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btschooseafic · 3 years

Text

Hey you, what’s your dream?

Pairing: platonic!oc x ot7

Details: manager!oc, predebut/idolverse, partial BTS World!verse

Summary: Aviva struggles to keep up with all of her new responsibilities as a manager.

Warnings: This is a fictional story based on real events. The characters presented here are not the same as their real life counterparts. [Masterlist]

Track 9: New Responsibilities

Responsibilities- Thane, Anderson .Paak, BJ the Chicago Kid

“I ain't stressin' bout the future, take it day to day

It's a marathon baby I'm just learnin' the pace”

Aviva stared around at the graffiti on the walls of the private space she had rented for their first dance practice. It wasn’t much, but…

“Siljangnim?” Hoseok called out.

“Hobi!” She called back. “Stop calling me that!”

“But, you are our manager,” he said simply.

She blinked.

“Ah. Right.” She grimaced. He laughed.

“Did you forget?”

“No, I just… you could at least use ‘maenijeo’...” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Or should I call you Jung Hoseok-ssi all the time?”

He rolled his eyes at her formal address.

“Now you’re just making it weird... Have you heard anything from Jungkookie or Jiminie? I texted them, but they haven’t responded.”

She chewed her lip. “They’re not responding to me. Jungkook-ah always showed up to practice on time when I was with him in LA, but I haven’t worked with Jimin-ah that closely yet.” She looked at Taehyung. “What’s his work ethic like?”

Taehyung hummed. “Jiminie works very hard… but he also has trouble sleeping sometimes.”

“That’s understandable,” Yoongi thought.

Jin clicked his tongue. “Kids these days.”

Everyone laughed, although Aviva’s laugh was a little restrained.

“We’re almost out of time for the practice space,” she said worriedly. “Should I book another slot…?”

“Do we have the budget for that?” Yoongi asked bluntly. Aviva sighed.

“I guess we should start the practice without them.” She turned to Namjoon. “Namjoon-ah, you said you had some music you wanted to share with everyone?”

“Yeah.” He popped a CD into the player on the floor.

Taehyung bobbed along to the music. Jin made an uncertain face. Yoongi started arguing about the merits of local artists over international ones.

“Look, we can listen to both,” Aviva said, trying to calm them down.

“Yes, but the order we listen to them is important,” Yoongi insisted. Aviva massaged her furrowed brow.

“Listen, Yoongi-oppa—”

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jungkook said, looking exhausted as he and Jimin walked into the room. They looked more than exhausted, they looked about ready to cry.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Aviva asked worriedly. “Are you okay?”

“We weren’t trying to be late…” Jimin said.

“That’s all okay!” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Come in, my friends!”

“You could’ve let us know that you were going to be late,” Hoseok commented.

“We were too freaked out to think about that,” Jungkook said.

“Freaked out about what?” Aviva pressed.

“You should have called to be considerate,” Jin agreed with Hoseok. “There were a lot of people waiting on the two of you.”

“Hey, it’s only one tardy! Let’s just let this one slide!” Taehyung suggested, smiling brightly. Aviva nodded thoughtfully.

“Only one tardy?” Yoongi said, giving them a cold look. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re not here to play around. Whether you meant to be late or not, you have obligations to the group.”

“I agree with Yoongi-hyung,” Namjoon said, crossing his arms too. “You don’t succeed in this industry with just hard work alone.” He sighed. “I’m disappointed. I thought you both were more dedicated to this group. Do you really want to be here?”

“Hyung… how can you…” Jimin was now unmistakably teary eyed. “How can you doubt something like that?” Jungkook patted him on the back, leading him to sit down. Jimin took deep breaths. Aviva frowned, noting the bloody stain on the knee of Jimin’s pants.

“Jimin-ah…” She kneeled down in front of him. “Tell me what happened—how did you hurt your knee?” A few of the older boys made noises of surprise behind her.

“I waited so long for our first practice,” Jimin said. “I was so excited I ran here. But I was dumb and fell down a flight of stairs…”

“I had to convince Jimin-hyung to go to the hospital, that’s why I didn’t think to call,” Jungkook explained.

“Hey, I’ve been excited too,” Aviva told him. “It’s not your fault you fell over—Namjoon-ah does stuff like that all the time.”

“Yah!” Namjoon cleared his throat, his face pink. Jimin laughed a bit, his tears interrupted.

“But I’m glad Jungkookie convinced you to go to the hospital,” Aviva continued speaking to Jimin, ignoring Namjoon. “What did they say?”

“They said it’s fine. Just disinfected it, and gave me a Band-Aid, but it’s coming off already…” Jimin frowned at his knee.

“Oh, I’ve got Band-Aids!” Aviva said, popping up and running over to her bag.

Namjoon chuckled. “You’re just as clumsy as I am, Avi-yah.”

“I’m not,” she disagreed, handing Jimin the Band-Aid. “Does it hurt, Jimin-ah? Do you need anything else?”

“No.” He smiled at her. “The Band-Aid’s enough. Thanks for worrying about me, manager-nim.” He took her hands in his. “But you keep up your health too, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

Namjoon frowned slightly as he watched them.

A couple of days passed, and Aviva was still worried about the group dynamic. They kept arguing about small things, like who should change the water cooler. Such arguments were bound to happen, Aviva figured, but the boys seemed to be disproportionately angry in relation to the issue.

Jin and Jimin were refusing to speak to each other, sending Aviva back and forth with messages.

Taehyung interrupted, pointing out that their time slot was over.

Aviva glanced at her phone. “I’m sorry, I’m running late! I need to go, please get home safely, all of you.” She ran out of the room.

That night, the boys accidentally ran into each other in the practice room. The older boys were impressed when they realized the younger boys had been staying late to practice, sleeping over to be able to make the best use of the time.

“Well, that, and we couldn’t find anywhere else to sleep,” Taehyung finished.

Jimin nodded, grimacing.

“You hyungs are still sleeping in the supply closet at the offices?” He wondered.

The rap line trio nodded grimly.

“Usually Avi-yah would’ve realized by now,” Hoseok thought. “Especially when her new office isn’t too far away from the supply closet. Maybe she really is overworked…”

“Is that why Namjoon-hyung lied to her about having found a place to stay?” Taehyung wondered, blinking at him. Namjoon flushed slightly.

“It wasn’t, a lie, exactly.” He ran his hand over his face. “The renovation announcement was so last minute, and she’s got so much on her plate already, I didn’t want her to have to worry about this, so I said I’d take care of it, but I haven’t been able to find a place big enough for all of us, and when she asked, I couldn’t exactly tell her that…” He felt guilt heavy on his chest when he remember how relieved she’d looked when he told her it was all taken care of.

“Look, what’s this?” Taehyung picked something up off the ground.

“It’s Avi-yah’s notebook.” Namjoon took it from him, smiling as he recognized it as one of the many he’d bought for her over the years. He started flipping through it.

“Isn’t that an invasion of privacy, hyung?” Jimin commented.

Namjoon’s smile turned sheepish. “I don’t think she’d mind.”

“She’s always writing in there,” Yoongi said, leaning over to get a look. “What does she write?”

“Um, everything.” Namjoon skimmed over cartoon doodles in the margins and hand drawn marketing graphs. “Our schedules, research on hip hop groups…” He smiled, pointing. “Look, she looked up both the international artists I suggested, and the underground local artists you suggested.”

Yoongi smiled slightly, shaking his head. “She does work hard, that one.”

“Right?” Jin agreed. “She’s only been here for a few years, but she’s already basically fluent in Korean.”

“Still, I bet she misses home sometimes,” Hoseok thought. “Did she seem happier when she was there, Jungkookie?”

“What?” Jungkook flushed. “Um, well, she seemed pretty happy, but she didn’t actually grow up in LA, so, I don’t think that’s… I think she was just happy to be able to speak English so much again, and to see Jenny-ssi.”

Hoseok grinned. “If you and Avi-yah’s little sister get married, maybe she’ll come live here too, and Avi-yah will be happier, and your older sister!”

Jungkook tilted his head. “I wouldn’t mind…” He waved his hand. “Not that I’m saying I’d want to marry Jenny-ssi—we’re not even really dating at this point, more like pen pals?” They all laughed. He huffed. “Anyway, we’ve got off track, we were talking about Aviva-noona.”

“I wouldn’t want her to be my older sister,” Taehyung said quietly.

“I wonder if this is really what she wanted—to manage a group of trainees like us?” Jimin said more loudly as Namjoon gave Taehyung a funny look.

Namjoon flipped through the pages, frowning at the color-coded blocks.

“Hey, Jimin-ah, did you know about this? Is that why you told her not to overwork herself?” He held up the schedule.

“Oh yeah.” Jimin grimaced. “I saw something like that the other day, when I was borrowing a piece of paper.”

“Speak to groups about getting members as featured artists and backup dancers, listen to lectures, hire instructors… and this is all after supervising our practice. How is she doing all of this in one day?” Namjoon shook his head. “When does she have time for sleep?”

“She needs to take better care of herself,” Yoongi thought aloud. Namjoon snorted. Yoongi frowned at him. “What?”

“Are you really the one to be saying that?”

Aviva rushed into the practice room, having gotten the keys from the janitor, after explaining she forgot an important notebook inside.

She felt around the wall for the light switch, but couldn’t find it. She let out a huff of frustration and used her cellphone light instead. She squinted her eyes at an oddly placed plant. Then she heard movement and squeaked, nearly falling over.

“Yah, careful!” A familiar voice called out. Aviva froze up as she felt the warmth of someone’s arms around her, holding her up. “The floor is hard.”

She shivered at his breath in her ear. “…Yoongi?”

“Wow, nice catch!” Another voice said.

“Taehyung-ah?” Aviva recognized his voice as well. She blinked as the lights flickered on. Jungkook and Jimin popped out from behind the suspicious plant Aviva had noted earlier.

“What are you doing here?” Jungkook wondered.

“Are you alright?” Jimin asked concernedly. “Manager-nim, are you hurt?”

“I’m, I’m okay,” she said a little shakily. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jin came over. Namjoon looked at Yoongi and Aviva and frowned. Hoseok looked back and forth between them and then smirked. “Thanks, Yoongi-oppa… you can let go of me now.”

“Yeah…” He let go slowly, frowning at Taehyung. “Why’d you scare her like that?”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that!” Hoseok agreed. Taehyung pouted, stepping closer to her.

“I was actually trying not to scare you—I thought it would be scary if I was too loud, so I was trying to be sneaky—are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” she told him. “It’s okay, Taehyung-ah, I just get a little jumpy sometimes.”

“Oh, so you don’t like horror movies?” Taehyung wondered, sounding disappointed.

“Sorry, not really.”

“You don’t have to apologize… I was just hoping we could watch one together.” He sighed, but then quickly recovered his usual charming smile. “What kind of movies do you like?”

“Action,” Hoseok said.

“Mystery,” Yoongi said.

“Fantasy,” Namjoon said. They looked at her.

“I like all of those,” she said.

Taehyung nodded. “We’ll watch one of those instead, okay?”

She blinked at him. “Okay, that sounds good.” She frowned. “Wait a minute, what are all of you doing here at this time of night anyway?” They looked around at each other nervously. “Huh…” She rested her hand on her hip. “It’s nice that you guys appear to be getting along again, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Um… I left something here,” Hoseok said slowly.

“Oh yeah?” Aviva said, doubtful. “What did you forget?” Hoseok rubbed his neck. Aviva frowned at the pain patch on his neck, spotting another one on his arm. “Seriously, guys, what’s up?” She looked around the room, spotting a few sleeping bags in the corner. Her eyes widened. “Don’t tell me you’ve been sleeping here?”

“…I mean, it’s the first night for here for some of us,” Hoseok said, cheerfully raising his hand. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “Though, we were… kinda… sleeping in the storage room before that…”

“…Fuck,” Aviva said.

“Yah!” Jin covered Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook shook him off, grumbling.

Taehyung grinned. “Manager-noona, I’ve never heard you curse before.”

“Yeah, I taught her,” Namjoon said, smiling proudly.

“This is all my fault,” Aviva said, rubbing her temples. “I’m so sorry, Joonie, I shouldn’t have left this all on you. I knew finding a big enough place nearby would be difficult, so I should’ve checked in.”

“Why didn’t you?” Yoongi wondered.

“I’ve been distracted,” she admitted. “But that’s no excuse.” She bowed. “I apologize, it was my responsibility to find you a place to live, and I didn’t.”

“Aw, manager-nim, no need to be so formal,” Jin said, patting her on the back.

She straightened up.

“Right.” She took a deep breath. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Wait!” Namjoon called after her. “Where are you going?”

“I’ve got to find you somewhere to stay—and someone to stay tonight right away!”

“But you’re busy already,” he protested.

“Gone already.” Yoongi grimaced. “She’s quick.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to mention it to her,” Jungkook said, sighing.

Jimin smiled. “I think we’re in good hands.”

“Right?” Taehyung held his hands over his heart. “I’m touched.”

“I found a temporary spot,” she said, later that night. “The commute isn’t bad, and you’ll have access to a backyard, and the living room and kitchen are a little bigger than the last place, but it’s still a one bedroom so you’ll still have to share.” She grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind!” Taehyung said happily, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Namjoon crossed his arms over his chest. “We’ve all slept in the same room before. I’m just happy not to have to sleep on the hard floor!”

Aviva shook her head.

“About that, Tae… it isn’t fully furnished either. I got them to throw in two and a half couches—“

“Half a couch?” Jungkook wondered. Hoseok elbowed Jimin.

“That’s for you, little Jiminie.”

Jimin scowled at him.

“So some of you can sleep on those,” Aviva continued, ignoring them. “But I couldn’t find seven beds on such short notice.” Taehyung’s face fell. “I’ve got two sets of bunk beds.”

“Even just that is impressive in a couple of hours,” Namjoon thought.

Taehyung nodded slowly. “…A couch is still better than the floor,” he decided.

“Yeah, at least bring a sleeping bag next time, dummy,” Yoongi muttered.

“Ah, Yoongi-yah cares so much,” Jin said, slapping him on the back. Yoongi frowned at him. Aviva smiled slightly.

“Anyway, I’ll text you guys the address, so feel free to meet me there.”

“Where are you going, noona?” Jungkook wondered. “Don’t you have a lot of other things to do tonight?”

“I finished the meeting, so I’ll postpone the other things,” she said. “The temporary unit I found doesn’t have any food, so I thought I’d grab some groceries for you.”

“We can do it,” Jin said. “Don’t worry, just continue on with your normal schedule.”

She bit her lip. “You’re sure?”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure,” Jin said. “I can make a dish out of anything, I’m not just a pretty face you know.” She laughed. He grinned at her.

“And I like grocery shopping,” Taehyung commented. “It’s like a treasure hunt!”

“Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

“Before you go.” Namjoon held her notebook out to her. “Don’t forget this again.”

“Oh.” She smiled at him. “Thanks, Joonie.” She waved and hurried off again.

“Thanks, Joonie,” Hoseok imitated in a high-pitched voice. “Hmmm… tell me again why you haven’t asked her out?”

Namjoon flushed slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. “What, you mean, besides the fact we could both lose our jobs?”

Hoseok nodded. “Yeah, besides that. People do break the rules and get away with it, you know. If you decide the risk is worth it…”

Namjoon rubbed the back of his neck. “Is it? I mean, we’ve both been working so hard for this debut, should I really throw it all down the drain just because Aviva-yah is so…?” He waved his hands inarticulately.

“Cute?” Taehyung suggested.

Namjoon frowned at him. “That she is!” Hoseok agreed cheerfully. “But Joonie’s acting pretty adorable right now also.”

“Shut up,” Namjoon muttered. “Anyway, even if I’d be willing to risk it, there are other people involved, Hoseok-ah and Yoongi-hyung especially, I wouldn’t want to ruin all your hard work.” Hoseok nodded, thumping him on the back.

Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go to this new place and get some sleep.”

#bts #fanfiction #bts x oc #ot7 x oc #bts predebut #idolverse #manager!oc #bts world #ot7 #my fics #hey you what's your dream

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ash-etherwood · 3 years

Note

Top 5: writing memories, songs, characters that are not blank rune, runes, food

♡

Linda I love you but are you trying to kill me … that’s so many Top 5’s! But alright, I’ll do my best! (Answers will probably switch between German and English RIP to every non-German-speaker who follows me and wants to read this for some reason I swear I’m normal)

WRITING MEMORIES

5.) The entire time I spent finishing my first (second?) longer writing project It was the year 2012 and it was a cyberpunk story about my friends’ and my edgy self inserts riding dinosaurs, fighting aliens and being badass. The plot twist in the end was that my character was secretly evil and wanted to kill everyone. (Things to show your therapist) The final boss fight made zero sense and also everything was incredibly weird and stupid. But sometimes I still think about those times when I sat in my grandma’s living room at night, eating chips and listening to Vocaloid covers while thinking this story was the coolest shit ever. Truly simpler times.

4.) Researching something about universities in Texas for OvF on a rainy Saturday afternoon I have no idea why this memory is still sticking with me to this day (I think it was around 2016 or something?), but I remember that it was just a really nice day and I felt really at peace at that moment?

3.) The entire writing process of Bathroom Blues It was such a spontaneous project and I still have no idea how I managed to power though it in just a little under two months! Also it was just incredibly fun seeing you getting excited over new drafts and I loved coming up with new plot points and Halloween costumes for everyone with you. :-D Truly a summer worth remembering.

2.) FINALLY uploading the prologue and intro chapter of WWBL Not really a writing memory, but that moment was … so sexy and magical. Seriously, you have no idea how long I had been waiting to finally start that story, waiting for the Steckbriefe to roll in and see people react to the prologue and generally the idea … I even made one of those countdown graphic thingies for the designated upload date! 8D At that point I had planned that story for about six months and just … yeah, that felt powerful to me.

1.) Writing the prologue for WWBL When I first started the draft for that prologue I was sitting at the window in my favourite hotel in Winterberg, Sauerland, wore my dark green flannel, had the window wide open breathing in the cool mountain air and allowed myself to listen to my WWBL playlist for the very first time. God, that felt so amazing. I even have a photo of it (which somehow makes it look like I have the biggest football shoulders in the universe) my sister took that night. God I miss Sauerland. )’:

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SONGS

My apologies to every favourite song of mine that I forgot about, I have a whole playlist of them, but I think these are some of my oldest faves … (Honorable mentions for Don’t Mess With Me and Not That Big by Temposhark, Goodbye by Apparat, Me And The Devil by Soap&Skin, Heart Heart Head by Meg Myers, Pain and Animal I Have Become by Three Days Grace, Beautiful Crime by Tamer, Gravity Of Love by Enigma, In Flames by Digital Daggers [thanks Phi u_u] and Murder Cries by Snow Ghosts AHHH FUCK IT I could’ve just made a playlist,,,)

5.) Vater Unser by E Nomine Starting off with some weird shit, won’t we? I’ve been in love with this song since fifth or sixth grade, when I was just starting to develop an actual music taste and although I have many favourite songs by E Nomine, this one has to be my absolute fave. Every time I can relate it to a character it makes me love said character even more. (Also I think about it every time my mom forces me to go to church for Christmas so … yay? I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even be able to remember the Vater Unser if it wasn’t for this song. 8D)

4.) Wires by The Neighbourhood I think this is the newest all-time fave on this list, I found it in … 2015? Thank you, Youtube AMVs. Yeah man, this one is just … on so many playlists it’s not even funny anymore.

3.) Heathens by Twenty One Pilots An edgelord classic but like … it’s on EVERY playlist of mine. Every single one. It’s just so good. The first time I heard it was on the radio tho, when I was having breakfast with Jessie and I forced her to shazam it because it immediately stuck with me,,,

2.) Imaginary by Evanescence My first Evanescence song ever and the first step towards becoming who I am today I think. This song has like … such a big history for me, man. It single-handedly turned me goth in 2008 and I have never really thanked it for that.

1.) Eternal by Evanescence Might be my favourite song of all time. The number of dramatic RP scenes I have written with this in the background … man. Oh, also this song is the reason for one of my oldest internet nicknames, ‘eternala’, which subsequently shortened into Etschuh and then Tschuh, my main nickname until 2017, when I came out as trans and finally found an actual name for myself I was comfortable with!

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NON BLANK RUNE CHARACTERS

I know this was probably supposed to be about fandom characters but I can literally not come up with a single character right now that I love with a special burning passion and that is not my or one of my friends’ OCs so you’re getting OCs now. u_u And boy do I have a lot of those.

5.) Jackson Tracey from atroCITY (mine) This little piece of shit kept me company for a pretty long time and is still very close to my heart for some reason, although I haven’t drawn him or really thought about him in detail for a while now. My favourite thing is how I only realized what a horrible person he was after I stopped regularly working with him but honestly good for me. 8D His storyline and personality is kinda convoluted and tbh I’m not really sure how much of it is canon anyway (atrc was always a little weird about canon rip) but yeah. He’s an obsessive stalker piece of shit who pities himself way too much and he is also a semi-immortal demigod who likes knives. I hate him but he also helped me a lot with some gender and sexuality stuff so thanks I guess.

4.) Mayoko Imai from Century Riders DXPrototype (Maus’ and mine) Mayoko is a magical girl protagonist with a cool cyborg arm prosthetic and her main character trait was that she was basically a reverse weeaboo, a Japanese girl who was obsessed with American media, culture and comic book heroes! I actually love her concept a lot and she also had a pretty cool character arc in her story (which Maus and I wrote together and actually finished btw!), although it could use a lot more … polishing from today’s point of view. But I love her anyway. She always wanted to do the right thing and be a hero and got broken pretty cruelly and her ending is kinda bittersweet I guess? Ahh there’s just so much nuance to it … anyways, CR3 also stuck with me for a very long time and I enjoyed the time with her a lot. :3 (Her name had a cameo in Another Incident btw heehee)

3.) Tessa *insert extremely long chain of unnecessary first names here* von Lean from Nobody Is Perfect and Infernal Temptation (belongs to one of my old school friends) Tessa is just … a hand full. I love to hate her. She is badly written and developed and just OOZES mentally ill teenage girl’s idealized self-insert power fantasy, but she just … man, she was a big part of one of my most drama-filled high school friendships which I love looking back at so much. Tessa has fucked so many of my characters … good for her tbh! There are actually two versions of her, one is just a ‘normal’ teenage girl and one can shapeshift into a cheetah, but both of them are very close to my heart. I should really adopt and redesign her some day.

2.) Judy Khayat from Original vs. Final (mine) Look, I love all my OvF-characters and every single one of them is special to me in their own way, but Judy is just … the most complex of them all I think? Man, she went through so much … she is actually one of my oldest (semi)-active characters (I created her in 2009) and her latest version is from 2016 but I should really, REALLY revise her again tbh. She has a very complicated backstory that I didn’t handle as carefully as I should have, and anger issues and religious conflict and depression and PTSD and then Vance of all people becomes obsessed with her for no reason and decides to traumatize her even more … yeah. God I really love her but I seriously need to work on her. A LOT. I should also finally rename her tbh … let’s just see where she takes me next.

