leaned forward, wiggling her eyebrows. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think it takes more than just simple optimism to have a crush on--”

“Hannah! Quiet!” Y/N’s cheeks flamed at the suggestion. “You’re talking too loud.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She rolled her eyes, still wearing a mischievous grin. “It’s just so funny to me. Have you ever even talked to Mal--”

“Do not say his name!” Y/N hissed. “And...yes, for your information, I have. Last year he bumped into me. I said ‘sorry’.”

“And?”

Y/N looked puzzled. “What?”

“And what did he say back?”

She blushed even harder, slinking down in her seat. “Okay, okay, he didn’t say anything. He just nodded and kept walking.”

Hannah grunted, looking entirely unimpressed.

“At least he didn’t say anything mean! That’s an improvement!”

“Y/N, I love you,” Hannah began, “And I think you need to have slightly higher standards.”

“You antagonize me,” Y/N moaned, dramatically throwing herself over her chair. “Let me have a little fun. I know nothing’s going to come out of it. So do you.”

Hannah giggled. “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. And if something did come out of it....” --Y/N laughed at that-- “...I would still love and support you no matter what. Besides, I think Nott is kind of a catch. Think you could set us up once you have your own Slytherin?”

Y/N smacked her arm good-naturedly. “Anything for my Han--”

“Ladies,” Professor Flitwich greeted. “I’m not seeing much magic occurring over here.”

“We’re done, Professor,” Hannah responded, motioning to the two charmed goblets of wine. Y/N simply nodded along, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the eyes of all of the students in the room. It had grown silent, and it seemed as though the Slytherins over in the corner were smugly awaiting a deduction of points from the Hufflepuffs. Draco Malfoy looked entirely uninterested, choosing to absentmindedly levitate a quill instead.

“Very well.” Flitwick nodded briskly. “But I would prefer if you two took your conversation out of my classroom. It seems as though you both have a grasp on this lesson and no longer need to be here...if you so wish.” There was a twinkle in his eye that reminded Y/N why Flitwick was one of her favorite professors.

“Thank you, Professor,” the two said in unison as they began to pack up their things. Flitwick waved his wand, effortlessly changing the wine back into its original form.

The Slytherins began chattering again, filling the room with its usual ambiance.

“Malfoy was looking at you,” Hannah hummed into Y/N’s ear.

“No, he wasn’t,” she responded. “I saw him. He was levitating a quill or whatever.”

“Not the whole time. And, oh, the way he was looking at you...total fuck-me eyes.”

“You’re gross, Hannah,” Y/N managed in between laughs. “Was that before or after he stood up on the desk and confessed his unconditional love for Hagrid?”

“During. He always did strike me as a polyamorous guy.”

“Stop!” Y/N burst into a laughing fit, drawing some attention to them as they walked out the door. “You’re bad!”

Hannah chuckled a bit herself, skipping down the corridor. The fall afternoon sun shone through the windows, casting a warm glow on everything inside. Y/N jogged up to meet her, struggling to shove the last of her supplies into the right pockets of her satchel.

“Slow down, will you?” Y/N called, stopping to catch her breath.

“Damn, Y/L/N, you really expect to be able to seek this weekend? With that lung capacity?” Hannah joked, skipping back to her.

“Says the person who has never played a single match of Quidditch in her life,” Y/N countered, raising an eyebrow.

“Okay, you got me there.” Hannah raised her arm in a surrender. “I watch you enough, though.Speaking of watching you...”

She sidled up close to Y/N, shoving her playfully. “How does it feel playing your very first game against...Slytherin? With Malfoy as the opposing seeker?”

“Oh, stop it,” Y/N groaned. “It’s nervewracking enough. I saw how he treated Harry in the last game. He plays rough.”

Hannah’s eyes widened.

Uh, oh. She only ever did that when she was plotting.

“That’s it,” she sang, skipping circles around a confused Y/N. “That’s how you’re gonna find out if he has a soft spot for you!”

“Huh?”

“You just said he plays dirty with Harry,” she explained. “And I’ve seen him mess with Cho too. If he’s nicer to you and doesn’t shove you off your broom...then you know that he likes you!”

“Hannah, I don’t think that’s a very good idea,” Y/N admitted, beginning to walk forward again. “First of all, even if he did like me, why would he be willing to be nice to me in front of the entire school? To a half-blood Hufflepuff? He couldn’t, it would ruin his reputation. And second of all, there’s no way he does like me. You said it yourself...he��s never said a word to me.”

Hannah sighed, cracking her knuckles as she looked at the stained glass on the ceiling. “That’s true. But you liked him even before you talked to him. Why do you assume he couldn’t feel the same way?”

“Because he’s a Malfoy, and I’m not his caliber,” Y/N said, her voice flat.

“And how come you get to decide what his caliber is?”

Hannah’s suggestion rattled around in Y/N’s head. It frustrated her--it really did. She was supposed to be training for her very first match, not daydreaming about how Draco’s hair would look under the setting sun of the pitch. But she couldn’t stop.

She started paying even more attention to him, if that was possible. She stole looks at him from across the dining hall, watching as he rolled his eyes and laughed at something Pansy Parkinson said. Now that she thought of it, she rarely saw Draco without Pansy...but she couldn’t decipher if that was a mutual decision or if Pansy clung to Draco like Hannah told her she did.

On Friday night, instead of discussing strategy with the captain, Zacharias Smith, she was watching a particularly interesting scene at the Slytherin table. Pansy was pushed up next to Draco, whispering whatever she was whispering into his ear. He didn’t look thrilled, but he certainly wasn’t pushing her away. Anger boiled in her chest, so much so that she almost didn’t notice the tap on her shoulder.

“Y/L/N.”

The firm male voice finally caught her attention as she spun around to see Blaise Zabini looking down at her.

“What?” Her tone was sharp, clipped from what she had just seen over at his table.

“Malfoy wants to talk to you,” he said blankly. “You are the seeker, right?”

“Er...yeah.”

“Come with me then, we don’t have all day.” Blaise grabbed her arm, hauling her up rougher than she would’ve liked. Hannah shot her a shit eating grin which Y/N did not return.

She was too nervous. Why would Draco want to talk to her?

Blaise dragged her across the Great Hall as the rest of her house curiously watched. The Slytherin table, hostile as ever, quieted down to a hushed murmur as she neared the group that always surrounded Draco.

“Here,” Blaise spat, pushing Y/N forward to him. She stared daggers at him in response. No, she was most certainly not in a cheery mood today.

“I said bring her over, not drag her by her hair,” Draco said, slowly dragging his eyes over her. She flinched in response, not quite knowing what to say.

“What for?” Her voice was strong, something that surprised her greatly.

He raised an eyebrow as Pansy scowled in the background. “It’s concerning our match tomorrow. I want to propose a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yes.” Draco sighed, looking rather irritated that she hadn’t caught on yet. “You agree to not catch the snitch, and I’ll give you something that you want. Galleons, perhaps?” He smirked.

“No, that’s quite alright,” Y/N responded breezily, instead focusing on quelling the raging blush on her cheeks. The way that Draco looked at her made her feel like he could see into her soul, and she couldn’t tell if she liked it yet. “I’m perfectly content with just playing a fair game.”

“A fair game?” Draco snorted, and the rest of his friends followed suit with canned laughter. “I think you’ve forgotten exactly who you’re playing against, love.”

“If you’re so good, then you shouldn’t have to bribe me,” Y/N shot back before she could hold her tongue.

Wait...what did he just call me?

Draco shrugged, seemingly unbothered, but Pansy sprung to his defense. “Draco, I think you ought to teach this little Hufflepuff to mind her manners around you.”

Y/N, stunned by her realization, simply stared at him, waiting for a response.

“No need, Pansy,” he said, holding eye contact with Y/N. “There’s plenty of time for that tomorrow. You can...er...go now.”

Blaise seized her arm again, but before she could move to yank her arm out of his grip, Draco’s voice broke the silence again. “Zabini, I hardly think that she needs an escort.”

Dazed, she pulled her arm away from him and dashed off. Hannah was waiting back at the Hufflepuff table, her plate long forgotten.

“What was that??” she squealed, nearly bouncing in her seat. Y/N just stared at her.

“He called me love.”

Thankfully, she had long cast aside her thoughts of a particular white-blonde by the next morning. Y/N was so nervous that Hannah nearly had to force down her toast.

“C’mon, you need the energy!” Hannah pleaded. “At least drink some water. I can’t have you passing out on the pitch! Hufflepuff needs you!”

Zacharias, or Arias, as he asked her to call him, was sitting next to her, calmly going over the strategies for the game.

“You really do need to eat,” he informed her. “I know you feel like you’re gonna vomit, but you’ve just gotta force it down. You’ll thank me later.”

Under his watchful gaze, Y/N began nibbling on her toast, forcing it down.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Anyways, your biggest worry right now isn’t the Beaters...it’s the other seeker. Normally it wouldn’t be like that against, say, Gryffindor, but you’ve seen how Malfoy plays. He isn’t afraid of a few fouls.”

Y/N nodded, the nausea returning.

“But you’re smart, and I chose you for a reason,” Arias said, patting her shoulder. “You’re going to do great. I know it. And our Chasers are great, so even if you can’t catch the Snitch, we’ll be okay.”

She nodded again, leaning into him and blinking hard.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a pair of ice grey eyes trained on her.

“...and I want a clean, fair game today,” Madame Hooch finished. Y/N was ashamed, but she’d spaced out on the entire speech, instead focusing on how nervous she was.

She was obviously shaking, and she felt even more pathetic standing across from the Slytherin team. They were all buff and tall and scary looking, and she was short and shaking.

Arias placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her. “Don’t worry, Y/N/N. It’ll all be over before you know it.”

She nodded, swallowing to try and combat her dry mouth. It didn’t work, especially when she saw that Draco was watching her with an amused look on his face. When she caught his eye, he raised an eyebrow quizzically at her and smirked.

Arse.

“Seekers, shake hands.” Hooch’s voice cut into her thoughts. Arias prodded her forward, and Y/N complied, stepping closer to Draco.

He clasped her hand firmly, leaning forward just a fraction.

“Don’t be so scared,” he stage-whispered. “We’re playing a fair game, remember?”

At this, his Slytherin teammates chortled in the background as Arias frowned.

“Leave her be, Malfoy,” he hissed, pulling Y/N back to the Hufflepuffs. “I swear, if you lay a hand on her, I’ll...”

“Relax, Smith, I’m not gonna touch your girlfriend,” he drawled.

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Mhm.”

At Hooch’s command, the two captains stepped forward and shook hands, Arias glowering at Malfoy and Malfoy smirked down at him.

The game started before Y/N knew it, and suddenly, her worry slipped away. She was no longer a lowly Hufflepuff--she was a seeker, and a damned good one at that.

She had watched enough Slytherin matches to know Malfoy’s dirty strategies. He generally relied on faking out the other seeker, which she found a rather cheap tactic.

Y/N decided to just take a few wide sweeps around the arena, dipping up and down through the air. Draco clearly hadn’t seen anything--he was flying in lazy circles much higher than her, clearly trying to get a higher vantage point of the arena to search for the gold glint in the air.

Speaking of which...when she flew past the Ravenclaw section, she caught a glimpse of a slight shimmer in the air.

No way. This early in the game?

Y/N squinted, pausing in the air for a second. The gold shimmer moved again, just a few hundred feet away from her.

She’d spotted it!

Glancing up, she saw that Draco was watching her intently. As casually as she could, she began making her way towards the Snitch, still flickering around a little next to one of the columns of the pitch.

When he turned away for a second, Y/N gunned it, speeding towards it. It began to move away from her rapidly, but at the same, time, she was gaining momentum.

“And it appears that Y/N Y/L/N has spotted the snitch!”

The Hufflepuff section roared as she closed in on the distance. She began stretching her hand out and was just inches away from it when something lightly bumped her shoulder.

Draco.

He moved so his shoulder was pressed to hers, keeping up with her exactly and leaning forward, mimicking her movements.

“You’re not half bad, you know,” he mused as nonchalantly as the whistling air would allow.

“I do. Same with you.”

Y/N’s broom was going as fast as it could without being uncontrollable, and it seemed that that was the case for Draco as well. His arms were longer than hers, though, and he was just inches from grabbing the snitch.

She could’ve just shoulder checked him to throw him off balance like she had seen him do so many times, but at the same time, he could’ve as well--but he wasn’t.

In a sudden stroke of creativity, Y/N dived down , throwing Draco’s attention off just enough to lag behind for the briefest of seconds. Darting forward, her fingers managed to close around something cold and vibrating with energy.

“HUFFLEPUFF HAS CAUGHT THE--”

Her head was heavy in the middle and light at the sides. Had it always been like that, or was she just hyperaware of the fact?

Her surroundings were dimly lit with a single candle, but even that hurt her eyes as they fluttered open. She vaguely recognized that it had to be nightime--wherever she was. Y/N tried to sit up, whimpering as the small of her back ached.

“Whoa, slow down,” a familiar voice cautioned. It was posh and male, but she couldn’t quite place it.

“Mmmhmm.” Her acknowledgement of the person speaking to her was unrefined and embarrassing, but she didn’t care. Whoever it was clearly cared enough to watch over her.

The memories came flooding back...the sensation of the snitch humming in her hands, Draco flying next to her, awe written all over his pretty face..but then the white hot sensation in her back, the sudden halt of her broomstick, the rushing motion as she plummeted to the ground...the boneshattering impact, the sounds of Draco wailing for help...

But then it cut off there.

With newfound energy, Y/N hoisted herself up, taking in more of her surroundings. It was most certainly at some hour in the night in the Hospital Wing. A figure sat at the chair next to her bed, and a candle illuminated the currtain surrounding her.

She squinted at the figure. “Who are you? I can’t see.”

“Oh.”

Dark arms rustled about, pulling out a wand and whispering Lumos. A ball of light revealed a very disheveled looking Draco Malfoy. Y/N gasped.

“Sh, you’ll wake Pomfrey up,” he whispered. “It wasn’t me who hexed you. It was Harper.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “I know.”

“You do?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, his mouth agape.

“Of course I do, I heard you yelling for help. I wouldn’t do that to someone who just hexed me.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Bet you wish you took that bribe now, huh?”

Y/N snorted. “No. I won.”

Draco just shrugged again. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great.”

“I figured.” He shifted in his seat a bit. “Listen, I...er...”

“What?”

He scooted forward just a few feet. “I’m sorry for trying to bribe you. I’ll be honest, I was just kind of looking for a reason to talk to you. Winning this match would’ve just been the cherry on top.”

“You...what?” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. “Stop it right now. What did Pomfrey give me? She must have me on some hard stuff...wow...”

He laughed, leaning forward even more. Y/N could smell a clean whiff of pine and black tea. “No, no, you’re not on pain potions. That I know of, at least.”

“So you’re telling me the truth?”

“Why would I wait her for...I don’t even know how many hours for you to wake up only to lie to you?”

“You were here for the entire time?”

“I mean, I had to shower and eat, but yeah, basically.” He cleared his throat, carding his hand through his hair. “I find you kind of interesting. Always have. Is it a crime to want to get to know you more?”

“I must be dreaming,” Y/N muttered, turning her eyes up to the ceiling. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“My parents aren’t as strict on half-bloods,” he hastily said. “And your academic and athletic record kind of...outshine the fact that you’re a Hufflepuff.��

“Charming,” Y/N responded dryly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that...” He wrung his hands together, gazing down at them instead of meeting her eyes. “I’m saying that I have...I don’t know, a soft spot for you? And if you feel the same way, I think it’d be, er, interesting to maybe see where this goes.”

“You’re saying that you have a crush on me?”

The abruptness of her comment caused her to shyly look away at the ground.

“No, look at me,” he murmured. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Y/N let out a lengthy exhale.

“What is it?”

“Could you tell? That I’ve had a massive crush on you since, well, forever?”

He shakily laughed. “Oh, thank god.”

“Well, could you?”

“Hm.” Draco thought for a few moments, placing an elbow on her bed so he could rest his chin in his hand. “Yeah, kind of. I couldn’t tell if I was overanalyzing everything, though.”

“You weren’t,” she assured him, turning to face him again.

He stared at her for a few seconds, his soft grey eyes wide with wonder. Inching his free hand closer to her, he paused. “May I?”

She smiled then, ignoring how her face hurt. “I mean, you waited hours for it.”

“No,” he corrected. “Years.”

With that, he gently slipped her hand into his, rubbing slow circles onto it as she drifted off to sleep.

final a/n: me: so i’m not posting any more imagines until i’m literally into college and an adult! also me: here’s a fic i wrote in two hours because i couldn’t focus on my sat prep! also so so so sorry for any spelling mistakes/plot holes/grammatical errors in here. i just slammed this one out

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco x oc #draco malfoy x oc #draco x y/n #draco malfoy x y/n #draco imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco x you #draco malfoy x you #harry potter

2K notes · View notes

lonelypond · 4 years

Text

AU Yeah August: Café Quarantine, Part III

NicoMaki, Love Live, 3.2K, 3/4

Summary: The quarantine continues. Nico and Maki get closer, but...

Café Quarantine, Part III

Maki’s phone went off. Nico.

N: There’s muffins in the oven ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ WAKE UP before the timer goes off.

M: NO.

N: Your pad will burn down. Your parents might notice.

Pad? Oh, the slang kick. Nico was in a good mood. Maki grinned.

M: They’d have to be home.

N: You’re in a mood.

M: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

N: Go get the muffins.

M: Maybe.

N: No fever, no coughing “:♡.•♬✧⁽⁽ଘ( ˊᵕˋ )ଓ⁾⁾*+:•*∴

Maki glanced at the time. 9:30 a.m. And Nico had already baked? Maki groaned.

N: Up and at ‘em, barn burner.

M: Musicians are night people. Why aren’t you?

N: Nico is magic. And you’re too much, sugar band.

M: Please forget you ever found that jazz slang link.

N: (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

M: if I get up and deal with whatever you put in my oven, will you never refer to me as a hepkitten or barnburner again?

N: Your oven ✧(σ๑˃̶̀ꇴ˂̶́)σ and sure, square.

M: <(｀^´)>

N: 5 minutes.

M: Fine.

Maki pulled on a t-shirt and found her slippers. Muffins? Might be worth waking up for.

###

A duet, Nico jumping in to the livestream from the library. “I Get No Kick.”

Maki at the piano, her voice a sad and sober invitation,

My story is much too sad to be told But practically everything Leaves me totally cold The only exception I know is the case When I'm out on a quiet spree Fighting vainly the old ennui And I suddenly turn and see Your fabulous face

Then Nico for chorus.

I get no kick from Champagne Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all So tell me why should it be true That I get a kick out of you

Some get a kick from cocaine I'm sure that if I took even one sniff That would bore me terrif- Ically too Yet I get a kick out of you

And Maki alone: I get a kick every time I see you standing there before me

And Nico alone: I get a kick though it's clear to see That you obviously do not adore me

Maki after an instrumental riff: I get no kick kick in a plane, oh yeah Flying too high with some girl in the sky Is my idea of nothing to do, And both for the big finish: you know what, babe I get a kick, you give me a thrill, I get a kick out of you

Maki’s phone double pinged. Hanayo. And Rin.

H; Oh my god, Maki that was like a scene from a movie. You and Nico were both so poised, so pretty, so wistful...almost like you were looking out the windows at each other from so far away.

R: TELL NICO YOU LIKE HER. Don’t just sing things.

H: But keep singing. I have so many ideas. You have such great chemistry. (●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

R: Kayo-chin’s typing so fast there’s sparks.

And Rin sent a video of Hanayo at her laptop, hunched over, glasses sliding down her nose, fingers moving at a faster tempo than Maki had ever played.

Then a Nico text.

N: So what’d the PR department think?

M: ((●♡∀♡))ヾ☆*。

N: Just like Nico’s plan.

M :◑.◑

N: Nico’s hungry. Did you order pizza?

M: Isn’t that your fifth meal today?

N: Nico burned off fever calories.

M: Yeah. And you don’t have any to spare.

N: Nico is muscle -(๑☆‿ ☆#)ᕗ

M: Tiny muscle.

N: Tiny muscle that can out arm wrestle you.

M: Try me.

N: Oh, Nico will.

M: I’ll order something. Do you actually want pizza?

N: No. But they get it here fast. And NICO NEEDS FOOD.

Maki had an image of Kaiju sized Nico raging through Chicago in search of snacks. It was God Tier humor. Maki played a quick series of notes, chords chasing and crashing into each other, giggling as they sped up to a sudden silence.

N: That sounded silly.

M: Are you outside the door?

N: Yes. Order my pizza.

M: Fine. And it was only as silly as you.

N: ԅ(◉෴◉ԅ)

###

Maki was now having dreams in Korean. The portal to Seoul had moved to the media room as she sped watched through Tomorrow’s Cantabile. Campus envy for start. Such a beautiful location to play. Crazy professor dude was a bit overdramatic but the music...Maki would stop watching when she couldn’t take any more not playing. And the dorms, with the piano right there....Maki would just stay put…

“Ooh, the violinist subplot is so cute.”

“No spoilers” Maki ordered, not looking behind her, where Nico was presumably lounging in the doorway.

“How come you didn’t go to a music school?”

“They call them conservatories. And because I was going to be a doctor.”

“Was.”

Maki paused the stream from her laptop to the TV screen and turned. Nico was leaning, eyes sparkling enough that Maki could imagine the “Nico won this round” smile under her extra sparkly pink mask.

“Northwestern has an excellent music program.”

“You said was.” Nico smirked.

Maki started the program up again.

###

Maki was getting frustrated. Between her parents and their “what’s your premed major choice?” hints and Nico’s dissection of her verb tenses, there was too much attention on her. And Nico was feeling better, less coughing, so they were nearly running into each other in the hall more often. After Nico’s invasion of Maki’s Tomorrow’s Cantabile viewing experience, Maki fled outside, grabbing her soccer ball and working on a few tricks. Rin hadn’t stopped by in a couple of days and Maki was starting to feel too isolated. Just dribble the ball, do some squat thrusts, roll over in the grass for a few yards, then lay on her back, staring at the sky and tossing the ball up and catching it. No sounds but birds and ball.

Maki knew she couldn’t just punt. But the more college classes took her away from music, the less she wanted to spend time in a classroom. And then Nico, with a surprise dream involving jazz, one of Maki’s favorite things. And Maki’s random Café Quarantine idea became the very real pleasure of music with Nico. Maki wanted more of that. Music with Nico, time with Nico, every night with Nico, seeing exactly how much attention Nico would pay to what Maki chose, both clothes and music, what Nico would suggest, where they would agree...Maki hummed a little, she and Hanayo had been tossing themes back and forth. Learning more about DeeDee Bridgewater after Nico’s name drop had “Lady Be Good” looping in Maki’s head and she really wanted to perform it for Nico. Hanayo had suggested “Dames” be the theme, throwing “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend” into the mix and Maki added “Satin Doll.” She hadn’t talked about this with Nico yet, but tonight’s show was getting closer and Maki was surprised Nico wasn’t out here, haranguing her to practice.

Why wasn’t Nico out here? Maki jumped up, ball tucked under her arm, and quick walked through downstairs, before heading up to the bedrooms.

She paused outside Nico’s door, no coughing, then knocked. “Nico?”

No reply. Maki opened the door a crack. There was a pile of blankets in the center of the bed, with Nico presumably underneath it. Maki glanced at her phone. Two hours ‘til showtime. No Nico tonight.

Maki closed the door quietly, and went into her room. Shower off the grass, then pick an outfit. But first, Maki dropped back onto her bed, hugging a pillow, and willing more energy to Nico.

###

Nightmare. No breath. Buried under cases of coffee, Maki gone for the weekend, the hospital coffeeshop closed, and no one going to be back for days. Or was that Maki coughing, somewhere, fading, when Nico couldn’t move, couldn’t reach her.

Nico sat up, throwing blankets off her, breaths too fast, too shallow, panic...where was she. Dark. Maki’s house, sweat, fever? Where was Maki? Grabbing a mask, an action now so automatic that even on this half awake edge of rooms too big, too empty, too dark panic, Nico knew she needed to reach out for the one on the nightstand. Loop over the ears, trip over the blanket bunched up next to the bed, hit the ground with her knee, curse, stumble toward the door and nearly into Maki, who was heading for Nico’s room, wearing what must be her pajamas, a gray and light blue flannel shirt, partly unbuttoned and what looked like gray boy shorts with a blue stripe down the hip. Nico forced her eyes away from Maki’s very long legs while the surprised redhead skipped back and squeaked.

“Nico? Are you all right?”

Nico leaned against the wall, inhaling through her nose, “Nico’s fine.”

“I heard you…”

“Nightmare.” Nico frowned, “Were you coughing?”

Maki shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest, suddenly seemingly aware of how much skin she was showing, compared to Nico’s pajama pants and frilly camisole combo.

Breathing almost back to even, Nico stood, “Sorry Nico woke you up.”

Maki shook her head, biting her lip, “Wasn’t really sleeping. Would really rather have been talking to you, but I didn’t want to…”

“Thanks for letting me sleep. Had a lot of energy this morning, but it just suddenly disappeared after lunch.”

“Recovery is slow. You have to give yourself a break.” Maki hadn’t thought to grab a mask so Nico could see her soft, concerned expression.

Nico decided she had enough energy for flirting “Nico’s doctors usually wear more.”

Nico watched Maki flush with embarrassment and backed toward her room, “ummmm…”

Nico reached out a hand for Maki’s arm, her touch gentle, “It’s okay, Nico won’t tease you.”

Maki pulled away, fingers now splayed and covering the top of her thighs, where the shirt ended. She wouldn’t look at Nico.

Right Nico, Nico scolded herself, flowers, dinner, candy...or at least a blu-ray and popcorn night first. “I’ll start tea. Maybe we can watch something funny. Nico needs a break from bad dreams.”

###

While Maki decided what to wear, Nico let the tea steep and watched tonight’s Cafe Quarantine. Floor length violet gown with embroidered chrysanthemums, and a textured crepe, artfully falling off the shoulder neckline. Nico whistled. Maki’s closet was deep and delicious. Had she actually worn them places? And which places? And with who? Nico found a sudden discomfort nudging at her, the thought of Maki in a hotel ballroom, someone’s arms around the fitted waist of her gown...Nico refocused on actual Maki at the piano, fingers sprightly as “The Girl From Ipanema” danced, Maki swaying breezes and skirts with her left hand, drifting clouds into sunshine with her right. Nico giggled, Maki was doing her own secret theme with the instrumentals, songs about “Brazil.” They’d be out of songs before Nico could suggest a Flying Down to Rio week.

“Hey.” Maki said breathily from the doorway of the kitchen.

“Nico was about to watch your second song.”

“I’ll go pick a movie.”

And Maki was gone, with a flash of pajama pant clad leg. Except that on Nico’s phone, Maki’s voice was swinging into a bluesy opening of “Lady Be Good” that turned laughing and flirty. Nico smiled, she could tell Maki was forcing herself not to wink as she sang

“I am so awfully misunderstood So lady, be good to me Oh, please have some pity I'm all-alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me”

And then with a wink, and a brashness that surprised Nico, Maki started scatting, a huge grin between nonsense syllables, her voice dropping lower and lower, and then suddenly a sprint back to staccato, and then another wink and the final verse, daring someone to save her.

“Oh, please have some pity I'm all alone in this big city I tell you I'm just a lonesome babe in the wood So lady be good to me Oh lady be good to me”

Nico took her mug of tea and a cookie to the media room, still thinking about Maki’s performance. As stellar as Maki was on the piano, she was also starting to show real flair as a vocalist. Nico found herself imagining the duets they could do when her 10 days of isolation were up.

But Nico stuck to practical as a conversation opener. “I left water in the kettle if you want tea.”

“Thanks.” Maki got up, she’d already opened the windows and left Nico the seat closest to them, “I’ll probably just stick with milk and cookies.”

“Oh good, bring the rest of the cookies.:” Nico settled into her seat, “Hey Maki, where’d you get the idea to scat? Ella?”

“The Muppets.” And Maki was out the door. And Nico was once again intrigued by how little she could guess about Nishikino Maki’s thoughts.

###

Another Café Quarantine performed and posted. Nico was buzzing. Even in separate rooms, her duets with Maki were fire. And now Eli was on a video chat.

“You beans have so much chemistry. Nozomi can’t wait until you bring Maki over for dinner.” Eli laughed as she curved a silver bangle bracelet, “How’d you two start dating? All the ‘you were roommates” tropes. Or was it at work? Ooh, a coffeeshop AU! When’d you kiss? Where’d you kiss? Behind the counter at work, while you expertly sprayed whipped cream on a mocha? Taking a break from inventory and sharing a chocolate chip cookie? In the kitchen, wiping chocolate off her cheek.”

“Enough with your fantasies. And Nico is contagious, we are not dating. I thought Nozomi was the nosy wife.”

Eli leaned back and stretched, blonde hair in a tight ponytail. “I’m bored. Nozomi’s gotta keep working but I’m stuck at home. I need vicarious romance.”

“No. You need to put together a dance routine for a night of Café Quarantine.” Nico had decided to drag Eli back into performing. In the two years, Nico had spent at college, she’d had enough dance classes with Eli to be impressed at the ballerina’s abilities. Then Maki could play a more classical piece.

Eli leaned forward, chin in the hand propped on her knee, and sighed. “I’m out of shape.”