1.) Okami (I don’t even remember if she has a proper last name rn lol) from Split Realm (mine) Yeah, that bitch is just my favourite OC. She’s also very old, probably from around 2009, and initially was a magical girl with fire powers who I played in an RP with my friend Flauch but boy did she grow up! Holy fuck. Okami is a horrible person but I love her so much. She is so violent and full of anger and pain and sadness and treats everyone around her like shit and she is in love and she is a demon but also apparently the personification of the concept of Chaos but she just wants to be a teenager again and run away with the love of her life and ahhh it’s all so hopeless for her … also she turned out gnc af with time passing and pretty much went through a gender/sexuality crisis in real time with me, her creator, which is always fun. :^D I haven’t drawn her in a while tbh. Should really do that.

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RUNES IN BLANK RUNE

I’m just gonna go with the arcs here, okay? Also this entire answer might look completely different if you asked me again tomorrow, you know how indecisive I am with Blank Rune shit ahha,,,

5.) Jera Look. I know I’m boring and stupid. But I just love Tave and Liam having their disgusting little foreshadowing talk, okay? I can read it over and over. I just love my horrible little shit crime boys. Also Rhy and Phillip are there. (’:

4.) Isa This one is here because it was the first arc I witnessed in real time which gives it a very special place in my heart and it also … hit pretty hard at the time. But having read Fehu it’s become even better now! It’s just such a wonderful, tragic romance between two horrible, ruthless boys and I … I’m not immune to Rhy, sadly. :-/ Just like Phillip.

3.) Wunjo We still haven’t seen everything that leads up to Wunjo yet, but we DO know more than we did initially (wow shocker) and it’s just always a fucking blast. Also, it has the first mention of Ash’s real name … the first Rhy POV (which what the fuck!! I always feel like we had one before but we didn’t!! Wild) and it has crazy blood-soaked murder Tave, my beloved. :///3

2.) Eiwaz You guys have heard me fanboy about Eiwaz so many times already. Eiwaz-OT3 (and Kain) my beloved!!! It’s just SUCH an amazing starting point and there are so, so many things that tie back to it and every time we find out about a new one my heart makes a little jump … und es beginnt von Neuem indeed.

1.) Gebo One of the most painful but also the most beautiful arcs yet in my opinion. It’s been hyped up for so long and boy did it deliver. God, my heart still hurts when I think about that last scene. Also all the dialogue … the golden lines we got … and it’s an arc without Rhy! Crazy!! :-D I just love the relationship between Ash, Astrid and Jakob so much. God fuck I want what they have. Just maybe without the murder suicide,,,

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FOOD

5.) Diese Sonntagsbrötchen wo die Verpackung so plopp macht, wenn man die Folie abzieht Better than normale Brötchen for some reason. Most of the time. See 2.) Look man, I just really love a good breakfast …

4.) Chocolate cupcakes with cream cheese topping One of the first things from a certain baking book I tried when I was getting into baking back in 2019. God they are so tasty. I don’t make them often so I don’t get used to them too much and eating them still feels special but ahhhh I love them so much!

3.) Grünkohl mit Kartoffelbrei und Mettendchen One of my favourite things about autumn/winter and one of my biggest comfort foods. God I love this shit so much. I just put … mountains of Grünkohl and Kartoffelbrei on my plate every time and I will just warm it up for four days straight until there’s no more left. It turns me into a fucking caveman. I’m not even big on eating meat but … yeah. Everything is different when there’s Grünkohl.

2.) Normales Brötchen mit Butter und Scheibenkäse aber ich bin beim Frühstücksbuffet im Hotel Oddly specific but that’s just how it is. Sorry. Nichts geht über Brötchen mit Käse.

1.) Chilli-Knoblauch-Nudelauflauf My beloved. My comfort food. I eat it literally every second day. At least one hour in the kitchen every time. Fresh ingredients. My only vegetable intake. And I’ve been doing that for three years. I just love it so much, man. I cook it for everyone who visits me. Chilli-Knoblauch-Auflauf cured my depression.

#ask #crimsondaisy #2.4k works of me talking about myself under the cut rip #thank you tho!!!

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ratonnhhaketon · 4 years

Text

Revenge is a Fool’s Game (Chapter 1)

Read on Ao3 | Next Chapter

Summary: Born to two Assassins in the Colonial Brotherhood, Eleanor Price was destined for great things. That is, until the disaster at the Davenport Homestead leaves her family in hiding and her parents' pasts long forgotten. She is determined to find and kill the men responsible for her father's death, no matter the cost. Revenge may be a fool's game, but Ellie plays to win. And the prize might just be a blossoming relationship with the boy training alongside her.

A/N: This is the completely rewritten and revamped version of my previous fic involving Connor and my oc Eleanor Price, Iron. Same characters, different plot, a lot better writing. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - The General Store

The city of Boston was bustling despite the chilling winter that was beginning to slowly come to an end. Civil unrest had been getting heavier during recent days and everyone could sense that something big would happen if it was not taken care of.

The general store was particularly cold that day, and the occasional burst of frozen air that would rush in with a customer trying to escape the harsh temperature outside was especially chilling. The only sounds occupying the small building were light murmurs escaping the back room and the steady brush of a broom across the front room’s floor.

The door to the store opened, and a boy about 14 walked in. He wore tan clothing, made of some animal hide, and was donning several weapons. As he pulled the door closed behind him his amber eyes wandered to the girl sweeping the front of the store. She spared him a small glance at first, before looking back up in wonder at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but didn’t know where to start.

He seemed just as unsure of his presence as she was.

Before he had a chance to speak, a woman exited the back room and walked behind the counter. She had on a typical pale pink dress with a white apron tied around her waist. Her hair was twisted up underneath a bonnet, with only a few curls sticking out around her face. “Can I help you, sir?” She spoke up in a sweet tone.

The boy walked over to the counter and pulled a pouch of coins and a piece of paper out of his pocket. “I need the items on this list.”

The woman picked up the list and read it over. “Yes, well.. we can get you the tool, pitch, and nails. Lumber is hard to come by these days, as our supplier seemingly vanished.” She poured out some of the coins and counted them before giving the pouch back to the boy. “Now, where did you want these delivered?”

“Our wagon is just outside, by the statehouse.” His voice was smooth and calm, like each syllable was carefully thought over before speaking. As he walked towards the door he and the girl shared one final glance.

“Eleanor, come help me gather these supplies.” The woman behind the counter spoke up. The girl gave her mother a quick glance to acknowledge what she had said and immediately turned back towards the door. The boy had left in a flash.

Begrudgingly, she propped her broom up against the doorframe and followed her mother into the back of the store.

Fifteen minutes and a few splinters later, all of the ordered supplies had been packed into crates and boxes and were ready to be delivered to the boy’s carriage. Ellie and her sister, Peggy, were tasked with the job of moving the supplies while their mother stayed back in the store tending to customers.

When they returned through the back door of the store, Peggy noticed their mother deep in conversation in the front room.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She spoke up with an uncertain tone. The two girls quickly hid around the corner of the door frame to further listen-in on the discussion.

“Not really, no, but I have faith in the boy.” A familiar voice that they knew belonged to Achilles Davenport responded. “He has a lot to learn before he is ready, but he is showing signs of improvement each day.” A gruff sigh. “Have you considered talking about The Creed with the girls?”

“Absolutely not.” Alice spoke up a little too quickly.

“Alice, don’t you think the girls deserve to know what really happened to their father? You cannot keep telling this lie in hopes-“

“No, Achilles, listen to me!” She cut him off. “I can’t go back to that life, I can’t put my girls in danger like that!” A few seconds of silence before Alice spoke up again, this time in a much quieter voice. “I can’t relive what happened to James-“

A gunshot rang out on a street very close to the store, stunning her into silence.

The two girls peeked out from behind the wall and Peggy spoke up with a very concerned tone. “Mother?!”

“Girls, make sure the back door is locked and the curtains are drawn over every widow.” The girls wasted no time in retreating back out of sight to the back room of the store.

“The Templars are behind this.” Achilles spoke in a serious tone.

Alice’s head whipped back over to face him. Her jaw was tense and there were tears forming in her eyes. “How do you know?”

“I saw Haytham with my own two eyes.” Alice felt her heart drop at those words.

“He is in Boston?” The older man only replied with a nod. “Oh god, no..”

“Go and keep your family safe. I have matters to attend to.” He turned and started to walk towards the door, with Alice following close behind him.

She opened the door and held it open for him. “Safety and peace, Achilles.”

He gave her a nod and a light smile. “To you as well.”

~~~~~

It had been nearly a week since the horrible events in Boston had conspired. After finding out that Haytham had orchestrated the massacre Alice had felt nothing but stress and worry. She was constantly checking the town around her while outside of the store or their home and had started carrying a small knife on her person for self defense.

Eleanor and Peggy were left alone in the store for the time being, as Alice was on her way back from helping a customer bring their order to their home a few buildings down the street.

As she was walking back she noticed a familiar figure open the door to the store. Tall, dark hair tightly pulled back, and donning a long black cloak with red accents and numerous weapons slung around the torso. Alice felt her heart shoot up into her neck as she realized who the figure was.

He had finally found them.

After grabbing handfuls of her skirts and hoisting them up, she ran the rest of the way down the road and practically ripped the door off of its hinges as she bursted into the building. Her daughter and the man immediately forgot their conversation to turn their attention towards her. “She’s actually not in at the mo- Oh, mother! Are you alright?” Panting and out of breath, Alice only nodded in reply while desperately swallowing down gulps of air. “Well, this gentleman here was actually looking for you.”

She stood up straight and let out one final ragged breath. “Darling, could you give us some privacy?”

“Oh, uhh, of course! Absolutely.” The girl quickly disappeared into the back room, making sure to shut the door behind her. However, that didn’t stop her from pulling her sister from her work to listen in to the conversation through the wall.

“Well, you found me. I’m surprised it took you all this long, considering we never even left the northern colonies. So, are you here to kill me? Take me hostage? Throw me in front of a firing line like you did to all those poor citizens last week?”

The man looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Alice, I.. I’m not here to hurt you. And I had nothing to do with the massacre, I only read about it in the paper and wanted to make sure you were all okay. What are you talking about?”

Alice crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a stern look. “Your mentor and his associates were behind it.”

“I swear on my daughter’s life that I am not lying to you.”

Alice felt her blood begin to boil and heat creep up her face. “Shay, I’m sorry but I have not seen you in seven years and suddenly you show up, hoping everything will just be fine and that I will just suddenly trust you? You killed my husband and then went silent up until now. This whole time I thought something had happened to you, or that you had gone off and gotten yourself killed.”

“Alice-“

"You have some nerve showing your face to me, Shay Cormac!"

"Alice, please!" She let out a huff before looking at the man in front of her in the eyes, anger still present on her face. Shay sighed before continuing, "I tried to get him to go with the three of you but Haytham.. had other plans. I had to watch him get shot in the back." Alice looked away and tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall. "I never wanted to hurt anyone in your family, you know that."

“Shay," Alice spoke with a shaky voice. "Have you been keeping in contact with Haytham?”

“No. The last time we spoke was after.. everything at the Homestead. I was angry at what he did and we had a falling out. I haven’t received word from him in years.”

"So how do you know where we’ve been but he doesn’t? A man that smart would know to send scouts searching."

Shay let out a breath before answering. “He.. did. But the report was sent to Fort Arsenal and we made a deal. I will make sure no harm comes to his son as long as he does not harm any of you. That was actually the last conversation we had before he took his leave to Boston.” He put a cautious hand on her arm and, when she didn’t recoil, he relaxed and rubbed his thumb over the soft material of her sleeve. “I know you’ve all done just fine for yourselves for this long, but if you would allow it I’d like to be there for you if at all possible. I owe it to you for being absent this whole time.”

Alice thought over the idea for a moment before nodding. “What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Anything you need, I’ll provide for you. Money, supplies, weapons, you name it and I can get it.

The younger of the two girls pulled her sister by the hand away from the door and into the middle of the room, earning a surprised “Hey!” from her older sibling.

“I have an idea, but I need your help.” She looked at the closed door quickly before continuing. “I want the key to the study.”

Peggy looked at her with wide eyes. “What? Ellie, are you crazy?! It’s off limits, you know we can’t go in there.”

“Come on, please!” Ellie shot back with pleading eyes. “Don’t you want to know what mother is hiding from us? Especially after the weird conversations she had with Achilles and this Mr. Cormac out there now?” She sighed, “What if it’s information about father’s death?”

Her sister let out a huff before nodding. “I suppose. But if we get in trouble it’s your fault!”

~~~~~

The girls knew that Alice kept all her important keys together on the same ring. The store’s front and back, house, and study room keys were always in the same place. Locating them was not difficult, but acquiring them without their mother noticing was.

When they returned home that night, Alice slipped the keys into her cloak after unlocking the door.

Alright, now just to get it away from her.

She crossed the small room to the fireplace and immediately got to work on getting a fire started for the evening. As she worked the two girls shared a knowing look, signaling that they were going to try and execute their plan before the night was over.

After a few minutes of work the room was lit by the orange glow of a fireplace and the house was warming up. Alice finally shed the thick cloak she was wearing and slung it over the chair by the door. “Girls,” she called into the sitting room where her daughters were seated by the fire. “I’m going to start supper. It should be ready in about 30 minutes or so.”

The girls nodded at their mother before she disappeared into the kitchen. After waiting a minute or so to make sure she was preoccupied, Ellie made a beeline to where Alice had left the cloak. She fished the keyring out of the outerwear’s pocket and flashed it to her sister. Peggy looked up, gave her a knowing smirk, and set off for the study down the hall with Ellie following close behind her.

Of course, all three of the keys looked the same so they had to try each of them to find the correct one. After getting the door open, Ellie stepped in cautiously and looked around with a look of wonder. The room had two tall bookshelves completely filled to the brim with old books as well as a large desk with chairs on either side.

Peggy glanced out the door of the study and down the hall before speaking in a low voice, “Just hurry up and grab something.”

Ellie approached the desk in the middle of the room and picked up a large red, leather-bound book and opened it. Peggy walked over and peered over her sister’s shoulder to read the first page of the book with her.

“What do you two think you are doing?” Alice’s angry voice ripped them from their thoughts.

The two girls shot back from the desk, terror written all over their faces. Ellie immediately tried to hide the worn out book behind her back. “We-uh, I…”

“It was her idea!” Peggy shot an accusatory finger towards her sister, earning a hard smack to the shoulder.

Alice approached them menacingly and snatched the book out of Ellie’s grasp before placing it down a little too aggressively on the table next to them. “Haven’t I told you girls that this area is off limits?!” She turned to look at the girls, anger and worry raging in her green eyes. “The information in these books is not for the two of you to be learning. It could cost you your lives.”

Ellie straightened her back and looked her mother in the eyes. “What are you hiding from us? I heard your conversations with Achilles and Mr. Cormac. What really happened to our father?”

Alice’s voice shrank and her threatening posture fell. “Girls, please.. we’ve been over this.”

Ellie felt tears start to glaze over her eyes. “No we haven’t! We deserve to know what truly happened to him! To our father!” As she grew increasingly upset she felt tears start to steadily roll down her face.

Peggy stepped forward next to her sister and spoke up. “What if something happened to us. Wouldn’t you want to know who was responsible?”

Alice looked down at her feet and struggled to find the right words. “I..” A frustrated sigh. “Yes. Yes, I would.” She walked over to the door and gestured for the girls to exit the room. “Go on. We have a lot to discuss over dinner.”

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makomori · 3 years

Text

SEVEN | GROUND RULES

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI x OC

Nishimura Yua has to take her nephew to his first rep practice with the Tohoku Tigers at Shiratorizawa Academy. Ushijima Wakatoshi is filling in for the assistant coach on said team.

She’s recovering from a nasty breakup and he’s reeling from a stunning finals loss against the Jackals.

Yua’s drawn to his composure and honesty.

Wakatoshi finds her warmth and tenacity intriguing.

It’s the start of a Brand New Story; can they heal from past hurts and endure new challenges in order to help each other trust and love again?

CHAPTERS

ONE | NEW TERRITORY

TWO | FAMILIARITY

THREE | INTRODUCTIONS

FOUR | OBSERVATIONS

FIVE | THE OFFER

SIX | CONSIDERATIONS

Length: 3.9k words

Wakatoshi's eager to spend some time with his new manger, but she's busy getting to know the team. When they do finally talk, it's not the conversation he was expecting.

Is that a challenge? [Mufasa | The Lion King]

Saturday arrived faster than Wakatoshi expected. He was excited to help the team improve from last practice. And he wanted to see Yua-san. He still couldn’t believe that he managed to convince her to be their manager. From their brief interactions, she showed herself to be the type of woman that couldn’t be forced to do something against her will. It seemed that stubbornness was another trait that ran in her family. Thankfully, his explanation had appealed to her logical side.

When Wakatoshi arrived at the gym, he half expected to see Yua-san halfway done setting up the net. But the gym was dark. He pushed aside his disappointment by reminding himself that she would be here soon; arriving an hour early last week was an exception. Besides, he wanted to do some drills on his own again before the team arrived.

Kageyama-kun called him early in the week and they ended up peppering and doing spiking drills at Kamei Area for a few hours. It was good to see him; they spoke at length about everything that went wrong during the finals match against the Jackals. In the end, they concluded the opposing team managed to impose their will on the flow of the game and the Adlers’ mistakes were a result of that.

Regardless, they were annoyed that Hinata-kun had beat the two of them at the same time.

No matter. They would redeem themselves next season and bring the championship back to Oita where it belonged. He also told Kageyama-kun that he was welcome to drop by practice any time to check out the Tigers. The look of glee that crossed the setter’s face caused Wakatoshi to chuckle.

He was a super volleyball idiot like him, after all.

Practice would be held twice a week. 4:30 PM on Thursdays and 1:00 PM on Saturdays, for two hours at a time. However, Wakatoshi could see that extending especially if games were involved. The team’s collective energy was everything a coach could hope for. They had a full roster of twelve, and each player was capable of being in the starting lineup.

Rui-kun would be one of them.

He had incredible natural talent but was still willing to outwork anyone in the same room as him. Wakatoshi noticed in their first practice that the teen was hard on himself when he messed up during a drill or botched a play. However, he didn’t let that keep him taking instruction and trying again. And again. And again. He was stubborn and resilient and bent on improving. His tenacity would inspire his teammates to do great things throughout the season.

He reminded Wakatoshi of himself when he was that age.

Wakatoshi didn’t realize he had been practicing on his own for nearly an hour until he heard a familiar voice call his name. He caught the ball and looked toward the door. It was Rui-kun. He was energetic as ever and rushing to change out of his tracksuit. His stomach flipped. If he was here, that meant Yua-san was also—

He scowled at the tall man who entered the gym after Rui-kun. That wasn’t his manager. Was he wrong in assuming they would arrive together? Or was that his impatience? After a quick assessment, he realized that the man in question was the teen’s father. Their bearing and likeness were almost uncanny, from their curled black hair to their almost too-observant eyes.

By the time Wakatoshi consoled himself with the fact that his manager would be here soon, Rui-kun’s father bore a subtle look of displeasure like his. Luckily, he didn’t notice the two men sizing each other up. Wakatoshi’s irritation wasn’t directed at him, but the challenge had already been issued.

Rui-kun would most likely inherit his father’s height and broad shoulders; assets that would make him an intimidating ace. The older man’s stance was guarded, and the russet eyes that held warmth and affection for his son moments ago were now hard and almost cold.

The scowl Wakatoshi gave him wasn’t appreciated. So, he bowed in greeting and apology.

“Sensei, this is my dad!” Rui-kun said excitedly, still unaware of the tension between the two of them. “Yua-chan’s not here yet because she had a top-secret errand to do.”

“Please excuse me,” Wakatoshi murmured. “I was expecting Yua-san to bring Rui-kun today.”

The older man was silent for another breath before he bowed. “I’m Tetsuya, Yua-chan’s cousin.” His expression and posture eased when he flashed a dimpled smile. “You must be Ushijima-sensei. Rui-kun’s been talking about you ever since he got home from practice last week.”

Wakatoshi looked down at his student and grinned. “I’m flattered. But Rui-kun was the one who did all the work. He’ll be a powerful wing spiker one day.”

“You really think so, sensei??” The teen could barely contain his excitement at the compliment. “I’m not as good as you yet, but I’ll work hard to get there!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Wakatoshi affirmed with a nod.

Tetsuya-san ruffled his son’s hair playfully. “It won’t be easy, but it’s hard to discourage this kid once he’s got his heart set on something.”

“Sounds like somebody I know.”

All three of them turned toward the laughing voice. Wakatoshi held his breath.

Yua.

His eyes slipped over her automatically. Her ink-black hair was pulled into a neat bun at the top of her head and her face was flushed a soft pink. Her freckles stood out more than usual as a result. This time, she was dressed head to toe in black. A track jacket and tapered joggers hung comfortably on her curves. He thought her legs went on for miles. When his wandering gaze snapped up to her face, it was his turn to flush.

The knowing look in her eyes told him that he had been caught staring. Again. She returned his appraisal and he tried not to preen.

“I finished earlier than expected,” she said cryptically, a smile curving her lips. Her gaze lingered on Wakatoshi for long seconds before she faced her nephew. She tucked a small brown package behind her back. When Rui-kun tried to lunge for it, she side-stepped him easily.

“Yua-chan! What is that??”

His aunt shook her head. “It’s not ready yet, sweetheart,” she scolded. “But I promise to tell you about it soon. It’s for the whole team, remember?”

Rui-kun huffed in frustration. “She won’t tell me no matter how many times I ask her.”

“You mean whine at her,” his father corrected wryly. “You know she’s not saying anything until she’s good and ready.

“Sensei, can’t you make her tell you what she’s hiding?”

Rui-kun’s wide eyes were certainly convincing. Wakatoshi tried to eye the package tucked neatly behind her back, but she quirked a brow at him and shook her head.

“I don’t think it’s wise to challenge our manager,” he said gravely. “She’ll make us pay for it later.”

Tetsuya-san scoffed. “Good thinking. You don’t want to piss her off.”

Yua-san stuck her tongue out at her cousin while Rui-kun turned silent and grumbled under his breath. Wakatoshi watched their family dynamic raptly. It was so different from the formality he had experienced growing up.

“C’mon,” she chuckled, nudging the teen gently. “Everyone’s gonna be here soon. Let’s set up the net.”

When they started to move to the back of the gym, Tetsuya-san’s voice rang out. “Hold on, Yua-chan. I need to ask you something before I go.”

She looked at her cousin and then glanced at her assistant coach apologetically.

Wakatoshi shook his head. “We’ll take care of it.”

With Rui-kun working silently alongside him, they had the net set up in minutes. Wakatoshi glanced over at the Nishimura cousins. They were probably speaking about family matters, but he was still curious. Tetsuya-san’s back was facing him, so he couldn’t gauge his reactions, but Yua-san’s expressions ranged from disbelief, exasperation, and then understanding. He nearly froze when her sharp gaze settled on him; were they speaking about him after all?

“Oh, no!” Rui-kun’s groan cut through his worried thoughts. “I forgot my kneepads!”