“For you.”

Eli shrugged in low key agreement, “I’ll think about it. Are you really not dating?”

“No.” Nico sunk back into pillows.

“Not even a not yet?”

“Maki’s a hard read.”

Eli shook her head, tapping her forehead. “You’re nuts. Do you listen to her singing?”

“That’s just music.” Nico had been telling herself this almost nightly.

“Nico.” Eli’s tone was serious, “no one sings like that if it’s just music.”

Nico sat up, her tone matching Eli’s. “Maki might, she’s a genius.”

“Plus,” Eli was very good at ignoring Nico when necessary, “she invited you to quarantine at her house and didn’t kick you out when you got sick.”

“Her dad wanted to, I think.”

Eli leaned forward, her face contorting comically, “Well, duh, Nico, another point for DATE THE HEIRESS.” Eli’s eyes brightened, “You’re in a Korean drama. Does her mother hate you? Is there an ex? Spill.”

“Don’t call her ‘the heiress.” Nico didn’t want any more attention paid to that aspect of things than she already had to. How was she supposed to compete? Would it be like dating the poolboy or the maid in Maki’s parents’ eyes.

“Maki.” Eli said simply.

“Maki.” Nico liked holding the syllables in her mouth.

“Why aren’t you dating Maki yet?”

Nico flumped back into her pillows, “Nico wants to be well.”

“Say, hey, let’s date. Then it’s settled. There’ll be time for kissing later.” Eli went back to bending silver.

“Things have to be the right temperature. Or they break.”

“Don’t throw jeweler references at me, Nico.”

“But it’s true...how about cooking references? If you take a cake out too early or too late, even by a minute, it’s not as good. And the more complicated the cake, the more a miss messes it up.” Nico groaned, almost throwing a pillow at her phone, “Plus, Nico’s exhausted. And hungry all the time.”

“Still coughing.”

“Yeah.”

“Be careful. We miss you.” Eli’s sincerity was always soothing.

“I miss you.”

“I get the exhausted thing. It’s hard to think about romance when you can’t keep your eyes open. Nozomi’s working double shifts to cover our bills.” Eli held up the bracelet to show it off.

“That’s pretty. When Nico gets cleared, I’ll cook you a special dinner.”

“Thanks.” Eli chuckled, “As long as you bring your girlfriend Maki over.”

Nico chucked a pillow at her phone.

###

R: Did you tell Nico you like her yet.

M: Pick another topic.

R: Where are we going on a double date?

M: Rin.

R: What’s wrong?

M: I’m just thinking about a lot of things.

R: Don’t think. Just do. You overthink (҂⌣̀_⌣́)

Rin was right, Maki did overthink, but right now, she legitimately had at least three major issues she was juggling, including the fact that finding herself sitting and staring into space, remembering Nico’s voice and mimicking her gestures was interfering with Maki’s ability to plan anything.

M: I’m just ready for a change,

R: ( ¬_¬)

M ˚▱˚

R: Is this about your parents?

M: It’s about me. I’m going to be 21.

R: Your trust fund?

M: Not really exactly that. I just feel like I should make an I’m an adult statement.

R: Date Nico.

M: Before that.

R: Oh.

M: Yeah, oh.

R: (σ≧∀≦)σ

M: Thanks.

R: Donuts and coffee in the backyard tomorrow?

M: Not before noon.

R: (≧ω≦)ゞ

###

M; How are you feeling?

N: Tired. What are you doing?

Maki looked at her exchange with Rin.

M: Nothing.

N: Nico too.

M: Good night.

N: Great show tonight.

M (~_^)ｂ

N: See you tomorrow.

M: Donuts for breakfast.

N: Not healthy.

M: Dr. Nico needs to change her opinion, one of them will have blueberries. And toasted coconut is wonder food while coffee leads to longevity. All science-y stuff I read somewhere.

N: Σ(T□T) Dr. Nico?

M: I got the rockin pneumonia and the boogie woogie flu.

N: Will donuts fix you?

M: Yes.

N: Nico will find a recipe.

M: ♥

M: Nico…

N: ?

Maki considered typing something like, what if I quit the coffeeshop? When are you leaving? Can we have a kiss theme week?

M: Get some sleep.

N: c⌒っ╹v╹ )っ

Maki dropped her phone on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Where to start so many conversations?

A/N: And this monster of an @auyeahaugust fic continues. Take care!

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #RinPana #Hoshizora Rin #Koizumi Hanayo #Ayase Eli #NozoEli #Au Yeah August #Coffeeshop AU

12 notes · View notes

pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 4 years

Text

it’s what you deserve pt. one

summary: you’re running late to an important class, what more could go wrong?

word count: 1.6k

link for the rest of the series

Living with your best friend meant many nights spent on the couch giggling about anything and everything under the sun. It meant random texts asking if you had seen a shirt she wanted to wear only to feign ignorance and pretend that it definitely wasn't the one you had on. It also meant that you got to tease her early in the morning before class when she's hungover from going out with her new boyfriend the night before. And that just might have been the biggest perk of all.

“Did you drink the whole bar?” You teased, calling to your best friend Bee over your shoulder as she sat slumped at the kitchen table while you dug through the cupboards. “I know it's called Thirsty Thursday, but you didn't have to go that hard.”

“Fuck off.” She groaned, eliciting a chuckle from you. You didn't feel too bad about making fun of her, knowing damn well that she would gladly return the favor next time you went out with some coworkers and looked the way she did the next morning. “I wouldn't have drank as much as I did if somebody hadn't bailed on me.” You pursed your lips, not bothering to respond right away as you found the box of granola bars you had been searching for. Taking one for each of you, you put the box back in it's spot before turning to lean backwards against the counter.

“I told you,” you started, punctuating the first part of your sentence by tossing her granola bar towards her, grinning slightly as she flinched when it landed in her lap. “Max said he wanted to talk and that it was important.”

“I'm sure that whatever Mr. Egotistical had to say was very important.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. She took an obviously annoyed bite of her granola bar as if her distaste for him wasn't already obvious. Your gaze flicked to your own bar in your hands, the conversation almost taking away your appetite completely as you fiddled with the plastic wrapper. You knew she wasn't mad at you for canceling on going out with her boyfriend and his friends, but just annoyed that you bailed because of Max—especially since she knew you had been looking forward to meeting her boyfriend.

It was no secret that Bee didn't like your... Max. You'd been seeing the guy from your psych lecture for a little over four months and he still hadn't put labels on what you were. You certainly weren't seeing anybody else, but you weren't convinced on his own fidelity. You knew deep down that whatever was going on between you and Max wasn't the healthiest, but surrounding that was the selfish feeling that told you it was nice to have someone pay attention to you like Max did. You had convinced yourself that even if he wasn't perfect, he was good enough and you deserved something along those lines.

“So what did he want to talk about, anyways?” Bee questioned, her voice softer now. If you had to pick just one thing you loved about your best friend was her uncanny ability to always know when you were having internal debates and needed a change of topic. The girl could practically read your mind. Her gentle smile faded, though, to a look of confusion when you shrugged your shoulders in response.

“He just wanted to hang out, I guess.” You tried to downplay it, but you knew that Bee was biting her tongue to stop herself from saying something about how he was being manipulative, it wouldn't have been the first time she said something about him doing so and though you'd never admit it, every now and then you could see what she meant. But still, you kept quiet and responded to his every text, even if it sometimes took him whole days just to get back to you with a ‘sorry, just seeing this’ message.

Sometimes it got really hard to convince Bee you were perfectly fine with how things were with Max. Sometimes it was even harder to convince yourself you were fine.

Living in New York City meant public transport was a must, no matter how much you hated it. But that also meant that you got to spend a few extra minutes a day catching up with Bee as you rode the subway.

“Adam just texted me.” She stated, smiling subconsciously as her boyfriend's name appeared on her phone. You warmed at her happiness, and a small part of you wondered if you'd ever get that with Max. “Oh, shit, I forgot to ask you.” She said as she read the text, and you raised a brow in silent question. You stepped closer to Bee to let some people off at their stop, trying your hardest to make yourself take up as little space as possible on your morning commute to class. “The Rangers are having a charity gala, and Adam asked if I'd bring you as a plus one because he doesn't want me to be alone when he has to chat up old guys all night. It's in two weeks.”

Bee's Adam was Adam Fox, star defenseman for the New York Rangers. When she had told you she started seeing a new guy you had been excited for her, and when she showed you a picture of him you had nearly screamed. You were a huge hockey fan so the fact that she was dating someone on the team was exciting, but as time went on you were seeing him more as your best friend's boyfriend instead of a professional athlete.

You snorted at her explanation, asking for more details about the event before finally agreeing by the time you were at your stop. As you left the subway tunnel and joined the crowd of pedestrians on the street, Bee was talking your ear off about what to wear and whether or not you'd have to go shopping. You were on the side of just finding something in your closet, but Bee told you she was going to drag you to the store at some point the following weekend.

You weren't sure why you decided to pack most of your classes onto the same day, but you did and you had a twenty minute break between classes that found you down the street and standing in line at your favorite coffee shop. There were more people than you would have assumed, so by the time you had gotten your drink you were racing out the door to make sure you made it to your final class of the day.

As if life knew that you were in a rush, as soon as you reached the door of the shop it swung open on you, knocking your drink and spilling your iced coffee all down your front. Of course this had to happen the one day you're wearing a white shirt and late for class.

“Fuck, I'm sorry!” A deep voice apologized as soon as you realized what had happened. You waved off the man who had hit you with the door, tossing your now-empty cup in the trash as an employee rushed over with some napkins and a mop to get the coffee that spilled.

“It's fine.” You assured the stranger, looking up to finally meet his guilty gaze only to be met with quite possibly the most attractive man you had ever seen. Light brown hair, greenish blue eyes, and a bit of facial hair. He also was wearing a suit, and all of this combined led you to recognize him as Brett Howden of the New York Rangers.

“Let me buy you a new one.” He offered, a sorry look on his face as watch you futilely dab at the coffee stain on your shirt that made the white fabric a light brown. You felt your face burn red with embarrassment as you realized you must have looked like such a mess in front of someone who played for your favorite hockey team.

“I'm fine, really, I'm running late for class anyways.” You tried to brush it off, but Brett shook his head, not letting you get away so easily. A blush bloomed on his own cheeks as he thought about his next response.

“I have an extra sweatshirt in my car you can have?” He offered, and you eyed him for a moment, weighing your options. You couldn't miss your next class, it was attendance mandatory and your professor had a habit of locking the doors before starting lecture. You also couldn't just go to class in sit in a soaked, coffee stained shirt. Before you knew it, you were nodding, following him out the door and to a nice car parked just down the street from the cafe. “Don't worry about returning it, I have about a hundred of these.”

“Thank you.” You replied, trying not to smile too dumbly at the blue and red sweatshirt he handed you. Of course, it was a Rangers sweatshirt, with a number twenty-one on the sleeve that had your heart skipping a beat without your permission. You tugged it on, finding that it was way too long on you, but it covered the stain so it worked. It was really soft and smelled like what you assumed was Brett's cologne—but that totally wasn't the reason you liked it so much.

“Um, good luck in class?” Brett offered, wincing slightly and chuckling at the awkwardness of his own sentence. You laughed, not quite ready to leave Brett on the sidewalk but knowing you might have to just run to make it to your class on time, you took a step backwards and waved.

“Good luck with your game tonight.”

And with that, you turned, slipping into the crowd on the sidewalk and once more blending in with the rest of the city, leaving Brett staring at the spot where he had seen you last with a soft smile on his face.

#brett howden #Brett Howden x reader #Brett Howden imagine #Brett Howden series #its what you deserve #New York rangers #New York rangers imagines #New York rangers imagine #hockey #hockey imagine #nhl #nhl imagine

48 notes · View notes

twistedintern · 4 years

Text

Kyuu’s Chronicle - Entries #1-6

Entry One

“Everything happens for a reason.”

...That was, up until recently, a favorite adage of mine. Through good times and bad, I would think back to those five little words.

Everything happens for a reason.

Struggle.

Success.

Waking up inside a sealed coffin after an unremarkable night’s rest.

...Hello, Lady Fate? Might I be able to file a tiny complaint? WHAT THE FLYING EVER-LOVING F*CK?

You don’t just up and isekai a normal adult woman into the middle of some Harry Potter-grade magical college without providing her with purpose, know-how, and a means of returning home! I am NOT the token light novel hero with a personality that screams ‘lovable fish-out-of-water,’ alright? SHEESH. I could’ve been injured, kidnapped, or worse....

Fortunately--yes, there’s always a silver lining, Kyuu. Remember that--while I now know I could’ve ended up as mincemeat at the hands of delinquent students, I was first happened upon… by a cat. That cat was accompanied by a pair of men. Well, I knew one of them was a man. I couldn’t make out his features clearly in the dimly-lit chamber before he left, but he sounded and held himself like a middle-aged man would.

His companion, though? Different story entirely. When he lifted his lamp to get a better look at me, providing me with some much-needed light with which to take in my surroundings…

Feathers. Gaudy shiny things. A suit, tie, cloak, a grand hat.

Two piercing yellow lights shining from a beaked half-mask.

...Mere inches from my face.

I had never fought so hard to suppress a scream in my life.

Entry Two

A bit of time has passed since that, um, eventful night. Because I’m really bad at keeping diaries, I’ll just give a recap:

I have never wanted to go home so badly in all my life.

The individual I met back then--he introduced himself as Dire Crowley, by the way; a fitting name if I do say so myself (I still flinch whenever I see him or hear him call my name. God, he’s so weird)--turned out to be the headmaster of this place. ...Um, what was it called again?

...Right! Night Raven College. He tells me nonstop how prestigious this place is. He’d better not be exaggerating, though that seems to be his general way of talking about things that matter to him.

(I hope he’s telling the truth: if so, it’s only a matter of time before word gets out that I don’t belong here. He won’t believe me whenever I tell him I’m from another, altogether separate world.)

In the meantime, Crow Man has me holed up in a rather spacious (and quite homey) tool shed a short hike away from the central plaza of the school.

I wish I knew why he’s always so hellbent on emphasizing how terribly kind he is when it comes to doing things for others. Normally, I’d consider that sort of behavior to be incredibly suspicious. I mean, I know administrative heads of these kinds of institutes have it tough and are largely underappreciated, but it really feels like he’s hiding something...

Entry Three

Crowley invited me to his office today, and for once, he was the least remarkable thing in the room.

I have never been so shocked in all my years. So much so that I fainted as soon as I processed what I was seeing. (I don’t faint.)

Portraits flanking his seat, seven in total, suspended midair by magic forces beyond my understanding.

The no-nonsense Queen of Hearts

Scar, the usurper lion king

Ursula, the sea witch

Jafar, the sultan’s scheming right-hand

The beautiful and vain Evil Queen

Hades, lord of the dead

Maleficent, the preeminent sorceress of all that is wicked

When I recovered consciousness, I nearly shrieked.

“THEY’RE YOUR ‘MAGNIFICENT SEVEN’?”

Crowley responded with a simple nod of the head. Hadn’t I seen their statues on the main street? He wished to know why I was surprised.

“I… KNOW THEM.”

Crowley blinked before affirming that yes, I ought to. Very few people in the world don’t. Then I reminded him I wasn’t from this world.

Fast-forward, crow man drags me to some grandiose “Hall of Mirrors” and asks the principal spirit what my deal is. (Why didn’t he do that sooner…?) The spirit (which also looks eerily familiar) validates my entire argument: that I’m a magic-less adult from outside their realm.

And Crowley? Crow Man? He and the mirror spirit might as well have been discussing the weather, because he didn’t seem bothered or troubled by the revelation in the slightest!

Entry Four

A few days later, Crowley made a formal announcement that I would be joining the staff of the college. …As an intern of sorts.

Huh? Excuse me? Did a bird man really just make an executive decision to take me on as his servant?!

For some reason… I’m not as pissed about this as I feel I could be. After all, I’m painfully aware of how I have zero business at Night Raven; it was well within his rights to kick me out. The least I could do is make myself useful.

Crowley (I never thought I’d be calling a bird my boss, but here I am!) sat me down later over a light lunch to tell me about the men I’d be assisting in the days ahead:

Mozus Trein, Professor of Magical History

Very serious, highly respected. A good judge of character with zero tolerance for poor work ethics (yikes!)

Divus Crewel, Professor of Alchemy and Magical Sciences

Exacting, charismatic. A celebrated fashion designer (???) whose wrath has earned him admirers and foes alike

Ashton Vargas, Professor of Kinesiology (I guess he’s the PE guy)

Passionate, persistent. Is known for his narcissism, but is a dependable team player when it counts

Sam, Proprietor of “Mr. S’s Mystery Shop”

The go-to man for all your buying needs. Is a bit on the eccentric side, but that’s part of his charm

Maybe this won’t be such a lousy arrangement after all....

Entry Five

Allow me to amend my earlier statement ever so slightly:

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST ARRANGEMENT IMAGINABLE.

My first day on the job has been nothing but one disaster after another. These men are unreasonable, larger-than-life characters with the most obtuse expectations and tendencies I’ve ever met! Why oh why couldn’t I have been made younger in the process of this whole isekai-ing business? A great many students, as I’ve now come to learn, aren’t half bad. (The remarkable ones among them certainly left a lasting impression…) What’s more, they actually seem terrified of these fellows birdbrain assigned me to aid.

Divus Crewel is not my type of person AT ALL. He’s vain, cold, and completely unforgiving. He tore at me from the get-go, his cold grey eyes boring into me as he informed me how drab my sense of style was. The headmaster spoke so highly of me; he thought it fair to assume that I would be a remarkable presence having come from a world apart. I know well his type: petty and shallow. (Bastard thinks he can wear fur like that in his line of work? Tch.)

Ashton Vargas was, unsurprisingly, the textbook definition of a musclehead. He chewed me out for my poor physical constitution and demanded that I join him for early morning jogs around campus followed by intense cardio. Not for nothing, but exercise is not my thing. Naturally, he’s so into himself that he didn’t bother listening to me when I tried to politely turn down his invitation.

Sam… where do I even begin about that piece of work? ‘A bit eccentric’? Only a little? Way to downplay things, boss bird! The guy is a bonafide freak. He’s all about making sales and nothing else, and he’s as sketchy as rotten fish smells. And get this… his shadow? The thing has a mind of its own, and he does nothing to keep a reign on it. I couldn’t tell if he was joking, but as soon as he started talking about his “friends on the other side” with a snicker and a twinkle in his eye, I hightailed it out of there. I am never going back to his place of business ever again, even if it kills me.

I haven’t even met the last person the Headmaster told me about, but if he’s anything like his colleagues--or worse--Crowley might as well throw me to the sharks and put me out of my misery. Going by the information that… crow so generously shared with me, he doubtless feels like someone who’s going to see right through me and utterly crush what little self-worth I have left.

Please, I just want this nightmare to be over already....

Entry Six

So… um, hold on. I need to gather my thoughts. Deep breaths, Kyuu. Deep breaths.

Today was… nice. I can’t believe I’m saying any of this but… I’m kind of happy.

Although I had initially considered skipping my appointed first meeting with Professor Trein, I decided to suck it up at the very last minute and take whatever fate had in store for me head-on. I do not regret my decision in the least.

Where do I begin? I was so damn nervous when I knocked on the door to his office. A voice urged me inside, but the first thing that greeted me wasn’t the voice’s owner… but a cat.

This fluffy black and white feline, its expression demure, ran up to me immediately and took to rubbing against my leg. It was the cat from that fateful night I woke up inside a coffin! He held still and stared at me expectantly before issuing a rawl. I looked up to find a stern man, dressed in antiquated robes, regarding me with an unflinching glower. I was paralyzed with fear--I’d screwed up, hadn’t I?

Then he smiled at me. “It has been a while, Kyuu. I was expecting you.” He was the other person from that night! I just nodded my head dumbly and followed him inside. I could see how one could find him intimidating, what with his piercing visage and strict, commanding aura, but for me there was something almost comforting about his olden mannerisms.

We had a delightful talk over freshly-brewed tea. He asked me about myself, and I was stunned to learn that he and I had many things in common! He was positively amazed how quickly his beloved cat (who’s name is Lucius, by the way) warmed up to me. All the while, I was fondly reminded of my university days where I would spend hours on end talking with one of my favorite history professors after class.

I eventually opened up to him about my catastrophic first day with his colleagues. He expressed sympathy, but at the same time he was quick to point out that perhaps I was taking things too personally, and that I had jumped to conclusions without putting things in perspective. Knowing my tendencies, I conceded that he was probably right.

#twisted wonderland #twisted-wonderland #kyuu's chronicle

7 notes · View notes

skzsauce01 · 5 years

Text

Stolen

Description: After having his Soul Stone stolen by you, a witch, vampire!Jisung, can’t help but be intrigued by you. Unfortunately, your best friend is a werewolf and killer vampires have your school under attack.

Warning: blood, death, censored cursing, attempted rape

Word count: 8.5k

Pairing: Jisung x fem!reader, some Hyunjin x fem!reader

Special thanks to ad.gray who helped edit (and roast)!

He finds it even more ironic that you are a witch. He, a vampire, the rarest and most powerful species, had his Soul Stone stolen by a witch, the most common and “blah” species of them all.

Yet as fate would have it, there he is, leaning on the frame of the main door to the vampire dorm watching as you return his stone the very next morning with a lowered head and a bag of cookies as a peace tribute.

You had stolen it for class, you explained. Your teacher assigned an essay on how you would go about stealing something and recommended actually trying to do so for up to a 20% extra credit opportunity. Thus, you snuck into the vampire’s room last night. You were caught of course, but Jisung was overconfident. He held one of your wrist against your belly and the other in the air while teasing his teeth over your neck.

You knew he wouldn’t bite. For one, he hadn’t turned yet, and for another, vampires seem to hold a virtue of needing consent before biting.

His stone was in the shape of a ring and forgotten on his index finger. It took a bit, but you finally managed to slip it off without him noticing and jumped out his window, transforming into a cat before landing.

You ran to a silver store afterward, which is probably why Jisung hasn’t thrown you in a cell yet, but you couldn’t hide forever. So there you are, project completed and raising the ring back to its owner.

After hearing your explanation and apologies, Jisung slowly descends the front steps to meet you on the sidewalk, and you flinch with every step he takes. Finally, you feel a chill hand clasp on top of yours. You might as well have died right then and there from fear until you hear him laugh.

“It’s okay. Look up.”

You shakily do as he says and see an amused face.

“You’re Y/N, right? You have Professor Bang?”

“Y-yes,” you reply.

He closes your hand around the ring and steps back. “He’s also this dorm’s director. He knew you’d steal my Stone and gave me a fake one, see?” He pulls out a chain from around his neck to reveal the authentic stone hanging from it. “I didn’t think you could do it though, so I applaud you. Why return it though? If it were real, you could have had a vampire under your mercy.”

“Well, I--” you inwardly curse at your voice for shaking-- “It’s not mine, and it just seemed like the right thing to do, so here I am.”

He laughs again and snarls, which makes you jump and him let out another round of chuckles at your expense.

“Sorry, sorry. I won��t do that again. You’re really afraid of vampires, aren’t you?”

“N-no?”

He rolls his eyes, amused. “Why choose one to steal from when you’re this scared?”

“He offered me the most extra credit for it,” you admit in a low voice.

“Bang Chan,” Jisung mutters, “he did that on purpose to mess with me, didn’t he?”

“W-well then, that’s all I wanted to say!” you exclaiming, hoping to end the conversation. “Please excuse me!” You stuff the bag of handmade sweets in his hands and speed away in an awkward combination of both walking and running.

Jisung watches with interest as your back disappears into the shrubbery. When you are gone, he turns back into the house and takes out a cookie. Chocolate chip. He bites into it and the chip he broke bursts into a pool of blood in his mouth. His eyes widen, and he wolfs down the rest of the treat with impatience. He really does need to see you again, especially after finishing the bag.

It doesn’t take much to find a vampire on campus. To compensate them for not being able to see their own reflection, Nature has made them all incredibly attractive, which means a lot of fangirls squealing and loosening their neckties when one is around.

You inwardly sigh when you start hearing the familiar commotion from the door of the communal laboratory you are in. To make matters worse, the vampire is none other than the one you very much stole from.

He catches your eyes and smiles, making his way to the station in front of yours. You quickly look back at your tubes and try to look busy.

“Hey,” he greets regardless.

“Hi.”

He raises an eyebrow at your work, but leaves you to it and begins setting up his own work, an action you are most grateful for.

However, that doesn’t stop someone else from disturbing your peace.

“What are you working on?”

“Hyunjin! Why are you here?” you gasp at the werewolf’s sudden appearance by your side.

He looks at the instructions you are using and lets out a knowing “ahhh.” You were making perfume, a popular product females tend to use monthly to protect themselves from those with blood in their diets.

“Doesn’t the school provide you some? They’re like in every classroom in case someone get like a cut or something. Why do you keep making your own?”

“You said those smell bad.”

Jisung agrees that the body sprays the school provides smell like cheap rubbing alcohol, but the more pressing issue at the moment was why you are so familiar with a werewolf.

“Aww, you don’t have to work so hard for me,” Hyunjin purrs into you neck once he saw the vampire’s interest in your conversation.

“It’s not just for you, Hyunjin,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “If you don’t like it, I’m sure other predator species don’t either.”

Hyunjin doesn’t give up. “I know you love me. There’s no need to hide it!”

“Please stop. There’s other people around.”

“So you wanna go somewhere private?” he whispers just loud enough for only you and the male in front of you to hear.

Jisung crushes the test tube he was holding in his hands. Some of its contents splashes into another container of substances, causing pandemonium on his lab table.

You scramble to his side. Some students are screaming at the bursts of fire and foul odor the reaction produced.

“What were the reactants?” you ask Jisung.

“Nitrite and toad spit,” he answers, clearly shaken by the mess in front of him.

You run to the chemical closet for a bottle of mermaid pee from under the counter and pour it onto the table, successfully neutralizing the reaction. After the last drop of pee had fallen, you and Jisung are still staring at the mess, gasping in post-shock.

"You're amazing," he gasps.

Coming back to reality and realizing what creature stood next to you, you quickly shrink back to Hyunjin who puts you posessively behind him and stares at Jisung.

"Not really," you muster.

Once the real peril has passed, Jisung's fans are quick to his side with towels and cleaning supplies. You forgo your own project, knowing some girl will carelessly knock over something anyway, and let Hyunjin drag you out of the lab.

“Hey, Y/N.” Once outside, Hyunjin lets go of your hand but still sticks close by. “Be careful of Jisung. I think he has an agenda with you.”

“Just because werewolves and vampires don’t get along--”

“No, think about it. Have you ever seen a vampire in the school lab?” he cuts.

You shake your head.

“That’s because they’re filthy rich. They have their own lab in their dorm, so why else would he be there, right in front of you too, might I add?”

Back inside, Jisung looks for you in vain over the crowd. He doesn’t even have a project to work on; he had honestly just been trying to find the right window of time to ask for your cookie recipe and maybe get to know you a little better. Now, not only is he swamped by human flesh, he also found out you are in some sort of relationship with a werewolf. Sure, the feud between werewolves and vampires ended a century ago, but both communities still held lingering hatred. To make things worse, the way he was talking to you sure did not sit well with Jisung.

“Someone had sour blood,” comments Bang Chan as his junior slumps through the door.

“Hyung....” Jisung groans, flopping onto the couch next to him. “How’s Y/N like in class?”

Chan raises a brow. “Y/N? Why do you ask?”

“She’s so afraid of us. Doesn’t she freak out with you teaching?”

“Well as a teacher, the school has my Stone, so I can’t go around biting people. She’s actually pretty comfortable with me. One of my favorite students too. Why? Want me to play wingman?”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant!”

Chan giggles. “You’re blushing~”

“That’s impossible!” Jisung retorts. “I haven’t had blood since lunch!”

The younger begins to stomp up the stairs angrily until Chan speaks again. “You’ve probably found out why she steers clear of us, right? You’ve seen the wolf?”

Jisung stops mid-step, prompting him to say more.

“She’s probably heard a lot of warnings from him about us. They practically grew up together.”

“Are they together together?

“I don’t know that much. But do tell me, my lovely Jisung--” Chan smirks and rests his chin on the back of his wrist dramatically. “-- why the sudden interest in the witch?”

“You started it! Who the heck assigns thievery as an assignment anyway?” Jisung yells down and beelines to his room. However, Chan’s words linger in his head. Why indeed does he care? He recalls you wholeheartedly apologizing for your felony and how your eyes shifted with concentration while saving him from his potion disaster…

Jisung shakes his head. It’s those cookies. He just really wants more cookies.

Yet when he finds out Jeongin is paired with you on a project, he skips his classes for the afternoon to stay home.

You arrive at the vampires’ front porch-- the furthest you are willing to go into their territory-- to meet your partner. The male has already moved his supplies outside for the both of you, and the two of you work to mix a solution that best minimizes the effect of silver, an element that nullifies powers, out of the entire class.

“Hi freshmen,” Jisung teases softly while casually walking out of the house.

You bow politely and Jeongin mumbles something back.

“Lemonade?” he offers before peering over at your work. “Oh, I did this last year too. May I stay to watch?”

“I want apple juice,” Jeongin complains.

“Then get it yourself,” Jisung hisses into his ear and takes a seat on a swinging chair after setting a glass of refreshment by you and sipping on another himself.

You thank him, and Jeongin begrudgingly excuses himself to the kitchen.

“Y/N, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Jisung starts.

Upon hearing your name, you bolt up straight and turn towards the sound.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he chuckles. “I just wanted to know how you make those cookies. They were really good.”

“Oh um, I just found a recipe from the library for chocolate chip cookies. Then I just froze blood and dipped it in chocolate for the chips,” you answer.

Jisung nods his head. “Do you know which book it was?”

“‘Neat Sweets,’ I believe. It is light green with brownies on the cover. I can make some more for you if you would like,” you offer apprehensively.

Jisung sits up with a smile. “Really? That’ll be great! Could you teach me how to do it too?”

More time with a vampire? Hyunjin would throw a fit.

“I’ll write out the recipe for you,” you suggest while returning a nervous smile.

The way Jisung deflates back into his chair makes guilt churn in your stomach. You turn back to your work to test the first batch of solution.

“I’m back,” your partner announces.

“Jeongin, do you think you can mix the second set? I finished the first one, so I’ll write down some observations.”

“Sure,” he agrees, “how was the first set?”

“Pretty good. It made a thin layer of foam form around the silver, which will lessen its contact with the flesh. This second experiment should be better though since we’ll use heat to give more reactants energy to form the product.”

“Okay. I finished measuring the reactants. I just heat it now, right?”

“Yes.” You look over to his E flask. “Wait, the silver is supposed to be added after he--”

The solution begins bubbling. Realizing what is to happen, you reach to turn off the fire, but it is too late. Shards of silver ram into the sides of the flask and explode from it. Jeongin is still processing your instructions and unable to react. You turn and tackle the boy to the floor while feeling sharp shards pierce your arms and back.

“Y/N? Y/N!” you hear as your eyes dim.

Jisung waits anxiously in his bat form by the window for you to wake up. Hyunjin was listed as your emergency contact, and the werewolf immediately kicked him and Jeongin out, especially after hearing how you wound up in the hospital in the first place. Hyunjin has yet to notice him, but when you blink awake however, the rodent begins to flap his wings a little too excitedly and ends up banging into the glass.

Hyunjin snaps his head toward the noise with a scowl and gets up to close the blinds, much to Jisung’s disappointment.

“Hyunjin?” you call wearily.

“I’m here. Right here,” he assures, rushing to your side.

“What was that noise?”

“Just a bird. It should be gone now.” He makes sure to raise his voice at the last part. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay. What did the nurse say?”

“The silver was thin and didn’t go in too deep, but your magic system should be affected for a week. Otherwise, they said you should be fine.”

“May I go home today?”

“You could have been discharged once you wake up, but I’m not letting you go back to your dorm. I signed you in for tonight. With me.”

“Hyunjin, the vampires weren’t intentionally hurting me. I’ll be--”

“No, you’re not fine!” he shouts. “And it doesn’t matter what they were doing. You walked into their territory, without telling me, might I add, and was injured. You can’t go to that one place, Y/N; that’s literally all I ask. I can’t see you there; I can’t protect you there.”

“I don’t need to be--”

“Oh really? Even if they do this?”

You feel his breath grazing your neck. You can tell he has turned by the fur on his skin, meaning sharp teeth are just millimeters from your skin. One paw pins down your shoulder, and the other is on the headboard behind you.

“Yes, even then,” you whisper. “I’m just a witch, Hyunjin. Don’t try to fight a vampire for me.”

He drops his head into your chest and gathers you into his arms. “No, don’t say that, Y/N. You don’t know how much that hurts me. You don’t know how much I worried when they told me vampires brought you to the hospital. You don’t know how much I wished I was there with you when that tube exploded…”

You rub behind his ears comfortingly while he shakes against your body. He completely lets his wolf form overtake him and you snuggle into his familiar fur with a purr.

You begin regretting your answer just two days after you said it when a ghoul has you pressed between a tree and his torso right on the outskirts of school. You had just gone grocery shopping, but now your milk is long forgotten by your feet.

You should have called Hyunjin to walk you since the sun was threatening to set. There are a lot of 'should haves' you should have done, but you didn't, so there you are, basically magic-less and obviously much physically weaker than the ghoul.

"Come on, don’t be difficult, sweetie. You know, I've been watching you for a while now, especially how your skirt swings when you pass my desk in the mornings."

"Please let me go," you plead.

"Don't say things like that now," he chides. "You know, the red light district is populated mostly by lowly species like you, witchy."

He starts by kissing you from the base of your neck to your chin while working on your necktie with his fingers. You focus on how much magic you can muster. It certainly isn’t enough to fight him off, but perhaps you can send a spark into the sky to signal Hyunjin. You gather all that you have in urgency-- the ghoul is already traveling down your chest-- and fire.

You watch in despair as your shot barely makes it past the shortest tree. You slump back, completely drained now, to accept your fate.

The ghoul cackles at your attempt. “What were you trying to do with that injury? I did my research before meeting you today, you know; I’m not trying to fight that wolf of yours. This is near the vampire dorm; there’s no way he is close enough to here to be able to see that.”

“He’s not the only one you should be looking out for if you mess with her though.”

The ghoul turns toward the voice and curses.

Within the second, Jisung is between the two of you. You can see him putting back up his human disguise as he faces you.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

You nod and shoot your hands up to your blouse to do the job of your buttons.

He gives a small smile and drapes his blazer over you. “Close your eyes for this, alright?”

You do as told and feel a wave of magic as Jisung drops his human cover again. You hear the ghoul beg for mercy and Jisung retorting something vile back. The two disappear for two minutes, probably with the vampire dragging your harasser to authorities. After the minutes, Jisung returns alone.

“Y/N, it’s alright now. You can open your eyes.”

Jisung stands a good distance from you. “You’re probably afraid of me too, so I can go if you want me to.”

“Wait!” you call and stumble to him to grab his shirt as he begins to turn away. “C-can you stay for a little bit? Just so I can regain myself?”

Jisung can’t help but let on a wide smile. “Of course. For as long as you need.”

He turns back towards you and buries your head in his chest while using his powers to radiate heat from there.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

You walk up to the vampire’s dorm again, this time with a bag that contains Jisung’s blazer and more cookies. Hyunjin trails behind you with his hands up to indicate no harm. You couldn’t explain why you had Jisung’s jacket around you when he found you later that night, so he made you promise to let him come along when you returned it to its owner. He’d behave, you hope. Even Hyunjin knows he doesn’t stand a chance against a whole dorm of vampires, no matter how strong he is.

You knock on the door knocker, feeling less intimidated now. However, all the feelings resurface when an unknown vampire swings the door open. His hair is slicked back and his eyes blood red. Fangs protruded from mouth in a snarl.

Hyunjin quickly moves you behind him. “We’re not here to fight; we just have something to return to Han Jisung.”

“Leave it on the steps and leave, Wolf.”

“Look here,” Hyunjin returns, “I’m trying to be cordial.”

“Changbin-hyung, leave them be. You’re scaring Y/N,” says another voice from inside. Jisung pushes past his friend to relieve you of your baggage. “Thanks Y/N. I’m sorry about that guy.” He then shifts his gaze to your companion and gives him a nod. If Hyunjin is your friend, Jisung supposes he should at least play nice.

“Alright then, we’re done here; let’s go, Y/N.” Hyunjin puts his arm around you and beings turning you around.

“I think Y/N can walk by herself,” Jisung calls after him.

Not too nice.

Hyujin throws a look over his shoulder at the other male, but you agree with Jisung.

You take the opportunity to turn back towards the house and bow at your waist. “Thank you for everything!”

Jisung feels a warmth creep up his features as he waves goodbye at you.

“Mind telling me why that fiend has any reason to thank you?” Changbin interrogates his junior.

“I helped her. Isn’t it natural to thank someone you helped?”

“You helped her? She hangs around a wolf and she’s a witch.”

“She’s not a fiend,” Jisung frowns.

“Did you forget the savagery werewolves inflicted on our kind?”

“That was a war; we both acted barbarically. Besides, there are integration reforms now; we’re supposed to be comrades under the name of this school.” Jisung can't believe he's defending a werewolf of all things. Usually, he stood with Changbin against Chan on these topics.

"And what have you to say about hanging out with a witch?"

"What do you have against a witch?"

"They're useless! Absolutely pathetic! You're a vampire, Jisung. You should find someone of higher caliber to interact with." He tugs on Jisung's ears which were reddening. "Let alone fancy," he whispers.

"I just ate! It happens!" Jisung protests. "Besides, your vampire elitism is ridiculous. She's Chan-hyung's top student. Over Jeongin, might I add."

"That's because he teaches classroom, not the important things."

"Worth isn't just measured on the battlefield."

Changbin just shakes his head. "Where is your pride, Jisung? We're known to graduate and serve in government or run corporations, and you're here trying to befriend a housemaid."

"Hyung! That's enough!"

You are standing outside the door, hand raised, ready to knock until you hear Changbin calling your kind useless and Jisung defending you. You had turned back because you had written out your cookie recipe out on paper but forgot to give it to Jisung. Perhaps it is better for you to just give it to Jeongin tomorrow now.

Hyunjin gives you a confused look when you turn back around without completing your mission. You return to his side and tell him not to worry about it as well as ask to go home. He transforms into his wolf form and carries you back for the price of a good petting session later.

You feel warm with your face buried into the fur of your best friend, but you suspect the warmth to also come from imagining Jisung’s pursed features as he stands up against his hyung for you.

Hyunjin turns his head to see you smiling peacefully on his back. He lets out a content hum and takes extra care to avoid the bumpy spots on the ground.

His yellow hair is slicked back. His eyes would be gleaming red if they aren’t closed. Heavy black shadows dusted eyelids. Worst of all, his mouth is around the side of your hand, sucking whatever he can.

Rather than receiving your recipe, Jisung had convinced you to show him how to do it. To be honest, you too want to know him better, so he didn’t have to try very hard. The day was going well-- he had rented out a communal kitchen, so Hyunjin can’t complain and Jisung wouldn’t be bombarded with fangirls-- until you tried to cut some butter that was a little too frozen.

The knife left droplets of red in its wake. Jisung has never smelled something so delicious before, and the very fact that the blood smells of you makes it all the more impossible for him to not drink.

And so, he drinks. He feels your warmth, breath, and life enter his system. His deadly fangs graze past your skin, ready to act should the cut cease to be enough.

“Jisung,” you try calling.

Your word falls onto deaf ears. The vampire just adjusts his grip on your hand which sends you into fight-or-flight. In panic, you reach for his Soul Stone that you know hangs around his neck.

“Jisung!” you try again once you feel the ring inside your palm.

His head shoots up, and his eyes widen once he realizes what he has been doing.

“Shoot, Y/N, I… Oh my goodness, Y/N I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Oh, why did I-- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-- Shoot, shoot, shoot. I’m so sorry, Y/N. I swear that won’t happen again.”

He bows and bows and bows while trying to read your expression every time he straightens back up. However, you display nothing but shock for him to see. You reach into your bag for a bottle of perfume and spray it. You feel it sting your wound before you bandage it up, an action that Jisung is quick to help you with, trying in anyway he can to make amends.

Jisung usually likes the smell of your perfume-- he’d search for it in the hallways in hopes of finding you-- but now it reminds him of why you have to use it in the first place: to ward off predators. To ward off him.

“Y/N, I’m sorry. Could you.... Could you say something?”

Your eyes snap up when prompted by the request. You take a step back and turn to hide your face in your hair, actions which tear Jisung apart, and take a sharp inhale. “Are you hungry?”

“I--I don’t know. Maybe. I have a snack in my bag, but you were just so-- I mean, I’m just so, so sorry, Y/N.”

You nod and put the butter in the microwave for a few seconds. Jisung doesn’t seem satisfied with your response.

“Would you feel better if I left?”

You turn towards him a little too slowly than he would like and shake your head. “It’s fine. You didn’t bite, and I know you didn’t mean it. I’m just… a little shocked and lightheaded.”

The microwave beeps and Jisung reaches for it from behind you, an action that makes you even more lightheaded. “Then let me help you. Just take a seat and tell me what to do, Y/N.”

You watch him scurry back and forths the kitchen with his brows furrowed, trying to make everything perfect. When he looks up at you with big doe eyes after stirring the batter, you can’t help but smile and feel your earlier shock ease away.

“Like this?” he asks with a quiver.

You let out a small laugh into your hand, much to the male’s surprise which, like everything else, is evident on his face.

“Not quite. Let me show you.”

You take the whisk and ignore his protests. After finishing the batter, the two of you roll bits of it into balls and spread them onto the cookie sheet. When the oven bell dings, the two of you excitedly throw on your mitts and take out two pans: one of blood cookies and another of regular chocolate chips. Jisung pops one into his mouth while it is still piping hot and you gently scold him for it. The earlier tension seems to be forgotten by the two of you.

Jisung looks fondly at you as you blow on your own cookie to cool it down. The one in his mouth doesn’t taste as good now after what he had eaten earlier. He knows he’ll never find anything as irresistible as your blood. He’s heard his hyungs have described the irresistibility and unique flavor of what he has just experienced before, and they all called it one thing: love.

Jisung went to bed happy that night. Bang Chan looked accomplished for some reason after seeing him return home with his head in the clouds. Changbin looked annoyed. Angry even. Well, Jisung decided, Changbin can suck it, and so can Hyunjin because he isn’t about to let you go.

He went to bed happy, but he couldn’t stay that way.

Around two in the morning, the school emergency alarm goes off. Jisung throws on his school blazer and steps groggily outside to see vampires and other creatures piling into the courtyard.

“We are under attack. This is not a drill. Students, report to your homeroom teachers for further assignment,” repeats the speakers over and over.

The announcement is enough to send Jisung’s adrenaline going. “Chan!” he calls. “Channie-hyung!”

He finds the older vampire and clings onto the cuff of his shirt. “Hyung, Y/N is in your class. Take care of her please. She’s really smart. Put her in intelligence.”

“Jisung, that’s not for me to decide. I can’t play favorites and give her a safe position on my own.”

“Hyung…”

Bang Chan bites his lip and grumbles.

“Please,” says a voice, but it isn’t Jisung’s.

The vampires both turn to see a werewolf who slowly lowers his torso toward his sworn enemies. “Please look after her.”

“Hyunjin,” Chan begins. “Hyunjin, you don’t have to do that.”

The wolf straightens up and looks at Jisung. “Come on. Professor Kim is waiting for us.”

Jisung nods and gives Chan one more bow before following Hyunjin. All the while, he looks through the crowd in hopes to find you. He’s later assigned to a combat unit with Changbin and Hyunjin. He questions the decision made by the faculty, but decides he has better things to worry about.

At one point, he catches a glimpse of your hair, but you are gone before he could even call out to you, leaving him with nothing but the smell of your perfume. Changbin, unsure of why his two groupmates suddenly stopped dead in their tracks, urged them onward, rightfully reminding them of their mission.

The trio found and fought a couple enemy groups including goblins and witches. What struck them as odd however, was that the enemies all seemed savagedized. After a long day, the three finally decide to set up camp.

“So who’s taking first watch?” Hyunjin asks.

“Well not you; you’d probably kill us in our sleep,” Changbin scoffs.

“Hyung, Hyunjin had your back a couple of times today,” Jisung interjects before Hyunjin can argue back.

“Once,” Changbin corrects. “And I would have been fine without it.”

“Well I don’t trust Changbin either,” Hyunjin snaps back.

“Fine, I’ll take watch,” Jisung offers. “Is that fine with everyone?”

A grumble of agreement ripples between the two others and they settle down. Jisung sits against a tree with a sigh and watches as the fire they built crackle and pop. He sighs again when he looks at the other two who are sleeping as far away from the other as possible, and he sighs yet again when wondering how you are doing.

After what feels like the hundred exaggerated exhales, he finally hears something that diverts his attention. Something rustled the bushes, sending Jisung to his feet. It sounds small, perhaps a squirrel or a racoon.

“Who is it?” Jisung growls just in case.

“Meow.”

A head of black fur pops out from the shrubbery. Jisung has only seen you transform into a cat once that night when you stole from him, but he immediately feels it in his veins that it is you.

You run to his side, happy to see him, and jump into his arms when he holds them out for you.

“Y/N? You’re on field medicine?”

“Meow.”

He leans into your pelt. “I guess it could have been worse.”

You blush under your fur when you feel his face buried in your side. You look around in embarrassment and spot Hyunjin. You squirm around for Jisung to let you go to him.

“Wait,” says the vampire, now fully alert of something.

You perk up your ears and hear it too. Someone is coming. There’s two of them, and they are moving incredibly quickly.

Jisung puts you onto the tree he was leaning on. “Hide up there, okay? And don’t look down; I’m going to look… well, scary.” He offers you a small smile, never wanting to scare you like he did during the baking session again.

“Changbin-hyung, Hyunjin,” he calls out.

The two wake up just as the people in question arrive. They’re vampires, but they look different from Jisung and Changbin even when they’re turned. Their hair is unkempt rather than clean and slicked back. Their eyes are red but unfocused. Their nails lay long and yellow on their fingers.

“Just vampires? This will be easy,” scoffs Hyunjin.

“You wanna fight?” Changbin snarls back.

“Guys, stop,” Jisung scolds. “Something is off about these two.”

Changbin nods, now more serious. “You’re right. I think they’re the Soul Vampires.”

“Soul Vamps?”

“Vampires who have killed,” Jisung explains. “Biting is addictive for us, especially if we do it so much the person dies. We can absorb parts of their soul through our teeth, which is why it’s so addictive. It can make us stronger, but it can also send us into an insane spiral of thinking of nothing but our next prey.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” Changbin comments with a grunt as he blocks a move from a Soul Vamp. “I guess this is why all the enemies we fought today were so weird; the other side has been feeding off humans.”

“So basically, they’re just a stronger enemy,” Hyunjin reiterates while taking his wolf form.

“Well there’s three of us and only two of them, so it shouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Actually,” Hyunjin growls. “Look at their hands.”

Between the nails of the Soul Vampires is something reflective. Silver. The blood they’ve drunk is letting them heal faster than the silver is causing harm. Changbin lets out a curse, and the air thickens.

An enemy lunges at Hyunjin. The wolf swivels around and pins his foe onto the ground. The vampire twists his arm around and swings silver at his paws. Hyunjin leaps backwards, unknowingly into the second vampire who is waiting with more silver.

Jisung luckily jumps in to push away the second adversary while Changbin wages a fight against the first.

“Thanks,” Hyunjin growls to Jisung.

“Sure.”

The two tag team and finally manage to drive off one of the Soul Vampires with only a few cuts and bruises. However, Changbin is not doing so well by himself. He lets out a grunt, and his comrades turn to find him on the floor with significant pieces of silver lodged into his right leg.

Jisung quickly blocks off the opponent from further hurting his friend. Hyunjin is also quick to the scene.

“Changbin! Prop yourself onto my back!”

“I’m not running away from a fight,” refuses the oldest of the three, “and I’m sure as heck not letting a werewolf help me.”

“Hyung!” Jisung opposes between struggling grunts. “You don’t have much of a choice; you can’t even stand!”

The Soul Vampire throws Jisung to the side and raises his hands which are loaded with silver.

“Grab my fur now!”

He doesn’t. Instead, he emits a blood-curdling scream as metal plunges into his body. He manages to avoid a few of them, but the other vampire throws enough to still knock him unconscious.

“Changbin-hyung!” Jisung cries, rushing to his side.

Hyunjin, seeing Jisung is distracted, headbutts the Soul Vampire in his stead before it can reach for more silver. The wolf chases the foe away, leaving just you and Jisung with an increasingly paling Changbin.

You open your eyes after hearing Changbin’s scream and jump from your tree to the fallen male.

“Y/N, Y/N,” Jisung cries desperately. “Do something. He’s… he’s…”

You release your transformation spell and throw open your medicine kit. You tear away the sticks, knowing silver will do more harm than blood loss, and toss it to the side. Your hands feel a sharp pain as your weak magic reacts with the metal, so you can only imagine what effect it must have on a creature like Changbin. Still, you move without ceasing until the very last piece is torn out.

Even after finishing, your hands sting.

“That’s not good,” you whisper.

“What is it?” Jisung whimpers.

You inspect your hands for the cause of the stinging and find a dusty substance. “Silver powder. It’s still inside him.”

“What can we do?”

“Remember the project Jeongin and I did? I found an even better method that uses a spell to reduce the effects of silver, but--”

“But?”

You bite your lip. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m going to start doing it. Do you have some blood in your bag? He’ll need to eat to gain energy.”

Jisung nods and feeds his hyung a packets of blood while you mix together a solution and pour it onto Changbin’s wounds while mumbling a spell. Jisung watches as the liquid solidifies around the silver under your command. He is in awe, but you are feeling something quite the opposite.

You are just a lowly witch. Really, you deserve all the insults and jokes others throw at you for being weak. During the third round of pouring the solution-- about half way through removing enough silver for Changbin’s body to heal itself, you can already feel your breath getting shorter and your vision losing focus.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Jisung asks.

You nod and swipe sweat away from your forehead before continuing with batch number four. You spill batch number five onto your shaking hands and Jisung asks the question again, this time holding onto your shoulders to support you. You shake him off, now unable to process his complaints, and make another mix. You push through that one and make the last blend. You pour it onto Changbin’s wounds and feel Jisung grabbing your wrists to inhibit you from casting your spell. You vaguely realize Hyunjin returning and use the distraction to slip a hand out from Jisungs grasp. You mumble the words one last time then let your body fall into panicking but secure arms.

“Y/N!”

Jisung grips at the bars around your bed, staring at your from and willing it to wake up.

"Are you mad at me?"

Jisung replies without looking back, "Why would I be mad?"

"If I had put my pride down and took Hyunjin's help, she wouldn't be like that right now."

Jisung finally turns to face Changbin who is sitting in the hospital bed beside yours. "I'm not. It is regrettable, but she was the one who decided to save you." He turns back away. "You should apologize to Hyunjin though. And thank Y/N when she wakes up."

Changbin looks down at his hands, processing Jisung's words.

"They're assigning me to another unit within the hour," Jisung continues. “Like they did with Hyunjin.”

"I'll look after her."

The blonde raises a brow at his hyung.

"I'll care for her in your steed, so don't worry," Changbin reiterates.

Jisung lets a small smile spread. “Thanks, Hyung.”

“Sure.” Changbin weakly returns the expression. “Go give ‘em h*ll.”

Jisung gives a sharp nod and, after one last look at your sleeping body, goes to get his new assignment.

After his departure is Changbin’s turn to look at you.

“Y/N,” he begins uncertainly. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to say this to you when you’re awake, but um, Jisung’s right. I guess I let my pride get in the way of doing what is best, and you got hurt because of it. What I’m trying to say is, I’m, uh, I’m sorry and thank you for saving me. You’re not as worthless as I stereotyped you as; you definitely don’t deserve the things I said about you.”

He scrutinizes your face, not sure why he is expecting a reaction. “And um, I guess I wanted to add that Jisung really likes you. He’s like a brother to me, so I want to make sure that whoever he chooses to spend the rest of his life with is worth it. It looks like he’s chosen you, so treat him well, okay? He can be a handful sometimes, but he’s honestly a ball of joy and love. Make him happy, and I promise I’ll, um, make sure you’re always happy too.”

You stir a little which sends Changbin’s heart racing, wondering if you heard the sap he just spewed. Luckily though, you seem to settle back into sleep.

You wake up the next morning. The first thing you notice is the lack of medical personnel attending the usually well-monitored hospital. Instead, a Changbin stares down at you while in crutches. You smell a tinge of blood in the air, and haggard breathing and coughing ripple through the halls.

Once confirming you’re awake, Changbin exits the room to hunt for an available nurse, a task that is proving to be increasingly difficult as the days of battle increases. The vampire is of little words. Still, he surprised you by tending to your every need from eating to helping you get to the bathroom.

Throughout the next three days, you slowly regain your strength with his help. The two of you learn that Soul Vampires are racking up casualties for your side. Twenty-six from your school has died from battle so far, six being just freshmen and four being well-trained seniors. Predator species on your side have been beginning to feed off family and friends in attempts to gain equal footing with them, which adds to the casualty count when someone loses control and kills their loved ones.

There has yet to be a vampire to try doing so, however. For one, they’re too occupied on the front lines to meet with their loved ones. For another, their enemy is exactly what they fear they’ll be if they tried feeding off a human.

Changbin looked grim when he was first presented with the idea of biting someone. You’ve tried to avoid the topic around him, but he is getting better rapidly, and will soon have to make the decision when he is sent to the front lines again. As a matter of fact, the day of departure is tomorrow.

“Mr. Changbin,” you address him as yet another wounded is wheeled past the two of you.

He looks at you from the corner of his eye, trying to look as cold as ever.

“I-if you decide to do it, I, er, can help you.”

He turns fully towards you and narrows his eyes, which makes you freeze, but you hold your ground.

“Why,” he interrogates you.

You don’t have a response. It seems natural; there’s a battle like no other, and the only way for your side to have a chance is for you to do this.

Changbin sighs at your lack of response. “Even if you’re willing. I’m not the one you should be saying that to.”

“Then take me to the field tomorrow for someone else to do it.”

“You’re not even discharged,” he scoffs.

“It doesn’t matter how I’m feeling for someone to bite me. Every second counts right now; we’re averaging a casualty an hour. We need someone who can stand a chance against those Soul Vampires to bite someone. Another vampire, namely.”

He continues analyzing you and breaking down the stereotypes he had of you. As much as he admires your courage, however, he had made a promise to keep you safe.

“I can’t,” he refuses.

“Why not? I can transform into a cat so my weight won’t strain your legs.”

“It’s not that. You’re willingness is admirable, I admit, but I’ve promised to keep you out of harm.”

“To whom?”

He gives you a look. You both know to whom.

“Then take me to him; I’ll get him to agree to let me be bit. You and I both know volunteers like me is the only way we can win this. There hasn’t been a vampire death yet, but I can’t imagine it’ll be long before there is one. We don’t know who it’ll be; it might even be him. What use will your promise be to a… well, a dead man?”

Changbin closes his eyes to give your words more weight. When he opens them again, his decision is clear. “Why wait until tomorrow then?

You thought your nose has gone blind to the metallic scent of blood in the hospital, but the smell is all the more sharp and pungent on the field. Bodies lay forgotten against trees or covered in dirt, strengthening your conviction more than ever.

You can’t tell if Jisung is furious or delighted. He asked Changbin to leave the two of you alone in the temporary military tent with ice in his voice but grips and regrips your arms while holding you fast in a hug as soon as the older male left.

“Y/N,” he mumbles, “why are you here? Are you all better now? When did you wake up? When did they discharge you? Did they treat you well? Did Changbin-hyung treat you well?”

“Jisung, I can’t breath,” you say while patting his back.

“Ah, sorry.” He lets you go but keeps his hands on your shoulders.

You offer him the best smile you can muster. “I’m fine.”

He sighs and smiles in relief. “So what are you doing here? They sent all the witches to unit 3.”

“Actually, I’m not here on orders; Changbin snuck me out.”

“What? That hyung, I’ll--”

You grab his wrist as he turns to find his victim. “Wait! I was the one who asked him to do it. I have something to ask of you.”

He looks back at you, giving you his full attention.

“Bite me.”

“What? No!”

“One of the vampires have to do it-- it’s the only way we can win-- and… and I rather it’d be you.”

“Do you know what that means? People have died from it! I’m not doing that to you.”

“I know what the process encompasses; I still think it’s the better option. I mean, look at what’s happening outside! We’re evidently losing; this is the only way.”

“No, I’m not doing it, and neither is anyone else. I’m going to ask the field medic to look after you. Then you’re going to unit 3.”

“Jisung--” you grab at his wrist again but miss and instead grab his sleeve. The fabric slips off his shoulder too easily, as if he doesn’t want it there, and reveal a near-fatal gash. It’s enough to make you wonder how he is even still conscious.

“Jisung,” you breath again, this time for a completely different reason.

He carefully pulls his shirt back on, careful not to agitate the wound, while staring at the ground.

“Jisung,” You whisper softer this time. “This can heal you. You won’t get hurt again and you can save everyone.”

“I know,” he replies, voice cracking. “But I can’t do this to you… You’re you… You’re… you’re… Do you know how I’d feel if I killed you?”

“And do you know how I would feel if you died out there while I stood here doing nothing?” you return gently. “You won’t kill me Jisung. Just take enough to not die yourself, okay?”

You slip his shirt off again to prove your point while brushing your hair to the side. Tears run down Jisung's face as your scent begins to overwhelm him, especially when you break the skin of your finger with your teeth and smear the blood over your neck. He leans forward, basically sobbing now, but stops.

You look at him questioningly. He fumbles with something around his neck and rips it off.

"Here. Make sure to tell me when to stop."

He slides his Soul Stone ring into your finger then bites.

It hurts. It isn't as romantic or sexy as movies depict. Being bitten by a vampire is nothing but pain. The both of you are crying in different but shared aches, and you feel your knees give out. Jisung holds you up to his teeth still even though your body wants to be as far from him as possible.

The ring burns against your finger, beckoning you to use it, but you will yourself to wait until the last moment. You want him to take what he needs, even as the world begins to blacken. You can see his wound closing rapidly and you focus on that. Then, as your vision finally wanes out, you mumble, "Jisung…"

But his fangs were already out of you moments before you said anything. Your blood was getting harder and harder to drink, and he wants nothing more than for him to drink harder and harder in return, but something stronger caused him to stop.