Wakatoshi cranked the line one more time before walking over to him. “Don’t worry about it. I haven’t worn kneepads since I was in high school.” He stopped wearing them after his first year because he felt they restricted him during his approach and take-off. And his playing style revolved around attacking. Most, if not all the defense was handled by his more capable teammates.

The teen looked relieved at his words. After checking that the net was even, he trotted to the gym’s entrance to say goodbye to his father. He said something that caused the older man to smile and nod approvingly. Faint tendrils of envy wound through Wakatoshi’s chest. Rui-kun was fortunate to have that support readily available to him.

Saitou-sensei had also arrived along with several of the other players. Yua-san was busy with introductions. Her smile was warm and bright as she spoke enthusiastically with the boys. Whatever she was talking about had them hanging off of her every word. Commanding a handful of teenagers was laughably easy compared to the strong and demanding personalities she had to deal with at her job. Wakatoshi sighed. Looks like he had to wait his turn for some alone time with her.

Practice started off with stretches, and then a few rounds of serves. Since all the boys were already playing with their respective school teams, they could skip some of the basic drills and focus on more complicated plays and rotations. From the list he received last week, Wakatoshi would observe and guide the rest of the team while sensei worked with the two setters, Ashida-kun and Yoshito-kun. It was essential to know their limitations early on, as they would be handling the ball the most.

Wakatoshi would split more duties with the other assistant coach when he was available, but he didn’t mind taking on all the responsibility for now. It forced him to re-examine the basics that had been drilled into him since he was a young player, which was always a good practice. When things became frantic and complicated in a game, his first instinct was to focus on the basics.

Each player was exceptionally skilled, and they had an excellent sense of their positions. But this wasn’t surprising because the rep selection process was comprehensive. The tryouts were more rigorous, but each team only wanted the best players to represent their individual wards. The schedule would be fast and difficult as well, with multiple tournaments and seeding games in addition to their middle school team schedule. This would be their first step in discovering if they wanted to play professionally in the future.

An hour went by, and Wakatoshi still hadn’t spoken to Yua-san. At the start of practice, she was preoccupied with taking attendance and learning everyone’s name. And once the drills started, she was busy collecting the balls and ensuring they were available for sensei or the next player. And he was focused on trying to help they players if they had questions or became frustrated

But that didn’t stop him from sneaking looks at her whenever he could. He admired her dedication. When she wasn’t chasing after a stray ball, she closely observed whatever drill was in play or made sure that each of the boys were hydrated. Her position was vital for the team’s well-being.

Depending on the player, she would get to know them on another level than sensei or himself. Since she was noting the practice stats and watching the team as whole, she could pick up on any changes in their overall energy and attitude. Her knowledge would be invaluable during games and later in the season if they made it to the playoffs.

Right now, her brows were knitted in concentration. She was standing beside sensei and rapidly writing in a bright orange notebook. It looked like he was explaining to Ashida-kun the nuances of timing a second tempo set with Rui-kun. Wakatoshi decided to take a break with the boys, as they would be setting up for a game to end the practice.

As he continued his quiet observation of her, Yua-san’s head lifted as she glanced around the gym. She nibbled her full lower lip in worry. He had just raised his bottle to take a drink when her honey brown eyes found him, and nearly choked on a generous gulp of water when she flashed that appealing smile in his direction. She bit back a laugh as he coughed and wiped his mouth quickly.

When Oyama-kun asked if everything was all right, all he could do was nod densely. He looked at his manager in disbelief, but her nose was buried in the bright orange notebook once again. The only proof of their exchange was his damp sweater and the grin on her face. Not wanting to embarrass himself any further, he quickly instructed the boys to get ready for the practice game. Several minutes after explaining the rotation, he heard someone clear their throat to get his attention.

“Sensei, do you have a minute?”

Wakatoshi sucked in a quiet breath. The lilt in Yua-san’s voice was pleasing to his ears. She stood in the setter’s position on the court, while he was in his usual position on the right, behind the attack line. She had taken her jacket off, which revealed a matching black tank top. He took note of the toned muscles in her shoulders and arms. He had been anticipating and dreading this moment all practice.

“Of course.”

“Where are your kneepads?” A stern look fell across her features as she waited for his reply.

He frowned, not expecting the accusatory tone in her question. “I don’t use them.”

“Why not?” A ball was wedged between her hand and left hip, and he noticed when her fingers tightened.

“I’m an ace,” he said simply. Why was she asking him this?

Her brows shot up in skepticism. “That’s your reasoning?”

“It’s how I’ve played since high school.” His frown deepened. No one had ever given him a hard time about it before.

“What if you need to dig the ball?” She countered. Her voice was hard now, and he almost took a step back.

Wakatoshi shook his head. “I try not to put myself in vulnerable positions. My teammates will always cover what I can’t pick up.” When the words left his mouth, he realized that his logic wasn’t completely sound. In the finals, he missed a few crucial points because he couldn’t dig the ball in time.

Yua-san’s lips pursed into a tight line as she held the ball up high in her left hand. His body instinctively crouched just before the ball dropped. But he was a step too far back to dig with his right arm; a pancake was his only option. No kneepads meant he needed to be cautious about how he landed. He had promised no injuries to his mom and himself. Shit, if he were wearing kneepads, he’d be able to slide to the ball with no issue. It was too late now; his feet and legs hurled him forward and he had no choice but to commit to the dig.

The ball landed with a hollow thud an inch in front of his outstretched fingers.

Wakatoshi’s chest took the brunt of his rough landing, so he was out of breath when he watched the ball roll away. Silence rang in his ears. Everyone in the gym had stopped to watch their intense exchange. He was sprawled on the ground, not quite sure about what had just occurred.

He looked up at Yua-san, expecting a smug look and fitting retort. Instead, she looked disappointed, as if she were hoping that he would prove her wrong. She offered a hand to him, and he took it carefully. He couldn’t ignore the strength in her grip as she helped him to his feet. He stood before her, ready to accept her lecture.

“You would’ve been able to dig that if you had kneepads,” she chided. Her voice wasn’t raised, but everyone could hear her because it was still quiet.

Wakatoshi shook his head. She was right, but his pride just took a beating, so he wasn’t ready to admit that to her yet. “Maybe. Nothing is guaranteed.”

“That’s true,” Yua-san said with a shrug. “But you had to think twice. There wasn’t enough time for a flying receive. So, you were thinking about the best way to dig the ball without hurting your knees because you weren’t wearing kneepads.”

Wakatoshi stared in disbelief and awe. She was able to pick up on his hesitation in a few seconds. Her next words struck him right in the chest.

“What if you were injured from that attempt? In a real game, you could’ve been sidelined. And you’d be even more pissed off because that injury could’ve been avoided.”

That was one of his greatest fears. Yes, injuries meant that he couldn’t play, but it also had the potential to cause long-term problems. He knew he was one of the lucky ones that had managed to avoid any major injuries, but he knew that his luck could change at any time.

“And think of the example that you’re setting for our team. You can do no wrong in their eyes. They’ll notice the things you do and the things you don’t do. You’re saying that it’s fine not to wear kneepads because,” she held up three fingers before counting them down. “One: it’s how you’ve played since high school and you’re not willing to change that. Two: aces are exempt because they focus on attacking and scoring points. And three: everyone else is expected to cover when you can’t dig.”

Wakatoshi felt like he was a novice again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had laid into him this hard. But she was right and confirmed most of the frustrations from his disappointing finals performance.

“That’s selfish. And arrogant.” She paused to consider her words. “But that’s just my opinion. Of course, nothing is guaranteed. The ball is round. Any player can change the flow of the game. But preparation is the difference between winning a championship and losing it.”

His eyes flicked over to sensei, who was watching the two of them with a mix of interest and amusement. He clearly enjoyed seeing his best student being lectured by a woman who barely reached his collarbones. He shot him an imploring look, but sensei shook his head and shrugged.

Damn. That meant he agreed with Yua-san.

“Yes, you’re an ace. One of the best, in fact. But you can’t expect your team to follow you into hell if you’re not willing to do whatever it takes to keep the ball in play. That includes digging.” She paused again, then crossed her arms. “You know what? I don’t care if you wear kneepads or not. I care about the tone you’re setting for this team. It’s a safety concern; we can’t afford any injuries.”

She picked up the ball and thrust it into his hands. Her chin tipped up at him in a final show of defiance. “I did say that I wasn’t going to go easy on you. While I’m here, I’m going to do everything I can to give us the best chance of winning. I hope you can do the same.”

Everyone, Wakatoshi included, gaped when Yua-san turned on her heel and marched to stand beside the scorecard. She then directed a bow to sensei on the other side of the court. “Please excuse me for holding up practice.”

The older man smiled and waved her apology off. He then raised his voice to ensure that everyone could hear him. “Anyone not wearing kneepads won’t be playing in this practice game.” Immediately, several boys rushed to their bags and hastily put on their kneepads.

Wakatoshi took his place beside sensei as the boys positioned themselves on the court. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that he was soundly told off in front of the whole team by his manager. And the best part; he’s the one who insisted that she take the position. A grin crept along his lips as he considered her boldness. Though she wasn’t glaring daggers at him anymore, he could still feel the heat of her gaze from the across the court.

“Wakatoshi-kun?” Sensei’s voice was light. He wasn’t sure how his former student was processing that sound thrashing.

He turned to his sensei. “We were right to pick Yua-san as our manager. She’ll make us stronger.”

Sensei laughed this time. “I still don’t know how she didn’t end up playing volleyball. She would’ve made a terrifying opponent.”

Wakatoshi nodded. She had all the qualities of a fearless captain. He wanted to see what she was like in her element as an event director. “Her brother must be a monster of a player.”

“He is.” Sensei climbed the official’s stand adjacent to the pole. “He’s a mix of Tendou-kun and Tsukishima-kun.”

Wakatoshi’s nostrils flared. He was always secretly thankful that he never had to face Tendou-kun in an official match. The Guess Monster made a name for himself by breaking the hearts of wing spikers. And he could never forget the time Karasuno’s Tsukishima won a crucial third set in the Miyagi qualifier by blocking one of his spikes. A player with Tendou’s intuition and Tsukishima’s intelligence would be a worthwhile opponent. “I hope I get to play against him one day.”

Sensei blew the whistle to indicate the start of the game. “I’m sure you will. He’s always had his eyes set on the V.League.”

Wakatoshi was mostly silent during the first set of the game. Sensei did most of the coaching, but he occasionally stepped in to offer advice to the spikers.

When the teams switched sides, sensei chuckled and Wakatoshi gave him a curious look. “The more I think about it, I don’t remember anyone scolding you like that except Washijou-sensei.”

The tops of Wakatoshi’s ears turned red while he rubbed the back of his neck. He sighed. “Yua-san’s right. In the finals last month— I hesitated on a few crucial plays because I’m not used to digging. My playing style has been perfected for attacking.”

Sensei blew the whistle again. “Most of the teams you’ve played for have been built around your playing style. Especially at Shiratorizawa. But our manager made a key point. Everyone needs to be prepared to do anything to keep the ball alive. The teams we’ll be facing are just as good as we are, if not, better.”

Wakatoshi shot Yua-san an irritated look and she returned it. He half expected her to stick her tongue out at him. He looked away first. “Sensei, do you have an extra pair of kneepads? I’ll buy my own after practice.”

This time, his sensei’s smile was smug. “You’re lucky I’m always prepared.”

#mywriting #ushijima wakatoshi #wakatoshi ushijima #ushiwaka #wakatoshi #ushijima x oc #ushiwaka x oc #ushijima wakatoshi x oc #wakatoshi ushijima x oc #haikyuulovestory #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#hq!!#hq!! x oc #kurosiee #bigchaosenergy #ikolsrage #LMAO YUA AIN'T PLAYIN'

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ghostspideys-moved · 4 years

Text

We’ll Have Tomorrow

Chapter Eight

A/N: It’s finally Christmas time this chapter! Since I have this all typed out already, I can say that we’re a few chapters away from finishing this series.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x OC, Nancy Wheeler x Jonathan Byers x OC (eventually)

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Christmas is finally here, and everyone is really just trying to have a good time after the chaos they endured together.

Hawthorne had been deep asleep until he felt someone shaking him awake, followed by the eager squealing of, “It’s Christmas!” It was El, and she had the brightest smile on her face, which he could just make out through bleary vision as he started to wake up.

Once El ran out of his room, he groaned and dragged himself out of bed. Naturally, El and River were both sitting next to the Christmas tree already. From the looks of it, he hadn’t been the only one dragged out of bed seeing as Hopper was slowly making his way out of his room as well.

Hawthorne sat near the tree, still partially half asleep. Of course, El was the most excited of the three of them. Not that he was too surprised considering this was her first proper Christmas. River and Hawthorne, at this point, hadn’t celebrated a whole lot of holidays in general seeing as their father hadn’t cared too much about them anymore. More than anything, both of them were just excited to do some sort of celebrating for once in a really long time.

Hopper bought each of them a few presents, figuring none of them would really care too much so long as they got anything at all. Of course, he’d been right. Hawthorne now had some more books to add to his collection, and he’d definitely need them to help his reading. He wasn’t bad at it, but he certainly had some trouble here and there, so he needed the practice.

There was a knock at the door, and River set down the Walkman she’d been looking at curiously before racing to open it. Steve came in with bags of more presents, which Hawthorne definitely hadn’t expected. But he wasn’t going to complain at this point.

El was more than excited to see Steve, but she was also drawn to the bags of presents, hoping a decent amount of them were for her. Steve ruffled her hair and brought everything in before he started handing out more presents.

Hawthorne was more than surprised he’d even bought as much as he had, because he really didn’t have to. Of course, he kind of remembered River saying she’d invited him, but this was more than he would have expected from Steve.

It occurred to Hawthorne that Steve had a decent amount of money, so that was probably why he’d even bought so many presents.

Of course, most of El’s presents were a bunch of toys and other things she might have found interesting. Not that it was hard considering how new everything was to her, and therefore, everything was interesting to her. She’d given Steve a tight hug in response, a good enough indication for him that she more than appreciated the gesture.

Hawthorne wasn’t really sure he’d known, but Steve gave him a book full of information on lots of different plants. Of course, he suspected he’d just asked River. Not very many people knew that he really loved plants. Gardening in general was a favorite of his, even if he hardly got to do it outside of the botany club he’d joined. Nonetheless, he appreciated it, and he even gave Steve a slight smile, which might as well have been Hawthorne’s version of a hug by his own standards.

River, of course, received more comics, which she was more than excited to read later. If she didn’t already have a lot of them before, she definitely did now. She seemed especially over the moon to have more Superman comics.

At some point, there was another knock, but a shared look of confusion told Hawthorne that River didn’t know who it was either. He got up to answer it and was surprised to find Jonathan at the door. In fact, it wasn’t just him, but also Will and Joyce. He let them in, and it seemed they also brought a few presents. Not nearly as many as Steve, of course, seeing as they didn’t really have much money to go around, but it was still appreciated.

Joyce immediately joined Hopper, who must have been the one to invite them. He could already see Joyce trying to help out with dinner, which was probably for the best. Hopper wasn’t a bad cook, or anything, but he didn’t do a whole lot of it, other than breakfast.

Hawthorne took his spot back on the couch as El was flipping through channels nonchalantly with her powers, hoping to find a good Christmas movie.

Jonathan took a seat next to him, neither of them really saying anything right away. Neither of them really seemed to know if they were supposed to talk or not, or what they’d even talk about. It was quite an awkward moment of silence, and Hawthorne decided to be the one to say something first.

“How, um...how’s Will doing?” he asked quietly. The kid seemed okay so far. He was sitting next to El, debating over what to watch. Of course, he knew better than to think Will was totally okay after being possessed by the Mind Flayer. The kid didn’t seem to like people worrying over him too much, so he wouldn’t be too surprised if Will was doing his best to seem like he was okay. He didn’t particularly blame him either.

“Fine,” Jonathan replied. “Mostly. I mean, he hasn’t complained about feeling strange. He might still be a little...rattled, I guess.”

Hawthorne nodded, figuring that might be the case. “You know him better than anyone, but if there’s anything I can tell about him already, it’s that he bounces back quickly. At least to some degree.”

He’d never really talked to Will before, but he could already tell he was a tough kid considering half the shit he’d been through. Even if he didn’t know he kid well, it was easy to see he could hold his own well enough.

“Yeah, he’s a lot tougher than he looks.” Jonathan even offered a smile, which Hawthorne had to admit looked nice on him. Why didn’t he smile more?

Hawthorne smiled back and turned when El and Will had finally agreed on Rudolph the red nosed reindeer.

What might have made this moment even better was finding out Steve knew all the words to the song, which almost made Hawthorne laugh. He wasn’t bad at singing at all, but it was hilarious watching him sing along dramatically, and River looked more than embarrassed by his theatrics. She was laughing, sure, but she also had an exasperated look on her face. Probably because of how loudly he was singing.

Steve certainly didn’t seem very ashamed, but then again, he might have been doing it to embarrass River even further. Hawthorne couldn’t say he wasn’t guilty of doing the same, and he was finding it very entertaining.

The look of relief on River’s face when they were all called for dinner might have actually been funnier.

At the table, food was being passed around, and there was some light conversation here and there. It was kind of nice, actually. Especially when compared to how horrible things had been only a month ago. They weren’t exactly trying to forget so much as they were trying to keep some sense of normalcy in their lives. For that, Hawthorne couldn’t blame anyone, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t been doing the same.

As Hawthorne was eating, he listened more than he actually talked.

“I thought you said you guys don’t celebrate Christmas?” Steve asked River, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Technically, we don’t,” she answered. “But El was super excited about it, and we haven’t really celebrated Hanukkah properly in a really long time, so this is just as fun, honestly. It’s just less days of celebrating.”

“Wait, don’t you get presents all eight days during Hanukkah?” Will asked. “I think I remember someone in my class mentioning that.”

Steve gasped and turned to River and Hawthorne. “You mean this whole time, I could have been getting you guys presents?”

“You brought a whole bag of them. I think that more than makes up for it,” Hawthorne pointed out. “Besides, no one said you had to.”

“I say I had to. If I would have known that, I would have given you guys presents on all eight days.” He almost seemed a little sad that he hadn’t had the chance, which was amusing on its own.

River shrugged. “We kind of didn’t really pay attention to the days while we were settling in, so I didn’t even realize, in all honesty,” she said. “So don’t worry about it all that much.”

Steve didn’t seem any less sad about it, but he let it go for now. At this rate, Hawthorne wouldn’t be that surprised if he tried to give it a shot next year.

“First I miss your birthdays, and now I missed a whole eight days of a holiday?” He shook his head and stuffed his mouth with ham. “Such a wasted opportunity,” he mumbled between bites.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Hawthorne said as he finished his plate, “this year the last day of Hanukkah is tomorrow.”

“When did it even start?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“That means it was going during the Christmas Party!” Steve exclaimed, turning to River.

She sighed and gave an apologetic look. “I told you. I forgot.”

Steve shook his head. Hawthorne could practically see the gears in his head turning, which almost scared him. Whatever Steve might be planning, he wasn't sure he wanted to be around for it. He might not know him too well, but Hawthorne was sure any plan of his was bound to be...interesting to say the least.

Dinner went by quickly, and while everyone was socializing, Hawthorne slipped outside. Even in the warm flannel he wore ninety percent of the time, it was freezing. He could feel the cold air biting at his nose. It had to be red even if he hadn't been out terribly long. Despite the cold, he stood on the porch, leaning against the rail as he let his mind wander.

Hawthorne hadn't even heard the door open. Admittedly, he nearly jumped when Jonathan suddenly joined him.

"Shit, don't give me a heart attack like that," he mumbled.

Jonathan snorted and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. "It's cold as shit out here."

"I could ask you the same."

"I asked first."

Hawthorne chuckled and shrugged. "Fair enough. I'm just not much of a social person," he said.

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. I can't really say it's really my scene either."

Hawthorne offered a small smile. He found his eyes wandering over Jonathan's figure. There wasn't any particular reason why, and he wasn't entirely sure why he was having the thoughts he was having. He had to admit, Jonathan was surprisingly easy to talk to, or maybe that was just him, and he wasn't unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. Of course, Hawthorne's face grew red the moment he'd been caught.

"Do I have something on my face?" Jonathan asked, a slightly teasing tone in his voice.

Hawthorne's mouth went dry for a moment. "What? Oh, no. Sorry I just...I was thinking," he said.

"About?"

Sighing, he crossed his arms, his gaze turning forward again.

"Do you think...do you think everything will go back to normal now that everything's over?" he blurted out. "You know, after the Demodogs, the lab." He hesitated for a moment, turning to face him again. "Everything with your brother."

Jonathan smiled weakly and huffed, his breath escaping in a visible cloud that quickly dissipated.

"The first time this happened, it took awhile for everything to go back to normal," he answered. "And even then, it was never truly the same. By now, I think I've accepted that it never really will be."

Hawthorne rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess you'd be the expert in this situation."

"I don't know if I'd say that," Jonathan said. "But I think I'm definitely qualified to give some advice at least." He grinned, and it was quite possibly the most genuine look Hawthorne had ever seen him give. It was almost strange how weak that look almost made him feel.

Hawthorne turned away from him again, not wanting Jonathan to see just how red his face was. He might be able to easily blame it in the cold, but it wasn't worth the risk at this rate. He wasn't even sure why he was suddenly thinking the way he was. At any rate, it became clear to him that he was going to have a hard time focusing near Jonathan.

Christmas quickly came and went in a rush. Even after several days, at least half of the decorations were still up. The tree, of course, was still standing, though a number of the decorations had either been removed or came off before someone put them away.

Hawthorne was busying himself with making breakfast. At least this way he could keep El from eating more Eggos, at least until lunch rolled around anyways.

He placed a plate in front of El when there was a knock at the door. Unsure who it might be, they both shared a look before Hawthorne went to check. Of course, he logically assumed it had to be any of El's friends, or Jonathan, or anyone else who would actually know where they were.

When he opened the door, Steve was standing on the other side. He should have been surprised perhaps, but it wasn't much of a shocker at this point.

He stared at Steve for a moment before turning inside the house. "River, Steve's here." Hawthorne felt it was safe to assume he was here for her.

"Actually, I have a bit of a surprise for everyone," Steve cut in. Well, there was first for everything, including Hawthorne being proven wrong.

El perked up at the mention of a surprise, and River was just coming out of her room when she'd heard him.

"A surprise? What kind of surprise?" she asked.

Steve grinned and motioned for all of them to follow him. The three of them shared a confused look before following.

He led them out to his car and stopped them. "Okay, so I was thinking about how you guys didn't get to celebrate Hanukkah," he started, excitedly fidgeting. "And I thought, 'what makes up for eight days worth of presents?' So, I think I finally figured it out."

Of all the things Hawthorne was expecting when Steve opened the car door, a dog was certainly the last thing.

A German Shepherd hopped out and jumped up at Steve, scratching at his legs. He was small enough that he picked it up, the grin on his face never leaving.

"So, what do you think?" he asked.