Something much stronger.

And so, he retracts himself instead and buries his head in your limp body, soaking it with tears.

By the time you come to again, the battle is already almost over. More vampires decided to follow Jisung’s lead and consensually bit others, leading to only one death from the process. What also helped your side was Jeongin and Bang Chan taking your solution and pouring it over the soul vampires, rendering the silver they held useless.

In just two days, you are able to stand by the front gate of your school, waiting to welcome your classmates home. The first person you see is none other than your best friend who runs over to you and swings you around.

“Y/N! We did it! We won!”

You share his excitement and pull him into a quick, tight hug.

The moment comes to an end when you release him. Hyunjin’s face is etched with worry as he runs his thumb over the gauze on your neck.

“I’m fine, Hyunjin,” you reassure him while gently pulling his wrist away from you.

“He bit you…”

“I asked him to.”

Hyunjin frowns harder. “Why?” But he isn’t really asking.

“Y/N.”

You both turn towards the voice and see Jisung with a goofy grin on his face. He pulls you in a hug as well which makes a warm smile stretch across your face. He then leans back a little to see your face and brush your hair from it.

“You’re awake,” he breathes.

You nod. “For two days now.”

Hyunjin watches the two of you interact with a pang in his heart. He doesn’t miss the green ring around your finger which you try to take off and return to its owner.

“No, keep it,” urges Jisung.

“It’s your Soul Stone though,” you protest. “This is like giving me your everything!”

“You’ve already stolen my everything.” He chuckles at the double meaning of his words which makes your breath hitch. “Y/N, I’m in love with you; will you be my girlfriend?”

Something in your stomach makes you look towards Hyunjin, but he has turned away from your conversation and is intensely studying a tree. You see Changbin walking over and giving the wolf a rub on the shoulder and you a reassuring nod.

You turn back to Jisung. “Yes.”

~ ad.gold

#vampsung #vampire jisung #han jisung #skz #stray kids #werewolf hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #jisung #vampire changbin #changbin #vampire bang chan #vampire chan #bang chan #witch reader #vampire au #han #20190901

212 notes · View notes

imaginexmeintheuniverse · 5 years

Text

Sparks Will Fly

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1, 793

A/N: better late than never on this hiatus of sorts i suppose but I've been dragged way back into the hp groove so maybe I'll start writing for that fandom too??? Anyways here's some Fred love for Valentine's day~

You and Fred Weasley have been each other's backup Valentines for as long as you can remember. From when you were kids and gave each other cute cards with animated drawings.

You say backup Valentine, yet you actually did end up being together and going out on what you both assumed to be a purely platonic Valentine's day date every year. There were a few years, here and there, where either you or him thought you might have spent it with someone else, but you always ended up cozied on the couch together, sharing an assortment of sweets by the end of the night— always involving a dozen chocolate frogs that he buys you because they're your favorite.

This year, however, things seem to be different.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

"Sorry to leave you all alone this year, love," Fred tells you, leaning onto you as you try to complete your homework— key word 'try' because having your best friend who is significantly bigger than you shifting all his weight onto you males it a lot more difficult to write. "But I've got a very special girl I need to impress."

"That's all right," you reassure him, looking up from your page. It'll probably end up like it does every year anyways... right?

"Don't be missing me too much, I don't want you to be lonely—"

"I think I'll be able to manage just fine," you chuckle, turning back to your potions assignment. "Who knows? Maybe I'll find my own date."

"Oh, but you couldn't replace me," he says in a sing-song voice as he lays his head in your lap, rending it completely impossible to continue writing.

"Don't get cocky, Weasley," you scoot over a smidge so that his head drops, but is still next to your leg as you carry on. "So, who is it?"

"Oh, I can't tell you that, love, it would ruin the surprise."

"What? You're ditching me on Valentine's day, and I'm not even allowed to know who for?" You drop your quill and look at him incredulously. He tells you everything, what makes this so different?

"That's right, you'll just have to wait and see like everyone else," he smiles, standing from the couch. "I will say this: sparks will fly."

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

The eve of Valentine rolls around, and you realize that you had barely spent any time with your best friend all week. All the time you would usually spend together— which is pretty much always— has nearly halved from all of his running around and scheming to 'woo' this mysterious girl for the 14th day of the month.

He shovels his food down even quicker than usual, it comes as a shock to you that he hasn't bloody choked, and then he prepares a hasty departure.

"Hey! Where are you going?" You catch him by the wrist before he dashes off.

"I've got romance to brew!" He flashes you an impish smile and turns to leave again, only to have you pull him back again.

"I certainly hope that doesn't mean you're going to stoop so low as concocting a love potion just to get a girl to like you—"

"Of course not, it's a figure of speech," he places his free hand over his chest in mock-hurt. "Y/N, I hope you don't think that low of me; my devastatingly handsome looks are more than enough for the ladies to handle. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to some fire— err things to smuggle— I mean prepare."

"Wow, you're really pulling out all the stops," you settle back in your seat, releasing your grip. "Must be some special girl."

"Yeah, she really is," a daze settled over his voice and his features became entranced with a goofy grin. Now it hits you: this was going to be your first Valentine's day without Fred, and he was going to spend it with a girl he was clearly head-over-heels for.

"Well, best of luck," you offer him the most supportive smile you can muster before he runs out of the grand hall.

Your gaze unconsciously follows his figure and stays there even after he's out of sight, your meal and the rest of the world temporarily forgotten.

"You know," George drawls, observing the scene from the other side of the table. He has, without a doubt, been analyzing the whole interaction.

"What is it Georgie?" You roll your eyes playfully, already expecting a teasing remark.

"If I didn't know any better, Y/N, I'd say that you’re jealous of this girl."

"Yeah right," you dismiss him whilst trying to maintain the lie you're obviously telling yourself, which is that this doesn't affect you at all. You're trying to ignore the pang of envy clouding your heart, thinking about who this girl could possibly be.

George lets out a snort, indicating he doesn't believe a word you said, because other than Fred, he knows you better than anyone. Your expression must have betrayed you because he's reading you like an open book.

"I wouldn't worry too much about that other girl, though," he shoots you a knowing grin.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

Today is the day. Which day exactly? Right, the one where you find out which lucky girl has stolen your best friend's heart whilst you watch from the corner of a room as he proclaims his love with a grand gesture.

Speak of the red-headed devil, you haven't seen him all day; he wasn't there at breakfast, and he wasn't in the class you shared either— the latter of which was more common for him to skip. You haven't seen Fred Weasley all day, and now even as you sit across the lunch table from his twin brother, he is nowhere to be found.

"Where is he?" George merely answers you with a shrug, even though he obviously knows something you don't, but before you can interrogate him, the entire hall erupts in a chorus of oohs, ahs, and intrigued students looking all around the room.

Allowing your eyes to wander the room as well, you also find yourself watching the scene before you in awe, even though you've grown up in a world of magic. Rose petals are strewn all over the floor, bushels of your favorite flower have appeared as center pieces on the tables, and the floating candles are burning a soft pink hue and have started to move around, presumably into some sort of formation. Just when you've taken everything in, you're taken by surprise again, this time by fireworks. They explode in hearts, all timed like a symphony that carries the same melody as your favorite song, and then fizzle out in colors you've never even imagined.

Returning your focus back to the candles, you see that they've taken the shape of a massive heart and letters inside— your initials.

"What the..."

"Y/N?" Your ears perk up at the sound of a familiar voice and you whirl around to see none other than Fred Weasley.

"F-Fred—" He stands no more than a step away, grinning down at you with the widest smile you've ever seen. "Wh-what are you doing- what's going on?"

"Y/N," he speaks your name with such certainty, like it's the most wonderful combination of syllables that was created just for him. You're already reeling from the shock and seemingly the only person who still doesn't know what the hell is going on— and then he gets down on one knee. He holds up a chocolate frog box up to you with his left hand and holds his wand up in the other. With one swift flick, golden sparks light up the air above his head, forming the words 'will you be my Valentine' as he looks at you with his bright doe eyes. "Please?"

You honestly have no words. All you can do is break out into a smile, and throw your arms around him, nearly knocking him to the ground. He hugs you back tightly, securing you to him with an arm around your waist as he stands. Setting you back on your feet, he doesn't let go as he asks, "Shall I take that as a yes?"

Again, you don't answer him, instead tightening your arms around his neck and pushing yourself up to capture his lips. You think you might hear a few whoops and cheers around you, but you're too engrossed in the moment to fully register.

The domineering narrative on this moment is that it's been a long time coming. If you weren't so busy enjoying the moment, you'd probably be kicking yourself for waiting so long.

When you break apart, you don't let go of each other and he's got the goofiest love-struck grin you've ever seen.

"Although I'm glad at how well this all turned out, I think the chocolate frog may have escaped when you—"

"Mr. Weasley!" Professor Snape calls out as he approaches the pair of you. "To Professor Mcgonagall's office at once for this ridiculous display! I'll let her deal with you accordingly." He always did know how to ruin the fun.

♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡ • ♡

You wait outside the head of Gryffindor's office for Fred to come out and when he does, you worry he might be bringing bad news by the look on his face.

"Snape's taken quite a few house points, the sour old man," he pouts, looking a little defeated, but then a corner of his mouth quirks up. "But good ol' Mcgonagall seems to have a soft spot for grand gestures dedicated to her favourite student."

Smiling, you take his hands and lace your fingers through his. "You know, if you wanted me to be yours, you could have just asked," you giggle, pressing a feathery kiss to his cheek. "You didn't have to go through all this trouble for me."

He gives you a weird look for a moment, as though you describing his grand gesture as 'trouble' he went through for you is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard.

"You are well worth it— in fact, I went fairly tame this year, watch out for next year, you're going get the full Weasley love experience!" You really can't tell if he's joking or not, but you're too happy to care.

"So there's going to be a next year?"

"Of course," he chuckles, bringing up a hand to either side of your face. "If you'll be mine...?"

Now it's your turn to look at him like he's being ridiculous— which he is, because he should know by now that, "I always have been."

443 notes · View notes

wolfstarisfxckingcanon · 5 years

Text

Don’t forget about this /part 3

Word count: 2918

Summary: (Part three of my don’t forget about this fanfics. In case you haven’t read them:) Sirius had been really drunk some night several weeks ago. He and Remus kissed and Remus told him not to forget about it. Sirius did and they got into a fight. Now some weeks have passed and it’s full moon again...

Remus Lupin took a look around. Dust was floating through the air, the first weak sun’s rays were shining through the window. Where was he? Rotten wooden floor, the old piano, the smell of mold, rain and wood.

Finally he started to understand. He was standing in the shrieking shack, his shirt torn, his head hurting… it must have been full moon again.

Now he recognized his friends, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter standing only a few feet away. They were both looking exhausted, but relieved that their friend had finally turned back into his human form again. For a moment Remus just kept staring at them, his first instinct was to see if they were hurt… if he had hurt them. Peter looked fine, he only had some small scratches on his arm, nothing too serious. But James, he had a big red bloodstain on his shirt…

“Oh god! Are you alright?” Remus whispered concerned, with a weak voice and walked towards Potter.

“Don’t worry about it”, James told him, trying to cover the red spot with his left hand, so that his friend didn’t have to see it, “it’s not too bad. One visit to the hospital wing and I’m gonna be as good as new.” He smiled a bit in order to comfort his friend, but he was very pale, some drops of sweat were visible on his forehead. No, he didn’t look alright, he looked agonized, Moony thought, feeling the lump in his throat.

He was so sick of this. He was sick of those sleepless nights. He was sick of feeling like a monster. He was sick of hurting his friends, of them playing it down to protect him. It was not fair, they shouldn’t have to suffer every single full moon, just for him, they should never have gotten hurt because of him and they should never get hurt again… It must be so hard, he thought, especially now, that it was only the two of them.

Over two months had passed since the night he and Sirius had had this… moment. And they hadn’t really spoken ever since. They had tried to, the day after, but Sirius didn’t seem to remember anything about that night, which made Remus so upset he ran away and hid in the room of requirement. When he came back late at night, Sirius tried to talk to him, tried to explain so desperately how he remembered now, but Remus… he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to listen. He told the other boy to leave him alone. And the next day it felt even weirder to speak to each other, just like the day after, or the week after… or the month. At some point, both of them had given up on each other. None of them felt as if the other wanted them to talk or even as if they wanted to have them back in their life again.

It had been a hard time. Not only for the two of them, but for all of the marauders. The atmosphere in the dorm was always so tense. It was so quiet all the time, no stupid jokes, no serious conversations, not even some light talks, nothing. Peter and James always had to choose whether they wanted to spend the day with Padfoot or Moony and they felt torn every single time. And then when the two estranged boys were forced to talk to each other, due to a school project maybe, they only said the necessary, usually not more than single words and parted ways again as soon as possible.

When the three marauders arrived at the dorm again, Sirius had already gone to breakfast, which made Remus feel relieved, but also incredibly sad somehow. Peter took a quick shower before leaving as well, while James came up with some crazy story about how he got his wounds and went to the hospital wing.

Once they were gone Remus took a shower too, before taking care of his own wounds. Most of them weren’t too deep, except for the one he had on his face. Great, he thought, just where everyone can see. While getting dressed he already tried to come up with what to tell all those nosy idiots who were going to ask him about it throughout the day, but his head hurt too much and he couldn’t exactly think straight.

When he was ready he sat down on his bed, all he needed was a little break before going to class. His wounds burned, his head hurt, his stomach was cramped. No he couldn’t join class in this condition. Maybe if he skipped the first lesson, he would feel better afterwards. Plus they had McGonagall and she knows what was going on anyways, Lupin thought to himself, before lying down. With his finger and thump he started rubbing his forehead, hoping for his headache to magically disappear, (which of course, it didn’t,) then opened his eyes again and sighed loudly.

It was only now that he discovered that there was something on his nightstand that didn’t usually belong there. He sat up again. A big red cup filled with coffee, that was still at least a little warm and a bar of his favorite dark chocolate. No way, that couldn’t have been Peter or James. Does that mean…?

Looking around the room again, Remus started to realize other small things, that were somehow different than before. The bed he was sitting on right now had been freshly made and he was sure that he left it all messy the night before. And there on the floor he spotted his favorite woolly sweater, the sweater he always wore when having a hard day. It had been washed, folded and put in front of his closet.

“Sirius”, he softly said to himself, “why did you…?”

He wanted to help me, Remus figured out, he wanted to help but he couldn’t do it the way he used to, so he did… this?

The boy frowned, a little confused he leaned back on the huge stack of pillows again and took a little sip of coffee, then ate the first piece of chocolate, letting it melt slowly in his mouth. Not quite the healthiest breakfast one can have, but after a night like this, Moony couldn’t imagine a better one. It felt as if every sip of the dark drink gave him a little more energy, a little more life, and as if every bite of chocolate made his headache slowly go away.

Now, that all the other Griffindors had classes, it was completely silent in the dorm. All you could hear was the birds outside singing happily to greet the day. Remus drowned the sound by sighing loudly once again. Not an annoyed sigh though, rather one letting out all of the stress, all of the pain…

It was the first time in weeks that the young wizard had experienced such a silence. Sharing a room with your friends is great, of course, but you never have a minute for yourself (unless you’re a fxcking werewolf who has to skip class every once in a while, Remus thought).

But now he was alone, now he had time to think, think about everything that had happened lately. And by everything he meant Sirius and all the things that had happened between them. He was still angry. Sirius had hurt him really bad, he knew how much he meant to him and still… No he didn’t miss talking to Padfoot at all. He didn’t miss his stupid jokes, or his stupid pretty face, or playing with his stupid long hair while listening to Queen songs together and he totally didn’t miss that stupid smile Black had, or rather used to have, every time Remus walked into the room…

Okay fine, maybe he did miss him.

At least a bit.

Maybe he missed Sirius’ smell, that unique sweet odor combined with the smell of cigarettes and lemon tea (“Just because I am a dark, bad ass rebel doesn’t mean I can’t value a good cup of tea, Moony!”). Or maybe he missed sitting way too close to him every single time they sat together and maybe he also missed that stupid smile, that he, Remus smiled every time Sirius entered the room.

But what was the use of admitting all that? Sirius probably didn’t miss him at all, Remus thought and once those words appeared in his head, he felt as if his heart broke into thousands of pieces, as if it ached horribly. He took another bite of chocolate, this heavenly chocolate that Sirius had gotten him.

Yes, exactly, Sirius had gotten him that chocolate. Maybe, Moony thought, maybe there was a chance, even if it only was a small one, that Sirius did miss him as well. And maybe, even if all of that was just in his head and the other boy just wanted to be nice, wanted to be polite or helpful, maybe the chance was worth giving a shot.

He took the last big sip of coffee, put on his jumper (fxck school uniforms, today’s a jumper day!) and put the rest of the chocolate in his pocket. Who knows what the rest of the day might bring, if I end up sobbing ugly on the toilet because I interpreted my love’s actions wrong, I might as well eat the rest of this!, he thought to himself while grabbing his backpack and running towards McGonagall’s class room.

He was already walking through the corridor, when it occurred to him that he was going to interrupt her class now, having everyone’s eyes fixed on him, on his wound. And what was he going to do anyway? Storm into the room, recite some French love poem and carry Sirius outside like a bride? Oh boy, he should have just waited in his room for Padfoot’s class to end, but then again he felt as if he’d go crazy doing nothing now. And so he knocked on McGonagall’s door.

It was Longbottom, who opened it. He looked at the wound in the other Griffindor’s face for a moment, his mouth slightly open, he looked shocked, but tried his best not to show it by sitting down quickly again.

“Good morning, Pro… Professor”, Remus stuttered a bit. Having the whole class watching him as if he had just arrived from the future to pronounce the apocalypse didn’t help the already pretty anxious boy.

“I… I knocked my head… in the… in the shower this morning and felt a little dizzy. So I came later. I’m… I’m sorry.”

Knocked your head in the shower, what the hell Remus, this doesn’t look as if you had knocked your head in the goddamn shower.

“Of course Mister Lupin. I hope you feel better by now. But would you be so nice and sit down so that I can continue with my class?” Professor McGonagall replied with her posh voice.

You’re still an idiot, he thought to himself while walking down the aisle and sitting down on his usual spot… right next to Sirius.

Sirius looked tired.He probably had spent most of the night lying awake, thinking about what he could do for Moony (or at least that’s what Moony liked to imagine). His tie was hanging loosely around his neck and his hair was tied into the messiest bun in the world history of messy buns. He looked like mess, a quite pretty mess though, Remus thought.

Sirius glanced at him carefully, then, when discovering that Remus hadn’t brought any of his stuff, slowly slid his book towards his friend, so that the other boy could follow the class. Remus grabbed a pencil and started writing on one of the pages:

Thank you

Sirius smirked, when he saw the little message, took out his own pencil and answered:

For sharing my book?

You know for what, idiot, Remus scribbled quickly

Don’t worry about it

For a moment they both just sat there, pretending to listen to the Professor, while actually trying not to stare at one another and make this more awkward than it already was. Should I write something else? What if I annoy him? What if I annoy him if I don’t write anything what if-

Before Remus could decide what to do, Sirius had already picked up his pencil again and, without looking at the page, he quickly wrote:

Are you okay?

I was worried

He was worried. Sirius Black was still worried about Remus’ wellbeing and that little thought alone made Remus smile widely. But then he remembered…

You should be worried about James.

He’s gonna be fine, Moony, Sirius comforted him without hesitation.

“Am I right Mr. Black?” The high pitched voice of McGonagall made Sirius look up again.

“Ugh, yeah, Professor. Totally. You’re making some really good points!” Sirius answered provocatively, obviously having no idea of what was going on.

“I was just saying”, his Professor repeated herself with a strict tone in her voice, “how you, Mr. Black and your friend Mr. Lupin as well, are wasting your potential by doodling and sketching in your book!”

“Well… you’re not wrong Professor-“

“Then, start paying attention again, Mr. Black!” McGonagall cut him off immediately and continued her lesson.

Sirius sighed and started taking notes again and Remus followed his example. They talked again, he thought, or maybe not talked but they wrote to each other. Sirius was fine, Sirius wanted to communicate again. That was good that was progress, that was… amazing. He felt his cheeks getting warmer the more he thought about it. One more look at the book just to make sure it was real, before continuing taking notes for class again.

Just sitting so close to Sirius felt weirdly exciting. And then every once in a while they almost touched. While writing Sirius’ hand would almost touch Remus’ elbow and every time it happened Remus’ heart felt as if it skipped several beats.

Then, finally, when Professor McGonagall wrote the name of a new spell on the board, Sirius used his chance to start writing something on the page of his book again. Lupin moved his head to the right and the left, attempting to read it while the other boy was still writing, not seeing their Professor coming closer.

“Uh hum!” She cleared her throat to get the boys’ attention, before closing the book and taking it with her.

Nooo, don’t! Remus almost shouted. He wanted to know so, so badly what his crush had written for him. Even though it was only a stupid note in a stupid schoolbook. After weeks of ignoring each other, he wanted nothing but reading that note. But he couldn’t. He had to wait and even though every single minute felt like torture he had to stay calm.

When inhaling he could smell that familiar odor of lemon tee and smoke and when exhaling he already missed it. He could feel Sirius being close and all of a sudden he had so many things to say, so much to explain, so much to apologize for, but now, that he finally had the courage to, he couldn’t! He just wanted to, no, he needed to know if Sirius felt the same. He needed to know right now if Sirius still liked him the way he said he would that night. What if he had changed his mind, what if everything was different after not talking for so long… He needed to know… but he was caught here, in class. So close to the boy of his dreams not able to even say a single word.

That’s when he suddenly felt Sirius’ hand around his wrist. At first he didn’t get who had touched him, he almost pulled his hand away. But then he let him take it, let him lay it down in his lap. What was that? Some kind of a weird hit on? Some bad attempt at being romantic? But then he felt the cold tip of a ball pen writing on his hand. He had to smile a bit, since it was tickling him. Sirius only wrote five words, then he waited for Remus to pull his hand away again. And Remus did, even though every single brain cell of his told him to keep his hand lying in Sirius’ much bigger, much warmer one. He immediately looked down at the smudged handwriting.

Skip next lesson with me?

Even though he tried to, Remus couldn’t stop himself from smiling. After all, Sirius was probably the only person who could make him smile like this after such a night. Trying to hide his smile, Remus covered his mouth with the hand Sirius had just written on, while the other boy glanced at him waiting for a reaction. Carefully, just slowly enough so that nobody else could see, Remus nodded.

Yes, he was definitely going to skip that next lesson. Who needs potions class anyway? No, as soon as McGonagall would finish he would grab his backpack and Sirius’ would grab his and they’d just run outside together.

Together, after so long. Would it all work out, Remus asked himself. Would they both be forgiving and talk it all out. What if not? But right now, that didn’t matter. All that mattered to Remus in that exact moment was that any minute now they’d walk out together.

Together… wasn’t that a beautiful word?

@of-stars-and-moon @todays-quote @wewhohavefailed @dude-bro-tm @siriuslyxblack @remus-la-swearwolf @wolfstar-matriarch @nerdyqueerfangirl @kierabee123 @knduniverse @queenofhellish @meandminniemcg @fayerye (they’re not that sad this time i guess so i hope i’m slowly making it up to you :) ) @flawlessflatline @therealhmmlingle @blackwolfofhogwarts @jencala @rjpea @a-queer-kids-blog @maraudersvs @seriouslyblacklikemysoul @rosielupin @rosielupin @padfootlupinblack @wynd27 @full-moon-008

If I tagged anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged anymore for whatever reason please tell me so I don’t want to bother you.

If I didn’t tag you and you want to be tagged in future fanfictions of mine or only the “don’t forget about this” ones then you can tell me so in the comments.

(I hope you enjoyed it, I really put a lot of work into it because it was requested so much. (I have like a thousand drafts on my laptop because they were never good enough and I still don’t think this one is but I guess I finally had to post a part three...) I have been way too busy to write lately but I missed it so much and I loved working on that one so thanks to all of you for keeping me motivated and asking for it all the time.

Thanks in advance for every reblog and comment. Your nice words always make me really happy!)

233 notes · View notes

boymeetsweevil · 6 years

Text

Hoping for the Best - NSFW

Grouping: Lifeguard!Reader x Lifeguard!Hoseok

Word Count: ~24.3k lmao

Warnings/Themes: Friends to enemies? to lovers, SLOW burn, Descriptions of bullying, unrequited love???, Making out, Cunniligus, Fingering, Penetrative sex, Dom!Hoseok if you squint, spanking, use of the epithet brat ;), Lack of communication, Idiots who don’t talk about their feelings

Summary: “He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.”

A/N: This piece is for the BSC 1000 Followers Writing Project! based off prompt 14: Pretending to drown to get a kiss from the hot lifeguard / “Actually I’m drowning please save me.” ALSO! the coffee shop joke makes a little more sense if you think about it in chinese but oh well

Even after four years of coming and going, the gentle warmth that you feel seeping into your tired bones when your shuttle returns you to your hometown every summer never seems to dull. Certainly, you will never tire of the smell of the household laundry detergent, weaved into the threads of your parents’ clothes, after two long semesters away. The same scratch of threadbare sheets across your skin as you lay in the bed you’ve had since you were 9 is always a welcome feeling to wake up to on the first morning back. The smell of porridge, a dish you’ve come to appreciate, greets you as well.

“There she is,” your father smiles at your stumbling figure over the newspaper. His eyes crinkle and he holds you in his gaze for a long few beats. There’s something bittersweet about the way the eye adjusts to the film that time lays over loved ones that have been away. Despite this, he can still clearly see the outline of your past self, much smaller but with the same bedhead and swinging feet at the dinner table. “The princess has finally awakened and decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Good morning, dad,” you yawn widely.

Your mother passes you a steaming bowl of porridge and a plate of cut fruit. She sits down with the mail and begins to sort through the small mountain of bills. Half of them she waves at your father for him to appraise as well. This reminds him.

“Say, kiddo,” his tone is careful and it wakes you up from your dreamy haze quicker than you would like. “You thinking about doing work at the marine lab again?”

“Honey, she just got back yesterday. Let her rest. You can talk about all that later, can’t you?”

“Talk about what?” Pushing your bowl back, you straighten up in your chair and turn to your father. He looks a bit guilty now that you’ve pinned him with your stare.

“Your mother and I were just wondering if you were going to renew your internship with them. They paid you the last couple of times and…If we’re being honest, we could use a little help this summer.”

“Are you guys in trouble with the house?” Alarm colors your voice and for the first time since you’d arrived, you look around carefully.

The house doesn’t look like its changed. It’s still cozy with its warm-toned exposed wood and painted cabinets. Your parents haven’t changed either. They don’t look much older than they did when you were home last. Your mother wears her favorite cardigan to protect from the chill that creeps up on her when she wakes with the sun. Your father wears a simple pair of khakis and a short sleeved polo, a regular work outfit. Perhaps it’s because you haven’t cast off the last vestiges of sleep that you don’t immediately realize it’s odd for your father, a retired school teacher, to be working in the summer. A divot forms in between your brows and you wonder how long they planned on keeping you in the dark about money troubles while spoiling you after graduation.

“Of course not, baby.” Your mother lays a soothing hand on your shoulder and pats. “Things are just a little tight lately. Your uncle needed money again, this time a little more than usual.”

“Now that you’re all grown-up, we thought you might like to try and help out a little more around the house. Fun, right?” Despite the gravity of the subject, your father still manages to smile softly at his own joke with a deep laugh.

“I actually got an email from them a weeks ago,” you return to your porridge in hopes that it’ll dislodge the tell-tail lump you get in your throat before crying. “They’re giving priority to the PhD students this year, so they won’t have any funding for interns not already affiliated with the college.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, dear. We both know how much you loved that place,” your father frowns and your expressions mirror one another. But while his face expresses sympathetic disappointment, yours shows resolution.

“No. No, it’s totally fine. This is good. I should probably keep on applying to real jobs now, anyway. And I need to be able to pay rent somewhere, so I should get a summer job too.”

It’s your mother’s turn to frown. “Oh, baby, you know you could stay here, if you want. We wouldn’t ever dream of charging you for rent.”

“No, mom,” you stand up from the table, “I should start taking responsibility. I’m gonna go out and find something simple so I can focus on job apps, but I’ll bring you whatever check I get.”

Silence falls over the room as you wash your dishes at the sink. Over just the sound of the running water, your parents exchange meaningful glances at one another. You press a kiss to both of their heads before you ascend the stairs to your room to get ready. Your father’s hand envelopes your mother’s. You’ve grown well.

The first thing you do after you’ve finished getting ready is head over to a local coffee house. It’s the most student-friendly place in all of your sleepy suburban town. What can only be described as an acoustic/hip-hop hybrid flows from hidden speakers, drowning out the sound of the bell on the front door tinkling when you step inside. The cafe is full of other enterprising 20-somethings, so no one’s eyes raise to follow you as you find a seat by the shop window.

You open your laptop and pull up your resume file. Luckily, you’ve been diligent and it’s been looked over and updated. Opening up a webpage, you begin to fill out applications for various companies looking for new hires. Some of them are just companies you think you could handle the workload at, but a few of them are positions for doing research to improve and preserve marine life, which is a passion of yours. Time passes you by quickly and you’re so involved in emailing your research advisors at your place of internship and professors who praised you in undergrad that you don’t see the man who enters the cafe; nor do you see the way all the staff behind the counter hurry to greet him.