Hawthorne's mouth fell open. "You...got us a dog?"

"Yeah! Pretty cool, huh? I figured I'd have to go big to make up for missing eight days," he said, as if that truly explained everything. "And don't worry, I bought food, a bed, all that other good stuff."

El seemed a little hesitant at first, but when Steve handed the dog over and it licked her face, she laughed and pet it.

"Steve, this seems like a lot to throw at us this early in the morning," River sighed.

"I know, I know. And I'm sorry about that. I just...I wanted it to be a surprise."

Hawthorne turned to the dog, still content to be in El's arms, its tail wagging wildly.

"He also doesn't have a name yet. I thought you guys might want the honor," Steve added.

The three of them shared a look, trying desperately to think of a name they could agree on. After some debate, El tossed in an idea they all seemed to like.

“Why don’t we call him Rexasaurus Rex?” she suggested.

Of course, they weren’t going to tell her that was a weird name, especially because she didn’t have any concept yet of how naming worked. That, and she was a kid. It was cute, at least.

"How about we call him Rex for short?" River chimed in.

El seemed more than happy with that, so they decided that was a good enough name. Hawthorne felt like that fit him well enough.

"Shit, we should probably see how Hopper feels about this?" Hawthorne realized.

Steve shrugged. "Don't worry. If he hesitates, I've been known to be persuasive."

They all went back inside where, luckily, Hopper was watching TV as he usual did on his days off. He looked up when he heard all of them, though he paused when he spotted Rex.

“That’s a dog,” he said rather observantly.

“Yeah, about that. Steve bought us a dog,” River said. “We can keep him, right?”

Hopper seemed rather hesitant, but before he could refuse, El cut in.

“We’ll take care of him ourselves.” She gave him a pleading look. Her big, brown eyes mixed with a pout were enough to crack anyone, even Hopper it seemed.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But you guys will have to take care of him,” he said. “And we’ll have to set some rules, because he’s not allowed on the couch, for starters.”

They cheered and went to help Steve take in everything else. Hawthorne helped set up once it was decided Rex’s bed would go between their rooms. Once they were good to go, they let Rex sniff around a little as Steve was on his way out. He let them discuss how they were going to divide up their responsibilities, which, of course, took some debate.

It took a while, but eventually the three of them came to an agreement. The general agreement seemed to be that none of that they’d take turns with the different chores involved in taking care of a dog. They were also in agreement that the only thing they really cared about was that they actually had a dog now.

Hawthorne realized this was probably the most normal he’d felt in a long time, and he could definitely get used to it.

Taglist: @bravest-at-heart @musicalytrashpanda @queenofthehairharrington

#steve harrington #dustin henderson #nancy wheeler #mike wheeler #jonathan byers #will byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #jane hopper #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #steve harrington x oc #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3

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lilliagradiewrites · 4 years

Text

off limits // jj maybank (part one)

Summary: John B’s 16-year-old sister Cacey Routledge is coming to stay with him in the Outer Banks for the summer. Before she gets there, John B warns his single, heartbreaker of a best friend that his little sister is off limits. But what will happen when feelings develop between the two?

Pairings: JJ x OC! , pope x kiara, john b x sarah

A/N: Hey babes! I decided to delete unexpected because I didn’t really like it lol. This is in replacement of that story! I created an instagram for the two main OC’s in this story: Cacey and her best friend Lina! Follow Cacey @caceyroutledge, and Lina @lina.mads :) love you guys and i hope you enjoy this book! (if you’d like to reblog it would be very much appreciated!)

Part Summary: Cacey is introduced to the pogues!

Part Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, vaping, mentions of marijauna. (nothing worse than what’s in the show lol.)

let’s do it !!

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As soon as Cacey Routledge stepped of the ferry, the vexatious humidity of the North Carolina coast hit her. The sixteen year old was already hot and sticky, and she’d only been off the ferry for five seconds! She gasped as the bright sun pierced her eyes, and she held her hand up to block it out while she removed her sunglasses from the top of her head and placed them on the bridge of her nose. As she searched the dock for a certain familiar face, she felt her phone buzz from her back pocket. When she lifted it, the screen lit up to reveal a text notification from her best friend.

linaaaa: send me photos bitch!! imy already :(((((

Cacey laughed at the message before quickly typing out a reply.

cacey: i will dw! i just got off the ferry lol. and imy more!!!

After pressing send, Cacey clicked the off button on the side of the device before shoving it back into her pocket. The girl continued the search for her brother on the crowded ferry dock. It was only a few moments before she spotted him. There he stood, his unbuttoned orange hawaiian style shirt making him stand out from the pastel-polo clad crowd. Cacey could recognize those shaggy brunette locks anywhere. “Bird!” She called for her brother, running towards him. To her annoyance, the rolling of her suitcase on the dock’s uneven wood slowed her down significantly.

Hearing his nickname, John B looked around, searching for the source of the yell. Finally, he spotted her. He moved towards her, meeting Cacey in the middle. “Bear!” He cried out, using her nickname as she had used his. He pulled her into a tight embrace. “I missed you so much.”

Cacey hugged him back, smiling at the old nickname. “I missed you more!”

Pulling away, John B draped his arm over his sister’s shoulders as he led her to where his old beat-up volkswagon was parked. “So, what’s up with you? What have you been up to?”

Cacey smiled. “Nothing much, to be completely honest. My life’s pretty uneventful. I hang out with my one friend and that’s about it.”

John B nodded in understanding. “Oh, right! That one girl. What’s her name? Uh... Lindsay?”

Cacey laughed. “Lina.” She corrected. “But yes, her. How have you been? Still hanging out with your same group?”

John B nodded again. “Yeah, the pogues. I can’t wait for you to meet them. Kie and Sarah freaked out when I told them we’d have another girl for the summer.”

As the two approached the large van, John B motioned to the left, a gesture for Cacey to get in on the passenger side. Cacey nodded and went to move, and felt something tug against her suitcase. She realized her brother was grabbing it for her. She smiled in thanks and went over to the passenger side door. John B tossed the suitcase into the back of the vehicle before climbing in the driver’s seat and shoving the key into the ignition. When they began pulling out of the parking lot, Cacey began the conversation again.

“So, Sarah. Is that the girl you told me about?”

John B smiled, his cheeks going slightly pink. “Uh, yeah. That’s her.”

Cacey giggled at her brother’s reaction. She shoved his shoulder playfully. “Birdie’s got himself a girlfriend!!” She squealed. Her brother laughed along with her.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” He turned the steering wheel, directing the van down a back road. “What about you? You got yourself some guy in miami?”

Cacey shook her head. “Nah, not right now. I broke up with Maya two months ago, and it was kind of messy. I figured it was best to focus on me for this summer.” John B nodded, then furrowed his brows.

“Maya?” He questioned.

Cacey nodded. “Yeah. Did I not tell you about her?” When her brother shook his head, Cacey gave a quick explanation. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. We dated for eight months until I found out she had been cheating on me. When we broke up, she blamed it on me. Told everyone I was awful to her and that I was ‘Manipulative.’ She’s super popular, so everyone believed her over me. Lina was the only one who knew I was telling the truth. That’s how I lost all my friends.”

John B’s brows remained furrowed as he processed the information that he had just been given. “Okay, first of all. Girlfriend? You... You’re- You like girls?”

Cacey’s eyes went wide and her cheeks went red. She couldn’t believe what she had just done to herself. How could she have been so stupid? “Uh...” She searched for an excuse. How did she forget that she hadn’t come out to her brother yet? She eventually decided it was no use, and she might as well use this as an opportunity to tell John B. “Yeah.” Cacey finished. “I forgot I haven’t told you. I’m... uh... bisexual. I like girls and guys.”

John B’s eys widened as he nodded. “Oh.”

Cacey watched him intently. His expression was unreadable. “Are you... like... against that?” She questioned nervously.

John B shook his head quickly. “No! No, of course not! Kiara, one of my friends... she’s uh... pansexual, I think?”

Cacey smiled in relief.”Oh, okay. Good.” She chuckled nervously.

John B noticed his sister’s discomfort and decided to change the subject. “My friends are really excited to meet you. They’re all waiting at the house for when we get back.”

“For real?” Cacey smiled. “I can’t wait to meet them all! They all seem super dope, based on what you’ve told me.”

John B grinned. “They are.”

Watching her brother, Cacey felt genuinely happy for him. She could tell, just by his smile, that he had some great friends, and that he loved them dearly. She was so excited to meet them all and to get to know them.

“Tell me about your girl.” Cacey says.

John Bs pupils dilated, and his cheeks went pink. Simply at the mention of Sarah. “She’s amazing. She’s funny, and kind, and absolutely stunning. And she’s there for me, all the time, no matter what. Even if I’ve been a dick, or I did something stupid. She’s there when I need her.”

Cacey giggled lightly at her brother’s description of the girl. “You’re whipped as fuck, huh?”

John B laughed at her comment, and hit her lightly on the shoulder. “Shut up!” He said. He turned the corner, pulling into the entrance of the Chateau. “Here we are!” John B announced, parking the car and pulling the key out of the ignition.

Cacey threw her door open and bounded out of the car, bursting with excitement to meet the pogues. As she approached the front door, she was flooded with a wave of nervousness. What if John B’s friends didn’t like her? What was she going to do all summer if they didn’t? Her brothers voice pulled her abruptly from her thoughts.

“You ready, Bear?” John B said with a warm smile. The familiar nickname grounded her. After a minute, she nodded. She was ready. John B turned the door handle and opened the door.

Walking into the house, she could tell that it was messy. Random pairs of shoes sat in random spots on the floor, and opened beer cans littered the counters and tables. Cacey could, however, tell that her brother had made an effort to tidy the place up. The effort wasn’t quite effective, but appreciated nevertheless.

“It’s not much.” John B said, running his hand through his long hair. But it’s home.”

Cacey smiled at the tall brunette beside her. “It’s perfect.”

John B smiled back down at her. Much to John B’s dismay, the sweet sibling moment was ruined by shouts outside. Cacey head snapped to the side. Through a window, she saw a group of teenagers seated in hammocks and chairs around an unlighted fire pit. They were laughing and talking, carefree and happy.

The pogues.

Cacey smiled at the sight of them. As she watched, she felt a hand on her back, leading her out the backyard.

. . .

Introductions to the pogues went well. Cacey met all of them one by one, and hit it off with each person easily. An hour after the routledge siblings had arrived at the chateau, they all sat outside. Kie, pope and Cacey all in chairs around the fire pit. John B and Sarah shared one hammock, while JJ occupied the other. As the group laughed and talked, Cacey couldn’t help but admire the blond. He was tall, muscular. Hot. Cacey was drawn to him from the second she laid eyes on him. Once, he had caught her watching him. He simply winked and looked back over to John B, who was telling a funny story. Cacey went red. She thanked God that she was sitting down, knowing her legs would have turned to jelly had she been standing.

Kiara turned to Cacey, breaking the girl from her thoughts. “So, Cacey. Tell us about yourself.”

Cacey smiled. “Okay. I’m sixteen. I live in Miami with me and John B’s uncle. I go to an arts school, Alexander Cay School of the Arts, on a scholarship. I have a dog named Ryder and a best friend named Lina. And that’s about it.”

“Cool.” Sarah said. “I love Miami. I went there once with my family on vacation. The beaches are absolutely beautiful.” Cacey nodded. “Yes, they are. I love it there.” Sarah smiled, and Cacey smiled right back.

“What’s cool is that you go to ACSA. That school’s, like, super prestigious. How’d you get a scholarship?” Kiara said enthusiastically.

“Cace is an amazing singer.” John B said. “A scout saw a video she uploaded online and offered her a full ride for all of high school.” The expression on his face was full of love and pride for his little sister.

“That’s awesome!’ Kie exclaimed. “You’ll have to sing for us sometime.”

“Yeah.” Cacey nodded. “Maybe I will.” She looked over at JJ, who blew a ball of smoke in the air and sucked it back in. As he exhaled, Cacey nodded, impressed. “Damn, JJ.” She said. “That was a clean ass ghost.” JJ smiled at her. “Thanks.” The blond leaned forward and held out his juul towards Cacey. “Want a hit?” Cacey was about to take it from him when John B voice interrupted.

“No, she doesn’t.” He said. Cacey looked back at her brother and rolled her eyes before taking the vape from JJ. “What flavor pod?” She questioned before pulling a long hit.

“Mint.” JJ answered. Cacey’s brows furrowed as she exhaled. “I thought they discontinued those?”

“They did. I had some stocked away.” JJ explained. Cacey nodded before taking another hit. She inhaled, then demonstrated her best ghost for the blond. Kie uttered that she was impressed, and Cacey smiled. JJ couldn’t get over how hot it was.

Cacey took one last hit, knowing it would take only three to get her buzzed. She blew large, clean o’s into the air as she handed the juul back to JJ. “Thanks, man.” She said as he took it and took a drag. “I’ll let you hit my disposable later.”

Through the whole encounter, John B sat silent, his mouth agape. “You- you vape?” He asked his sister, dumbfounded.

“Yeah.” Cacey nodded. “Not proud of it, but I do.”

“What the fuck! That’s so bad for you, bear!” John B cried.

“I know. But I’ll be fine.” Cacey said, brushing her brother concerns off.

“Do you smoke and drink too?” John B questioned. he couldn’t believe that he had just watched his previously innocent little sister hit a juul.

“Yeah. So what? I’m young. And I know you do that shit too.”

JJ chuckled. “He only drinks. He’ll smoke with me every once in a while, but it’s a rare ocurrance.”

“Jesus, John B. You’re lame as fuck!” Cacey exclaimed. The group laughed at this.

The rest of the night consisted of laughing and talking. Cacey eventually ended up with a beer in her hand, much to her brother’s dismay. At around 11:30, the youngest routledge stood and announced she was going to bed. After saying all of her goodnights, Cacey headed inside. She undressed and then flopped dramatically onto the bed of the Chateau’s guest bedroom. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #obx #obx fic

9 notes · View notes

lovely-sanie · 4 years

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𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚌𝚢𝚘𝚗 𝚙𝚝. 𝟸

⎬𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: NCT Hybrid!AU

⎬𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: ??? x OC

⎬𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3,570

⎬𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: panic attack

⎬𝚊/𝚗: Just a note: I deal with anxiety and I have frequent minor anxiety attacks. I have never been through a panic attack, but my best friend deals with them. This portrayal is what I remember from talking her through panic attacks.

➤ 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟷

➤ 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

Eunmi wakes up the next morning to banging, immediately setting her on edge. The unfamiliar surroundings add to her anxiety and confusion. The unfamiliar scents, the unfamiliar clothes, the unfamiliar noises, all of it smashes together in her head and whips around so fast that she can’t think straight.

Her breaths come fast and hard and her heart feels like it’s beating out of her chest. Her vision begins to blur and darken. Strangled whines begin to leave her throat at an increasing volume.

Distantly, she can hear someone shouting away, but it sounded far away and distorted.

Suddenly, Ten is in front of her. His mouth is moving like he’s talking to her but she can understand. He’s gone and then back again a moment later. He taps her gently on the wrist then exaggerates breathing in deeply and then back out.

Eunmi watches him a few times before slowly matching her own breathing to his. It takes a few tries, but soon, she’s breathing deeply and normally. She’s still trembling, but she can hear and see perfectly.

Ten continues to breathe with her and eventually, she’s able to stop trembling.

“You back with us?” Ten asks, voice almost a whisper.

Eunmi nods, wiping at her cheeks where tears had trickled down. “I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “No. Don’t be sorry. Panic attacks are a natural response in your situation. A room with no familiar scents and banging is enough to set most hybrids on edge, let alone hybrids with our type of history.”

Nodding, Eunmi hugs her knees to her chest.

“About the banging. Taeyong and I tend to get a bit carried away when we cook breakfast together.” Ten looks sheepish. “We might of forgot that you were in the apartment. So I apologize. I feel like your panic was our fault.”

Eunmi shakes her head. “It would have happened no matter what. I don’t do well on my own. I usually have to sleep with my face buried in my pack leader’s fur. If I can’t smell myself or someone I trust, I freak out.”

“Oh. Well. Still. I’m sorry.”

There’s a soft knock on the door before Taeyong peeks in, his pink hair clumped and ruffled as if he’d been running his fingers through it and clutching it. Eunmi felt bad that he was that worried about her, especially since he did nothing wrong.

“Hey. Just wanted to come see if Eunmi was okay.”

Eunmi gives him a wan smile. “I’m as okay as I can be.”

“Okay. That’s okay. You’ve been through a lot.” Taeyong’s smile towards her is a lot brighter than her own. “I just finished breakfast so if you’re hungry, you can come get some or I can bring you a plate.”

Eunmi glances at Ten and says, “I’ll come out and eat. Thank you.”

Nodding, Taeyong closes the door.

Ten stands, holding out a hand. “Let’s go eat.”

And so was the start of a new life for Eunmi. Days turned into a week. With each day that passed, Eunmi got more used to her new surroundings.

Things weren’t easy, though. Eunmi was constantly waiting for Taeyong to stop pretending and finally act like the humans she was used to. Ten didn’t seem to have a bit of fear in him towards the human, but that meant nothing. He could easily be suffering from Stockhold syndrome or whatever it was called.

Dr. Qian had visited a few times to check up on her and to make sure her wounds were healing well. She still didn’t trust the doctor, but he seemed nice enough. Plus, the smell of content hybrids on him put her at ease.

Eunmi is knocked out of her reverie by a plate of sashimi being placed in front of her on the dining table. Her mouth begins watering immediately. Besides fried chicken, sashimi had quickly become one of her favorite foods. The raw fish appealed to her base cat instincts.

Looking up, she smiles brightly at Ten. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says, sitting across from her with his own plate. “Oh. Heads up. A friend of ours is coming over with his hybrids. The hybrids can be a bit bratty, but they’re well-behaved. Most days.”

Eunmi freezes at his words. “Well-behaved?”

Ten looks up from his food. “Oh. Not like beaten type or anything. I just mean that they’re not going to pee on the carpet. It was a joke. I’m sorry.”

Shaking her head, Eunmi plops a piece of sashimi into her mouth. After chewing and swallowing it, she says, “Not your fault. I’m just being too sensitive.”

“No, you’re not, Mi. It’s okay to be concerned.”

“Still. I can’t seem to see past my experiences.”

“It’s been a week, Eunmi. Things like what you went through don’t just up and disappear just because you’ve been removed from the situation.”

“But-”

“No. You are allowed to not be okay.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Yes. I am.” He gets up and comes around the table, kneeling next to her chair. “It took me years to come to that conclusion. I wasn’t immediately okay when Taeyong took me in off the street. I hated him at first. Felt exactly as you do right now. It took him so long to earn my trust and even longer for me to stop hating humans.”

“I just feel like I’m overreacting. That my experiences as a kitten shouldn’t matter because they were so long ago.”

“Those aren’t the only bad experiences that you’ve had with humans though, are they?”

Eunmi shakes her head. “The entire time I was a stray, humans would look upon me disdainfully before dialing the number for the catchers. You and Taeyong and Dr. Qian are the only ones that ever lifted a finger to help me.”

“Humanity can be so cruel. In the same breath that they preach to help those that need help, they scorn the people that truly need help.”

A chiming sound echoes through the apartment before a voice yells into the camera doorbell thing that Ten had briefly shown her the other day.

“Taeyong-hyung! Open the door!”

Ten rolls his eyes and stands. “That would be our guests. You can go to your room if you don’t want to meet them right now.”

“Um.” She glances at the front door. “I think I’ll be okay.”

“If Donghyuk is a brat, just tell him to shut up. We all do.”

“Okay.”

He walks over to the door and takes a deep breath before opening it up. Immediately, two people slam into him. The three of them tumble to the floor and Eunmi hears a groan from Ten.

As Ten pushes the two hybrids off of him, Eunmi hears a chuckle from the doorway.

“You two are gonna break him if you’re not careful,” a voice from the doorway says.

“But we haven’t seen him in a week and a half!” The orange and brown-haired cat hybrid whines. “He deserves to be broken.”

“If you break him, you won’t ever be able to see him.”

There’s a huff from the orange and brown-haired cat hybrid before both he and the blonde-haired dog hybrid are climbing off of Ten.

“Thank you, you little-”

“Ten.” The warning comes from Taeyong, who had just entered the room from somewhere upstairs. He had helped Ten fix the sashimi then disappeared, presumably to change out of his pajamas.

“No cursing. Yeah, yeah, I know.”

The three guests take their shoes off then walk out of the entryway and greet Taeyong.

Ten comes over and stands beside Eunmi who nervously stands and pats down the pajamas she’s wearing that were borrowed from Ten.

The dog hybrid notices her first, scrunching his nose a bit before waving. It’s then that the cat hybrid notices her and stares her down. His expression is blank, so she can’t tell what the stare means but she hopes it’s nothing bad. She didn’t want to piss off this hybrid before she even met him.

“Who are you?” He questions.

“Donghyuk, behave,” the tall, extremely tall, human guest says. “She’s Taeyong and Ten’s guest.”

“Why wasn’t I made aware of this guest?”

Ten rolls his eyes. “We told you yesterday on the phone, Hyuk. Not our fault you didn’t listen.”

“I listened. I was also high on catnip.”

Johnny groans. “You’re still in trouble for that.”

“I’m just saying, you shouldn’t have left it out if you didn’t want me to get into it.”

“You are more than old enough to not touch something just because it’s on the counter.”

“I’m a cat. You left catnip out, a substance to which I am drawn. That was your stupidity.”

“You say that about the glasses you break, too.”

“Duh.”

“If you don’t stop, you’re not getting any treats for the next week.”

Donghyuk’s eyes widen. “But chicken!”

The human shrugs. “Behave and we’ll see. Now greet Taeyong and Ten’s guest.”

Donghyuk turns to Eunmi, pouting. “Hi, Taeyong-hyung and Ten-hyung’s guest. I’m Donghyuk.”

“I’m Jisung,” the dog hybrid says. “I’m the youngest of all of our friends.”

Eunmi smiles. “You’re both adorable. I’m Eunmi.”

Donghyuk looks offended. “Who are you calling adorable, tiny? I bet I’m older than you. What year are you?”

“199...8? I think so. I’m not exactly sure.”

He begins pouting again. “You’re so tiny but you’re older than me. That’s not fair.”

“Most people are older than you, Hyuk,” Ten says. “You’re a baby.”

“I am not!”

“You are.”

“Are not.”

“Are.”

“Are not.”

“Children!”

Eunmi flinches at the human’s loud voice.

“Sorry, Eunmi,” he says immediately after, smiling. “Sometimes I have to be loud to get them to listen. I’m Johnny. I’m, unfortunately, Jisung and Donghyuk’s owner.”

“Unfor-” Donghyuk scoffs. “Excuse you, I am a blessing to your dull life.”

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Eunmi tiptoes so she’s closer to Ten’s ear. Whispering, she asks, “He’s okay to this right? Like he’s not going to get hurt after they leave?”

Ten shakes his head. “Hyuk does this all the time. It’s kind of his gig to be a brat.”

Frowning, Eunmi grabs onto the sleeve of Ten’s long sleeve shirt. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t get punished for it.”

“I promise you that Johnny doesn’t lay a hand on Hyuk. Johnny is too soft for that. Plus, he’s from America. The laws over there regarding hybrids are completely different.”

Nodding, Eunmi still watches warily as Donghyuk attacks Johnny with punches that look like they’re barely even touching the older human.

“Hi.”

Eunmi jumps at the voice beside her and looks over. “Hi, Jisung.”

“Can I call you noona?”

“Um. Sure?”

“Yay!” He thrusts his fists high in the air. “I have a noona!”

“I talked to her first!” Donghyuk whines from his spot upside down in Johnny’s arms.

Eunmi’s brows furrow. “How?”

Johnny chuckles. “He was being a brat, I threatened to turn him upside down if he didn’t stop, he didn’t stop, I turned him upside down.”

“Can you let me go, please?” Donghyuk asks. “I’m getting light-headed.”

In a fluidity that didn’t seem human, Johnny flips Donghyuk right-side-up and sets him softly on his feet.

“You okay?” He asks, checking the cat over.

Donghyuk huffs. “I’m fine.”

Eunmi walks over and sits on the couch and is immediately joined by Donghyuk.

“So, what’s your opinion on water?”

Chuckling, Eunmi says, “I like water because it keeps me clean.”

“But your ears get wet and your tail gets wet and that takes forever to dry.”

“If you do it the right way, then it won’t be wet for too long. Ten used a hairdryer to help dry my tail and it was super soft and fluffy afterward.”

Donghyuk’s face scrunches up. “But hairdryers are loud and hurt my ears.”

“You can get your tail pretty dry with a towel, too.”

“We do that,” Johnny says as he leans on the back of the couch. “We even got microfiber towels because he didn’t like how much static there was with regular towels.”

Ten sits on the arm of the couch. “Yup. Don’t let him sell you a sob story. He’s as pampered as they come.”

Donghyuk huffs. “Like you aren’t.”

“I am and I fully admit that I am.”

As Ten and Donghyuk begin bickering over… something, Eunmi’s lap is occupied by a half-grown Jindo dog. It yips at her before settling in a ball in her lap.

“Jisung-ah!” Johnny scolds. “Did you even ask if she was okay with that?”

Eunmi shrugs. “I’m fine. My pack and I did this sort of stuff all the time. Well, not our leader. He was too big to fit in any of our laps. His head alone took up our entire lap.”

Donghyuk gasps. “What type of hybrid was he?”

Eunmi hesitates for a moment, deciding if that information was something she was ready to divulge. Deciding that it’s fine, she says, “He’s a wolf hybrid. Eurasian, I believe is what he said. He came over here from Australia. Well, his owners brought him over and then abandoned him.”

Ten winces. “To become stray that way is hard. At least when a hybrid runs away, it’s their choice. To just be dropped is not a hybrid’s choice and it’s much more difficult to adjust to.”

Eunmi nods. “He was lost for the longest time. He kept trying to talk to humans to find his owners but that didn’t go so well.”

“I would apologize for humans not being nice but I’m not going to apologize for others' actions when I know they aren’t sorry,” Johnny says.

The rest of the group’s visit consisted of Donghyuk in cat form chasing Jisung who was still in his dog form. Ten and Eunmi ended up cuddled together on the end of the couch giggling at the two’s behavior while the two humans sat at the dining table and talked.

It must have been hours later when Johnny comes to stand beside the couch.

“Hyuk-ah, Sungie, time to go.”

The two young hybrids, who had finally settled for a moment, shift back to human form and immediately begin protesting.

Jisung pouts. “Hyung! Do we have to? Can’t we stay longer? Please?”

“I didn’t even get to play with Eunmi-noona!” Donghyuk whines.

Taeyong chuckles, leaning against the back of the couch. “She’ll be here for a while. You can come back to another time.”

Donghyuk looks at Eunmi. “Promise? I wanna play hide and attack.”

Eunmi’s brows scrunch together as she sits up. “Hide and attack?”

Donghyuk’s face brightens. “It’s a game that a lot of us kittens and cats play! It’s where one cat stays out in the open and the rest hide and like the cat who’s not hiding walks around and the cats that are hiding try to attack them without being attacked. It usually dissolves into a giant play fight but it’s so much fun!”

“Then next time you come over, we’ll play,” Eunmi promises.

Donghyuk smiles. “Okay.”

After that, he’s much more agreeable, putting his shoes on without a fight.

Johnny turns to her, smiling. “We might have to put you in charge of him more often. It’s usually a ten-minute argument to get him to leave.”

Eunmi giggles. “Glad I could be of service.”

Jisung whines as Johnny drags him towards the door, but doesn’t actually fight the dragging all that much.

“It was nice meeting you Eunmi,” Johnny says as he opens the apartment door.

“It was nice meeting you too.”

“I hope that Taeyong, Kun and I have at least given you a glimpse of what the good part of humanity looks like.”

The smile that appears on Eunmi’s face is a sad one. “You have. It’ll take more than a glimpse to make me stay, though.”

He nods. “I hope you do decide to stay. Hyuk-ah and Sungie really like you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

With a nod, he waves to the three in the apartment and herds his hybrids out the door.

Another week passes by without Eunmi realizing it. Out on the streets, she was aware of every day that passed because she usually spent it searching for some scrap of food that would allow her to live on for just one more day or for a place to rest that was protected from the elements and other hybrids.

In the apartment, though, she was well-fed, had access to a shower, had a comfortable place to sleep, and had no worries. It felt nice to just relax and not worry about how she was going to live until the next day. The only thing she had to worry about was herself and what she wanted to eat next or how long she wanted to sleep or what she wanted to do with her free time.

She spent a lot of her free time watching Ten and Taeyong. The relationship between the two amazed her. They were close, as close as best friends, and Taeyong treated Ten like a human, like a person that had every right he did. It was different from everything Eunmi had ever seen. The affection exchanged daily left a weird feeling in Eunmi. The only affection she had ever received from a human was the soft touches of Dr. Qian and the kind words from Taeyong.

Sometimes, as she watched them, she would think about what it felt like to be truly loved, to be truly cared for by an owner.

Sometimes, she would think about what her life would be like if Taeyong adopted her.

Sometimes, she would think of fantasies that would never exist.

Thinking about the affection between the hybrid and his owner brings a question to mind that she’s had for a while.

One day, she thinks it’s Saturday or maybe Sunday, she plops down on the couch beside Ten who is writing, or drawing, to get an answer.

“Ten?”

“Yeah?”

“What do head scratches from a human feel like?”

Ten looks at her and shrugs. “No different from normal head scratches. Why?”

“My friend was telling me that human head scratches don’t feel as good. He said that they don’t know the right spots.”

“That’s true. But they can be taught. I had to teach Taeyong, but he knows now.”

“But don’t they scratch too hard or soft?”

“Sometimes. Some people just don’t give good head scratches but it’s not because they’re human. They just suck at it.”

Eunmi nods. “Okay.”

Ten sets his notebook down and looks at her. “Do you want head scratches?”

Humming, Eunmi moves over to him easily. “Please.”

He chuckles. “I know all the best spots.”

“Good.”

The next day finds Eunmi laying on the couch with her head on Taeyong’s thigh while he does work on his tablet. He mentioned that it was a script he needed to look over or a schedule or something. She wasn’t really paying attention to his words when she came to lay on him.

“Oppa?”

Taeyong looks down at her in surprise. “Uh. Yeah?”

Eunmi smiles. “Can you give me head scratches?”

There’s a moment of stillness before Taeyong’s face breaks into a smile. “Sure.”

The moment his hand touches her head, Eunmi is in heaven. He immediately finds the right spots and scratches with just the right amount of pressure. A purr rumbles through her and her eyes drift closed, basking in the amazing feeling.

“I’m gonna expect you to call me oppa from now on,” he says eventually.

“I’m okay with that,” Eunmi responds without opening her eyes.

“Hey! No fair!”

Ten’s voice prompts Eunmi to open her eyes, but only a bit. Just enough to see the hybrid in the entryway, pouting.

“I want head scratches, too.”

Taeyong chuckles. “I only have one hand available.”

Ten walks over and grabs the tablet Taeyong was working on and sets it on the coffee table before plopping in his lap. His knee hits the top of Eunmi’s head and she whines.

“Ten! Careful,” Taeyong scolds, running his hand over Eunmi’s head, soothing the bump.

“Sorry, MiMi. I just want cuddles.”

Eunmi whines again and Ten chuckles. His hand finds the right spot just behind her left cat ear. Her whines dissolve back into purrs immediately.

“I think Eunmi is just as spoiled as I am,” Ten comments.

Looking up, Eunmi huffs. “If anything, it’s your fault. I learned everything about being an owned hybrid from you.”

“And I am a great teacher.”

Taeyong laughs. “You taught her to be spoiled. I would say that’s bad teaching.”

“Depends on who you ask. I say being spoiled is great.”

“For you. Me? Not so much.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me that you don’t enjoy spoiling us.”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “In cuddles and love? Yes. In material items? Debatable.”

“Cuddles and love are enough for me,” Eunmi says with a smile. “If they’re not enough for Ten, I’ll take all his.”

Taeyong chuckles while Ten huffs.

“I will gladly accept cuddles and love. Things like clothes and jewelry are just a plus.”

Taeyong hums. “Good to know.”

Eunmi settles against Taeyong’s thigh once more, letting her eyes slipped closed.

As she listens to Taeyong and Ten talk, she begins to think that maybe, just maybe, that fantasy of hers could become real.

A/N: Just a few things!

One - Below is what I imagine Taeyong and Ten’s apartment to look like. I realize that it’s big for an apartment, but it’s supposed to be sort of a luxury type apartment.

Two - Here are some visuals for the different breeds of the hybrids we’ve met so far in order of appearance:

Eunmi, Blue Point Ragdoll

Chan, Eurasian wolf

Minho, Bombay cat

Felix, Australian Mist

Jeongin, Fennec fox

Ten, Seal Point Thai (aka Siamese)

Donghyuk, Ticked Orange Long Hair Tabby

Jisung, Jindo dog

#lovely-sanie #s: halcyon #nct #nct au #nct hybrid au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #kpop #kpop au #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

37 notes · View notes

queens-floyd · 5 years

Text

Drummer Girl pt. 5/Holiday Special

Masterlist

A/N: the beginning is eh angsty but it gets really fluffy ;) it’s a “Christmas special” a day late. Oops. Also I’m sorry to the people in the tag list I forgot to add one on pt. 4. Forgive me!

Roger Taylor x OC

Warnings: Language, alcohol

Lavender’s POV

It was that time of year again. Christmas Eve. Honestly, I haven’t had a real Christmas since my dad left. Before, we would throw parties and have feasts, see all my cousins and relatives, it was my favorite holiday. After that, we stopped going to family gatherings all together. They didn’t want to see us and we didn’t want to see them. My mum’s side of the family lived in another country and since my dad left, we couldn’t afford to visit them. My mum and I tried to celebrate Christmas as much as we could, but times got hard and eventually we stopped the traditions completely seeing we both started working and earning money was more important than celebrating.

Now, I’ve completely forgotten what it’s like to celebrate Christmas. It’s just a normal day for me. I ordered take out from one of the last stores open and enjoyed my lovely alone time. I ended up felling asleep on my couch with some half eaten chow fun on my chest.

I slept peaceful until I felt some sort of ball hit my head. I sat up suddenly expecting to have spilt my noodles all over myself, but I wake up in a different sofa... in my old house. I look around to see who threw that ball and I see two young children sprint past me. I look around some more and I see dozens of people, adults and children. I shake my head and realize these are all my relatives. There are lights and food, so much food, and a giant Christmas tree by the window I would use to practice guitar. I sat there in confusion for a while til a voice pulled me out. I felt a hand on me and I flinched.

“Oh honey, you’re finally awake.” The voice says. I look over and I see my mum.

“W-what? What is h-happening?” I said shaking. She is here. Right here in front of me. Touching me. I feel tears well in my eyes. “Mum?” I say shaken.

She looks healthier from when I last saw her. More full of life. Her beautiful long hair was curled and put up into a messy bun and her makeup is how she would do on holidays. She was wearing a gray wrap dress and low black heels. She looked so beautiful.

“Honey, are you okay?” She says looking concerned.

“I think she’s just disoriented from taking such a long mid day nap.” A voice behind her says. A hand reaches to her shoulder and a face all too familiar appears. A face that I haven’t seen in a very long time.

“D-dad?” I say, not caring that nothing makes sense.

“You shouldn’t be napping kiddo. It’s Christmas and your cousins wanna play with you.” He says laughing. Kiddo. He use to always call me that and I absolutely hated it. Now, it is so relieving to hear it come out of his mouth. He is wearing the ugly Christmas sweater I bought for him when I was eight. It was the first time I bought something on my own.

I jump up and hug both of them tightly. Just to make sure they’re there. They both are shocked at first, but they hug back tightly.

“Woah there kiddo, you’re gonna put out my back.” My dad says. We all laugh and hear one of my aunts call everyone over to open presents.

As I walk to the tree I see the feast of food layed out on the table. My mouth waters. I haven’t eaten food like this since forever. My mum was a great cook and we would always cook together before she got sick.

We got to the presents and my parents handed me a large, wrapped box with little reindeer on the paper and a big green bow. I took it and they smiled widely as I opened it. I tore the paper and underneath there was a suitcase.

“Well, go on open it! We hope it’s what you like.” My mum says.

I unlatch the two latches and slowley open it. Right as it fully opens all other sounds drown out and a loud ringing is heard. Then banging. Then more ringing. It sounds like the doorbell to my apartment. A few more rings and bangs, everything disappears. I rub my eyes and when I pry open my eyes again, I see I’m still on my couch with noodles all over my pants. I was all a dream. I sigh as I hear the doorbell again, then a few pounds at my door. I slowly walk over to my door, upset at whoever woke me up. I go to unlock the door when I hear muttering from behind the door.

“Come on she isn’t home. It’s Christmas Eve she’s probably with family...” a voice says

“One more time then we’ll leave”

I open the door to reveal the four infamous members of Queen and Mary. All of them understandably surprised and Roger with his fist up, about to pound on my door.

I look at them wide eyed not expecting this sudden arrival when they all shout out, “Merry Christmas!”

“Huh?” I say really, really confused.

“Uhh she might not celebrate Christmas...” John says from the back. They all look guilty and slightly cringe at themselves.

“Oh no, I do.” I say, “well, I did...”

“You don’t look like you’re celebrating” Freddie says. I look at myself in my week old pajamas, noodle stains on my pants.

“Well I don’t celebrate anymore.”

“Why not?” Brian says as I step aside for everyone to come in.

“No one to celebrate with I suppose?” I shrug and go to clean up my mess.

“That’s sad.” Freddie blurts, “Well now you’ve got us, and we are taking you to a Queen Holiday Extravaganza! And I am not taking no for an answer.”

“Okay...” I say hesitantly.

“Excellent! Let’s go find you something to wear!” Freddie says as he he waltzes into my bedroom.

“Freddie! Don’t go in there with out her permissi- ugh!” Mary says as she looks back at me sympathetically and chases after him.

I look around and John and Brian are examining my guitar collection. Then I feel a light tap on my shoulder. I turn around and it’s Roger with a large box wrapped in little reindeer wrapping paper and a large green bow. It looked vaguely familiar.

“I got you something... I thought the boys got you something as well, but I guess they didn’t get the memo.” He said rubbing the back of his neck.

I laugh and shake my head, “you idiot, you shouldn’t have gotten me anything.” I lightly punch his arm and take the present. Honestly, I was really happy and greatful for this gesture. I haven’t gotten a Christmas present in a very long time, so this really meant a lot to me. I rip open the gift and open the cardboard box inside. I remove the tissue paper and see a t-shirt. I pull it out and it is probably five times too big for me. I peek out from behind the shirt and raise my eyebrow at Roger. He is wearing a huge smile on his face as he motions for me to flip the shirt. I flip it and the first thing I see is his face, prominent on the front. It shows all the boys and the word ‘Queen’ and their logo. On the shirt there is a big red heart drawn over his face and smaller hearts around it. I glare at him again and he is doubling over laughing. I go over to attack him when he holds up both his hands.

“Woah woah woah, there is one more thing in there.” He says trying to defend himself.

I look back to the box and toss the remaining tissue paper. I pick it out and see that it’s Pink Floyd’s ‘The Wall’ on vinyl. I look closer and see the signatures of Roger Waters and David Gilmour.

“Oh my God. You didn’t” I scoff

“I think I did” He says crossing my arms and peeking at my astonished face.

I let out one more loud laugh and tackle him to the floor in a hug.

“Roger!” I screamed at him as he held me on top of him. We were both laughing hard, “how did you know?”

“Well, when I was doing your laundry after your whole... incident, I stumbled upon all of your Pink Floyd memorabilia. You seem to take a liking to another Roger who isn’t me.” He says offended.

I laughed and hugged him once more before rolling over next to him on the floor. I hold up the record to examine it once again. “This is awesome. How did you manage to get this? It hasn’t even been released! And how did you get them to sign this?”

“Did you forget? I’m famous, love. I met up with them and that Roger is apparently a fan on this Roger. They wanted Queen to take a listen, ya know from one band to another.” He says turning over to me. I tackle him into another hug.

“Ok I found a dress for you Lavender!” Freddie yelled from my bedroom, “it took us ages to find a suitable dress in that mess you call a- woah” all the attention shifts to me on top of Roger and I jump off of him quickly, elbowing him in the stomach in the process. He groans in pain and John, Brian, and I snicker at him.

“Well, whatever was going on needs to take a break because we need to be at this party by 6:00 and it is currently 6:15. I do like to be fashionably late, but at this rate we’ll miss the good booze so... chop chop love birds.” Freddie says as he tosses me a small red dress that I haven’t worn in ages.

I hold it up to reveal the tiny fabric, “Uh... this will definitely not fit me. Can’t I wear some jeans and a shirt?”

“Squeeze yourself into it love, it’s a Christmas Banquet so you must present yourself nicely my dear.”

“Whatever.” I say rolling my eyes to squeeze myself into this dress. I somehow get my body into in and look at myself in the mirror. I could care less what I wear as long as I can drink alcohol in it. I put on a leather jacket and motorcycle boots and walk out of my room.

As soon as I walk out all the attention is on me. Roger’s mouth waters and I throw my pajamas shirt at his face.

“I brought you some booties Lav,” Mary says handing me some heeled boots. I cringe at the sight of heels knowing from experience that alcohol and heels don’t go well together, “don’t worry they’re more comfortable than they look.”

I sigh and stick the on and get use to the new height.

“Very well. Should we go?” Brian says.

We leave accordingly out of my apartment. Freddie and Mary holding hands and Brian and John close after. I grab my purse and start to exit. I feel Roger come up behind me,

“You looks spectacular Lavender.” He says close to my ear. His hand rests on my hip and gets too low. I glare at him while he has a nasty smirk on his lips. In my quick temper I punch him in the gut as he doubles over in pain and groans loudly.

“Try that again drummer boy and next time I’ll aim lower.” I say grabbing my purse and walking out, “Merry Christmas my friend!”

“Damn.”

Bonus:

The party was quite fun. The most fun I’ve had in a while, in fact. I got a handful of glares here and there seeing my close affiliation with Queen, but I could care less. I danced with all the guys and Mary and I drank my usual amount, so I was quite drunk and I dance with a few random men. We all had fun, Freddie got his attention, I got my drinks, Roger found a good looking blonde, things were good.

At one point I was apparently getting too close to this one bloke and Roger had to pull us apart.

“Come on man, he was pretty good looking to me!” I whined at him, “how come you get to have women rubbing themselves at you and I don’t get to have one dance with a guy I choose?”

“You’re drunk. You can thank me later.” He said.

“Uh oh!” Freddie yelled from across the room. He runs over close to us, “I spy two little hotheads under my special Christmas decoration.”

We simultaneously look up and see a mistletoe.

“Shit.” I say. Roger looks at me with wide eyes.

“You don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to. I’m not gonna force you.”

“Well I am. It’s the rule.” Freddie says taking a sip of champagne.

“Fred! Come on you know she doesn’t...” Roger keeps complaining at Freddie as I look around and pluck a drink from a random person’s hand as I mutter a quick ‘sorry.’ I down the whole drink quickly. I grab his face mid-sentence and place a chaste kiss on his lips. He quickly catches on and deepens the kiss for a few seconds and puts his hands on my hips as I pull away. Freddie cheers and everyone follows along. His hands are still on my hips and looks at me shocked and slightly impressed.

“What? It’s not like you haven’t kissed half the people here.” I joked at him. Many people in the crowd nod including Freddie and Brian.

“It’s true. I know!” Deaky says from the edge of the room. Everyone shares a quick laugh and disperses back to the party. I attempt to walk away as Roger grabs my arm.

“Hey, we’re not gonna be weird about this right?” He says

“I’m not weird about anything. But, no. It’s fine, it was just a mistletoe kiss. No harm done.” I say grabbing two shots from a passing waiter. Roger looks at me as if I were going to give one to him.

“Oh these were both for me.” I say downing both, coughing at intensity of the liquid, “...strong” I say between coughs.

“That’s what you get for double-fisting Freddie’s special tequila, love.” He said laughing at me. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. And just letting you know, you are a marvelous kisser.” He says pinching my butt as he walks away. I was so ready to knee his balls, but I was busy choking on “Freddie’s special tequila.

“I’ll get you back Taylor!” I wheeze at him.

“Sure you will. Merry Christmas!”