Jin goes to retrieve his apron from the back room before coming out again to start work. He does a visual sweep over the cafe, looking for any customers who look like they’re not enjoying their experience, any spills, or display sets that are out of order. He walks over the small side table that houses a meticulously stacked set of shining chrome thermoses with the minimalist cafe logo embossed at the bottom. One of the containers is leaning precariously out of alignment and threatening to spill the entire arrangement on the poor girl working studiously nearby. Quietly, he walks over, making sure not to walk too loudly and startle the customer.

It takes a careful hand, but he manages to organize the display pyramid once more without too much clanking. A quick glance to the side informs him that you’re not a regular customer. He’s come in to work every single day since the cafe open 15 months ago, and he’s certain he’s memorized all the familiar and loyal faces. Another glance tells him that you haven’t bought anything—judging by the lack of pastry crumbs, crumpled soiled napkins, empty drinks or characteristic ring of perspiration on the table surface. But you’re clearly deep enough into your work that you can’t have just arrived either. Jin shakes his head with a reminiscing smile. College students and their desperation for a place to work. He debates going over having one of the baristas tell you that loitering isn’t allowed, but since you’re new and still a potential customer he leaves to go brew a cup of coffee instead of shooing you away.

The sound of a text notification from your mother inquiring about how you’re doing disrupts your tunnel vision. You finish uploading your CV onto an online application to a research facility in the nearby city and shoot her back a text telling her you’re at the new cafe in town. Her responding notification comes quickly, the first few lines asking “isn’t that where your friend-” before cutting off. Before you answer her, you figure you should stretch your legs as an excuse to buy a sugary drink. You stand up and push out your chair, about to turn around and head to the counter, but your chair bumps against something. The something yelps and takes a few shuffled steps back. You turn with imploring hands already out, ready to apologize and curse yourself for being too in your own world. You’re not expecting to see Kim Seokjin standing behind you with a takeaway coffee and fixings looking equally shocked to see you.

“Jin? Oh my god, I haven’t seen you in so long!” A smile splits your face and you gesture towards your table while clearing some of your stuff to the side so he has some room to put his things down.

“I know. I was wondering if you were gonna be one of those people who skips town forever after they leave for college, but I guess you’re not.”

“No, that’s not quite me,” you duck your head bashfully, “What about you? Do you work around here?” The takeaway coffee sits in front of him, steaming. He looks to be on his way out. “Or is that where you’re headed now?”

“This is actually for you,” he chuckles. “But if I’d known the free-loader sitting out here without buying anything was you, I would'vr run down to a Starbucks and got you one of those candy drinks instead of this blonde roast.”

“I see you’re still a coffee snob.” You take the coffee anyway, though. A rigorous four years at college made you less discriminatory about your caffeine choices. If it would keep you up, you would drink it. That being said, you still hate the taste of plain coffee and are immediately grateful when you notice the sugar shaker and tiny cream pitcher that Jin brought to the table as well.

“I see you still have the palate of 4 year old.” His nose wrinkles as he watches you ruin the perfect coffee he made for you with too much cream and a heinous amount of sugar.

You stick your tongue out at him before taking a careful sip of the hot drink. It tastes like hot, coffee-flavored ice cream, so you’re satisfied.“If you’re not going to work, what brings you here?”

“This is my work. I own this place,” he says with a smirk and grand sweeping movement of his arm towards the rest of the cafe. You look at the store’s logo printed in metallic yellow characters throughout the space—GoldJin Coffee. Your eyes widen and you look back down at your blonde roast. Blonde roast…golden coffee…GoldJin Coffee. You groan at the horrible pun and his sudden squeaking laugh tells you he’s delighted that you get the joke.

“I see your sense of humor is still terrible. Good to know,” you deadpan.

“But the coffee is good. You gotta admit it’s good.”

“It is,” you nod as you take another sip, eyes closing partially at the taste and partially at his awful dad-sensibility. “I guess it has to be if you’re going to found this place on such a shitty joke.”

He leans in conspiratorially, making you lean in too. “If I’m being honest…when I explained the joke on the company instagram page, we lost 20 followers. But the sales never dipped, so I’m fine.” He waits until you’ve put your cup down before asking, “What about you. Are you working?”

“Yeah. Well, actually no. I’m trying to find some work for the summer, but I was also applying for longer-term jobs before you came over.”

“I heard you were working at the BTU marine department,” he says with furrowed brows. You sigh at the mention of the internship again.

“I was, but they’ve decided to give actual BTU students priority. Which I totally understand. But I need money, so I can’t really afford to do a free internship right now. Hence the frantic job applications during my precious summer break.”

“Oh, well why don’t you work at the country club? My dad says that they could use some help over there. He still remembers you, I’m sure.”

“What kind of work?”

Although you’re fairly equal-opportunity when it comes to jobs, you’re not about to spend your break picking up after rich people, even if they produced people like your high school friend Jin. He picks up on your wary tone and laughs.

“Don’t worry. It’s nothing too degrading. They need help at the children’s pool. Can you still freestyle like you used to?”

He grins at you fondly, fairly sure the answer is yes given that you became friends because he recruited you himself to the swim team in your freshman year. As one of the handful of upperclassmen there, he was assigned to you as your practice and tournament mentor.

Memories of the smell of chlorine saturating the air and sunburns on your shoulders dance across your mind’s eye. Almost as if it were happening right then and there, you remember the sound of Jin yelling at you as you pushed your body to slice through the water faster and faster during practices. You remember the feeling of pressing a cold pack to his shoulder after he pulled a muscle training in the weight room too hard and couldn’t make it to the very tournament he’d been prepping for. You remember Jin cradling your tear-stained face and laughing with you after you beat your record by more than you could have ever imagined. You remember the two of you sharing a seat and blanket on the bus during winter meets. You remember Jin sneaking into the girl’s bathroom to bring you the tampons you left in your locker only to get caught by Lisa, the girls team coach, and forced to do 50 laps.There’s no way you could forget any of that.

Your eyes get a little misty. “Hell yeah, I do.”

“Great,” he says after a beat. “If you pass the lifeguard test and get picked, it pays 20 an hour and some of the parents leave tips.”

“Are you serious? Since when do people tip lifeguards?”

He shrugs. “It’s the country club. They do it because they can. They’re testing today at four, you know.”

You check your phone and see that you have just enough time to run back to your house to grab some swim stuff and get to the club in time for the test. Pulling out a 10 dollar bill, you thank the universe for sending Jin to you in this hour of financial need.

“Here’s a 10. I don’t know how much this coffee costs, but knowing you it’s probably overpriced.”

“You don’t have to pay—” he gapes before you cut him off with a smile and dismissive hand wave.

“Just take the money, Jin. I’m going over there right now. Wish me luck.”

He can only nod, picking up the empty sugar packets and wiping down the few stray droplets of cream you left on the table while you pack. You’re out the door before he can actually get any words of encouragement out, but he’s certain you won’t need it. It’s not until he comes back with a spray bottle to properly clean the table and sees the 10 dollar bill that he realizes he probably should have warned you who you might see at the pool.

The pool, as it happens, has its own sector at the club and its own parking lot. Both the regular pool and the kiddie pool look onto the rolling green of the golf course that is rumored to have won national gardening competitions. The parking spaces are ample and you are glad for this. For some reason you feel it would be doing your vehicle a disservice if you were forced to park it next to what looked like a 2020 Bentley. Driving in your father’s two digit year-old compact car past the valet makes you realized it’s been a while since you’ve been on the wealthier side of town.

You reminisce as you follow the signs that lead you to the lifeguard test. The last time you were in the area, it was for Jin’s graduation party. There had been a large, beautiful, and somehow legal bonfire in the backyard of the Kim residence. It was probably one of the most genuinely entertaining parties you’d gone to, beating out nearly all of the drunk raves you’d attended during college. Most of the guests were family friends of the Kims, but the rest were swim team members. Given that you’d all become comfortable with one another while in a near-constant state of wetness and undress, there were no awkward party jitters. You all drank from red Solo cups and bonded over stories about Jin since he was the man of the hour. It would have been a perfect party if not for one person. Almost on command, you can feel your heart-rate spike at the thought of the most annoying boy you had ever encountered. He had been invited to the party as well and spent the whole night trying to get your attention, not unlike how he behaved when you were in classes together. You try to remain calm before the swim test and force the annoying memories back to the corner of your mind. Lucky for you, he wouldn’t ever bother you again.

When you finally make your way out of the winding women’s changing room, you’re greeted by the sight of crystalline blue water ebbing gently within the large outdoor pool. A gathering of about 8 other people are chattering amongst themselves while a single lifeguard looks over a clipboard. Most of them turn as you approach and you nod a bit shyly before the lifeguard checks the time and decides to begin the test. Any other time, you would be nervous but this isn’t an ordinary test environment. The only feeling swimming and being in water can give you is a sense of deep calm. This proves to give you a leg up because not even 5 minutes into the directions two people leave after the lifeguard says the pressure of the job isn’t for those who freeze up while stressed. More people end up getting cut when they ask you all to tread water without using your arms for 5 minutes. Suddenly you are glad that you kept a regular swim schedule in college to maintain your stress. Your arms are burning by the time they ask you to retrieve a brick from the 10 foot portion of the pool floor, but you make it through. By the end, there are only 3 other people who have finished with you.

You’re blotting at your skin with the towel you brought, waiting for your legs to stop feeling like lead so you can go back to the car, when the head lifeguard approaches you.

“I was paying special attention to you out there,” she says. Her voice doesn’t sound indicting, but it doesn’t sound laudatory either. She’s a stern looking woman, probably in her mid 30’s. Her nametag reads Stella, but you have a hunch that’s not her real name. “Have you done this before?”

“Yeah,” you wrap yourself protectively in your towel, her gaze making you feel transparent. “My highschool coach used to make us take this test every year if we wanted to get on varsity and stay there. And I was the gym lifeguard during the weekends in college.”

She’s silent for a beat and squints, taking in your open expression. “Were you one of Sun’s pupils?”

“Yeah, you know him?”

“Of course. He was my coach too. You can always tell when someone has trained under him. It’s like their stress is water soluble or something.” She finally cracks a grin and you smile, relieved that she doesn’t have a bone to pick with you. “You know CPR?”

You nod and she smiles wider before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I like you. I’ll tell you a secret. We already had the first lifeguard picked out, but we needed a second one to meet pool standards.” You nod with understanding. “You just got hired.”

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret it.” Stella tosses her head back at your earnest confessions. “When can I start?”

“Tomorrow, if you can. But first come meet the other guy that way you all can start building rapport. You might know him. He’s another one of Sun’s kids. Small world, huh?”

She walks over to the lifeguard lounge and calls into the back.

“Hey! Send Jung out, will you? We found another Sun kid for the little pool, I want them to meet.”

A few moments later a guy with bright orange hair stumbles out of the lounge, wearing the standard red trunks and a matching life vest. When he’s only a few meters away your heart plummets into your stomach. Jung Hoseok’s eyes light up in recognition and he gives you a bright smile.

“Hey, long time no see,” he chirps. When you don’t say anything Stella raises a brow and coughs a little awkwardly. You speak up, remembering the job at stake.

“Hey, Hoseok.” Stella claps a heavy hand on your shoulders, sensing the tension in the way your voice shrinks over the syllables of his name.

“Well, clearly you kids know each other. Hoseok here can tell you about the hours and the jobs you have when you’re not on the chair. If there are any issues, come to me.” No one says anything, so she adds, “I’ll leave you both to it,” before heading to the lounge.

You watch her leave to avoid making eye contact with him, but when she disappears into the lounge Hoseok pipes up.

“This is really crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it really is.” A headache is building in your temples at the sound of his voice. Despite the fact that it’s deepened after nearly a decade, it still elicits the same curl of annoyance under your skin. “Stella said you can tell me about the hours and stuff?”

He doesn’t seem to pick up on your clipped, overly polite tone. “Totally. So, we come in at 7am, six days a week, and open up the little pool and put out the ropes.You know, stuff coach Sun would make us do if we were on our phones during practice, remember?”

You nod, eyes closed and the pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Then we’ll be up in the chairs for 90 minutes at a time. If no one gets hurt, then we can take 20 minutes to swim or take sun breaks. We close 3 hours early on Sundays, though. Oh yeah! They have sunblock and water in the lounge that we can use whenever so you don’t have to—what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

It seems easier to let him escort you to a bench by the poolside than to yell at him about personal space. Besides, under the clean scent of his deodorant, he smells like the the pool and sunscreen and sun warmed skin. The smell actually settles your nerves a bit and your migraine wanes enough for you to open your eyes.

Unsurprisingly, Jung Hoseok is leaning too closely into your space, but it’s been so long that the instinct to bark at him seems to have died away. Up close you can see, from a purely objective standpoint of course, that time has been kind of him. The faded orange of his hair tells you it must have been been dyed a while ago. The water probably also took its toll on his hair judging by the way his hair waves. Clearly, he’s already spent plenty of time in the sun because his hair has somewhat natural looking, almost blond, highlights and his skin is a smooth expanse of warm brown, free of the pimples he had during adolescence.

The bright red life vest doesn’t hide much of his upper half, which is lean and sculpted, the hint of abs visible as he curls towards you. But this is Jung Hoseok, so you quickly stop your clinical appraisal of his body and go back to politely looking at his face. The first thing you notice is that the characteristic set of braces he wore all through high school are gone and leave only a straight, white smile in its wake. You note that the little beauty mark that rests above his lip is still there. Duly noted. His face is still as annoyingly not-ugly as it has always been, though his jaw has filled out more along with everything else that’s broadened with age. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised that Jung Hoseok had to grow up eventually. At least physically. Emotionally and mentally speaking, his growth has yet to be determined.

A water bottle suddenly appears in your face, nearly poking you in the eye. His grace, you decide, has not improved at all.

“Seems like you still get headaches if you push yourself too hard in the pool,” he says with a soft smile.

“What would you know about that,” you grumble, tone on the verge of impolite.

“You always used to get them when you were trying to shave your times. It was always kinda sad to watch.”

“Yeah, well…” You can’t think of anything to say. Clearly, he was observant, because you were good at hiding your ailments from the team. “What were you saying about swim breaks?”

He starts up again, telling you about where you could order your swimsuit and where you could get free snacks in the country club and that playing with the kids was the fastest way to get tipped. Your headache lessens as you continue to drink and let him chatter on in the background. After a while he exhausts all the knowledge he acquired after being on payroll for a week and your legs feel sturdy enough that you can walk back to the car. You stand, towel forgotten until it falls at your feet revealing your bathing suit clad figure. Fortunately, you wore one of your more conservative swimsuits since this was technically a job interview of sorts, but even in your one-piece you feel exposed in front of Hoseok. Nothing is subtle about the way his gaze follow the curves of your body or the way his mouth and eyelids drop slightly while staring. When he finally makes his way back up to your face, your fiery gaze and hot cheeks are enough for him to avert his eyes quickly.

“Guess you haven’t changed at all,” you mutter before pulling the towel back around you more securely and marching back to the car.

Jin has just served his last Goldilatte of the day when you coming bursting through the door. The bell alerting that a customer has arrived rattles shrilly and he curses himself for not just sending you a warning text, but he thought he had more time. He opens one eye cautiously to see you seething in front of him with dripping wet hair and a damp looking hoodie. There is still a little comfort for him, knowing that you’re not tall enough to climb over the cake display and throttle him.

“Did you or did you not know that Jung Hoseok was also taking the lifeguard position? Answer truthfully and I won’t cause an even bigger scene in the middle of your cafe.”

Knowing you, you probably wouldn’t actually cause a scene but he still checks behind your shoulder cautiously and sees that some patrons have taken off their ever-present headphones to eavesdrop on the conversation. With the poise of a businessman, he silently removes his apron and comes from behind the counter to guide you to his office for some privacy. You sit back in the chair facing him, pouting at him expectantly.

“I did know. My father mentioned it while we were having dinner last week.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me.”

“Honestly…I just forgot. The cafe is busy and it had been a week since he told me, so it was kind of just old news. I certainly wasn’t expecting to run into you. If you had let me know you were back in town sooner, I would have probably remembered to tell you.”

“So this is my fault now?”

“No, but I don’t think anyone is really at fault. How bad was it? Seeing him, I mean.”

Your mouth is open and you’re ready to complain about Hoseok just like the old days, but you can’t think of anything he’d actually done wrong while you were at the pool. In fact, he’d been welcoming...in his own way. He’d always been a close talker, even in high school, and if it weren’t him you wouldn’t be bothered. He’d even offered you water after noticing your headache.

“Do you remember the headaches I used to get,” you blurt out. Jin startles a bit at your outburst.

“What headaches?”

“I used to get really bad exertion headaches during practices.” Jin’s confused look has you brushing it off. “That was random, sorry.”

“Okay. Well, it sounds like he didn’t ask you out a million times, so maybe he grew up.” His hands spread in the air like the problem has dissipated into the atmosphere.

“B-but he still checked me out today when I dropped my towel. I had a bathing suit on and he looked like his eyes were going to fall out. What well-adjusted grown man acts like that?” You purposely leave the fact that you gave him a good look over as well. But that’s because what you did was different…

“Look,” he says, laying a sympathetic hand on yours, “He’s probably just going through all the feelings he had last when you were around. I’m sure he’ll get used to your presence and then realize the feelings are old and move on.”

The finality of the idea should be comforting to you, but something about the edges of it gnaws at you unpleasantly. You can’t figure out what it is about the idea that bothers you so much even as you drive your car back to your house, taking the scenic routes so you have time to ruminate and can stay out with the sun a bit longer. Breaking the news about your new cushy job at the country club pool gives your mind a break from the emotional puzzle because the relief that washes over your parents when you tell them your rate of pay makes you proud. But once you’ve had your fill of scrolling through social media and are tucked away in your bed, you can’t stop thinking about Jung Hoseok.

It would be less confusing if hindsight wasn’t 20/20. Looking back, you realize that maybe you made Hoseok out to be a bit more of a nuisance than he actually was. You’d gone to the same elementary school once upon a time. And you’d had quite a few play dates at each other’s houses when you were really young, but that changed when you turned 12. He moved away for middle school because his parents wanted him at a new place where he could dance. On the night before he’d moved away, you’d both cried in each other’s arms and when your father finally came to pick you up, you’d kissed his cheek and told him not to forget you. He’d squeezed you hard and said he wouldn’t. Two years later, you were starting high school and heard rumors that he had come back and was staying. You remembered your wish and hoped then that he hadn’t forgotten, but it seemed that he must have. He was a completely different person.

On the first day of each year, an assembly for all the students was held so that new students who didn’t come from the local middle school could come up and be seen and welcomed.

He’d been up on the stage and he’d looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize him as he crossed in front of your spot on stage as one of the new student tour guides. As he passed you, he made eye contact with you, making hope bloom in your chest. After everyone was seated, each new student was asked to come up when their name was called and stand so the student body could see them. At the sound of Hoseok’s name, a deep and raucous applause coming from a few of the boys in the audience sounded. You could recognize the voices of some of the boys in the crowd, the rowdier ones that caused trouble for teachers but remained like idols in the eyes of many students. That they had taken Hoseok in surprised you. He didn’t seem like their type of recruit—he was too open and caring. The principle then asked the student tour guides to come up to the front of the stage and introduce themselves as well, and you suddenly worried you’d stutter or do something to make the kids in the audience act up again. Your clothing choice, your hairstyle, your gait all suddenly became potential areas for critique as you walked to the microphone, but it was too late then. You just had to make sure you gave a normal introduction.

“Hello. I am one of the student guides. If you have any questions and you see me, don’t be afraid to come up and ask.”

A false sense of security settled over you when you just got regular polite applause. It was a short introduction, and it was ordinary enough that no one could say anything. You gave a quick curtsy to the audience, as was encouraged of students when they were on stage, and a long low wolf-whistle sounded out. Blood rushed to your face and you turned quickly to find the source. Hoseok froze mid-whistle, not expecting you to turn around before he was through. At least he had the decency to look ashamed, but it didn’t do anything to assuage the rolling laughter that was coming from not only the rowdy boys in the back of the auditorium, but most of the students below. With flaming cheeks, you rushed back to your seat with the other guides. One nice girl assured you that your uniform skirt more than long enough to cover anything and that you didn’t actually flash anyone, but that wasn’t your concern. Instead, you were dealing with the fact that your last words to Hoseok as a friend hadn’t meant anything.

After the speech, he tried to find you. But he couldn’t. You were lost in the sea of students leaving the assembly and his new friends were too excited about how well the joke went to let him go. He endured a few playful headlocks and punches until he made up a solid excuse about not wanting to stick around for the principal to find him. They all dispersed after that, but he never got the chance to tell you it was just a joke, that it was just what he needed to do to get into their clique. He never got the chance to apologize, to tell you that he still remembered what you told him. He was certain that if he could just get a moment alone with you, he would be able to right his wrong, but you were determined to never give him the time of day again.

Because you hadn’t given your name in your introduction speech, no one really knew it was you on the first day of school who seemingly flashed the new students, but you still couldn’t shake off the other conflicting feelings. It seemed that from that moment on, the universe was determined to put you near Hoseok so you could never get peace of mind. He was in so many of your classes, always trying to be desk partners, study buddies, lab mates and you’d thwarted all the offers that you could. When you couldn’t avoid him, you tried your best not to chat to him. You would hiss at him if he attempted conversations, about movies you liked or music you listened to, or asked you if you still liked things he remembered from when you were both young. Every time you would shut him down, but he seemed fueled by that. He followed you everywhere. He even followed you to swimming.

Two weeks later, on the day of tryouts, you saw Hoseok sitting on the bleachers next to your recruiter and went back into the changing rooms immediately to put on a t-shirt, knowing it might slow your times and keep you from getting on the team. But it was worth the protection from him wolf-whistling or any other form of public humiliation he had for you. The shirt worked for a few laps since you were pushing yourself to go harder than usual to make up for the drag in the water, but the coach pulled you aside and told you that there was nothing to be ashamed of and that the shirt was slowing your times and there were no shirts allowed at races. Averting your eyes from the rest of the students watching the drama unfold, you pulled off your shirt and swam your heart out for the rest of the day, putting all your anger and embarrassment into the laps until you were gasping. You’d made it onto the team, but it almost didn’t feel worth it when you saw that he would also be on the team with you.

Your phone chimes, alerting you that you should go to sleep soon if you want 7 hours before getting up with the chickens the next morning for your first day of work. Sighing, you turn over in your sheets, suddenly too hot. When you wake up in the morning, you realize you dreamt of something, but the only thing you can remember is the very end. You recall being 13 and running from something in your high school hallways and into a pair of warm brown arms. The clock on your phone tells you that you have 6 more minutes of sleep, but you resist the tease of a micro nap and hop in the shower instead. It’s not until you’re back out and clean that you realize your work uniform isn’t coming until the next day and your only one-piece is still wet because you forgot to switch the laundry loads. Groaning, you hunt for your most demure suit and find some high waisted bottoms and a sportier cut top from your dresser and hope for the best.

The sun is out and high when you arrive at the little pool. You’re already sweating in the hoodie you threw over yourself as last minute effort to cover up. On the other side of the lattice gate separating the two pools, Hoseok sees you walking in. He gives you a big wave and runs back inside to come greet you, bangs bouncing when he runs over. He’s amazingly chipper for someone at 7 in the morning but tones it down a bit when he sees that you look like you had a rough night.

“Ready to lay out the ropes?” His eyes are big and bright, and most importantly, on your face.

“Sure.”

You follow him through the lounge, taking in the stacks of boxes of pools supplies and the senior lifeguards drinking coffee or dozing off since the larger pool doesn’t open until a little later. Stella gives you a thumbs up from her little glass cubicle where she’s on the phone. Hoseok jumps into the water, already in his typical red board shorts with the club logo embroidered onto them, and swims with the dividing rope across the width of the pool.

“You should come in. The water feels great and it’ll be the only time today its not filled filled with people’s pee.”

Trying to remember Jin’s theory, you push down the instinctual suspicion towards him wanting you to get in the pool with him. To aid some of your nerves you turn around before stripping out of your hoodie and jump quickly into the water before swimming a casual distance over to him. Not too close but not too far.

“So, what made you—”

“About yesterday—”

The corner of your mouth tugs up in spite of yourself when you both start talking at the same time. You gesture for him to go first and he looks at you a bit nervously before continuing.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“It’s fine,” you assure him, focusing on the silly way his hair lays flat against his head to diffuse the tension. “It’s only natural to look at stuff for a second when it just…appears.”

“No, no. I mean, there’s no real excuse for it. I guess I still—”

“I get it, it was a knee jerk reaction to something you’re used to doing. It’s cool. It’s been years. The slate is clear. Let’s just forget about it and make this not awkward.”

“But it wasn’t just—”

His cryptic speech sends you into a panic and you do the first thing that comes to mind, which is curl into fetal position so you can dunk yourself underwater. You drop a few feet to the bottom of the pool, knowing that he can still completely see you and reach you. A hand curls around your arm, surprising a few bubbles out of you, and pulls with an impressive amount of strength. At the surface you gasp out of indignation and wipe your eyes.

“Shit! Sorry, that was a lot but I really would like to explain—“

“I swear to god, Jung, if you don’t—“

“I didn’t forget about you,” he says suddenly with a small voice. The water around you appears to have nearly frozen in response to the tension in the air. Not even the smallest ripple dares tip the tenuous balance of the moment.

Your breath hitches and you wonder if maybe you both stayed up thinking about the same thing last night. But that couldn’t be it. That would be too much of a coincidence.

Hesitation has his arm trembling as he reaches out towards your stiff form. Maybe you won’t run away this time and he can get everything out. But the movement of his arm breaks your stupor and sends you stumbling back a foot in the water. The palms of his hands come up as a sign that he’s not trying to hurt you.

“Do you remember before I left for middle school? What you said to me that night? Because I do. And I didn’t break my promise, I didn’t forget you.”

“You sure about that?”

“What? Of course I didn’t. Don’t you remember all the times I tried to talk to you and start where we left off?”

“You may not have forgotten about me,” you practically spit the words at him, “But you broke your promise to me the minute you pulled that shit at the student assembly.” He winces and you feel emboldened. “And let’s not forget that stunt you pulled in the cafeteria in the front of literally everyone.”

Hoseok enters the lunchroom with his friends and automatically scans the room for you.

“You looking for your girlfriend, Jung?”

“No need. I already know where you mom lives,” he says lightly, still searching for your a glimpse backpack or the blue tracksuit you wore that day for the race you had later.

He finds you in the lunchline, debating between milk and water while the student in front of you haggles for an extra serving. Running over, he uses the intimidation factor of him and his two larger friends’ presence to cut in front of the student behind you.

“You should pick the chocolate milk. It’s your favorite.”

He can practically see hairs on your neck stand up when you hear his voice and he’s certain that if you had claws they would be out and poking holes through the little cardboard container in your hand. You put the carton back down in its ice bucket and take a water.

“Coach said dairy will slow us down,” your answer is curt as you move forward in the line. The lunch lady loads up your tray how you ask and you run to the cash register to pay before he can even pick up the milk.

Steeling himself with determination, he follows behind, trying to make sure he doesn’t lose sight of you. When he gets to the register, all he sees is your ID card where you left it in your hurry. Quickly he retrieves it and looks over the cafeteria, watching your head bob away. He finds you soon after, seated at the end of the swimming table next to Jin. His two friends follow behind more slowly, one carrying his tray.

“You ready for the race, squirt?” Jin puts chicken strip on your plate as he usually does, worried about your protein intake.

“I think so. If I get to the gym early to stretch it should be fine,” you mutter thoughtfully around your fork.

“I’ll go with you and we can do some circuits together.” You look to your left to see Hoseok smiling brightly, his braces glinting in the fluorescent lighting.

“This table is full. You’ll have to sit with your mob boss at his table,” you snark. Jin is about to intervene and give you both the talk about team inclusivity when Hosoek playfully brandishes your ID inches away from your face.

“Come sit with us and you can have this back.” At sight of the plastic card, you pat the pockets of your suit frantically before coming up short. You stand up. You’re sick of Jung Hoseok always bugging you.

“Give it back,” you say lowly so only he can hear.

You’re already making a scene by standing in the middle of the cafeteria, but people don’t notice just yet because the lunch period has just started and plenty of others are still getting settled.

“Come sit with me, and I will.”

“I don’t want to sit with you. Just give me the card.”

“Not until you sit with me.”

The way your heartbeat picks up probably isn’t healthy, but you’re so frustrated that you’re ready to burst. You try playing his own game, seeing if embarrassing him will get him to comply.

“Why are you always following me around, huh?” Your voice cuts through most of the chatter and people quiet down to turn ans watch the two of you. “Do you have a crush on me or something?”

A hush of low murmurs runs through the room and you can hear people giggling to themselves. Even though it was supposed to target him, you face still feels hot.

“Yeah, I do.”