Tag List: (some people it wouldn’t let me tag) Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

@isabella-bby @overcastskeleton7 @childishslytherin @2ptonpt @cosmiclunas @rain-must-fall @anamcg317

#bohemian rhapsody #queen #ben hardy roger taylor #brian may #brian may x reader #roger taylor x reader #freddie mercury #john deacon #roger taylor #roger taylor imagine #drummer girl

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domesticangel · 5 years

Photo

here’s a big ol dump of art thats been sitting in my folders for anywhere between 1-3 years that at this point ill probably never finish to accompany some Really Long rambling under the cut

im a junior in college now (””should be”” a senior/whatever that means/since i took a gap year but) but when i was in my like....sophomore-senior years of high school i drew like.....every. freaking. day. like literally i feel like i would draw like, 1 or 2 fully fleshed out, give-all-my-attention to type drawings every single day of my life, and i always had so much fun doing it.

after having a while to self-reflect though ive concluded theres kind of some layers to this. because i figure theres at least a little romanticization of the past going on, because i KNOW i wasn't a very happy person in high school; in fact, mental health wise, late high school into my freshman year of college was probably my very lowest point. i did lack motivation at these points, but not for drawing; i kind of put off school work and college prep, which wasn't good, but drew like HELL every single day, and pretty much all of it was fan art. thats one of the main differences between me then and me now; i used to dedicate so much of my time and energy to “fandom” and the media i was into, and it totally fueled my desire to draw, whereas now, i obviously still enjoy different series, but... my life doesn't really revolve around them like it used to.

the way i see it, i think i definitely used to use media and fandom participation as a form of escapism, but not really the good kind... i think it was more of a maladaptive obsession i failed to keep in check that i know for a fact really got in the way of my schoolwork, and i only doubled down when it came time to apply to colleges, because of course that stressed me out and scared me; during times like that, which was almost always due to my mental health issues at the time, i clung to fandom because its what brought me comfort and kind of shielded me from my responsibilities.

either way, that obsession with whatever media i was into at any given time is also what i think gave me that desire to draw all the time that i miss so much. i think being THAT invested in something is what actually gave me the constant desire to create, and being able to create something and feel accomplished in something without having to face anything uncertain or scary kept me totally hooked. so its weird trying to parse how i feel about that time period in my life.

on one hand, my mental health has gotten SO much better. obviously ive matured a lot since high school, so over time ive learned about much better coping mechanisms and ideas about mental health, ive gotten on a medication that works for me, and ive really gotten into my major so I'm really enjoying school as well. and obviously this is progress that i would never, ever, just want to give up or throw away. however, its also this progress that seems to have inadvertently influenced how often i draw, because I'm no longer fully diving into media/fandom because i dont need that escapism anymore, and therefore i don't have this like, feverish, obsession-fueled desire to draw like i used to. its kind of a double edged sword i guess and something i don't have a clear answer to.

i also think another factor i can't ignore is that i used to have a very large following in a lot of fandoms on tumblr, and if i remember correctly before i deleted my old tumblr i had around 12,000 followers that i had accumulated over probably the course of about 5 years. so that meant that my fan art got a LOT of attention. not to sound like hur-de-blur-social-media-is-evil but like at least in my personal experience, i kind of taught myself to think, “your art is only worth something if it gains a huge, instantaneous reaction, and peoples’ reaction to your art is the ONLY thing that decides its value.” and thinking like that really has hurt how i feel about my art over time! often times, after deleting my tumblr, i would find myself thinking, “well whats the point in doing any art, because nobodys going to see it anyway” so i honestly didn't draw or feel anything for art for a long, long time. in that time i channeled my feelings and energy into much more harmful activities, and i really could've used art at the time, but it had become such a worthless concept in my head since i could no longer associate it with immediate praise and attention.

i forgot a lot of important things about art, most importantly, how it could be fulfilling to just ME and that that was ok. i forgot that drawing regularly would help me improve, or give me something to focus on when i felt down, or give me the power to create something when i felt like i messed up everything else around me, or just make me happy because i thought of something i wanted to put on paper and then just put it on paper. and thats one of the main reasons i created this tumblr; i want to kind of rekindle that passion i had for art, but this time, without the maladaptive obsessions and without the need for approval from everyone around me. and i know this isn't a unique struggle; i know lots of artists who share their work online get discouraged by how little attention their work gets after they put so much time and effort into it, and like them, i don't have an answer as to how to “fix” this feeling either. but i can at least try. i want to prove to myself that the time i spent feeling hopeful and happy about something i created justifies its entire existence regardless of now many notes it gets, whether its OCs, fan art, digital, traditional, whatever. i just want to learn how to draw because it makes me happy.

that said, finding the motivation can be hard. however, i think I'm sometimes a little too hard on myself. I'm on winter break right now, and ive kind of defaulted to thinking “you haven't drawn enough, you've wasted so much time wishing the motivation fairy would visit you and make you draw that you haven't put in the time and effort needed to make yourself do it, youre pissing away every chance you have.” but when i think about it, i don't think thats true.

ive spent a lot of time thinking about OCs recently, which is kind of wild, because i haven't had the desire to make OCs in probably literally ten freakin years, so thats honestly huge for me--i actually really WANT to make original content despite the fact that i know it won't get as much attention as fan art, and i want to just do it for me, because i want to get it out. ive done a whole character sheet and I'm working on another! and sure, it didn't take me half a day like it maybe used to would've, but what does that matter? i thought, hey, i wanna get this out, and i got it out, and thats good enough for me. ive even written up storyboards in case i wanna ever make some small comics about my OCs just for fun, which is exciting cause ive never done it before. ive also been working on a commission for a close friend who wanted me to design her a fursona, and not only has it been a really fun process, but its the first commission ive done in a really, really long time, and it feels really rewarding. on top of that, I'm working on a painting for my dad as a late christmas present, and its my first really ambitious traditional piece in a while, so thats been pretty exciting too. and sure, ive done some fan art, but it feels like its coming from a better place; its less “please assign me value” and more just, really feeling something for the characters and wanting to try to connect with other people who feel something for those characters as well.

so, while it seems challenging, i also need to remind myself not to be blind to my own progress. i think i am doing better, and feeling better about art even if sometimes it feels like i spend way more time thinking about doing art instead of actually doing it. i think thats probably normal, and i think i can keep heading in the right direction.

ANYWAY this got really long but sometimes typing out how i feel about something and then reading it back helps me understand my own head a little better, so thats ok

#art #theres some scattered tf2 stuff in here but its mostly old tf2 ocs so

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okbutramsaybolton · 7 years

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Glad to be Back - Kai Anderson Smut

Pairing - (kinda) OC Kai Anderson/Reader

Warning - Smut, major lack of proof reading, slight allusion to domestic abuse?

Word Count - 2312

Summary - You’re back in town after a few years and Kai is more than happy to see you

A/N - so my last Kai writing was super popular so I thought I’d do another one (plus I’m v shook abt last nights episode and need to release some Kai). But ya, enjoy and request who/what you want me to write next!

“Winter, please. I really don’t have anywhere else to go. You know my parents, they won’t want-they won’t let me back!” You mumble into your phone.

“I know y/n, and honestly I’d love for you to stay but there’s just so much shit happening here at the mo-” Your high school best friend, Winter, goes quiet on the phone suddenly. “Hello? Winter? Has the line cut or something?” You say, worried that you’d just lost your last hope. You’d just broken up with your boyfriend, well, your now ex-boyfriend after months of wanting to, but being too scared to. You finally did it, but he kicked you out of your shared apartment and no you had no where to go. You turned to the first person you could think of, Winter. “No, no, it’s fine, I just - anyway, you can stay here, I don’t know why I was even thinking of turning you away! When are you getting here?”

You lived about an hour away from Winter’s, so you grabbed all the clothes and personal items you could while your ex was out, took your car and drove. It was slightly cathartic, driving along the highway, singing your favourite songs. It almost distracted you from the worry and stress of the breakup, of the months of shit you had put up with. You knew the way to Winter’s like the back of your hand. You used to visit her every weekend when you first moved away, but you grew apart a little when you went to college. When you arrived, the streets were eerily quiet. You remembered when kids would play out on their front lawns, whether it was beaming sunshine or pouring rain. ‘What is happening here?’ you asked yourself, while mentally preparing yourself to see your friend for the first time in about a year. You texted each other and called every now and then; you remember how upset she was on the phone on the night of the election.

“You can stay in my room for now. I’ll talk to Kai about getting you your own room. I’m sure he won’t mind.” Winter said with a smile, leading the all too familiar way to her room. It was strange. You hadn’t been here in years, but you still remembered everything about it. Winter made you feel at home, and you settled in quickly. You and Winter were sat on her bed, catching up, when you heard the front door slam. “That’ll be Kai. I’ll go tell him that you’re here now” she said, slinking out of room. You listened lightly to the faint words you could catch of their conversation. “Y/n’s here now, Kai. When are you gonna talk to her?”

“Send her down to me later tonight…” Their conversation became even more faint, you couldn’t even make out what they were saying. Kai sounded different. You hadn’t seen him for years. When you were a teenager, after hitting puberty, you remember him always checking you out when you’d go round to see Winter, and she always used to tease you about it, the two of you finding it hilarious that the guy you saw as your older brother was checking you out. You’d laugh, but secretly you loved it; you used to have the biggest crush on Kai, but looking back, it may have simply been because an older, more mature guy had taken an interest in you, instead of all the immature boys who oggled at you at school. You had all of these fond memories coming back to you, it made you excited to be back. In some respects, Winter and Kai were your family now.

You and Winter were in your pyjamas watching a film in the lounge, you wearing a huge black t-shirt of Kai’s that barely covered your ass that Winter had let you use, since in the rush to leave your apartment you forgot to pack any. You heard someone going down into the basement behind you. You turned to look, and as you did Winter spoke “Kai said he wanted to talk to you, y/n. You should go down to the basement and see him. He was super excited to know you’re back” she grinned, poking you in the ribs. You hit her shoulder playfully and hopped of the sofa and skipped downstairs ti the basement. You remembered coming down here when you and Winter were teenagers to drink spirits you stole from your parents cupboards and smoke weed you’d buy from the high school dealer.

“It looks better on you.” You heard a voice you instantly recognised as Kai’s from hearing him earlier say as you reached the bottom of the basement stairs. You went round the corner to see him sat on the sofa, legs crossed and hands in his lap, a smile plastered on his face. “Thanks” you say, a small smile playing on the corners of you mouth, giving him a little twirl like you were a little girl showing off her new dress. As you span, the shirt lifted up a little more, giving Kai a perfect view of your ass. He groaned internally. You were even more perfect than he remembered. “You look great y/n. How long has it been…three, four years now? God you were 18 when I last saw you”. Your smile dropped “Yeah…I missed you guys you know” you say, looking down at you hands suddenly feeling bad that you hadn’t visited as often as you’d have liked. “We missed you too y/n. We’re really happy to have you back, but don’t feel bad” he said, obviously picking up on you guilt. You decided to change the subject, not wanting this to be a sad moment. “So, blue hair now, huh? It never really was your colour” You say jokingly, winking at him. “Ah, y/n, ever the tease” he says, smiling. He gets up off the sofa and walks over to the wooden table and sits down at it. “Winter said you wanted to talk to me about something?” He beckoned you to join him at the table and almost like a magnet, you were drawn over to sit opposite. He held out his pinky, looking deep into your eyes, silently asking you to wrap yours around his. “Kai, we haven’t done this since we were kids…” you giggled. When you were kids, Kai would always interrogate you and Winter like this by making you pinky promise whenever you were upset about something and he wanted to find out why. He continued looking into your eyes. You rolled your eyes, chuckling lightly and took his pinky.

“Why are you back y/n?” He looked at you so hard, it felt like he could see directly into your soul. “I, um, I just wanted a fresh start I gue-” Kai cut you off “Don’t lie to me, y/n. You know I know when you’re lying.” He was right. There was no point lying to him. “I broke up with my boyfriend, I had nowhere else to go, Kai. You know me and my family don-” He cut you off again. “Was the sex good?” He deadpanned, his face as straight as an arrow. “Kai…Why are you asking me this? I don’t want to talk about him! You haven’t seen me for four years and you’re asking me about my sex life?” You retort, feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes, not wanting to think about your ex, especially like this. Thinking of your ex scared you. All you could see in your mind was the sheer anger on his face as you told him you were leaving, and years of putting up with his constant cruelty. “Did he fuck you well?” He asked, his grip on your pinky tightening. “Sometimes.” Kai let out what sounded like almost a low growl. “He didn’t deserve you, y/n. No one deserves you but me.” “What are you talking abo-”

The next thing you knew, Kai had lifted you up onto the table and was kissing you deeply, his large hands holding your waist while your legs instinctively clung around his torso. He ran his tongue along your bottom lip, begging you for entrance, which you quickly granted. You moaned into the kiss before realising what was going one and you then pulled away quickly. “What are you doing?” You say, looking up into his dark, lust-filled eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this for, do you, y/n? You have no clue how long I’ve wanted to fuck my sister’s hot friend for?” He growled. “Let’s see if I can fuck you better than your ex, shall we?” He said, before leaning forward and attacking your neck with his lips. Without thinking, you began grinding against his hard on, needing friction against your clothed cunt. This time, Kai pulled away, and you whined at the total loss of contact. “Stand up, y/n” he said gently. You swiftly hopped down from the table, looking up at Kai. He took a few steps backwards “You look so sexy in that shirt. Take it off” You did as you were told, his gravely voice sending more heat straight to your core. You pulled the t-shirt over your head, leaving you in your sheer, black lace bra and panties. “Fuck” he muttered to himself. His hard on had evidently grown by now, straining against his pants. He noticed you looking at this “you can help me in a minute sweetheart. Take those off first though.” You quickly tore off your bra and pulled your panties down and stepped out of them, and closer to a groaning Kai. You took another step forward and began palming him through his jeans with one hand, while using your other hand to toy with your clit, needed some kind of friction there. Kai pulled his shirt over his head as you snaked down onto your knees. This caused Kai to swiftly pull down his pants and boxers and step out of them as his hard cock sprung up against his stomach. You licked your lips and quickly took as much of him as you could in your mouth, pumping the rest of his length with your hand. You looked up at Kai to see him with his head thrown back and moaning your name. “You look so fucking hot with your mouth full of my dick y/n” he purred. This motivated you to take even more of his in your mouth. Kai grabbed the back of your head and began thrusting himself into your mouth. A few seconds later you felt his dick twitching inside your mouth, so you hollowed out your cheeks and bobbed on his cock harder. The next minute, he was moaning loudly as he filled your mouth with his cum. You swallowed all you could, but some of it trickled down your chin, and you pulled away from his cock and wiped away the dripping juices with the back of your hand.

“Such a good girl, y/n” He purred in your ear after pulling you up and backing you back against the table. You hopped back onto it and began grinding your naked cunt against his cock, your pussy practically dripping with anticipation. “Please Kai…” you plead. “Please what sweetheart? I can’t help unless you tell me what you want” He said huskily. “Fuck me, Kai, fill me up with your big cock” you purred. This caused Kai to moan loudly as his hands slipped down to your folds. One hand on your clit, the other hand making use of two fingers that quickly slid inside you. “So wet for me, sweetheart” he whispered. “Please Kai!” you begged, arching your back as he thrust his fingers deeper inside you. “As you wish, y/n”. He pulled his fingers out, but they quickly replaced with his cock as he thrust deep into you. With one of his hands rubbing your clit harshly and the other playing with your right nipple, you arms were struggling to hold you up, the pleasure rocking you to your core. “Fuck Kai, you feel so fucking good!” you moan as he thrusts in and out of you quickly. “You’re so. Fucking. Tight y/n” he growls, punctuating each word to match the rhythm of his thrusts.

You could feel your pussy clench around his throbbing cock as your arms give up on you and you fall against the tabletop, screaming Kai’s name as the pleasure of your orgasm washes over you. Kai carries on plowing into you, until a few seconds later you feel his cum shoot inside you. “Fuck y/n” he pants, still slowly thrusting into you as you both come down from your highs. You lay on the table for a minute while Kai gets dressed again. You get off the table and slip your clothes back on. After you finish dressing, Kai steps in front of you, placing his arms around your waist. “I’d better head back up to Winter” you say, looking up at him, smiling. He lets you go and you kiss him on the lips. “Thank you, Kai” you say as you skip off up the stairs. He can practically hear the grin on your face as you call back to him. “Thank you, y/n” he says to himself, smiling.

You slip back onto the sofa upstairs next to Winter. “What did Kai have to say?” she says, too focused on the movie she was watching in front of her to look at you. “Nothing much.” You say, glad that she didn’t look to see the huge grin on your face.

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yeoldontknow · 7 years

Text

Systems Of Touch

Author: @bread-jinie

Creative Content Contributors: @daegusoftboys (with beautiful, beautiful moodboards for the series)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (oc; female)

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: explicit sex; explicit language

Word Count: 9,746

ONE YEAR AGO

The conference was mandatory, a thing required for your degree and begrudgingly attended by all of your classmates. But you, however, found it to be a welcome reprieve from studying, exams, and your standard reclusive Friday night routine. You were awkward in your black cocktail dress, standing off to the side and nursing your champagne with slow, careful sips you hoped emulated elegance. People of importance moved around the room, intellectual conversations filtering through the air as you glanced from person to person; prayed that, as their wandering eyes found your lonely frame, even if for the briefest of moments, that they did not see you as an imposter.

Smooth jazz music drifted through the atmosphere, the museum’s main reception hall decorated to look like a Parisian cinematic utopia. Circular tables were evenly spaced apart, roses and lilies blooming from tall vases as centerpieces, and trays of food were carried delicately by men who looked experienced and comfortable carrying the weight.

Your eyes were drawn to the table cloths, Egyptian cotton and a high thread count giving them the appearance of silk. It’s impossible to know why they commanded your attention, especially in a room teeming with people you considered idols, though you assumed it was because they were expensive. You were surrounded by expensive, important things, and they only made you continuously straighten imaginary wrinkles on your dress, your university budget clearly out place in a room so grand.

‘I agree, the escargot is pretentious.’

A voice broke through your thoughts, musical in its nonchalance and melodic in tone. You turned your head, hoping to view its owner with a curious, quizzical brow, but instead found yourself speechless.

Casually leaning against a high table, Jung Hoseok stood beside you in a crisp, well tailored suit. Dapper in all the ways a person could idealize, he smiled politely at nothing and no one, standing out in the crowd with little effort at all. A waiter rushed by, shifting the air and allowing you to take in the scent of his cologne - musky, light, delicate in a surprising contradiction to the way he seemed to exude the aura of authority.

He turned to you, then, greeting you with a smile that made your heart clench and your chest burn. Everything about him, from his well kept hair to the fine polish of his shoes, was arresting, hypnotizing in its perfection. And you were the center of his focus.

‘I’m sorry?’ you breathed, a warm flush spreading to your cheeks at how infantile the words sounded.

‘The escargot,’ he repeated, pushing himself from the table to stand to his full height; taller than you still, even in your high heels. ‘It’s awful, isn’t it? I begged them not to have it, but Catherine insisted.’

You blinked, bewildered by this conversation. ‘I haven’t tried it,’ you said, honestly.

‘Good!’ he exclaimed with a chuckle. ‘I promise you’re not missing anything.’

There was an ease to his conversation, a comfort in his voice, that made you feel confident, assured in a way you hadn't been for so long. You reveled in it, were glad for the connection, but still couldn't understand why he had decided to talk with you this way. Talk with you as if he had known you for ages, dropping you in the middle of a conversation a different you was having somewhere in a parallel universe.

Talking as though he had done nothing all his life except wait to be there, next to you, sharing a few precious words.

‘Sorry,' you said, adjusting your posture and shaking your head slightly. 'I don’t believe we’ve met?’

He beamed at you, blinding your eyes and your soul with beauty you thought unnatural. ‘We haven’t, but that’s why I brought up the escargot. So we could.’

You admired his confidence, his self assured grin and the glint in his eyes that said he knew you wanted to talk with him, too. He knew you wanted to talk with him, and so he would keep you there, basking in his presence, at the length of his leisure. Normally, this would irritate you, the overconfidence of men becoming arrogant and aggressive, and making your temples ache with frustration. On him, it merely seemed friendly and warm, born from mutual boredom and support; seeing you alone, he decided to make you comfortable.

‘You’re very forward,' you giggled.

‘No, I’m Jung Hoseok.’ Moving his drink to his left hand, he extended his right to shake yours. You took it cautiously, still surprised but, smiling nonetheless.

‘I know who you are.’

This caught his attention, intrigue sparking a glint in his eyes you found thrilling. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I’ve read several of your books. Particularly Filmic Bodies and the Senses.’

In the school of haptic senses, no other voices were as important, or profoundly forward thinking, as Laura Marks and Jung Hoseok. Operating in the same school of thought, their published literature seemed to be part of an ongoing dialogue between just them, a call and response regarding film bodies, bodily memory, and the abject systems of touch along the skin and screen. One could not be read without the other, and both were leaders of the movement.

‘Oh no,' he groaned, 'you’re not going to quote me back to me are you?’

Adamantly, you shook your head. Few things seemed as appalling to you as quoting theory back to the person who wrote and argued it. Not that you would misquote, no. You had read his books countless times, pouring over his words as though they were a film bible - and, in some ways, they were. You're sure that, even if the school had merged with the Museum of the Moving Image, his books would still be considered required reading for your courses.

Required reading and enjoyable, masterpieces, even, but still you found room for dissent in all his theories. He was brilliant, yes, but so were the masters upon which he had deemed to follow.

And so, it wasn't that you wanted to quote his words back to him, it was simply you didn't know how to be anything other than honest in your critique of his writing.

‘No, I enjoyed the book...but…’

Your words died in your throat, the fear of being inappropriate turning your neck cold. In protest to speech, your brought your drink up to your lips to sip your champagne, hoping you could play your silence off as mere thirst.

Hoseok remained fixated, eyes trained and hungry you sipped, his lips pulled into an interested smirk.

‘Go on,' he pressed.

Dropping your eyes to the floor, you sighed, choosing to study the pattern in the carpet rather than the glow of light on his cheeks. ‘No, we’ve only just met. I’m sorry.’

You didn't mean to sound so timid, so mild in your temperament, but you truly couldn't fathom anything more impolite than the conversation he wanted you to have.

‘Stop apologizing. I want you to continue. It’s refreshing.’

In these sentiments, he was firm. The authoritative tone in his voice brought your eyes back to his swiftly, sending a hot spark down to your core as you took in his hard stare. You hadn't expected a man with such a bright disposition to sound so strong or demanding in his nature.

Already, your body and will were bending to his desires. He wanted you to continue and there was little you could do beyond obey his command.

‘You talk quite in depth about epistemology,' you began, voice confident and unwavering, because he willed it to be so, 'but you seemed to exclude Henri Bergson from your arguments. It was almost as though you forgot that he inaugurated the idea of bodily memory.’

Hoseok seemed to brighten at this, almost glad for the debate. ‘On the contrary,' he said, crossing his arms in interest. 'I think he devalued it and therefore had little reason to be in the book.’

‘I don’t disagree that he underestimated the sensuous power of embodied memory,’ you conceded, ‘but it’s very difficult to discuss filmic bodies without acknowledging the actualization of haptic senses.’

And then he did it. For you and only you, he offered you a smile that was both wide and mesmerizing. You thought it was like ascending dawn. You thought it was like kissing the sun. You thought it was like coming home.

‘Tell me why,' came his simple question, and, in that moment, you had never wanted to do anything more than please him.

‘There’s two types of memory, correct?' you began, excitedly holding up two figures to showcase your point. 'He argues this firmly: memory images and modifications of the body; action and habitual repetition. The only reason we can argue the theory of haptic sensuality is because, through actions, our body learns the sensations. Thus, habitual repetition brings these responses forth subconsciously.’

‘Are you purposely ignoring that Bergson undermined impulsive memory in favor of selective memory?’

The question was phrased with an aggression you imagine that, if found on any other man, any other professor, would have sent your spirit retreating back into its shell, but on Hoseok it came out simply as a playful jest. He was testing you, pushing your thoughts to their limit, and willing you to match him in every sense of the word.

And you, hooked and addicted to the sight of his smile and the feel of his praises, were powerless to disappoint him.

‘Are you purposely choosing to circumvent mimetic knowledge to avoid the value of habitual memory?’

Arguing with him, just like this, felt liberating and thrilling. Something about the way he looked at you made you feel confident and fierce in your arguments, as though he were supporting you, daring you to tear his work down. Truthfully, you had no pretenses about his person, had never met anyone who talked in depth with him, but you certainly were surprised to find him so eager to prise into your mind. You were sure that was what he was doing, opening your mind and forcing you to engage. Educating, without ever having to to do the work.

He was quiet for a while after you spoke, regarding you with a somewhat playful expression, his features relaxed and impressed in a way that made you think he was admiring you. You found yourself pleased by this, glad that he had found your thoughts and opinion so captivating.

‘Are you published?’ he asked eventually, looking at you through downcast eyelashes as he sipped his own drink. Bourbon, you guessed, only just noticing the way the colour in the glass made his skin look tanned.

His question, intended as a compliment, was unexpected and made your eyes grow wide. ‘Me? No. One day, hopefully.’

‘I find that hard to believe,’ he said, smoothly. ‘You not being published, that is.’

‘I’m still a student.’

Something about your words startled him, made his body rear back from you slightly with a furrowed brow. Instantly, you understood he thought you’d meant undergraduate.

‘Graduate student,’ you said quickly, shaking your hand as if to forcibly clear away any misconception. ‘I just started my MA. I am hoping that my thesis will be good enough to get published, though.’

This seemed to appease him, and his body returned to you slowly, angling itself towards you simply to be close.

‘What will your topic be on?’ he asked, studying the way your body seemed to sway as he spoke.

A dreamy expression crossed your features, eyes surely going distant as you thought on your thesis.

‘Memory.’

You hadn’t meant for the statement to come out breathless or inherently passionate, it was just that you truly did adore your proposed research topic. Talent was never a thing you assumed you possessed, all your skills in life coming with forced effort and the results being mediocre at best. But research and writing, film theory and all the glorious avenues that encompassed it, that was where your heart lived and died.

With a delightful roll of his eyes, Hoseok chuckled. ‘Of course it is.’

The sound of his amusement was infectious, and so you joined, warmth blooming in your chest. ‘Not haptics. Prosthetic memory.’

Hoseok cocked his head to the side. ‘I don’t believe I’m familiar.’

‘It’s the idea that mass communication and culture have made it possible so that we all share collective memories,’ you explained, gesticulating carefully so as not to spill your drink.

He leaned closer to you, turning his chest towards you to give you his undivided attention and displaying keen interest. With this new closeness, you could see the way the tendons of his neck extended down to his exposed collarbone, his shirt unbuttoned enough to be casual while still retaining the air of professionalism.

‘I’d like to connect that to music and nostalgia in some way,’ you continued quickly, not allowing yourself to become distracted. ‘You know, how soundtracks in retro films present us with memories and associations we might not have lived, but still feel nostalgic for.’

As you finished, you realized Hoseok hadn’t spoken or inquired further into your topic. His gaze remained trained on you, unreadable and placid, and while you didn’t feel uncomfortable or insecure about your topic, something about the way he looked at you made you feel vulnerable, naked.

‘It’s all very loose at the moment. I’ve not written it yet,’ you said airily, trying to break the tension.

He watched you for a while, perhaps trying to see if you would shrink away from your argument or ask his opinion. Testing you in a subtle way, a silent way that forced you into a space of ownership, for both your voice and your ideas. And when you didn't budge, when you matched his silence with a soft, complacent stare that tested him too, he spoke.

‘I’m excited to read it when it’s complete.’

For a moment, you thought he was speaking in jest, but he stared at you in earnest and, slowly, like water gliding down the skin, you realized he was serious.

‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’

‘I’m an avid reader,’ he said, expression sly and mischievous. He lifted his glass to his lips as he spoke, and you found the way his mouth formed words to be bewitching. ‘So where are you getting your MA?’

‘Bangtan University,’ you said, eyes still trained on his lips, his cheeks, his skin. You were shamelessly drinking him, letting yourself get drunk on the sight of him, and you hoped he couldn’t tell.

At this, Hoseok choked back into his glass, coughing and sputtering as he struggled to take in breath.

‘Are you ok?’ you asked, frantically rushing over to pat his back.

‘Yeah,’ he said with a wheeze, shifting away from your hand, ‘just swallowed wrong.’

Not entirely convinced, you watched him for several seconds waiting to see if another coughing fit would overtake him. He straightened his posture, settling back into professionalism as he gathered himself.

‘So Bangtan U, huh?’

It was impossible to not notice the slight disappointment that tinged his words.

‘It’s why I’m here,’ you shrugged. ‘Your museum merged with the school this year, you should have at least expected some of your students to be here.’

‘I expect them to be here, but I don’t expect them to argue with me like a colleague.’

Once again, his focus on you was firm as he said this, as if probing you for a reaction. The words washed over you, made pieces of you drip with an unfamiliar longing, and you felt yourself bristle. Not with alarm, but with desire.

‘I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,’ he stated, noticing the slight change in your body language. You stepped closer to him then, wanting to be as near to him as possible. ‘I just mean I’m impressed.’

‘Thank you.’ Your words were soft, almost delicate as you found the proximity to him somewhat intimate. ‘And why aren’t you arguing with your colleagues?’

He peered at you through a side long glance, eyelashes downcast and lips slightly parted. In that moment, it would have been so easy to lean up and press your lips against his, to taste and touch and feel, but you kept yourself still. You kept yourself still and you waited for him to speak.

‘Because I quite like the view from where I’m standing.’

Throughout the remainder of the evening, he stayed by your side. With a hand pressed gently to the small of your back, he lead you around the room, introduced you to colleagues and guests with confident, easy laughter. Not once did he mention you were a student. Not once did give any inclination that you had no business being in his inner circle. He wanted you there, by his side, talking with people on his level because he felt you deserved it and because he knew that you would keep up, with both honest and original ideas.

Throughout the remainder of the evening, you could smell him on the air. Every turn of a chiffon dress or swift pass of a waiter sent the breeze wafting into your open mouth. For him, you were wet. For him, you were aching. For him, you were surrendering every sense of propriety just to keep him near, beside, and within you for as long as possible.

When the night came to a close, he walked you to your car with the same care he had given you during the event: touch poised to guide and cling to you, unprepared and not yet ready to break away from you.

As you reached your car, a slight panic began to rise in your chest. This, you knew, was something that could never happen again. You would speak to Hoseok, likely even study beneath him, but never would you be this close to him, and likely would never be viewed as his equal again.

But then, Hoseok surprised you with conversation at the start of the gala, and so he chose to again at the end.

Pulling his hand from your back as you reached into your purse for your keys, he lingered beside you for a moment too long. No longer touching you, the proximity was unnecessary, but still he didn’t move away.

‘If you weren’t a student, this is where I’d ask for your number.’

His words made your breath catch in your lungs. Turning to look at him, you found him unguarded and shy, young, in the way he looked at you. Suddenly, he was no longer a professor or curator, he was a man, he was interested, and he was enraptured entirely and only by you.

‘I’d still give it to you. You just need to ask.’ Your voice was quiet, close to a whisper, but unwavering in its honesty.

And so he moved closer to you, brought his face inches from yours to share your breath - possess you without ever lifting his hand.

‘If you weren’t a student, this is where I’d kiss you.’

Waves of his voice and breath cascaded over your skin, covering you in the totality of him. His lips were close to grazing yours as he spoke, and you felt wetness pool in your satin underwear at the denied contact.

‘I’d still let you,’ you said, speaking if only to feel the warmth from his skin pour into your open, waiting mouth. Hands itching to reach for him, you stepped closer, letting the tip of your nose brush against his. ‘You just need to ask.’

He closed eyes fluttered shut as he attempted to maintain his composure, and you watched as he swallowed hard, body immobile and hands pressed tightly to his sides. Still as he was, you could feel desire looming between you, turning the air thick and tepid with lust.

‘I fear we both may go home unsatisfied this evening,’ he spoke finally, eyes still closed and voice taut.

Hundreds of thoughts flashed through your mind. Thoughts of his hands on your skin, hot flesh pressing and arching into his palms; bringing him close, keeping him near, letting his fingers chart you as a map. Thoughts of his tongue, in your mouth, in your pussy, on your neck, made your thighs quiver, but somewhere in the back of your mind, a stronger part of you remembered the risk.

This could not happen.

This had to end.

And so, with unsteady feet, you removed yourself from the glow of your mutual wanting, and forced your back against your car to create distance.

‘On the contrary,’ you said, honestly, yet somewhat regretful. ‘I think tonight may have been one of the best to date.’

TODAY

Hoseok doesn’t know you’re staring at him. Rather, he probably does, but is choosing to ignore it.

After your first meeting, you were convinced would never see him again, not like that. Yes, there was every possibility he would teach one of your modules and, yes, you would pass him in halls, circulating around his orbit like a hungry, desperate moon, but never again would he pull you to him. Never again would he pull you and keep you, support you, and speak to you as more than just a thing to be taught and nurtured. Speak to you as though you were his equal.

And so you distanced yourself from him, chose to avoid all his modules and to turn another corner if you saw him approaching you, sometimes near and sometimes at a distance. Truthfully, this wasn’t hard. Your eyes were always searching for him, scanning every room and every open space for a glimpse of his hair, his skin, his smile. Always, you found him. Always, you pushed yourself away.

Until he purposely started bringing coffee to your shifts at the film archive. Until he purposely walked beside you, close enough to sense him but far enough to not feel him, and instead making you wish for him along your skin. Until he purposely started making sure you would feel him everywhere you could not, longing and aching for him when you could see him, but not have him.

Until purposely started telling you he wanted you just as much.

‘I will not have you,’ he said one day, hand ghosting over your jaw, your neck, your soul. ‘Not until I am free to make you feel me. All of me.’

Hoseok took to the habit of cornering you in quiet rooms as well as you took to arching into his nonexistent hold. For months, you would find yourself in the stacks of the archive or sitting in the back row of screenings, next to him and near him, beside him and in awe of him, willing your skin to touch.

But it never did.

He promised he would not have you and he meant it, ensuring that no matter how close you were to his body, or how desperately you ached to be held by him, he would not ever let you feel him until you were free.

Free meant no longer a student.

Free meant no longer a risk.

Free meant after the completion of your internship.

Truthfully, it was his idea to have you intern for the film festival. Truthfully, it was both a blessing and a curse. Your role as the festival coordinator meant you worked closely with him and his team, meant that your days were not only spent learning the ins and outs of festival planning, but also meant your days were spent learning him.

You learned he took his coffee black with two sugars. You learned he had a fluffy cat named Dolce, after La Dolce Vita. You learned his favourite film was Wings of Desire. You learned he spoke three languages fluently. You learned that French on him sounded better than on anyone else.

You learned you were falling in love.

Today, you are learning the curve of his ass as he leans over the desk of the film library reception. Today, you are learning that he makes everyone feel like the most important person in the room when he speaks to them, focusing the whole of his attention them with amicable concern and soft eyes. Today, you are learning that he is both gravity and a magnet, and there is nothing you can do to keep yourself away from him.

‘Are you listening to me?’

Catherine’s sharp voice interrupts your thoughts, your attention immediately brought back to the prim blonde woman to your right. She sits at the large table beside you, lips pressed in a thin line as she taps her pen against her notebook, impatient in its speed.

‘Yes, sorry,’ you say, looking at your scrawled notes and struggling to make sense of the half-formed, unfocused letters. ‘What were the codes for the screener copies?’

The words come as a rush, your tongue pushing them together in an effort to make them sound educated and meaningful. Instead, Catherine adjusts the glasses on the bridge of her nose with a scowl.

‘There are no codes,’ she says, sternly and with a displeased huff. ‘You need to compress the screener copies with the subtitle files and match the timestamps. You truly weren’t listening, were you?’

‘I was! I just haven’t had much sleep lately, and this is a lot to take in.’

Shifting in her chair, she moves to face you properly, crossing one leg over the other in preparation to scold you.

‘The museum has run this film festival every year for over a decade,’ she says slowly, as though this concept is hard for you to comprehend. She peers over her glasses at you, suddenly matronly in her demeanor. ‘And every year, it has run smoothly. Can I trust you to ensure this year isn’t...a disaster?’

‘Of course you can trust her.’

Hoseok slides into the seat across from you, reclining against the back with a wink and a smirk that tells you he’s felt your eyes on him. He’s felt you, and he’s appreciated every single moment your eyes lingered on his body.

‘Forgive me, Dr. Jung,’ Catherine says, immobile and still regarding you as though you are an ill behaved child. ‘But as you were the one who vouched for her to take this position, I struggle to feel relief at your affirmation of her talents.’

Feeling small beneath Catherine’s judgemental, intense stare, you start gathering your things and rise to stand. You delicately reach one hand over to Catherine’s side of the table, dragging the screener DVD and flash drive that rests atop it to yours. Doing so makes your skin start to crawl, and you know it’s because Hoseok is intently watching this piece of exposed, extended flesh. He’s feasting on it, imagining this hand on his thighs, on his dick, and in his hair, and the sensation sends your body into overdrive.

Refusing to look at either of them, you keep your gaze low and demure.

‘I’ll just go up to the lab and compress these,’ you murmur, placing everything in your bag in a slightly disorganized fashion. You are eager to be away from her, and certainly away from Hoseok. ‘It shouldn’t take more than an hour.’

The walk to the film lab takes you through a long hallway you like to call Memorabilia Row. Along the walls, vintage film posters, props, and costumes are hung in glasses cases. Normally, you find this hall a welcome, pleasant distraction. Today, you find it impossible to think on anything other than the fact Hoseok is following you.

You can feel him behind you as you walk, several feet away but his gaze is trained on you. No matter the distance, you always feel him, crawling down your back like syrup, making you feel whole, and warm, and swollen with desire. Even as you walk several feet ahead, wetness pools between your thighs just at the very notion of his presence, your body wilting beneath the command of his eyes.

You’re hardly though the door of the lab, thankfully empty and thankfully tucked away in a quiet corner of the museum, when he rounds on you. Everything about your encounter is a mime, his hands hovering above your hips as he walks you back, lips parted and eyes trained on the crook of your neck, towards one of the large computer desks. You don’t make to sit on it, instead choosing to torture him the way he does you.

Leaning your face up into his, you simply breathe together for a moment, bathing in the sensation of warmth that spreads between you. Like this, you keep your eyes wide and open, looking right through to the heart of Hoseok as his hands move along the edges of your body. As if he’s smoothing you, making you soft. As if he’s molding you to match his shape, without ever forcing you to bend.

Truthfully, he doesn’t need to move along your skin for you to feel him. At such close proximity, you feel the waves of heat from his palms, his breath, his heart wash over you and pull you under. He means for you to drown in him, means for you to be totally awash with him and his soul, and you are letting yourself capsize beneath the weight of your devotion.

‘I wish you would touch me,’ you finally whisper, speech rising through the air and resting on the skin of his cheek. You watch with pride as this simple action makes his eyelids flutter for a moment.

When he finally regards you fully, you see his pupils are blown wide - hungry and dark.

‘I do touch you,’ he replies in a similar whisper, hands moving to hover above your waist. ‘Every time I look at you, my eyes graze over your body and feel what my skin cannot.’

Bringing your arms to linger above and around his neck, you find yourself whining. ‘Please, just touch me.’

He moves closer, yet still does not let you feel him. Nerves along your body are screaming to arch up into him, to feel him. What you would give to feel his hips grind and roll into you. What you would give to drag his lips to yours, the feeling likely explosive and lethal.

‘You know that I won’t.’

Making to nuzzle into your neck, you feel him take a deep inhale of your scent and exhale lowly through his mouth. Wet heat from his mouth glides down the side of your neck and you cock your head back, hands balling into fists and wishing they could cling to his shirt. With more of your neck exposed to him, he moves towards the center of your throat, simply breathing you in. It’s enough to have you trembling.

‘It’s only ten days,’ you say, voice tight and choked. ‘And we’re alone. No one will know.’

‘I have told you before.’ The deep rasp of his voice vibrates along your skin, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. ‘I will only touch you when I can make sure you feel all of me. I want you feel every inch of my love.’

It takes you a moment to realize you are shivering at the nearness of him. Part of you feels like you could cry. Part of you feels like you could scream, frustrated with the knowledge that it would be so easy to reach for him, pull him up and into you. He’d fight you, briefly and weakly, but you know you’d melt into each other, erupt in a way you think would be magnificent and refreshing.

But you don’t. Part of you hates this, but all of you loves it. You love it, and you know it has to be this way. It’s the only way this could ever truly work.

All at once, Hoseok lowers himself, hands and face sliding down from your neck to your breasts and to the apex of your thighs. You reach behind your back, clutching the desk with white knuckles and a bit lip. You hear him take a large inhale of breath, perhaps trying to osmose the scene of your desire, your wetness, through the fabric of your jeans, and you hear him release a deep exhale.

It’s easy to imagine it: jeans gone and his tongue lapping eagerly at your clit; jeans gone and fingers pressed deeply inside you, stretching you, claiming you.

‘Do you feel me here, even though I’ve never been?’

His voice brings you back to reality, and you tilt your head down to see him. On his knees, he looks up at you with dark eyes, face so close to the place you want his tongue the most, and it makes your hands take a harder grip on the desk. Wet with wanting, soaking your underwear and dripping if you were naked, you look at him like this. He wants you too, his body swaying minutely in his position, as if his body is rotating on an axis that wants nothing more than to merge with your own.

‘I feel you everywhere,’ you sigh, words and tone unsteady with the force of your desire.

Hoseok brings his face closer to your pussy, nose almost touching the hem of your jeans. You’re sure you’re soaking through to the denim.

‘Tell me how you feel me,’ he demands, voice hoarse.

‘If I think on you, my hands become yours.’ Moving your hands from the desk, you let them hover of the crown of his head, imagine carding your fingers through the strands of his hair. Imagine your body awash with him. ‘You are rough and warm, filling me completely and easily. It’s like you’ve already learned my body, adapted to me. You pull me apart only to bring me back together again.’

At this, he rises to his feet. He moves on hand to mime a cradled hold of your cheek, mouth lingering just above yours. He’s trembling too, and it takes all your willpower not to reach for him, to comfort him, and cling to him.

‘I am tired of having my own arms around me.’

Beneath the shattering of your will comes forth the only thing that helps you focus. A game he had created to talk to you in secret, a way for him to tell you every forbidden thought and desire he has without every truly saying it came from his lips, his heart. Often, he will speak to you in film quotes. Often, the person who has the last word is the winner, the one who gets one request at the end. Never does he touch you but he will whisper things to you, close and into your ear, that will keep you burning for him until the game starts again.

Hoseok chuckles at your commencement of the game, and you can feel moisture in the air as he licks his lips to speak.

‘Don’t let’s ask for the moon. We have the stars.’

‘I love you,’ you whisper, carefully leaning up to let your voice dance along the shell of his ear. ‘It’s no use pretending it hasn’t happened, because it has.’

Something in Hoseok seems to break at this, a high pitched whine tumbling from his chest as he leans slightly over you to press his fists into the desk. Not having you, not having every part of you, is slowly wearing him down.

‘What do you want?’ he asks with a soft, almost sad moan. He’s breaking, but his dedication to the game is unyielding. ‘The moon? Say the word. I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.’

Turning to face him, you almost take pity on him. His jaw is clenched, and tight, eyes closed as he struggles to keep his composure. You are breaking him and he reminds you of a phoenix, something that dissolves beneath its own flame only to rise again.

‘So often, are you as a blazing torch with flames,’ you begin, running a hand down his side to linger over his hips. You know he can feel you, his longing sigh giving everything away.

‘Or will the ashes hold the glory of a starlike diamond,’ he finishes, eyes still closed but body swaying closer to you.

In one simple Brief Encounter quote, you told him the truth, the truth he’s known for months, possibly even a whole year, and it’s pulling him apart. You words have ripped him wide open, and now you think it’s time to deliver the final blow.

Letting your mouth hover just out of reach from his ear, you whisper. ‘It happened once. It happened once, and so it will be forever.’

Hoseok turns to look at you, something inside him crumbling as his eyes soften into pools of black lust. It was cruel of you, you think, to use his favourite film against him, but you are needy and tired of games, and your nerves are frayed near to numbness. Few things matter to you as much as having him, however you possibly can, and if winning him like this is the only way to gain dominion over his incomprehensible self-control, then so be it.

‘That’s unfair,’ he whines, sounding boyish and fraught with yearning.

He leans into your neck, smelling your hair and your skin, and your eyes roll back into your head.

‘You have to let me win sometimes.’

‘Sometimes,’ he whispers into your flesh, ‘but not like that. Not when I want to have you so badly.’

Once more, your find your hands balling into fists, trying desperately not to pull his hips to yours by his belt loops. ‘So let yourself have me.’

‘Ten days. In ten days, I will make it so you never have anyone but me ever again.’

With this, he pushes himself from you, pulling himself and the air of desire he’d created around you with him. And you, confused by his abrupt departure, nearly crumple to the floor beneath the force of your love.

On the night of the opening film gala, it is threatening to snow. Grey clouds roll in over the night sky, sending a chill blowing through the air that makes the hair on your arms stand on end. Greeting guests as they arrive, you pull the shawl around your shoulders just a little bit tighter, burrowing into the warmth as best you can. This effort, you think, is unnecessary because your eyes soon land on Hoseok.

Once more, he is in a well tailored suit, this one different from the first time you met him. Where before, his clothes were a neatly pressed black, tonight they are navy blue and tonight, they cling to him in a way you think they were created for his body alone. Every piece of him is accentuated, from the long line of his legs to his hips, to the way the jacket seems to hug the muscles of his arms, giving you a slight tease of white lies beneath.

A moment ago, you were cold, and now you are flooded with heat.

Just the sight of him this way, unguarded as he talks with the opening night director, makes you feel as though you are drowning with want. Filled with anticipation, you shiver, knowing this is the beginning of the end. Your internship is coming to a close and with it your degree, your thesis turned in and your credits already left to the hands of the faculty. This is the last piece of your educational puzzle, and this is one of the last nights you will go to sleep wishing for his touch before the caress of his palms becomes real, tangible. After one year of pining away between your cold sheets, suddenly you are flushed and wet and pushing your imagination to its limit, already envisioning his body pressed tightly against yours.

As if sensing your thoughts, Hoseok turns his gaze to you and you take in a long, deep inhale of breath as you drink him in. He softens his expression to the one he reserves just for you: a brilliant smile with a slight pout to his lips and warm eyes that make you think of chocolate and wine, smooth things that was over your senses with sensuality, intensity, and lust.

Moving through the crowd by the entrance, he keeps his focus trained on you as he approaches, making your heart beat faster the closer he gets. When he reaches you, he stands beside you, enough to send your skin calling out for him, enough to want him, but not enough to truly feel him. You become a wonton thing, aching just for the feel of his fabric against your skin, craving even just this small reprieve to ease your frayed nerves. But he denies you even this.

‘You look beautiful tonight,’ he says to the open air, not turning to look at you.

He does not look at you and so you do not look at him, mirroring his body language by sheer force of will. ‘I know what you’re doing.’

‘What am I doing?’

‘Standing so close to me to see if I’ll break.’ You pause to nod politely to a guest as he walks by, escorting his wife. ‘Testing me. Like you always do.’

‘On the contrary,’ he states, plainly.