The crowd erupts at his boldness. The same boys from the day of the assembly cheer him on. You stand there, shocked and humiliated. Being inexperienced when it came to crushes meant that you were completely unaware that all of Hoseok’s constant bothering might have been him trying to get you on his arm. Angry tears rapidly fill your waterline and you have to work hard to keep a straight face so you don’t completely break down in front of the student body. You keep your face turned towards him so as not to let anyone else know that you’re crying. Hoseok’s expression goes from proud of finally confessing to you to horrified at seeing you cry. The smile he had slips off immediately and is replaced with terror and he can only look up at Jin helplessly as he comes up behind you. The upperclassman holds out his hand, in which Hoseok places your ID. Jin silently takes your tray from you and lets you bury your face in his matching tracksuit top to hide from the gossiping onlookers.

“It’s okay,” Jin says softly. Hoseok only hears a pathetic high noise leave you before you’re back at your table, clutching at Jin with your shoulders heaving from embarrassment.

His friends tug on his sleeve until they get him to stumble blindly over to their table.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Jung.” One of the boys says, eying your table with a mean smile.

“How come you have two milks,” another asks before quickly stealing the brown carton marked ‘chocolate’ off his tray.

Thanks to a great deal of suppression, you hadn’t thought of that fateful day in the cafeteria for years. But it’s crystal clear in your memory now. Your hands are balled up under the water’s surface and they’re shaking with unresolved rage and pity for your 14 year-old self.

“I can explain that too.” He runs a hand through his hair, wetting it again and turning it a deep russet.

“Of course you can. Nothing is ever your fault.”

You swim away from him before stalking to the lounge. The sound of a second set of splashes lets you know that he’s following after you, but you don’t care. Stella has finished with her phone call by the time you make your way to her cubicle. You knock harshly on the glass door and several other life guards can sense something is wrong as they watch Hoseok come dripping over.

“What is it, kid?” Stella looks quickly between your thunderous expression and Hoseok’s defeated one.

“Something’s come up. I have to go. I just wanted to let you know so someone could cover my shift. Maybe I can come back some other time and cover a shift at the big pool.” You turn on your heel and leave, not even bothering to rinse off in the showers or pat yourself dry with a towel.

Stella and Hoseok watch you storm off. When the sound of your car’s engine starts, she turns to him.

“Explain yourself. Now.”

Usually, you would have your phone connected to the car’s speaker system with an aux cord to listen to some music while driving and enjoying the scenic small town roads. But bumping heads with Hoseok like old times calls for silence instead.

Rumbling in your stomach reminds you that you skipped breakfast to get to work on time—a bad habit that college had instilled in you. You decide to head to the grocery store and pick something fast up for lunch before heading home and taking an anger nap. Sleep probably won’t solve your problems, but your sure that about 8% of your irritation is from having gotten up so early after such a shitty night’s sleep.

Halfway to the grocery store you see your mother walking on the sidewalk, carrying recyclable shopping bags. You honk and pull over so she can ride with you.

“Well, isn’t this a nice surprise.”

“Hi, mom."

The smile you give her is small, but genuine as her cheery mood lightens yours a bit. Being your mother, though, she can still tell something’s wrong as you drive through the narrow roads slower than normal. While playing hooky, no less.

“Are you going to tell me why you’re not at the country club for your first day of work or would you rather I talk to you about the weather?” You sigh, but decide that it’s better to rant instead of keeping everything bottled up.

“It’s nothing too big, really. There’s just a classmate at work that I—”

“Oh, yes! Little Jung Hoseok, right? Poor thing. I just saw his mother this morning while I was mowing the lawn and she stopped for a chat. She told me all about his-,” she stops to search for the right word, “his rough patch when he was younger.”

You chuckle dryly. “She told you about that?”

“Yes! She told me all about the hard time he had when he moved away. I can’t believe they bullied him out of the dance academy. All because they were jealous he was a presidential scholar invited from outside the district. Poor baby. Frankly, I can’t believe you knew and didn’t say anything all this time.”

The light changes from yellow to red faster than you’re ready for and you hit the brakes a little too hard as you process what your mother told you.

“I, uh, thought you were talking about something else. I didn’t know about that part.” You try to sound as casual as possible, knowing that with the right prompting tone, your mother will let out all the secrets like a floodgate. “What else did Mrs. Jung say?”

“She said that was the reason he came back to the neighborhood high school. Apparently, he would cry himself to sleep. Said he knew he couldn’t do the rest of the program at the high school, but they begged him to stay for middle school. And he did, but as soon as it was over he transferred back here.”

You pull into the parking lot slowly so you don’t have to devote too much attention to parking correctly and can listen to all the details.

“But it sounds like things didn’t get better right then. He fell in with some of those wild kids. I think one of them was that Kim Taehyung’s older brother. Gorgeous boy, ugh. What ever happened with him. Did he go to college?”

“Mom, wait. What about Hoseok?” You drag her by the arm into the lobby of the store, carrying the basket on your other arm.

“That’s right. Hoseok. What was I saying?” She turns to look at you after she throws some lettuce in the basket.

“You were saying he got involved with the wrong crowd?”

“Right, right. Well she said that when he came back during the summer he started hanging around with them. At first it didn’t seem so bad because she and his father were just glad he finally had friends and he didn’t seem to be misbehaving much. Just following them around because he was invited. You know, stuff like that.”

She hands you the grocery list while gesticulating with the flow of the story and you scramble to grab the items from the aisle you’re in while she wanders off. You have to chase her without spilling the contents of the basket.

“But once school started, she said he started acting out. He would get pulled out of class with those kids for being disruptive, and she said one particular student was always asking the teacher to separate them because he wouldn’t leave her alone.” You blush, realizing she’s describing you. “If it weren’t for the fact that most of the teachers knew what he was really like from elementary school, I’m sure they would have locked him in detention for the whole four years.”

You feel sad for Hoseok, but there’s also a pang of guilt forming in your gut. “Did she say why they didn’t? Punish him, I mean.”

“I think she said something about when they asked him why he kept bothering that student, he said he was just trying to get them to remember him. They felt bad because he was trying to get his friend back. So they just gave him warnings.”

“Well,” you say, trying to keep your voice sounding light and uninvolved as you play devil’s advocate, “Even if his intentions were good, shouldn’t the teacher’s have taken stricter action? Since he was making that girl uncomfortable and all?”

You mother stops her stroll through the frozen food aisle to turn back at you and fix you with an unreadable look.

“Normally, I would right there with you on that. But I remember little Hoseok when you all used to play on the rug in the living room. He would come in from outside and put the flowers he picked in your hair and tell you that you looked like the fairies in his books at home. Bullying can sure harden someone, but I don’t know if it can completely change who they are. At least, it doesn’t sound like that’s what happened here. Seeing as, once he came back, he made a beeline straight for his favorite person. Every chance he got.”

She plucks the list out of your grasp and steps forward to stand in front of you. When she lays a hand on your cheek, you can’t meet her gaze. Instead you look down at the way her loafers point directly towards your sneakers.

“How is Hoseok, by the way?” She turns her back to you and looks for the frozen bags of fruit that you always use in your smoothies.

“He seems a lot better,” you answer back honestly.

After arriving back at your house and helping your mom, your hands itch and you find yourself feeling restless. Talking things out with your mom would probably help, but you don’t want to feel small and fourteen again while you do it. Jin’s work schedule is still a mystery to you, but you guess that he’s the type of boss to come in most days, if not everyday, and drive over there to see if he has time for you.

Jin takes in the way your shoulders hunch as you walk into the door and immediately starts up on a warm drink he knows will cheer you up. It involves too much milk, cocoa powder, a disgusting amount of whipped cream and chocolate shavings. He has to pull back his coffee snob persona while he makes it. But the way you immediately run a finger through the mountain of cream, eating half of it in one breath, tells him that you’re not broken beyond repair.

“What’s wrong?”

“Do you think that…maybe I was, I don’t know, too hard on Hoseok when we were in school?”

“Absolutely,” he says with zero hesitation. When your eyes widen with uncovered guilt and your mouth drops open, he’s quick to amend his statement. “I mean, you have every right to be mad about the times he put you on the spot. But I think there’s things you don’t know that would have made it so you both could have been friends in the end.”

“Are you talking about the bullying thing at his middle school?”

“What the—he told you?”

“No,” you whine and drop your head onto the table, covering your head with your arms. “I found out an hour ago. From my mom, of all people.”

“Wow. Moms really do know everything.”

“I know. It’s annoying.” Jin lets you sulk for a moment before steering the conversation back in the direction it needs to go.

“So I guess you know about how he kind of fell in with the wrong crew after coming back as a protective strategy, right?”

“Yeah, I mean…I wasn’t sure? But it seemed like that’s what that was because those kids really didn’t seem like his type of friends. I could tell even back then.” You play with the little cardboard sleeve around the still warm cup. Made from 100% biodegradable materials, it reads.

“Without giving too much away—because this isn’t really my secret to tell—let’s just say that they knew he wasn’t like them, but they were intrigued enough and wanted to test his loyalty. So to speak.”

You prop yourself up on your elbows, gears turning. “What, like frat hazing or something?”

“Bingo,” Jin shoots finger guns at you. “That’s all I’m gonna give you, though. I’ve already said too much.” He reaches forward and takes a sip of your drink before immediately spitting it back into the cup. “It’s a wonder you still have functioning tastebuds. God, that’s disgusting. I can’t believe I created a monster.”

“That was my drink, asshole.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t pay good money for it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes before putting your phone and keys back in your pocket. “You’re really leaving because of the drink?”

“No, you narcissist. I’m going back to work.”

“Oh. Gonna go have a Nicholas Sparks moment in the middle of the kiddie pool?”

Confusion pinches at your features. “Who’s Nicholas Sparks?”

“No one,” he says quickly. “It’s just, uh, an old saying. Go to work.” He pushes you out of the door quickly before you can ask why he has his lying voice on.

The drive back to the pool feels completely different from the one you took this morning. You don’t feel happier, necessarily, but you feel less weighed down by some invisible and perplexing force. For the first time in 48 hours you feel like you can name your feelings a little more clearly. Like you made a mistake, but you also feel like you can fix it.

You make it to the lounge before Stella ambushes you with a firm grip around your arm dragging you away from the entrance to the kiddie pool.

“I see that you’re back and I’m not going to question you for leaving, because I’m pretty sure I know why now. You go out there and try and do your job, and I’ll understand if it’s tough for you. But if you pull something like leaving work because it’s hard being star-crossed lovers again, I will give your job to the next person who knows what a pool looks like. Are we clear?”

“Yes,” you breathe, not even bothering to correct her assumption that you and Hoseok are star-crossed lovers even though it’s not 100% true. The first step you take is a hesitant one, but when Stella doesn’t say anything, you head out to the pool.

Hoseok and some other lifeguard are seated in regular pool chairs because the pool is small enough and shallow enough that they can survey the layout and the tiny swimmers without the added height of the usual chairs. Normally, Hoseok would be chatting away with his shift partner while watching the children swim, but he’s silent as he watches with a hand squishing his cheek, deep in thought. His shift partner looks so bored out of their mind that when you tap their shoulder, they don’t even bother looking to see who is replacing them before running to the lounge. He turns when you’ve settled and his eyes grow impressively round.

“You came back?”

You look out to watch a mother sitting at the edge of the pool dunk her baby’s feet in the water. “I needed to talk to you. Or I guess listen and then talk.”

“So...you’ll let me explain?” Incredulity making his words come out slowly.

“Yes. But you should know that, uh, your mom told my mom some stuff. And my mom told me. And then Jin from the swim team told me some stuff.”

“How much do you know?”

“Just the vague things. I heard you had a hard time at the dance academy and that kind of sparked everything.”

“I should still probably start from the beginning, though.” You nod.

“I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to continue dance, but I didn’t want to leave all the people I met behind just because the school was willing to pay for my tuition. My mom thought it would be big and they convinced me that I could still have friends, while practicing, so I said okay.

But it turned out to be a boarding school thing, so I never got to see anyone from home and when I got there, the instructors treated me special. None of the students there liked that. If I’m being honest, they kicked the shit out of me a few times. And when they weren’t doing that they were putting nails in my dance shoes or locking me in supply closets and the teachers just wanted me to ‘use the pain to power my dancing’. My parents only found out because I started dropping weight really fast and wasn’t sleeping enough to be able to make it through the daily practices without fainting. Of course they were mad, but they also thought it was something that would eventually go away when the other kids grew up a little. They thought that it would stop when the high school program begun, but no 12 year-old getting bullied is that patient. I made them a promise that I would wait until the middle school program ended and then I would decide. But it just got worse as time passed.”

“Hoseok,” your voice breaks and you realize tears have been threatening to roll down your cheeks without even realizing, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that. I couldn’t have been that brave when I was 12.”

“Yeah, well, it was all thanks to you. I kept thinking that if I kept dancing, maybe I could get famous and come see you and make you proud. But obviously I didn’t make it that far.”

He gives you a bitter smile that’s so hollow and empty, you almost don’t recognize him. It’s then that you realize every smile he’d given you before this one was genuine. Even the ones he gave you when you when he was bothering you in school.

“W-what happened after the program ended?” It takes a great deal of effort to drag your eyes off his face and go back to looking after the swimmers, but you have no choice. Remembering that you’re at work, you wipe your arm across your eyes quickly so you can see clearly.

“I’d changed, I guess. I think if I stayed any longer I would be a completely different person. I got really dark and kind of mean. Sometimes I would surprise myself with the thoughts I would have, even at that age. Even when it was towards people who had done me wrong.”

“Is that why you started hanging out with those guys?”

He sighs, not proud of himself at the moment. “Yeah. I knew that high school would be just as hard for me if I came back with open wounds, so to speak. But I couldn’t stay and just keep rotting away. So I made myself a compromise. I would do what it took to get protection so I could eventually get better and not need it anymore. I figured...what better way to do that than to basically get myself a security team? I knew no one would mess with me if I could just find a way into that group.”

“I was wondering about that, to be honest. It didn’t make sense that did a kid like you would fall in with kids like them. Like even after all you went through, you still weren’t a bully like them.”

“Well, they told me that I would have to prove to them that I had the balls to be in the group. They said it had to be big. The first thing that came to mind was causing a disruption of some sort. At an important place.”

“A place like the center stage of the annual new student assembly,” you whisper as the pieces of the puzzle connect. Anger automatically rises at the memory of the day, but you clamp down on it with a few careful breaths. He senses your automatic reaction and winces.

“I hope you know I’m not telling you all of this so you feel guilty, like you have to forgive me. If it makes you feel any better. I’ve never stopped hating myself for that day.”

You smile darkly. “That doesn’t really make me feel better. But tell me about it anyway.”

“When they realized I would be on stage that year, they wanted me to flip a girl’s uniform skirt while I was up there to prove that I could be one of them. I hated the idea. I couldn’t even fathom doing it but I said yes at the start because they wouldn’t budge on the idea.”

“That...makes sense. Why me, though?”

“It wasn’t logical. I didn’t think you would be up on stage, and when I saw you looking at me, I thought maybe it was worth a shot using you instead of some random girl. Somehow it seemed better to do it to someone I knew than with a stranger.”

“You’re right. Doesn’t sound logical at all,” your tone holds almost palpable annoyance. “But I can see why that would make sense when you’re stressed and 14. I guess.”

“But that’s also why I couldn’t go through with the whole skirt flipping thing once I realized it had to be you. I couldn’t do that either. I still remember how in fourth grade you would cried every time the teacher called on you and you didn’t have the answer. You hate being the center of attention.”

You hum, neither in agreement nor in disagreement. You’re not quite ready to speak as you consider the situation from his point of view.

“It was a huge risk. Both not pulling the whole prank and pulling the prank, but it was just enough that they let it slide and let me in. I figured that maybe I could explain it away to you right after, but I couldn’t find you.”

“That’s because I was in the bathroom. Crying my eyes out.”

“God. I’m so sorry. You have to at least know that.”

“No, I know you are.”

“I thought about laying low for a while and giving you some time to cool off, but then we had so many classes together. And I was still planning on giving you some space then, but I—” he trails off.

“Then you what?”

“Then I saw you up close for the first time in two years and I just couldn’t stay away,” he says quietly.

“Oh, come on. Aren’t you laying it on a little thick?” You roll your eyes and sneer, ignoring the way your heartbeat picked up at the tortured rasp in his words.

“I mean it!” He turns in his seat to you but you nod your head at the pool and then he’s turning back sheepishly. “The only reason I got through middle school was because I thought about seeing my best friend every day. It had been two years and I was so curious about you and how you’d changed. And I remember thinking how pretty you were. I felt like I was going crazy.”

“You should have just left me alone. I’m sure I would have gotten over it after a few days if you gave me some space and we could have talked civilly. Could have avoided all of…this,” you gesture with your hands to the tense air between you.

“I realized that a little too late, I think. When you didn’t want to talk to me—which was completely understandable and I deserved it—I was worried you hated me. So I thought that if I just acted like we were 12 again and everything was normal, maybe it would go back to being normal. I guess even though I hadn’t changed too much I did get really selfish.”

Part of you agrees that it was kind of selfish for Hoseok not to give you the space you needed. But another part of you thinks back to all the times he ‘bothered’ you and you have to ask yourself if you really minded it.

“Hoseok, I,” you lower your head so you don’t have to face his piercing gaze, “owe you an apology as well.”

“For what?”

“For snapping at you. Not the first few times,” you amend. “Not when the embarrassment was still fresh. But after those first few days passed and I was still angry. I wasn’t angry about the assembly then. I was angry because I wanted you to tell me sorry and why you would pull such a stupid prank on me. I think it was the waiting that made me resent you. Granted, I was waiting for an explanation you decided you didn’t want to give me in the end. An explanation that you owed me.”

“I get that,” he says quietly. “Look, I was stupid not to realize you didn’t want to talk around it.”

“It’s not all your fault. If I had just told you that I wanted to talk it, things probably wouldn’t have gotten bad like they did. I shouldn’t have shut you out.”

Your throat feels tight at the end of your confession as you think of all the times you must have unknowingly broken his young heart. Every time you’d denied him when he tried to carry your books. Or walk with you to your locker, to swim practice, to wait for your dad to pick you up at the end of the day. He still attempted all those things, but he did it with you turning to snap at him for doing them every step of the way. How he managed to smile brightly every morning is still a mystery to you. The good thing is that now your chest feels more open and light than it has in years. It feels good to finally understand everything and not hide your frustration. He must sense the new lightness because when he laughs this time its full of mirth, no bitterness weighing it down. You’re secretly grateful his laugh is still the low hiccuping sound it was when you were children.

“Hell, if you’d told me that you wanted the moon, I would have given it to you. If it would bring you—my friend back to me.”

Clearly, all the issues hadn’t been addressed just yet. There was still the fact that he developed a crush on you despite all your snapping during those four years. You feel awkward again, but now its because you don’t know how to address his old feelings for you. It would be a shame to let that fester between you as well, so you go straight for the jugular.

“What about the day—”

“In the cafeteria?” You nod.

He’s about to hunker down and explain when a two year old whose mother signed them in about an hour ago waddles up to your chairs wordlessly. You move to get up and try and guess which person to call from the sign in sheet but Hoseok simply scoops the child up and plops them in his lap before bouncing a foot so the child bounces with it. The kid laughs and claps, sprinkling some of the pool water dripping off them onto your arm. Despite the heavy conversation, the high, bubbly sound has both of you smiling on command. He removes his sunglasses and gives them to the child to play with.

“I was telling the truth. I knew you were trying to call my bluff, but I was being honest because it had been eating at me. Plus, I was mad, you know?”

“Why?”

“Because I knew you hated me. But I just—I couldn’t find it in myself to leave you alone at that point. And I knew. I knew you weren’t mad anymore about the assembly. I mean it had been years and I knew you didn’t care about it at that point.”

“Were you mad because I didn’t like you back?”

“No…I really don’t think so. I think I was just mad because you were becoming more and more amazing every day and I just sat there and watched. I couldn’t—couldn’t grow with you. You were pretty and athletic and studious and nice… when you wanted to be.”

You chuckle and let yourself look at him for a brief moment. He’s smiling at the child who has now decided to stand in his lap. Hoseok’s orange hair baffles the baby and a chubby hand goes to grab at the strands out of curiosity. He looks handsome, you can’t deny it.

In another timeline, in some alternate universe, maybe he could be your best friend and boyfriend today. Maybe seeing him interact with the little kids would have you blushing and thinking about a not too distant future together. Maybe you would be trying to earn money to save up for an apartment together in the city. Maybe this would be a regular day for the two of you and after work he would take you out to dinner and you’d buy him ice cream afterwards and then maybe after that you would…If it weren’t for everything that happened maybe you would…you would.

“What’s wrong?” Concern mars his delicate features before he looks over the child to see if the problem lies with them.

“Nothing! I was just thinking. I’m kind of ready for all this to be old news.”

His smile is slow and warm, but subdued. “You’re not just saying that because my stupid crush made you feel awkward right? It’s okay if it did. I don’t expect anything from you. I know you don’t like me like that.”

A protest rises in your throat, but you clamp it down before it can leave you. You’re not sure what you’re protesting.

“No. I just want to start over again,” you say after a beat.

You go home that day with a $40 dollar tip that technically wasn’t even intended for you.

Almost as soon as you both called for a truce in your near decade war, the child in Hoseok’s arms quickly started crying after realizing their mother was nowhere to be found. You deftly swept them into your arms and rocked them around the pool for the rest of your 90 minute shift, letting them whine quietly into your neck until they dozed off. While Hoseok herded the rest of the children and a few mothers out of the kiddie area, you managed to get the child to tell your their full name so you could narrow down the list of parents to call. Eventually you found the right person and handed the child back to Hoseok so he could distract them further by drawing shapes on his belly with sunscreen. The child’s mother came soon after you hung up and pulled out her wallet as soon as she saw Hoseok playing with her child. He thanked her for the tip and, once she left, went and curled the bills into the palm of your hand, saying “That was all you”.

The day closes off quietly. You pack up your things and go to clock out in the lounge, only to find no one else looks like they’re leaving despite the fact that both pools had closed 20 minutes prior. When you ask what everyone else’s plans are, Stella informs you that the staff often go to visit the people working in the kitchen to get a free meal in exchange for keeping the pool open for an hour after all the club members left. It was a nice little arrangement that took place every day during the summer.

“You’ll come, right? It’s free food directly from the chef and his team,” Stella says as she locks her cubicle office.

“I don’t know. Aren’t they sick of cooking after doing it all day?”

She huffs, “They cook after the last customer leaves anyway so they can eat too. It’s not that much trouble to cook for us. Especially when they get to take a swim after being on their feet all day.”

Hoseok steps behind you as people begin to file out of the lounge and head to the club restaurant. “You’re not avoiding me, are you? I thought we were friends again,” he teases good-naturedly.

“Of course not! I meant what I said, I just…” He looks down at you thoughtfully when you trail off. “My parents are probably waiting up for me, you know. They wanna know how my first day went and all that.” You say your goodbyes to everyone before heading back to the car knowing that your parents will be out late seeing a movie.

The next morning, you get there before Hoseok, but you have a key to open the gate. So you get ahead on getting the ropes set out on both pools. To kill the time still left before the kiddie pool opens, you try to remember the combination to your employee locker so you can try on the company suit you ordered. It fits well, and the red will go nicely with your skin as the summer progresses and your tan deepens. You do a little spin for the lifeguards laying around the lounge and they humor you and clap sleepily. Stella gives you a thumbs up, busy on the phone in her cubicle as she always is.

Boredom compels you to go and sit in your seat early. With the extra time still left you put on sunscreen. Very carefully. You put on a visor, then decide you don’t want to deal with it if it gets wet by chance. Then you put it back on again because why not. You’re starting to worry that you’ll have to do the shift on your own when Hoseok stumbles in with a few parents coming to sign their kids in to the pool.

“Sorry,” he throws himself into his seat.

An apologetic frown twists his mouth, but the plushness of his pout goes unnoticed because you’re focused on the smear of white near the hinge of his jaw. You reach out on instinct to wipe it off, but stop midway and gesture to it instead, reeling your hand back in slowly. He wipes at it roughly.

“Why were you late?”

“Got in a fight with my mom last night. She took the car keys from me so I had to take the bus here. Were you waiting out here long?”

“Kind of, yeah.”

He grimaces guiltily and looks up at the sky directly because there’s no nice, big beach umbrella to shield your heads from the heat like there is for the guards at the adult pool.

“Geez. That must have sucked in this heat.”

“Not really. The sun’s not at its strongest yet. Maybe in a few hours I’ll get mad at you,” you joke.

“Promise?”

“Nah. You thought I was mean in high school? You better hope you don’t want to see me mad now. Completely different animal.”

“I don’t know,” he drawls, a fox-like grin coming out. “I think, if anything, I might have developed a taste for it.”

“Eyes on the pool, horndog .” The banter elicits a small smile from you. It’s only small because you’re working to contain it. You can’t believe how easy it is to be around him when you’re not at each other’s throats.

The day passes by quickly in companionable silence until around noon, when the heat gets almost unbearable. Hoseok suggests then that you move to sit in the actual pool and watch from there. If it’s really just an excuse to watch your red-clad figure move in its entirety for a brief second, you can’t tell. The next string of shifts is spent with both of you seated in adjacent corners to let the water lap at you and calm your heated skin. Occasionally a child will make their way over to one of you and you’ll play with them for a bit until they get bored or their parents return. The sight of the babies climbing Hoseok to grab little fistfuls of wet, orange hair is heart warming. And the way he scoops them up to blow raspberries against their round cheeks makes something clench in your gut a little, too intense to be the fluttering wings of nervous butterflies. As a distraction you let one curious child attempt to chew on the whistle around your neck. Not like you’ll be using it anyway.

“You gonna duck out again and skip dinner today, too?”

His question comes out of nowhere and startles you from watching a young girl of around 4 years old try to doggie paddle on her back.

“I don’t know. I just feel like I don’t know anyone enough to be very good company while I’m there.”

“You don’t have to be a hostess, you can just sit there and eat.”

“But then it looks like I just came there for the food. I don’t want to seem antisocial.”

“You kind of are, though.”

“Yeah, but I don’t need the others to know.”

“You could just talk to me, you know. I mean…it would make you look like you’re there for the social activities in addition to the food. And it would make sense if you talked mainly with me since we’re shift partners and have a, uh, history.”

“I guess when you put it like that I don’t have much of a choice.” You’re not quite sulking, but the little waves you’re making with your hands under the water nearly knock a toddler over.

“No, you don’t. Guess you’re stuck with me.”

“Guess so.”

Once the sun sets, you get out of the pool first, worried that you’ll have permanently pruny fingers and toes if you sit there any longer. You don’t bother toweling off and instead get to work on stuffing the tips you made in the pocket of your hoodie. Hoseok locks the pool from the inside and jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the gathering of lifeguards and Stella.

The interior of the country club dining room is incredibly lavish and it feels like a crime to walk on the shining wood of the polished floors with some drugstore flip flops you bought and used as shower shoes for the last four years. There’s even a table that’s been freshly cleaned and set that the kitchen staff has laid out for you. A lanky boy who apparently goes by the name of Namjoon comes around to take everyone’s orders and you stiffen when you realize you don’t know the menu.

“What are you getting,” you hiss nearly into Hoseok’s armpit as you try to remain calm. Namjoon is leisurely taking people’s orders and chatting people up, but you want to be ready when he gets to your end of the table.

“I’m getting the pork cutlets,” he whispers back, to which you hum thoughtfully. Meat seemed like a basic dish to get at such a fine establishment. He seemed to sense your hesitation. “You might like their shrimp tacos. Still like seafood, right?”

“Y-yeah, I do.” He smiles to himself, proud that he still remembers all these little things about you. “I don’t know which to get. Shit.”

He chuckles at your frantic tone. “There’s no need to panic. I’lll let you have some of mine if you feel like you’re missing out.”

“Thanks,” you let out a sigh, head slumping to the side and nudging his arm lightly in the process.

You tell yourself that if it weren’t for the way the sun zapped your energy you would be sitting up properly. And you do once Namjoon comes around to your end of the table. You stutter out that you’d like the shrimp tacos and when he responds that there’s only trout left, you panic and say that’s fine instead of getting something you know will be good. Like pork cutlets.

“Calm down, I can feel you overthinking things from there,” he whispers after Namjoon returns to the kitchen with the table’s orders.

“Screw you. I’m not overthinking.” You burrow further into your artfully upholstered chair and look away from him.

He fixes you with a stare that tells you he doesn’t believe that lie for a second. “Whatever. Have a drink and stop stressing.”

You’re grateful as the person on your right offers to fill your cup with wine. It’s red wine, but you can’t complain because its’ free and you’re not really drinking much anyway seeing as you’re still in possession of your dad’s car as a means of getting home. However, due to unforeseen circumstances—that is due to the fact that you actually don’t like trout—you follow the half taco you eat with more wine to fill your stomach. Hoseok raises an eyebrow at your wine consumption, but doesn’t say anything as he carves out a healthy portion of one of his cutlets and plops it onto your plate. He follows it with generous spoonfuls of the rice and vegetables that came along with his dish to make sure your stomach is lined with a barrier if you drink more. And much to both his and your chagrin, you do drink more wine.

Once everyone has finished eating, you pour out of your seat to follow the kitchen staff and lifeguards out to the pool once more. Before you came in, there was still light in the sky that came from the last strong rays of setting sun, bathing everything in pink and orange. Now, the sun has set and everything is bathed in blue; even the lights lining the inside of the larger pool that are usually reserved for night events thrown by the country club glow a soft, pale blue.

Although you’re tipsy, you’re still somewhat practical, so you opt to sit by a well-lit corner and dip your feet in the water. It’s too cold and you’re too out of it to be able to swim safely or comfortably. For the few moments that you’re alone, you find peace in watching the chefs and waitstaff who’ve now changed into their swim attire frolic in the water. Someone brought a beachball and it’s being bounced around the pool. It takes all of your concentration and hand/eye coordination but you manage to give a successful volleyball inspired hit and keep the ball’s momentum. Hoseok’s feet appear next to you a beat later.

“Did you see that? That was a good spike, right?” You look up at him standing next to you. “You look like the pillsbury dough boy from this angle,” you say, prompting him to sit down.

“Is that something you’re into?” He smiles at your profile. The dim lighting does wonders for your features and he’s secretly glad he gets to see you in what he thinks may be a rare state.

“I like bread, but not that much.” He snorts at your joke.

You turn to look at him as best you can. This is the first time in a short while that you’ve gotten to really take a good look at him since you’re whole job is about looking away from him and at the children in the kiddie pool. If you squint, you can kind of see what he used to look like still there, under the surface. His cheeks were a bit rounder and softer, even when you were seniors in high school and technically ‘adults’. His hair was different too. For the majority of high school it was dark and laid flat against his foreheard. While it didn’t look bad, it didn’t do anything to flatter his face. It wasn’t until the end when he started experimenting with product and color. Even when you were younger and hated him, you were still able to appreciate the day he came into class during one winter morning of junior year with it parted and swooped messily off his forehead and dyed a warm brown with golden highlights. You and 30 other classmates had appreciated that day very much. It suited him and the brooding badboy thing he had going on.

“Thanks,” he says, surprise coloring his voice.

“W-what?”

“I didn’t know you liked the brown so much.”

Sober-you would have been having a conniption at the idea that Hoseok might get even the slightest whiff of your teeny-tiny attraction for him. The wine running in your veins has you relaxed enough to just concede the compliment to him, but steer the subject away from you.

“What made you dye it red?”

“Ehh, it was just a kind of coverup for a bad blond dye job my ex gave me last year.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Why? Do you think I should I dye it brown again?” You pause and look him over, trying to imagine the color from before on him now.

“No. The way you are now is fine.”

Your comment makes him sit back, a little stunned. When he looks back at you, you’re eyes are drifting closed. He’s pretty sure you drove yourself, so he lifts your arm and helps you stand up before hobbling over to Stella to let her know that he’s going to take you home.

“Alright,” she says, clearly enjoying her game of Marco Polo with the head chef. “But you had better get her home in a condition no worse than the one she’s in right now. And don’t think I won’t ask her tomorrow what she remembers happening after she left here, Jung.”

All he can do is salute her as your head lolls forward and you try to go back to being less upright.

Taking you home is more effort than he thought it would be. First, it takes a while to get you awake again so he can tell you he’s taking you home and ask you where your stuff is. He manages to get your locker open but only after waking you several times to get each number of the combination because you were too sleepy to give it to him in full. Then, he has to get you in the car without looking like he’s kidnapping you because at that point he’s carrying your dead weight. Just heaving you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry would be easier, but he’s worried you’ll throw up down his back. Once you’re in the car, the hardest part is over. From there it’s just pestering you again to get your seatbelt on and have you remind him of your parents’ address. Another bolt of pride shoots through him when you sleepily mumble the street and house number and it’s what he thought. After that it’s pretty smooth sailing. He finds your house with ease, the front light illuminating the number and the doorway.

Your mother comes to the door, father wandering in behind her to see why you’re coming in so late. When they see a pair of silhouettes walk across the lawn and up to the door, they quickly come out to see what’s going on. Your dad realizes you’re the one slumped over and moves quickly to take you off the stranger’s arm. Soon he realizes that the stranger is Jung Hoseok, the boy his only child used to play with.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

“Nothing bad. There’s just dinner for the lifeguards after the pool closes everyday and I think she filled up on wine instead of her food. I worried about her so I just drove her home. I hope that’s okay.”

“Well, it’s not ideal, but I’m glad it was you and not someone with an ulterior motive,” your father says with a pointed look at him.

Your mother holds the door open and looks on in sympathy at your clammy, sleepy face and ushers your father inside before ushering Hoseok in as well. As much as he would like to be able to carry you up the stairs to your bedroom like he used to when you were small, your father’s back can’t handle that much rigor and he opts for trying to lay you out onto the couch. He accidentally drops you on your face, but it’s not a steep drop and the cushions break your fall, so he just makes sure you’re facing to the side with a foot on the floor to keep you from rolling off and hurting yourself or choking on your vomit. He moves into the kitchen to find his wife pouring Hoseok a glass of water.

“I can’t thank you enough for bringing our baby home safely, Hoseok. You know, I was just thinking about you yesterday.”

“Is that so?” He politely sips at the water, very uncomfortable.

“Yes. I saw your mother recently. We were talking about how both of our nests have stopped being empty for the summer,” she laughs.

“Yeah, she told me she saw you.”

“It’s been a while, son,” your father says as he goes to stand next to your mother. Both of them pin Hoseok with stares filled with different emotions.

“Oh, it really has. You’re grown into such a handsome man. I suppose it makes sense, since you were such a beautiful boy.” All he can do is chuckle awkwardly before downing the last bit of water.

“Well, I better get going. I have to get up early to make it to the pool on time. It was nice to see you all.”

“It was nice to see you too, sweetie.” Your mother hands your father the car keys. “Drive Hosoek home, honey?”

“Sure.”

“It’s really no trouble, I was just gonna walk. I don’t live that far away.” His eyes widen at the thought of having to spend more making awkward small-talk with your parents and no way of escaping.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to lose any more sleep than you already have. I’ll drive you and you can do us a favor and swing by and pick up our baby, alright? She probably won’t be fit to drive that day, and it’ll be an opportunity for me to drive my wife to her doctor’s appointment.”

He stutters a bit, looking for a way out that won’t offend anyone, before giving up. “Okay. Thank you, sir.”

“No problem, son.”

To say that the morning following Hoseok driving you home is the worst mornings of your life is probably an exaggeration, but it’s most likely a slight one. First, you had wake up with a bit of a hangover, which wouldn’t be so bad if you could get more time to sleep it off. Instead, you’re forced to roll off the bed at the sound of your alarm and shower. Your stomach is killing you, but you know you can’t skip breakfast and still make it through a whole day of sitting in the sun. The worst part of the morning by far is dragging yourself downstairs only to find Hoseok drinking coffee with your mother at the kitchen table.

His eyes brighten at the sight of you shuffling down the stairs looking half dead, but he’d much rather deal with you and your hangover than sit there and listen to your mom make thinly veiled attempts at asking him if he’d confessed to you yet. Your mother ushers both of you out the door with a fruit cup and spoon and you barely have any time to process the situation.

Five minutes into the drive to the pool is enough time for the cool early morning air and periwinkle skyline for you to wake up and take back the reigns from your lizard brain.

“Why were you in my house?” You poke a soft piece of syrup covered peach with your spoon and lay back in your seat. Mrs. Jung’s car is newer than your father’s so you don’t have to wind a crank to get the seat to recline.

“Do you remember last night?”

“Of course, I do.”

“Well, that’s why.” You pout for a minute, embarrassed that Hoseok saw you in such a state even though you were only a little past tipsy.

“Did my parents put you up to this?”

“Absolutely. As much as I’d like to be able to get you to voluntarily ride around with me, it’s not worth having your dad drive me home and spending the morning with your mom.” You snort at his candid tone. “No offense to your parents. They’re wonderful people.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What did my mom say to you?”

“Nothing much. She asked me how college was and if I had a job lined up. Asked me if I had a girlfriend. Asked me if you had a secret boyfriend. Then asked me why I hadn’t asked you out yet. You know. The usual.”

“Are you serious?” The pieces of fruit you had been half-heartedly munching on and get stuck in your windpipe. It takes a couple firm pats on the back from Hoseok but soon you’re eyes stop watering and you are able to look at him gravely. “Did she really ask you that?”

“She did,” he smiles self-deprecatingly, but it’s still a warm smile.

“W-what did you tell her?” At the sound of your quiet inquiry his expression sombers up quickly.

“Don’t worry. I just told her I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not uncomfortable, though.”

“Well, I’m sure you would be if I was chasing you around like I used to.”

“Things are different now,” is all you can say without your face heating up too much.

He chances a look at you and the way you fiddle with your hoodie reminds him of the way you played with the hem of your school uniform whenever you were talking with guys you liked. After a few deep breaths, he decides to take a risk. The little booth where the parking lot managers sits to monitor employee traffic is visible at the end of the street once Hoseok drives past the country club gates. He drives straight past the attendant because he has an employee sticker on his car window. There’s a vacant spot in the far corner of the lot that he takes before parking the car so he can turn to face you.

“How are things different?”

You find it hard not to feel warm under Hoseok’s stare. Though it’s not the first time you’ve been the object of his hungry gaze, all the previous times were more diluted because he was just a young boy searching for just ounce of the comfort he once found in you as his childhood best friend. Those were the days where you were mad at him and could easily deflect the power of his stare with your own anger. Now, though, the air has been cleared, the slate wiped clean. He’s no longer a 14 year-old boy hoping you’ll forgive him. He’s 23 and wants nothing more than to strip you of all your pretenses and get as close to you as possible simply because he wants to be able to feel all you can offer and give you all you’ll accept.

When you can’t meet his eyes or answer him, he squares his jaw and leans into your space. He’s tired of this game of cat and mouse. Maybe it’s because he couldn’t sit back and pretend he didn’t still feel anything for you. Maybe it’s because he knows that in this situation he’s not really a cat or a mouse. He feels more like a beast with a strange amount of patience. But everyone knows patience has to run out sometime. Slowly, he brings a gentle hand to your chin and lifts your gaze towards his.

“Why are things different now?”

“Because…you don’t make me uncomfortable anymore,” you say, knowing that you’re being overly cowardly and vague.

He knows the desperation is clear in his voice, but he really thinks he’s been correctly reading the room and the way you look at him when you think he can’t see. He just wants confirmation. “Why are you comfortable now?”

“It’s not that I’m exactly comfortable with you,” you trail off looking for the right phrase. “I still feel like my whole body is tensed up when I’m around you.”

“Oh,” he says, trying to swallow down the sudden wave of disappointment.

“But I like it.”

His head snaps up and suddenly he’s laughing. It sounds a bit too high and crazed to be anything other than manic laughter. You watch his shoulders shake and his hands rake through his hair before he sighs and turns to smile at you.

“Can I kiss you,” he blurts out. The surprised look on your face must be comical because he laughs more naturally this time before leaning over the center console to pin you to your seat with a softer, molten look. “Can I?”

Somewhere in the back of your head, a part of you wonders if kissing in the car is even allowed before 10 am, but you figure that the only way to know is to try. You hum affirmatively, not trusting your voice, but he shakes his head at you and retracts a little.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“Yes. Are you happy now,” you huff. He rewards your half-effort with a warm hand wrapping around the nape of your neck, but doesn’t move any closer.

“‘Yes’ what?” His smile is dark and teasing. Almost mean.

“For fuck’s sake, Jung, just kiss me.” It’s too early for teasing and your hands come up to scrunch in the fabric of the front of his t-shirt like they have a mind of their own.

“There’s my girl,” he whispers before swooping in and crushing his lips to yours.

Kissing Jung Hoseok is not at all like you pictured it. Then again, you’d spent the last 8 years pushing away the mere possibility that it could happen, so it’s not surprising that he passes all your expectations given that you had none. That’s not to say that your standards are super low and that he’s just a mediocre kisser, because he’s most certainly not. The moment your eyes close, his lips caress yours slowly and firmly. He opens your mouth with a few well-timed nips to your lower lip followed, wetting your entrance with a subtle swipes of his tongue. As he eases you open, your hands move to feel his torso and map out the planes and dips of his defined arms and toned chest. The hot glide of his tongue against yours has you reaching up to card your fingers through his hair. It feels slightly damp with the shower he must have taken before coming to pick you up and you scrape your nails lightly against his scalp as you comb through the russet waves. He groans into your mouth and presses forward, his nose brushing your cheek as he turns his head to kiss you more deeply. From there, you can’t stop your hands from roaming up his arms, his sides, his back. Eventually you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck and letting one hand wriggle under the collar of his shirt so you can rest your palm against the smooth skin of his back.

The feeling of your hand on his bare skin feels hot like a brand and pushes him to work harder to draw moans from you. Soft sounds of breathing and your lips meeting again and again fill the car. The cooler temperature of the outside morning air means that the car starts to fog up quickly. His free arm doesn’t stop moving. First he wraps it around your waist, then strokes your thigh before digging his fingers into the meat of it. Finally he settles on cupping your face with both hands to bring you impossibly closer as he ravishes your mouth. You let out a long breath that ends in a hitch when he decides to test out sucking kisses onto the column of your neck. His name leaves your mouth in a breathy sigh and suddenly he’s cursing and pulling back.

He looks fucked out with his hair a coppery mess from your fingers running through it, shiny, swollen lips, and a dreamy expression on his face. You drink in the picturesque curves of his profile, especially admiring the slope of his boyish smile as he grins to himself with his chest heaving. The neon numbers on the digital clock in the dashboard let you know that you’re 10 minutes behind schedule to opening up the kiddie pool.

“We’re late,” you mumble when you’ve caught your breath and the windshield isn’t so foggy anymore.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Listen, why don’t you, uh, go in first, okay?”

He’s still smiling but he’s hunching over himself a little strangely, hands resting unnaturally splayed out in his lap. You’re suspicious, but nod and take your bag with you out the car to go get ready for the start of the shift. Stella and the other lifeguards are standing by the tiny coffee machine in the lounge when you come in, your hair is still a bit of a mess. Stella gives you a knowing smile after giving you a once over.

“Glad to have you back,” her voice lilts and a couple people sticker.

“Uh, what do you mean? I didn’t go anywhere.” Trying not to not look guilty proves difficult when you can’t even manage a normal smile and can only give something that’s 80% teeth.

“Easy, lightweight,” one guard says, “We just didn’t think you’d make it here after how gone you were yesterday. Much less on time for your morning set-up.”

“I’m not a lightweight, I just didn’t end up eating any of my dinner,” you sniff, but relax the set of your shoulders a bit once you realize they’re snickering about your tipsy antics from the night before and not your amorous behavior in the parking lot just now.

Hoseok shows up while you’re in the middle of setup and doesn’t say much as he helps you with the rest of it. The kiddie pool opens like it normally does at 8am and young swimmers trickle in. Some more frequent guests waddle over to your chairs to show off their new floaties or to ask if you live at the pool. Your shift partner is still unnervingly quiet for the first few hours, not even complaining when the temperature steadily increases to an annoying high. He still doesn’t say anything as you move your safety equipment to the edge of the pool so you can both dip into the shallow water for relief. Quickly, you realize that you’re rather fond of his talkative nature and snap as soon as the toddler that was repeatedly jumping into his arms gets picked up by the last parent and you can break for lunch. You say a silent goodbye to your pride and finally turn to him once the gate to the kiddie pool is closed.

“It’s really warm, huh?”

His neutral expression breaks into a private smile to himself. “Yeah, I suppose it is. You’re gonna eat lunch right?”

“Yeah,” you say, still frowning at his short answers as you move to get up from the pool wall.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get yours too. We can just eat out here.”

You nod for lack of anything better to say. When he comes back with one sac you remember that you didn’t pack a lunch for yourself like you normally would the night before work. He sits next to you and opens his lunchbox silently.

“I forgot to bring a lunch. I’m gonna head to the tip jar and then run to the vending machine really quick.”

“No need,” he says, “Your mom packed this for you this morning and gave it to me.”

He hands you a plastic bag out of his own larger container before opening a hand-made sandwich and chowing down. You open the bag cautiously, not expecting the normal salad that you pack yourself usually. Instead, you find something that may be exactly the same lunch she used to pack you when you were in elementary school.

“I guess this is punishment for getting too drunk to take myself home,” you mutter down at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich and carrot sticks.

He peers into your bag.“What’s wrong with carrot sticks,” he pouts and holds his own container of carrot sticks and hummus.

“At least you had the decency to pack hummus. She thinks I still eat the same way I did when I was 8.”

“I’ll trade you for your fruit punch.”

“What are you offering,” you give him the side-eye of a seasoned businesswoman.

“Just your favorite,” he shrugs, pulling out a small cardboard carton of chocolate milk. Even at your age, you still love chocolate milk, though you don’t indulge in it often. “Bet you haven’t seen this since we were kids.”

You nod frantically, remembering how you used to drink it whenever you could if there wasn’t a race that day. “Deal.” you say, tossing the tiny bottle of fruit punch and snatching the milk like he might not keep his promise.

The two of you give each other a look and break down into laughter at your childish behavior.

“Just like old times.” Your voice and eyes are soft as you watch him open the fruit punch with a little difficulty. Huffing, you nudge his hands out of the way before snapping the no-spill opening so he can drink from it with one hand.

“Almost.” He inches his face toward yours until you can almost count his eyelashes. His hand comes to run up your arm and lay on your shoulder blade, trying to get you closer.

You meet him halfway, turning a bit awkwardly at the waist so you can wrap your arms around him. If you’re being honest, you were worried that he was being so quiet because he regretted kissing you in the car and was trying to think of a way to take it back. But it’s clear that’s not the case from the way he coaxes your lips open with his own so he can lick into your mouth with a slickness that has your face heating. The reminder that your coworkers could see you at any moment has you beginning to pull away, but he knows you too well to let you escape.

“No one’s gonna see,” he whispers against your mouth before going back in to work your lips. Your eyes flutter shut again and the worries seem to dissolve a little.

“What if they do, though?” Somehow one of your hands always makes it back to his hair and you give it a slight tug when he sucks lightly on your earlobe. “This is unprofessional.”

“Yeah, it is.” He grins but still pulls back after pressing a somewhat chaste kiss on your frowning lips once and then twice.

“I haven’t even touched my lunch and the break is almost over,” you mumble. “Good thing there’s dinner after the last shift.”

“Don’t get drunk again,” he tosses his head back at his joke and you can only glare at him as you steal some hummus.

The rest of the day goes by without a hitch. You and Hoseok manage to keep your hands off each other during dinner. And surprisingly during the ride he gives you home, which quickly becomes a daily routine. Your parents gave you a knowing look when you told them why you would no longer need to borrow the car to get to work, but they didn’t say anything.

The summer passes by quickly and slowly. Quickly because you have fun talking with Hoseok and time seemingly passes by faster when he’s making you laugh or smile while he plays with the babies. Slowly because he still manages to find moments to get in your face and steal a few kisses that seem to halt time itself. It seems like you blinked and then there were only two more weeks left of work at the pool left.

There’s about an hour before the pool closes and Hoseok has migrated over to a farther corner of the pool to engage little Jungkook, a pool regular who keeps gazing up at him with hero-worship in his eyes. You let yourself look over for a brief second before continuing your perusal of the other swimmers to make sure no one needs help. Sudden splashing gets your attention and Jungkook comes running into your field of view.

“What’s the matter? Did you drop your goggles again?” You let him take your hand, though you have to crouch so he can reach it.

“Lifeguard Hoseok is playing dead and it’s scary,” he looks up at you with big eyes and brings you to where Hoseok is managing to float on his back despite the low level of the pool water.

“Hoseok,” you put on an admonishing tone for Jungkook, “Are you playing dead and scaring the swimmers?”

He cracks an eye open at the sound of your voice and looks up at you. “Actually, I’m drowning. Please save me.” Jungkook watches him close his eyes again and stick out his tongue, imitating a body.

“He keeps doing that scary face. Is he dead?” Jungkook squeezes your hand and you kneel down so that you can look him in the eye.

“No, he’s just pretending.”

“Make him open his eyes, then.” You raise an eyebrow and he tacks on a ‘please, Ms. Lifeguard’.

“Hoseok,” you stage-whisper to appease Jungkook, who’s looking on with distress in his eyes, “You need to wake up. You’re making your friend here nervous about you.”

“Then you should save me so I can wake up. Right, Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah. Give him PPR to wake him up!”

“Yeah! Give me that sweet PPR, please.”

You roll your eyes. Clearly Hoseok is childish enough to know how to get actual children on his side. To make sure no funny business happens, you treat it like the training sessions you’ve attended and pinch his nose closed. His eyes crack open to glare at you but stay closed for the most part like a good faker. You lower your head and place a chaste kiss on Hoseok’s waiting mouth. He springs up and gasps like all the life force he lost has entered back into his body all at once. His hands come out to clutch you to him in a fierce hug.

“Thank you for saving me, Ms. Lifeguard.” He shouts into your hair, soaking your top half despite the fact that you’d managed to keep your hair dry all day until this point. “Look, Jungkook, she saved me.”

Jungkook is clearly smarter than Hosoek thinks and pouts at the two of you. “Hey! You weren’t really sleeping, you were just pretending so you could get a kiss!”

“How did you know,” your mouth drops open and a genuine laugh tumbles out. Jungkook attempts to cross his little arms but the floaties he’s wearing get in the way.

“Because my Dada always does it to trick my Papa when we go to the beach.”

“I’m sorry Hoseok tried to trick you, Jungkook. But, I hope that you’ll still listen when people tell you they’re hurting because it might be true next time.”

He nods and you reach up to ruffle his dark hair. He skips off to go play and you make sure no one is looking before you break the no-splashing rule and send a wave up at Hoseok’s face.

“What the hell was that?”

“What? I’m bored. I just wanted to play,” he pouts at you.

“Play later. We still have 45 minutes of work left.”

“Will you play with me,” he asks in your ear. You shiver a little at the feeling of his breath on your neck but push him away.

“Fine, but later. I’m not gonna get caught goofing off and lose this job. I really need it.”

“Did you not have a job lined up after school ended?” He sits down for real and adjusts his visor to shield his eyes.

“No. Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m start working at a JYP Banks city branch this fall.”

“Oh my god, ew. Were you an econ major?”

It’s hard to imagine Hoseok as one of the boys who used too much hair gel, smoked too much weed on the weekends, and wore suits to their business and math classes on your former campus.

“Yeah, why not? I’m good at math.”

“Since when,” your nose wrinkles.

“Since high school. It was one of the only classes I always had without you. So I actually ended up paying attention.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he gently tweaks your side, “You weren’t there at the board with your too-small uniform skirt for me to stare at.”

“Too small? Those uniforms were specially ordered for each student, asshole.”

“That doesn’t mean anything if you were a late bloomer and got the measurements taken when you were 13 and built like a grade-schooler.”

Your mouth gapes open and there’s a lot to unpack in that statement. The fact that he called you out for being flat as a board at the end of middle school. The fact that he called you out for not suddenly having boobs and ass when you were 15 like everyone else. The fact that he had bee paying attention to you well before puberty hit you like a truck in senior year, unlike other guys.

“I’m not a stick now, though,” you say and sit up a bit straighter to confirm to yourself that no one would confuse you for a child with your figure now.

“Nope,” he agrees, “You’re certainly not.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Again with this?”

“We can’t all have the same metabolism that we’ve had since we were teenagers. You were skinny too, if I recall.”

“Yeah and there’s nothing wrong with that. But that old string-bean Hoseok is gone.” He’s half joking, half serious as he brings up a tanned arm to flex, showing off a surprising sized bicep. You reach out and squeeze the swell of firm muscle. “That’s gym and dance gains right there, baby.”

“You’re an idiot,” you toss over your shoulder fondly as the final few parents and children leave the pool.

The two of you putter around and clean up the pool so its ready for closing. Hoseok goes ahead while you stay back to make sure none of the kids left any precious toys or swim gear behind. When you enter the lounge, the last few lifeguards are heading out towards the restaurant employee entrance while Hoseok waves to them.

“You didn’t have to wait for me, you know.”

Carefully you turn the sticky lock on your locker, trying angrily to get it open so you can put your things away and go eat. One of the chefs told you the day before that the final shipment of mango for the summer was coming and you’d be damned if someone else took some of the portions they promised to save for you.

“You said you’d play with me,” his voice is low as he presses against you. You let him close your locker for you and turn to give him a placating kiss.

“What about food?” He presses wet kisses along the skin of your shoulder before sliding the strap of your suit down with his teeth. His hand runs a course down to your ass. His fingers toy with the elastic hem of your one-piece, cheekily catching against the skin there underneath.

He lifts hooded eyes up to yours. “Are you hungry right now?”

“Maybe not now,” you say as you swipe your thumbs across his cheekbones, “But I would be by the time that they finished taking people’s orders. That’s not a super long time.”

“So maybe we should just get food later.” His tone is reasonable and the way he’s pressing against you is distracting. If you shift the right way, you can feel him through his shorts.

“Where are we even gonna go?”

“It turns out,” he takes you by the hand and leads you through the other exit in the lounge, “There isn’t a view of the adult pool from the windows in the dining area. We’re alone here.”

He hops into the water, dunking his head under before coming up right after. His hands slick back his hair and you’re suddenly disappointed that he only wanted to swim. You go in after him, electing to do a lap or two to stretch your limbs after hours in a chair. When you come back up he claps.

“Nice form,” he says as you paddle over.

“I’m missing mangos for this.”

“Don’t worry, I told them to save some for you. You’ve been talking about them all day.”

You beam at him, disappointment appeased now that you’re still going to get your fruit. He pats the wall of the shallow end of the pool.

“Come sit.”

You swim over and hoist yourself up on the edge. He wades up to the edge to rest his hands on your thighs. The smile on his face is wide and brilliant as he looks up at you and you can’t help but card your fingers through his hair. The red is fading and you’re a bit sad to see it go.

“Are you gonna dye it back again or are you gonna let it grow out for work?”

“Yeah, I think the red might have to go. But I might be able to do brown. Or even blond if it’s done well. What do you think,” he asks, laying his cheek on your knee.

“It’s up to you, I mean. I won’t even be there to see it, so you might as well do what’s best for the office.”

With the end of the summer nearing, what would happen between you two became a common topic of conversation. But the conversations never get too far because you still haven’t defined what it was that you are to each other. The idea of having split after all that you’ve been through, including everything before finding one another at the pool, makes your stomach feel cold and empty. This isn’t your average summer whirlwind and you both know that. But neither of you wants to be the one to end the fun.

“Who knows. You might be in the city for work. Or you could come down on the weekends. Or I could come up.” He looks up at you, eyes swimming in some emotion you can’t name. “I just don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“Can we not do this right now? It’s depressing and there’s still a little while left, anyway.”

“Okay.”

He nuzzles into the flesh of your thigh, mouthing against it even when your leg jumps up against the ticklish sensation. Leaning back, you watch him pepper your thighs with kisses in earnest. The higher up he moves, the slower they get until he’s only a few inches away from your core and your arms are protesting from holding yourself up so you can watch. You endure it because the sight of the faded auburn of his hair moving as he switches to the other knee and works his up is enticing in and of itself. His hands come to your hips and move you closer to the edge, his nose brushing against the hem of your suit.

“Here? Are you kidding me?”

“Why not?” His voice is muffled from where his mouth moves to suck a bruise high up on your inner thigh. “Don’t you think it’s a little fun? The idea that someone could see?”

“I think mini-golf is fun. Grocery shopping is also pretty—shit,” you lose your train of thought as he presses the flat of his tongue hard against the the crotch of your suit. Your thighs clamp shut on either side of him and you whip your head around to check your surroundings.

“Will you relax, please? The cleaning crew doesn’t come until after 9 and they’ll be in there for at least an hour.”

“But I smell like the pool.”

“I do too. Don’t worry, baby.” He sucks a kiss onto the apex of your thighs before looking up at you through dark lashes. “Is this okay?”

You stutter for a moment before steadying yourself once more and nodding. He uses one hand to creep up to the singular strap holding your suit up and slides it down to get access to your breasts. He kneads a globe in his hand before plucking your nipple and rolling it between his fingers. The other hand rubs at you over your suit with his thumb circling around what he hopes is your clit. Eventually the friction gets you swollen enough that he can better locate it. Dampness begins to pool at your center, forming a dark spot on your suit as you cant your hips up in time with the figure eights he rubs onto you. The wet material of your suit begins to bother you and you slide the top half down further, the evening air causing your nipples to pebble. With the suit now lax, he slides the crotch to the side and inhales deeply. The scent of chlorine is there, but he can still make out your natural scent underneath. Your arousal glistens subtly in the dim light and when he runs a finger through the slick to taste, you groan.

“What’s taking you so long? Put your face in it already.”

“You just want me to hurry up so we don’t get caught.”

“Maybe. But I want you to eat me out too.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He dives in quickly, collecting all the arousal he can on his tongue. Licking from your entrance up to the top, he makes sure to hollow his cheeks, and sucks your clit into his mouth. Your leg kicks out to the side of him, splashing water up quietly. Pulling back with a smack, he maneuvers both your thighs over the broad expanse of his shoulders and moves in closer. He laughs when you whine for him puts his mouth back on you.

“Is it good so far,” he asks, carefully sliding a slender finger into you.

“Mmm, it’s good. Add another finger, I can handle it.” He adds another finger and scissors them after a beat.

“You wanna feel stretched, baby?” You bite you lip, arms quivering until you have to lie on your back. “I bet you’d rather take my dick, wouldn’t you?”

“Oh my god, I want it so bad.” He twitches and hardens further as he watches you reach down to fondle both your breasts roughly.

“You’d take my dick so well, I know it. I wish I could have you bouncing on me so I could play with your tits myself. But you keep playing with them and imagine those are my hands.”

“Hoseok,” you whine, “I need more. Need your mouth again too.”

Determined to make you cum hard, he adds a third finger and presses down on your pelvic floor before thrusting them into you over and over, his wrist twisting sinuously. Once you start squelching from a sudden onslaught of wetness, he assaults your clit again. With the body of his tongue, he licks shapes onto your core. A particularly hard flick of his tongue as you gasping out, back arching and pushing into his face. The change in angle causes his fingers to press harder into the spongey patch on your walls.

“Fuck, just like that. Don’t stop. Please!”

He crooks his fingers and grinds them into the spot as best he can while still scissoring his fingers so you feel full. You’re a sight to behold in front of him. Your legs part to reveal the your swollen and slick center. Your back arches beautifully and your breasts spill over your suit as you shudder through the orgasm he rips out of you. He withdraws his fingers carefully and marvels at the crystalline strands that stretch between his spread fingers. He sucks them into his mouth one by one with the other hand petting your thigh comfortingly.

“How do you feel about burgers?”

Hoseok can’t stop staring at the dewy glow on your skin and his burger sits unwrapped but unbitten as he watches you pluck a curly fry from the pile in the center of the table. Your eyes seem brighter and while he supposes that having an orgasm does that to a person, but he can’t help the swell of pride that rises up when he thinks that he had something to do with it.

“Your food’s gonna get cold,” you pick up a fry and bring it to his lips. “Aren’t you hungry?”

His lip graze your fingers slightly when you feed him the fry. “I already ate, remember?” His wry grin makes your heart flutter a bit.

“Well, you need your strength.” When his forehead crinkles in confusion, you clarify, “For dessert.”

“Look if you want it, I’ll give it to you, baby.”

It’s moments like these where he’s flexing in the middle of a diner and touching himself like he’s hot shit that you think it’s hard to tell if he’s being serious or not. Your phone rings, giving you an excuse to stop the show he’s giving the rest of the patrons as he grinds into the booth.

“Cool your jets, Hoseok, I have a phone call. Hello? Yes, that’s me.”

“Who is it,” he mouths.

“The research company,” you mouth back. “Yes, I could definitely do that. Within this month, even. Yes, of course, I’ll look for it. Thank you very much. You too. Goodbye.”

Your phone clatters against the table and you cradle your head in your hand, fingers of your other hand coming down to drum on the table. Hoseok looks on in worry, stooping to better read your expression.

“What did they say?”

“They said that if I move out there before the month ends, I have the job.”

“You got the job?”

“I got the job.” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling and the relief that washes over you takes a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t realize you were carrying.

“I wish I had suggested a nicer place so the rest of the dinner could be celebratory.”

“If you hurry up and finish your burger, we can still have some fun.”

Hoseok jumps at the feeling of your foot running up his leg under the table. Rushing up, he goes to pay the bill, taking his burger with him so he can just finish it later. Once the bill is paid, you clear off the table and drag him through the parking lot, eager to get him to the car and driving to a spot where you don’t have to worry about being found. This turns out to be the very back row of the huge parking lot behind the strip mall. All the big summer block busters have already come and gone, so there isn’t much traffic. As soon as you park, you and Hoseok make a beeline to the back seat. To congratulate you, he tells you that he’ll listen to whatever you say. Even though it’s supposed to be about you, he doesn’t think he can’t possibly lose in this situation.

“I want you on your back,” your eyes are dark as you shirk the clothes you’d only changed into less than an hour ago, putting them on after you showered to go to the diner.

“Sounds good,” he says, lifting his hips so you can slide his shorts off.

“So I can ride you.” you supply. You slip off your underwear.

“Great.” He’s already imagining the view he’ll have of your ass, and his dick twitches eagerly at the thought.

“But you can’t touch me until I let you. And I might not let you.”

“What? Why am I being punished?”

You roll your eyes and grab his shaft a little rougher than necessary when he continues to huff about the lack of justice in the world. He quiets down when you slide down on him, still wet from the when his hand wriggled down your own shorts earlier while you were looking for a spot to park to tease you. His hands automatically come up to rest on your hips and get you started on rocking over him, but you grab both his wrists and pin them both above his head. Ignoring his pout, you use his wrists as a handhold for leverage and begin to grind your hips in slow circles. Once the rhythm is right and you’re wetter than before, you start to really lift yourself up off him and then grind back down on him.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the pace you’ve set, because even through a latex barrier you’re hugging him snugly and slide down him like a dream. But it’s a pace clearly set for you, helping you increase precision so you can use his pelvis as a way to massage your clit. Every time you fuck yourself down on him, you let out a little whine and squeeze his wrists. He groans and throws his head back in frustration, arms and abs flexing with the effort it takes not to wrestle his hands over to you.

“Fuck, just let me use my hands, baby. I just want to make you feel good.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I feel pretty—ahh—good by myself right now.”

Hesitantly, you release your grip on his wrists, giving him a look that tells him to keep them obediently pinned above his head. For a few moments you lean back and use his legs behind you as support so you can drop yourself more forcefully down onto his dick. After a while of watching him grit his teeth and letting out choked out moans, you give him a cheeky smile before turning and repositioning yourself in the opposite direction.

“Be a nice boy and bend this knee, hmm?”

Hoseok plants his foot firmly on the seat so that his knee is bent. It takes some wiggling on your part but soon you’re able to grind against his thigh as you move up and down. The moans you let out get louder and louder but your legs start to burn with exertion and eventually you have to resort to merely humping his leg. It’s not enough and when you curse lowly he sees his chance. He’s a good team player so he’s willing to help you out if you’ll let him.

“If you just let me use my hands again, I can help you out.” You mutter something under your breath. “What was that?”

“I said fine. As long as you get me off, you can see whatever limbs you want.” Your tone is somewhere between whining and snapping but the sheen of sweat coating your back and arms lets him know how tuckered out you really are.

He sits up once he has your permission. His first order of business with his hands back in use is to land a blow down on one of the globes of your ass. You let out a pained moan and clutch his thigh tighter to your core.

“Did you have fun using me like a toy?”

“I did. It was fun seeing you so mad you couldn’t touch me.” He can’t see your whole face, but you look back at him over your shoulder with a feline smugness in your eyes and a smile in your tone.

He spanks you again. “Should have expected this from you. Always thought you wouldn’t know how to act once you finally got the fucking you’d been looking for.” You merely whine in response so he gathers your hair into a makeshift ponytail and pulls. “Why should I let a brat like you cum, huh?”

“Because I just got that new job in the city and you’re proud of me.” You push back on him as best you can when your legs feel like jelly.

“That’s a good answer, baby. I’ll let it go for tonight,” he says as he peppers your shoulder and the parts of your back that he can reach with kisses. “Get on all fours. Hurry.”

You scramble forward on your hands and knees, arching your back for him. He swats your butt again just because he likes the view. He pushes in with no warning, but you’re stretched sufficiently enough that it doesn’t hurt to be so full so abruptly. His hands come to grab both your hips and immediately he pistons forward and fucks you like a machine. Perhaps it’s a side effect of the blue balls he’d been harboring since work started this morning. Perhaps it’s because he has a hunch this is what you wanted the whole time. Perhaps it’s that you’re leaving to some mystery city soon and some part of him believes that if he fucks you deep enough, you’ll take a piece of him with you and that will mean you’ll be together again someday.

Hoseok is certain that this isn’t the last time he’ll see you. But he doesn’t know if it’ll be like this. Like a sort-of summer fling that has a long prologue and a confusing epilogue. He knows you two are linked though. You must know it too. It’s impossible to deny when you both reach climax at the same time during your first time, the breath leaving him like you knocked it out and your eyes rolling into the back of your head like he scratched stars there for only you to see.

He turns you around carefully, so as not to slip out of you, only so he can hold you as you both come down from your respective highs. Neither of you say the words that would probably be most appropriate for a moment like this one. But your hands do automatically wind around him to play with the hair at the nape of his neck and trace secrets into his back. And the skin behind and below your ear is in fact where you smell the most like you, so he presses his nose into the spot and just breathes. Hoping for the best.

(3 months later)

Hoseok carried the habit of waking up early from his lifeguard job to his real job in the city that’s a 2 hour drive north of his childhood town. With this extra time he likes to explore the different districts, taking a different way to work each day when he can. In doing this, he’s also able to sample all the different coffee shops that are en route to the office and pick up orders given to him by his seniors in the analytics department.

Today his phone is on the fritiz and didn’t finish loading the details to the coffee shop that he was supposed to visit today. Instead, he wonders the streets, still with a bit of free time on his hands before he’s supposed to arrive. A few people have passed him now with steaming take away cups of what is presumably coffee. It takes some intuition, but eventually he makes it to a bright, butter yellow sign and laughs. GoldJin Coffee. Somewhere in the back of his head he remembers liking a tweet from Jin saying that he opened up a second branch, but it didn’t register that it was in Hoseok’s new city until now. It’s unclear whether this was the place his phone intended for him to go, but he steps inside anyway. He knows the coffee here, having come to the original location a few times. With you. As ‘friends’.

Before the memory can rear it’s head, he shakes his head and moves to stand in line. Most of the other people in suits with briefcases stand in line as they wait for their liquid start of the day. The remaining few seem to be an older, graying couple deliberating over pastries while they wait their turn and another young person looking for fuel. The more he looks over the other people in line, the more Hoseok’s stare his stare lands on the other young person. They look familiar, but he’s not sure why. They’re not wearing a suit, so they can’t be working for his company. He must know them from somewhere else.

The older couple orders their pastries, and someone in a suit orders their drink, then it’s the young person’s turn. They come up to the counter and the barista hands them a drink already made. They thank the barista and move to the side to greet the cashier. Something about the way this person moves grabs Hoseok’s attention to the point where he doesn’t realize it’s his turn to order. He flashes the list of drinks at the barista, having learned from his mistake from trying to recite the flashy drink names himself. The young person moves to a table and as if their bodies are celestial ones, Hoseok gravitates towards the empty table behind them. He watches as they take out a large three ring binder and flip through it while taking sips of their drink.

“J. Hoseok? 6 drinks for J. Hoseok,” the barista calls, shaking him out of his singular thought process.

He gets up from the table to claim his drinks, feeling a little silly for getting so invested in a stranger so rapidly. When he turns around, you stare up at him with wide eyes full of recognition. He walks over to you.

“Hey, long time no see,” his voice is suddenly hoarse.

“Hey, Hoseok.”

#btssmutclub #bscproject #bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #hyunglinenetwork #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #bangtan imagines #bangtan scenario #bangtan reactions #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts reactions #jhope fanfic #jhope imagines #jhope scenarios #bts scenarios

897 notes · View notes

stardustpug · 5 years

Text

Title: 22 Chapter Title: Beautiful Eyes Chapter: 1/? Fandom: snk/aot Pairing: eremika Summary: A drunk Mikasa stumbles into Trost Coffee Spot and meets a cute barista with shocking green eyes, and the only thing she knows about him is that his favorite drink is a mint mocha latte. What are the odds they would both have one more gen ed class to take before graduation and end up sitting right beside each other? FF.Net | AO3

The frigid winter air nips at Mikasa’s skin, but she can’t really find herself to care. If anything, the cool air feels nice. The last bar they had been in was far too small for her tastes and definitely too crowded. The drinks had been cheap though, so they stuck it out.

The world is a little bit blurred but across the street she sees a sign lighting up the street: Trost Coffee Spot.

“Sash!” she says loudly, stopping dead in her tracks and extending her left arm to stop the other girl from walking past her.

“Ahh! What-” the other girl runs directly into her arm, almost falling over but grabbing Mikasa’s shoulder to steady herself. “What?” she says again.

Mikasa points across the street. “Coffee.”

Sasha looks at the small coffee shop, to Mikasa, and back to the coffee shop. This continues for a minute while she tried to process what Mikasa wants. And than, “OH! You wanna g-get coffee?”

“Yes!” Mikasa says, a little to loudly. A man walking past them scowls. “Come on!” Mikasa grabs Sasha’s hand and pulls her across the street, and they both stumble over the curb.

When warmth floods over Mikasa as she enters the shop, she finally realizes how cold she had been. It felt nice.

The shop is definitely older and in need of a makeover, with its vibrant yellows making Mikasa’s eyes hurt a little bit. She and Sasha make their way to the counter and Mikasa suddenly realizes how drunk she is. She can’t be drunk in a coffee shop, can she?

Although if it’s open this late, they must see plenty of drunk college students.

Sasha stops at the counter, her eyes squinting as she scans the menu. “Mm, hot chocolate with whipped cream? Sign me the fuck up.”

The door behind the counter opens and a boy with a man bun steps out. Hello, Mikasa thinks, staring at his arms. So much muscle.

He stops at the register, looking both girls up and down. Mikasa knows it’s definitely not in a flirtatious way and more of a why are these drunk girls in my shop, but she still feels like she could get his number if she tried hard enough. He was really cute. And his eyes were a shocking green. Who had eyes like that?

“Welcome to Trost Coffee Spot,” he says, his voice monotone, “What can I get for you tonight?”

“I want a large hot chocolate with all of the whipped cream you have,” Sasha states, slamming her fist on the counter. “I will pay however much you want for the whipped cream,” she adds to let him know she’s serious.

He doesn’t look amused at all, or if he is, he doesn’t let it show. “And for you?” he asks, eyes landing on Mikasa.

“Uh,” Mikasa stares up at the menu, mouth hanging open. “Is the mint mocha latte any good?”

The boy nods, “‘S my favorite.”

“Oh, well I wanna do that.”

“Size?”

“Medium?” Coffee shops never seem to have consistent sizes, but he doesn’t question her, and instead punches her order in on the register.

“That’ll be $8.52.”

Sasha hands him her card and he swipes it. A little ding says it’s successful and he points to the screen to have her sign. She doesn’t actually sign, instead drawing a little heart and a dick. She giggles to herself and says, “Mikasa, look!”

“Hey, Armin!” Mikasa watches the boy turn to talk to the blonde standing in the kitchen. “Large hot chocolate, quadruple whip, and a medium mint mocha latte.”

“On it!” the blonde boy, Armin, calls back. Mikasa hears machines in the back start whirring and watches the brunette as he leans against the counter, messing around on his phone.

A few minutes pass and Armin places both drinks in the window and loudly dings the bell sitting there.

“Arm, I’m literally standing right here,” he says, brows furrowed. He grabs both drinks and hands them to the girls. “Straws and tops are over there,” he says before turning back to his blonde friend.

“Um,” Sasha stares at her cup, disappointment crossing her face, “Is this really all the whipped cream you have?”

“Yes,” the brunette answers without skipping a beat.

The rest of the weekend passes slowly, and before Mikasa knows it, Monday morning has rolled around. She can hear the blow dryer from the bathroom and glances at the clock on her bedside table. It’s only 9:30. Her first class doesn’t start until noon today, but she rolls out of bed, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. Might as well get ready.

She slips back into her usual routine. Getting dressed, knocking on the bathroom door and telling Sasha to hurry up, waiting for Sasha to actually hurry up, take over the bathroom and finish her morning routine, eat breakfast. Sasha makes them omelettes that morning, and Mikasa couldn’t be more grateful for her friend’s cooking skills.

“What’s your first class?” Sasha asks with a mouth full of food. Most people wouldn’t be able to understand her, but this was Sasha’s natural state and Mikasa was all too used to it.

“Intro to genetics. It’s my last gen ed, so I’m not really looking forward to it.”

“Ew, that sucks. Kinda surprised you still have a gen ed to take, you’re so organized.”

Mikasa shrugs. “I knew I had to take it but I’ve been so caught up with finishing my pre law classes, it slipped through.”

Mikasa slips into a seat somewhere towards the middle of classroom, letting her backpack rest against the chair’s leg. She pulled out a notebook and a few pens, arranging her desk. College desks had always been a little smaller than she liked, but considering she survived to her final semester, she must’ve managed somehow.

One of her pens drops to the floor, but when she reaches to pick it up, another hand has already beat her to it. Glancing up to the owner of the hand is shocking green eyes, and Mikasa’s mouth opens as the boy hands her the pen. “You’re the barista from the coffee shop.”

“And you’re the drunk girl from the coffee shop,” he replies. He seems much less monotone than the other night, a small smirk even playing on his lips. His hair is pulled back into the same style as before, and up close Mikasa can see specks of yellow in his eyes.

“I wasn’t that drunk,” she says pointedly, setting the pen back on the desk, closer to the notebook this time so it wouldn’t fall.

“Nah, you were pretty drunk,” he smiles, “Anyways, I’m Er-”

The door to the classroom swings open, and a taller man than Mikasa assumes is the professor tells everyone to be quiet. She sighs, leaning back into her seat. When the professor turns away, the green eyed boy slips her a small piece of paper.

Eren Jaeger.

His number was written below his name.

She sneaks a peek at him and he winks.

The class dragged on, and afterwards the boy -- Eren -- was out of there too quickly for her to say anything. She lags behind the rest of the class, entering his number into her phone and saving him under Barista Boy.

To: Barista Boy

it’s Mikasa Ackerman

To: Barista Boy

but ig you know me as drunk coffee girl so

Hi so this fic is a mistake that happened after I decided to binge listen to Taylor Swift songs last night. I got the idea while listening to 22, hence the name of the fic. All of the chapter titles will be her songs maybe? Idk man. Anyways, I'm gonna try to make this a slow burn but we'll see. Let me know what you think, I live and breathe comments.

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #eremika #Eren Jaeger #Mikasa Ackerman #a dreamer's writings

15 notes · View notes

captaindaddykru · 5 years

Text

you hurt the ones you love (i don't believe that)

for @obviesbellarke based on this photo ;)

Raven has always prided herself on her work ethic. She didn’t come from much, her parents did not plan on having a child which about described her relationship with them, and she worked part-time jobs ever since the goverment allowed her to. (Since they put her in the system and the system failed her, she felt like she could pretty much do whatever she wanted to the system. So sometimes she repaid the cards they dealt her by doing some not so legal hacking into college databases to slightly change rich frat boy GPA’s and make some extra cash.)

It paid off, because now Raven works for NASA and she didn’t even apply for the job. They asked her to come work for them. Who can say NASA asked them to come work for them? Raven Reyes can. Why? Because she is a certified genius who worked her way through high school, and college, and a master degree, and still managed to look halfway attractive, get in thirty minutes of exercise a day and keep a semi-active social life throughout it all.

She loved her job. She did, but—but it also meant long days, a lot of overtime, even more time spend on business trips and conference calls. If it wasn’t for her boyfriend Zeke working in the same building as her, she’s pretty sure she would never see him either since she barely ever goes home. She just happened to luck out and get the most amazing, understanding and supportive friends in the universe.

Besides, after spending half her life ‘being friends’ with Finn—who fucked her over and ghosted her after mere nine days apart at different colleges—Raven has come to learn what real friendship is. Emori tags her in a meme at least every other day, Harper brings over fresh vegetables from her and Monty’s garden whenever she looks extra pale and Clarke dutifully keeps her up to date on all her favorite shows she has zero time to watch. They’re as real as it gets.

Hence, when things start to cross over from a strong work ethic to borderline workaholic slash inevitable burn-out and her boss Sinclair forces her to take two weeks off, she is disappointed when the first three people she asks to hang out on her first free Saturday night that year already have plans. They barely hear from her in months beside a quick ‘what’s up’ in their group chat before she falls asleep on her couch every Saint Glinglin and they have the audacity to not keep their nights free in case she might ask them to hang out sometime? Assholes.

Since Emori and Murphy are out of town (probably robbing a house or something, she still doesn’t know what they do in their free time), and Harper and Monty have dinner with her parents, Clarke is up next. Raven texts her asking what she is doing that weekend, opening up a bottle of wine before padding over to her living room without a glass. She deserves the entire thing. Raven starts up Netflix on her smart TV while she waits for her friend to reply.

Twenty minutes deep into an episode of Homeland, her phone buzzes annoyingly on the armrest.

CLARKE [8:51 PM]:

who’s number is this?

RAVEN [8:54 PM]:

very funny griffin. drinks on saturday?

It takes a surprisingly long time for Clarke to answer her text, even though she isn’t a notorious bad back-texter unlike her boyfriend. One time like two years back, Raven asked Bellamy if he wanted to chip in on Murphy’s birthday present and he still hasn’t replied to this day. She’s pretty sure he isn’t even aware of the fact iMessage exists.

Raven has almost single-handedly finished off a bag of Cheetos before her phone buzzes again. She unlocks her phone to find a photo of a pregnancy test staring back at her, balanced precariously on what she assumes is Clarke’s knee, like the night terrors she used to have in middle school, terrified to end up like the other girls in her neighbourhood, sure a boy even looking at her could knock her up.

RAVEN [9:08 PM]:

so no drinks then???

The reply comes faster this time, Raven sure that Clarke was just jumping for her to something. Anything.

CLARKE [09:09 PM]:

i just found out and my first instinct was to grab a bottle of beer, i’m fucked

She’s not sure what Clarke wants from her here—that one always had more up her sleeve than expected—a congrats or a condolences, so she settles on the safe middle of comic relief.

RAVEN [9:10 PM]:

who’s the father?

CLARKE [09:10 PM]:

seriously?

RAVEN [9:11 PM]:

what? thought you two went to that swingers club the other month

CLARKE [09:14 PM]:

that was a teacher’s conference. he begged me to come

RAVEN [9:15 PM]:

i thought YOU begged HIM to come and now we’re in this whole mess?

A reply doesn’t come for two minutes, and then three, and when the clock ticks closer to five minutes, Raven decides to dial her number. It switches over to Facetime, but the screen is black, static commotion of the phone being moved around the only sound between their two devices for a good ten seconds. Finally, she asks, “Clarke?”

“I didn’t plan for this, Rave,” is the first thing out of her mouth, and Raven has to bite back a smile. Clarke is such a in-the-closet neurotic mess and she missed it. The screen turns very bright, then finally she can make out her friend. From the looks of it, she is on the floor in her bathroom, mascara smudged lightly under her eyes, wavy hair a mess on top of her head. “I haven’t even finished school yet. My NCLEX exam isn’t until next month—“

“Sound like perfect timing to me,” Raven snorts, keeping her tone very bored. Is this all she has? Are these her best arguments? She’s off her game. “You’ll ace the exam, get a few months of nursing experience at the hospital and then you can go on maternity leave. Your mom owns the surgical ward, I’m pretty sure she can make it happen.”

She watches Clarke draw her knees up to her chest, resting her forehead on top of them for a moment before looking back up at her phone. She does look wrecked. Raven hesistates for a second, then inquires, “Have you told him?”

“No,” Clarke replies, and then she is quiet for another second. She sounds softer this time, “What if he doesn’t want this?”

Raven almost cackles out loud. That loser would do anything for her, even if he didn’t want a baby with her—which seemed very unlikely—he would probably go to his grave swearing it was all he ever wanted. Besides, Bellamy has a few years on Clarke, is a well-known mother hen and is practically smitten with his sister’s toddler. (The only pictures he ever posts on social media are either of Clarke, his sister, that bratty little Octavia look-alike, or the three of them together—which was probably Nirvana by his definition.) He was more than ready, Raven’s sure that his old man primal hormones are just off the charts.

“Fat chance,” Raven settles on, instead of manic laughter because she’s a good friend, eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline. “You’re talking about Bellamy Blake? The same Bellamy Blake who, when you introduced him to me and I told him I would kick his ass if he ever hurt you, said he couldn’t wait to have your babies someday?”

Clarke scrunches up her nose in disbelief, and Raven wonders if she needs to get her sight checked. Does she not see how that buffoon looks at her? “He said that?”

“Yep,” Raven drags out, seemingly unimpressed.

“He was drunk,” she argues, brushing her off as she runs a hand through her tangled blonde hair.

“That makes it more true, Clarke, not less,” Raven replies without skipping a beat, can’t help but sound a little tiny bit judgemental just because of who she is as a person. There’s more silence, Clarke chewing on her thumbnail as she stares off in the distance and Raven sighs, softening her voice. “No offense, but why are you complaining to me about this, babe? It isn’t like you to be this insecure.”

Was this not the Clarke Griffin who marched up to their arrogant orange-President-affliated professor and told him he might be an art teacher, but she was an artist? It was a popular meme around their college for weeks, black sunglasses and a animated blunt photoshopped onto her yearbook picture and plastered around the halls. The same Clarke Griffin who punched through a glass window because racist campus police let her go and took Monty into a interrogation room alone after catching the both of them with some weed brownies and still has the scar to prove it? Was she not the Clarke Griffin who got everyone to sign a petition to get Kyle Wick kicked out of school when he tweeted out a sexually suggestive picture of Raven?

“Because you know he’ll be excited,” she presses, aggrevated, blue eyes dark as she stares at her camera as if she can stare straight into Raven’s soul. “And I can’t break his heart and tell him that—”

“That what?” Raven cocks an eyebrow, figuring it’s time for some though love now. “You dont want a baby?”

“No—“ She tries to get it, but Raven doesn’t relent, keeps pressing, “That you don’t want his baby?”

“No!” Clarke blurts out harshly, cutting her off as her eyes brim with tears. “That I didn’t plan for this!” She swallows tightly, and Raven just watches her, chest heaving up and down erraticly, blue eyes darting from left to right as she tries to get her thoughts together. “You know what happened when I started medical school, why I had to drop out,” her voice finally breaks, lip trembling. “This time, I was going to better. I was going to do it right.”

“You had a nervous breakdown, Clarke,” Raven snaps, tired of the sugarcoating. She was so hard on herself, and Raven still feels the slighest pang of guilt at that because she used to encourage that quality in her, held her to even higher standards. Maybe at first because she was jealous of her, of the golden girl who got everything handed to her. When she realized that wasn’t true, it was more because Raven knew she could be brilliant. Then after everything went down, she realized Clarke had already been brilliant all along. “You were making eighteen hour days, Lexa broke your heart and then your dad died in your arms. I think not having a breakdown over that would’ve qualified you as a sociopath.”

Clarke quickly wipes at the wetness trailing down her cheek, like she is trying to keep Raven from seeing, hugging her knees closer to her chest. Quietly, she sniffs, wondering, “What if it happens again?”

“It won’t. Because you’ve learned you can’t plan everything because life comes at you fast,” Raven says, authoratively, like she’s reading it from the pamphlet her therapist got them back then. “—and to communicate about how you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. Eat enough vegetables and sleep enough hours.”

Clarke takes a deep breath, wiping at her nose with the back of her hand as she lets herself nod. Raven can’t help but press, “Isn’t that what you and Bellamy use as foreplay? A good old fashioned emotional conversation?”

Clarke scoffs. “No, like talking shop doesn’t get you and Shaw going.”

Raven lifts a shoulder, indifferent. She’s not going to sit here and pretend like him being able to name every component of a Harvey Davidson motorcycle in alphabetical order doesn’t get her all hot and bothered.

Clarke wipes her palms on her jeans-clad thighs, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “What if I’m not any good at this?”

“Then the child will have the most awesome aunt to fall back on,” Raven smirks, and luckily, Clarke finally cracks a smile too. “You’re Clarke fucking Griffin. If this is something that you want—“ She drags out the last word, pausing to get her confirmation (she’s pretty sure it’s something she does want, deep down, but it doesn’t hurt to check before she rolls out the whole peptalk), and reluctantly, her friend nods, corners of her lips turned up almost shyly. “If it’s something that you want, you’ll succeed at it. You care about everyone, Clarke, to a fault.”

Raven finds herself smirking again, pretending to be half-distracted with re-tightening her brace. “And I know it’ll be hard to care about that baby knowing it’s Bellamy’s—“

“Shut up,” Clarke deadpans, and her eyes look brighter, clearer. Tentatively, her hand comes to rest on top of her lower belly, fingers flexing on top of her shirt for just a second. Raven can’t help but smile, happy for her friends. It’s what they deserve.

“You should really call him,” Raven pushes, pursing her lips satisfactory, “He’s going to be so salty you told me before him.”

“Probably,” Clarke snorts, just the slightest bit of nervousness flashing across her eyes before they soften as she says, “But, thanks, Rave. I’m glad to see NASA lets you out on probation every six months.”

“It’s NASA though,” she responds—a little boastful, because it’s NASA, she gets to be boastful—then stretches out her free arm. “Also, mocktails Saturday?”

Clarke beams. “Deal.”

(The next time Raven gets a text from Clarke, it’s a photo of a ring on her finger.)

9 notes · View notes

itmighthavebeenintentional · 4 years

Text

Walk Me Home - Ch 4

Word Count: 2702

Author’s Note: Mega thanks to @mskathywriteswords , @fangirlxwritesx67, and @cracksinthewalls for editing, revision, flailing, and generally knocking sense into me when I’m being stubborn. You all made this story way better than it started it, and I love you. Thanks to everyone who read/reblogged/liked the first chapter. I hope you enjoy the story as much as I do.

@thoughtslikeaminefield , I hope you still love this as much as the first time you read it. I know I do.

Keep in Mind: There are a lot of flashbacks. I tried to write current events in present tense and flashbacks in past tense. Here’s hoping I got everything right!

Please read/heed the warnings. 18+ ONLY.

In Case You Missed It: Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 ItMightHaveBeenIntentional’s Masterlist