Frustrated, you turn to face him then, all at once wishing you hadn’t. He’s beautiful, handsome in a way you find human, flawed, and indescribably yours. Looking at him makes your heart stop. Looking at him makes your heart break. Looking at him makes your voice suddenly weak.

‘Then why are you standing so close to me like this? In public?’

Hoseok takes in a single, shaking inhale of breath before he speaks. Somehow, he manages to keep his voice stable. ‘Because I can’t keep myself away from you.’

‘If I touch your fingers no one would notice.’ You don’t know why you say it, or even why you say it so quickly.

Really, you think it’s because you’re at the end of your rope, needing nothing more than to feel something from him. For one year, you’ve clung to the sensation of his hand on your back, and you’ve questioned why it was okay for one night and one night only. Of course, you know the answer to this. Of course, you know it has to be this way, but it doesn’t make it easier.

‘I would,’ he whispers, voice suddenly dry.

‘That’s the point,’ you tease.

‘I would notice, and it wouldn’t be enough.’

‘Look at me,’ you plead, voice little more than a murmur of breath.

Hoseok looks down at his shoes, pulls his lip between his teeth and shakes his head. ‘I can’t.’

‘Look at me, please,’ you demand, suddenly frazzled and begging. ‘We’ll be busy all night, I want to look at you.’

When he turns to look at you, finally, you almost stumble back at the expression on his face. Trapped in a state of indescribable longing, he is withering and wilting beneath his love for you. Painted all over his features are lines that scream for your touch, beg for your hands in his. For a moment, you are sad because you know this is how you look too, and you think it’s silly you’ve gone this long torturing each other. For a moment, you are glad because you know this is how you look, and now you know he’s breaking, too.

‘You know what’s happened, don’t you?’ he murmurs, chest heaving in a way that makes you think his heart is racing.

You know what has happened, of course you do. You won the last game with his favourite film, and now he’s trying to win this one with yours. Of course, you know the quote and of course you know how it ends.

“You know what’s happened, don’t you? I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You know how it ends, and now you think it’s your turn to be strong. If not for yourself, then for him.

‘I’ll see you after the screening,’ you say, suddenly confident in your love and lust.

Turning from him then, you walk into the festival hall without looking back.

For several hours, you don’t see Hoseok, and for this you are glad. Too busy to be distracted, you work through the evening with a joy that is born from finding your passion. Stressful as planning the evening has been, you think you could happily do this for a living. Counting tickets, arranging the caterer, creating itineraries for special guests and coordinating their travel, the evening runs smoothly all because of your skills and organized preparation. You don’t see Hoseok for several hours, and that is why you happily break away from the chaos for a few minutes, giving yourself some peace.

Hiding in the projection room, you watch the final reel spin. It was Catherine’s idea to have the opening film on 35mm, something special, unique, and exciting. You’d argued against it at first, saying it was too expensive to acquire and that the budget had room for it, but would have to make cuts elsewhere. Catherine, however, insisted, and now you find yourself in agreement. Last year, she advocated for escargot which neither you nor Hoseok appreciated. This year, she’s given the audience a night they will remember.

The door to the projection room opens, light from the hall spilling in slightly and making you turn your head to see your new companion. You don’t need to see him clearly to know who it is.

Hoseok stands tall, back pressed against the door and hands at his sides as he looks at you. Arms crossed over your chest, you fix him a small smile and watch the way the flashing light from the projector makes him look like a youthful mirage.

‘What are you doing?’ you whisper, hoping not to disturb the sanctity of the cinema.

‘Touching you,’ is his simple reply.

Cocking your head to the side, you giggle, knowing he means with his eyes. Every time he looks at you, he says, he touches you with the whole of his heart.

‘Two more days.’ The words sound sad, and perhaps, in a way, they are. Two days will move quickly, but still you want him more than you think humanly possible.

‘Fuck two more days.’

Hoseok pushes himself from the door and stalks towards you with sure, long strides. He reaches you quickly, pulling your face to his and crushing your lips together. Wildfire spreads along your body, making your skin burn beneath his touch and your fingers tremble with adrenaline. A moan breaks from your lips, and he swallows it whole, tongue coming to sweep along your bottom lip in the process.

After so long of not feeling him, he is everywhere all at once and you are melting into his arms. One hand snakes around your waist, pulling your hips against his to feel his hardness, as yours slither into his hair and fist the strands. His hips grind teasingly into yours, arching you back with a deep moan as your tongues connect and fight for dominance.

You break away from him to catch your breath, and he takes this opportunity to bury his face in your neck.

‘Fuck,’ he moans, voiced muffled by your skin. His mouth latches onto your pulse point, where he eagerly sucks and laps, before biting down hard.

‘Ho-Hoseok,’ you moan, dragging your hands down his back to pull him closer, hands gripping at his shoulder blades to keep yourself grounded.

‘I don’t care,’ he mutters against your skin, teeth and tongue all getting their fill of you. ‘I don’t care who sees, I just want you so badly it hurts.’

As if to prove his point, he grinds himself against you, making you feel the intensity of his need. He’s hard, solid and firm against your hip, and you reach a hand between your bodies to cup him. A low his tumbles from his lips, his head dropping to your shoulder at the contact. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation of your fingers, and you smile with a devilish sort of pride that this moment belongs only to you.

‘Think of how long you could have had this,’ you say, rubbing him gently through his trousers.

‘Don’t fucking tease,’ he whines, hands moving to your hips to slide down and back, cupping your ass and rocking against you with purpose.

Your head tips back as pleasure courses through your body, your center wet and aching with need for him.

‘Now who’s the fucking tease?’ You drag his face back up to yours to capture his lips, and his teeth nibble at your lip, tugging on it briefly before licking against your tongue.

His hand moves between you, pulling up the skirt of your dress to run a finger along your inner thigh. Parting your legs with his knee, he moves his hand up to your underwear, and he growls, breaking away from your lips to look at you with blown pupils and red lips.

‘You’re so fucking wet.’

Moving your underwear to the side, he drags a runs a finger against your folds, and moans at the feel of you already dripping for him. His hand is colder than your core, and your tremble in his arms with a needy sigh. Pulling his finger from you, he watches you intently as he slides his finger into his mouth and sucks. Eyes rolling back in his head, he smiles at the taste, and you find your synapses going into overdrive. The sight of his pleasure and the feel of your dress sliding back down your skin suddenly too much to bear.

‘So fucking sweet,’ he murmurs to no one but himself. ‘I’m going to fuck you right there, against that wall.’

You barely have time to process what he means before he’s guiding you back, one arm out stretched to catch the wall and press you against it with his hips. He cages you then, arms on either side of you and gaze hungry for your flesh. Tonight, you are his feast, and tonight, you are both hungry. Tonight, you want to devour him and be devoured whole.

Not allowing yourself to feel shy beneath his intense stare, your move your hands to his belt and begin working at the metal.

‘Tell me how you want me,’ you breathe, undoing his trousers and reaching your hand beneath the fabric to grasp him firmly.

He hisses, hanging his head with a slack jaw as you work over him in strong tugs, twisting your hand against his cock.

‘Tell me how you want me,’ you repeat, nudging his face back to yours with your nose. Breathing him in, you gasp at the heady scent of his sweat and cologne. ‘I’ll be good for you, I swear.’

This seems to move him to action. Moving his hands from the wall, he brings them to your waist and spins you, crushing himself against your back and latching his mouth onto your neck. Immediately, you bring a hand down to your dress, lifting the fabric and seeking out your clit, as your other covers his hand at your right hip.

‘Already so needy for me, baby?’ he says, watching the way you seek your own pleasure. ‘I haven’t even put my dick in you and already you’re aching to come?’

He drags his mouth up to your ear and sucks hard on the lobe, pulling the flesh between his teeth with a low chuckle. You’re shaking in his arms, fingers dancing over your clit and ass grinding back into him in desperation.

‘Hoseok, please,’ you cry.

‘Please what, baby?’

‘Fuck me,’ you moan, ‘please, just fuck me.’

‘Spread your legs wide for me, baby,’ he demands, removing his hands from your body.

Without his hold on you, you feel empty and incomplete, whining like a child at the loss, but you do as he says anyway. Behind you, you hear him tear open something akin to foil, and you know this to be a condom.

‘Prepared, were you?’ you tease, turning to look over your shoulder at him.

‘I never carried a condom in my pocket - ever - until I met you,’ he says, refusing to look at you as he rolls the condom over his painfully hard cock.

Salivating at the sight, you struggle to keep your words together. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

This sends his gaze snapping to you, and all at once his back to your body, wrapping and covering you with his arms, chest, and back. His hands reach forward and slide beneath your underwear, sliding hard over your clit and over your folds.

‘You find it hard to believe that every single time I looked at you, I thought of how I’d fuck you?’

Your head tips back against his shoulder, and he slides one finger between your slit, curling up and in to make you bite your lip.

‘You find it hard to believe I fucked no one for a solid year because the thought of your pussy wrapped around my dick made me harder than the real thing with someone else ever could?’

‘Hoseok, I swear to god,’ you mutter, throat clenched as your muscles clench around his finger.

‘Swear what, baby?’ he asks, licking against your neck as he adds a second finger. ‘Use your words, you were always so good with them before.’

‘Hoseok, if you don’t - ‘ your words die as he curls both fingers up into you, your hands reaching behind you to grip his ass and pull him closer.

‘Tell me what you want, baby. I’ll give you anything you want.’ At this, he slides a third finger into you, and your patience breaks.

‘Fuck me,’ you say firmly.

‘Thank fuck.’

His hands are gone from your pussy and you bow forward with want, arms catching your against the wall. Hoseok hoists your dress high up your waist and, in one swift motion, slides your underwear down your spread legs.

‘Step up,’ he commands, moving your discarded panties to the side as you do.

‘You look so beautiful like this,’ he says, and you can feel his eyes moving over your body, dripping and ready for him.

‘Stop talking and fuck me,’ you say through grit teeth, and you feel him come behind you with a deep chuckle.

And all at once, he slides into you, filling you with ease and stretching you in a way you knew you needed, but didn’t think could feel so utterly perfect.

‘Oh my fucking god,’ he moans, resting his head on your shoulder. ‘You’re so fucking tight.’

‘I -’ you gasp, adjusting to the feel of him so deep inside you. ‘I went a year, too.’

Hoseok immediately sets a punishing rhythm, too frantic and needy to go slow with your body right now. Truthfully, you’d spent a year wet and wanting him, a whole year with your body begging him to fill you to the brim. Your walls clench around him in rhythm with his thrusts, deep and piercing.

His hands reach around you, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress, and your recline back into his chest. With heavy thrusts, you press back into him, begging to keep him inside you as long as possible.

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ you moan, hand once more reaching down to find your clit.

‘Don’t’ he demands through a clenched jaw, one hand moving from your breast to slap yours away. ‘Hands on the wall.’

You do as he says, leaning forward to press your hands against the wall, the new angle letting him get even deeper than before.

He slows for a moment, moving his hips in circles as you maintain balance.

‘I told you that when I finally had you, I’d make sure you felt me,’ he says, licking around the shell of your ear. The heat and the moisture from his mouth set your skin aflame. ‘Tonight, you are coming by my hands, and my hands only.’

One hand slides from your hip over to your pussy, his actions purposeful and slow. At the feel of his fingers flicking against your clit, you buck against him and cry out.

‘I need you to move,’ you say, fingers scratching against the wall.

His rhythm returns, sliding in and out of you in sharp movements as two fingers stroke against your folds, while his thumb flicks your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the tension rise in your stomach, the base of your spine growing tense with desire.

‘I’m going to come,’ you grind out, gasping for breath at each snap of his hips.

‘Come for me baby,’ he whispers, sucking on the side of your neck once more. ‘Come only for me.’

His other hand leaves your side and comes down hard on the flesh of your ass, spanking you fiercely and sending you careening over the edge with a loud, uninhibited moan. Your orgasm wracks through your body, sending your walls clenching tightly around him, and soon he follows suit. His hips become erratic in their movements, and just as you feel yourself come down, Hoseok whimpers against you, trembling and soon falling against you, spent and sweating.

For a long while, you stay like that, both trying to catch your breath. Neither of you has any energy to speak, listening only to each other breathing and the sound of the film reel clicking diligently away. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you tightly against him as his lips press soft kisses to your hair, your cheek, your shoulder.

‘I meant it,’ he says quietly, breaking the silence.

‘What?’ you ask, too delirious to truly understand what he’s saying.

‘You know what’s happened, don’t you?’ he repeats, this time shy and timid, words soft and too important to be arousing.

You turn to look at him then, a soft smile playing at your lips.

‘I know,’ you say, reaching up to stroke his sweaty hair. ‘It’s no use pretending it hasn’t happened, because it has.’

Author’s Note:

Film quotes in order of appearance: The Moon’s Our Home (1936); Now, Voyager (1942); Brief Encounter (1945); It’s A Wonderful Life (1946); Ashes To Diamonds (1958); Wings Of Desire (1987); Brief Encounter (1945)

#hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #kpoptrashtag #kwriterskollection #jhope x reader #bts smut #jhope smut #bangtan university #bts fanfiction #bts fic #bts au #hoseok au #bangtan au #bangtan fanfiction #hobi smut #jhope fanfic #jhope au

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amaloaf · 7 years

Text

Forget (Remember): another CARS fanfic

two fanfics?? In one day?? Surreal

Description: Sarge wants to help Fillmore but can't do it without context. An extremely drawn out quest of Sarge finding out Fillmore’s past. ((Takes place way in the past Sarge, Fillmore, Flo, and Ramone are in their 20s))

Ships: Sargemore, Flomone, Sheriff/OC (background)

Warnings: if ur sensitive to cult-like organizations, nsfw situations, or just fucked up shit please don't read

Prolongs

The past was something rarely mentioned in the house. Sarge had noticed that almost immediately. He and Fillmore never lived together in the traditional sense, often migrating between his bunker and Fillmore’s dome, but no matter what home they were in one rule remained the same; don't ask about the past. Even when they were only just friends, a young Sarge fresh out of the marines and Fillmore only a few years new to Radiator Springs, the young hippy’s past was shrouded by mystery.

That wasn't to say that Sarge allowed sleeping dogs to lie, no sir. Sergeant corporal George Khiem Henry Milton was many things, but a quitter wasn't one of them. From context he knew two things about his significant other’s past: 1. That Fillmore had grown up spending a great deal of time with the town’s body artist, Ramone. The second was that Fillmore had a sister and two nephews living on a Navajo reserve somewhere upstate, he had seen her number, address, and a picture on the side of Fillmore’s fridge the first night they'd spent together. While the latter information intrigued him far more, it was apparent he could get more information by asking Ramone.

Sarge rolled over in bed and looked at Fillmore’s sleeping form. His large arms were folded close to his chest with his head pulled over them. It was the closest thing someone could make to a fetal position without using their legs. The lighting from the fairy strings he had around the room made his soft, curly hair glow and it fell around both of their pillows in gentle rings. He looked like a painting, beautiful, and soft around the edges. Sarge sighed and rolled on his back. “It's gonna break his heart when he finds out what I'm doing.. but I can't let him ignore his needs either,” he thought, his own heart cracking at the thought of Fillmore’s face when he found out. He glanced back at the huddled at his side. “I have to though, I've seen men go insane over nothing because they ignored blatant symptoms, because they thought they could handle it. Hell, had it not’ve been for Doc I might've been one of them.” Sarge let his eyes wander the ceiling where small flowers of all colors had been painted, and fell asleep thinking of his mission for tomorrow.

Chap 1

The brass bell on the door of Ramone’s shop made a heavy “clang” sound when Sarge opened the door the following morning. The shop was empty, save for the owner and his wife. Flo was most definitely out of place with her silky, short bathrobe and when she turned to look at the door, taking her hands out of Ramone’s back pockets, it was apparent she had nothing but a pair of boxer shorts under it. Sarge stuffed his hands in his coat pockets ur kept his eyes on the couple for another minute.

“I can, uh.. come back later if this isn't a good time.” He said gruffly, trying not to show his embarrassment at walking in on a lazy couple’s Sunday morning.

Ramone didn't seem to mind in the slightest. Without taking his arm from around Flo’s waist he motioned Sarge in with a quick, “Don't even worry about it, man! ‘S out own damn faults, forgot the sign said open for a minute, yknow?” Sarge came at the beckoning, standing as straight as he possibly could, pretending his face wasn't as hot as it felt. “So what can I do you for, man?”

“If you don't mind Ramone, I have a rather.. personal flavor to ask you.”

Ramone, seeing as how Sarge wasn't leaving anytime soon, removed himself from his wife's side and began cleaning his tools next to one of the reclining chairs. “That's a very vague answer, general. Care to elaborate on that ‘favor’?” He put down one tool and picked up a tattooing needle, examining the points and motor. Flo sat gently in the accompanying chair, crossing her ankles and reclining slightly. Sarge locked eyes with Ramone before quickly glancing to Flo and back. Ramone stood confused for a moment before realizing what Sarge wanted. Fortunately, before her husband could say a word, Flo had seen the quick looks and stood.

“Sarge, honey, you coulda just asked“ she laughed, not seeming offended in the slightest to be kicked out. “You boys come by the diner when you're all set and I'll fix y’all up a good ol’ coffee, alright?” She pressed her lips to Ramone’s, flushing her round body against his. “And you make sure to stop by home, I'm not giving these back” she stage whispered, trailing her fingers up Ramone’s jacket. He grinned through heavy lidded eyes and nodded, keeping his hands on her a few beats longer than necessary. Sarge chose to pretend she was talking about anything other than the flame print boxers stretched over her large hips.

“Newly weds..” he muttered as she walked out of the shop, the bell clanking to signify her departure. “You got yourself a real price of work there, Ramirez.”

Ramone laughed, continuing to look dazed. Sarge swore he could see the stars in his eyes and the cartoon hearts above his head. “She's worth every minute, man. But you'd know a thing or two about that wouldn't you?”

Sarge flushed red. “Shut your whore mouth. You don't know anything.” Even as he said it he knew it wasn't true. To be completely honest, Ramone probably knew more about him and Fillmore’s relationship than Sarge himself did.

“Alright, alright. Calm it general-”

“I was a Sergeant Corporal.”

“You came here for a favor?”

“Right, yeah, fuck.” Sarge leaned against a counter, thinking the best way to phrase the question now. He watched Ramone’s backs the artist set back to cleaning his instruments of the medium. “So, you and Fillmore grew up together, right?”

Ramone’s back tensed through his tank top, the question freezing him for a split second. He recovered quickly, however, and went back to work. “Yes, we spent a good majority of our younger years together.”

“When did you meet him?”

“He was about eleven, I would've been about eight… so around eh…” Ramone began counting something in spanish. “About thirteen years ago? Seems like a lifetime ago, haha so much has changed.” He didn't look up from his tools and offered no more information.

“Ramone I was wondering if you could tell me something about Fillmore.”

“Dios maldita sea! Jesus follando un pez y gustándolo!” Ramone cursed out before composing himself. “Are you not with him? Can you not ask him yourself?”

Sarge tensed. “Now hang on a second! Who in the good lords name told you I was ‘with’ anybody?” He shouted, annoyance with the situation bubbling in his chest.

Ramone stood ground. “Are you telling me you're going to stand here, in *my* shop, and tell me there is nothing going on between you to? You’re honestly going to tell me when you push his wheelchair to the dome every night, every god given night, and you just go in you separate doors and golpea tu carne-” He made an all too familiar hand gesture with his cloth and the cylinder in his hand, “on your own, every night, at the exact same time?”

Sarge chose to ignore the main point and focus on the last part of the question. “Whaddyou mean, the same time..?”

“You know damn well. Flo and I work late not even fully down the street.” He stepped closer. “Fillmore lives in a hut.” Another step. “And god knows you're a begging lil puta in the sheets, general.” One more step and they were at a confrontationally uncomfortable distance. Ramone's usually bent knees and hunched posture were straightened to their full potential, and quickly Sarge forgets that Ramone is well over a foot taller than him. He held the artist’s stare for a few moments before turning away. Ramone sighed and visibly deflated. “It hurts him every time you deny it, Sargent. He’s lost a lot, and he's worried he'll lose you too.” He turned to look at the smaller man. “I think that's gonna break him for good, man.”

Sarge didn't look at Ramone. He turned away from him and faced the opposite wall, looking at his reflection in the salon mirror. He was only twenty-six, and already he looked like a man more than double his age. His yellowish, naturally pale skin was darkened by the unholy amounts of time he'd spent in the sun, it was more brown than anything now and it was peeling off around his nose. His hair was beginning to grow out again from not being developed, it's grayish brown locks were thin and sticking out in odd places. His shoulders and hips jutted out strangely underneath his military jacket and jeans, never quite filling out the way they were supposed too. He took in his eyes last. Almond shaped and just slightly slanted, light brown. Sarge had always hated his eyes, his disgusting wrong eyes that he got from his mother. He hated that he'd never be the All American Boy his family had wanted him to be. The military hadn't done a damned thing to make him anymore wanted, if anything the side effects of having nineteen confirmed kills under your belt just made him easier to push away. He turned his eyes too Ramone, whose big, blue puppy-dog eyes were watching him expectantly.

“He's getting worse, Ramirez. Every day I see him falling apart and it kills me to see him like that. I know he needs help.”

“Then send him in the right direction. You found help back when you were a twitchy little trigger switch, I'm sure someone can help him.” He sighed. “I just don't get why you have to be the one to help him.”

Sarge ran his hands through his too long hair. “I don't have to be the only one, but I want to be there. You haven't seen what I've seen. I had to sit a man go insane in a recovery ward because he lied about his condition. He wanted to do it on his own. Offed himself three days before his twenty-first birthday. You said it'd do Fillmore in to lose me? Imagine if I had to see that yet again, but this time with someone I lo- care about.”

Ramone shot him a look, the slip up didn't get past him but he chose not to push it. “So what is it you need from me to help him?”

“I think Fillmore’s suffering from some pretty serious ptsd.” Sarge said, relieved they were getting somewhere. “It's probably what's contributing to his anxiety and causing deep psychological scarring.”

“Not to be a bitch, but why again do you need me for this?”

“Because, surprise surprise, our lovely little Fillmore won't talk to me about last year, much less his tragic backstory. I know you've been around long enough to give us some semblance of what I'm dealing with here.”

“I-” Ramone was cut of by a familiar clank and a squeak of a wheelchair against the wood.

“Hey, dudes. Whatcha all talkin’ ‘bout?”

#oh shit #fanfic #my stuff #headcanon #fillmore #sargemore #sarge #ramone #flo #also I had no real reason to draw out the Ramone/Flo thing it just happened #forget(remember)

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notagreenlantern · 7 years

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An AU I’m not writing

Seruiously. I am not gonna write this post-apocalyptic AU story. I know I accidentally wrote 3000 words of it tonight. But it’s just a one shot (leaving more questions than it answers, also you mention monsters but they never show up. You kind have to... Shut up). I am not gonna write it. Also, I haven’t worked out how most of this story makes sense. I don’t know why the end of the world led to everyone adopting a 19th century clothing aesthetic except for how that’s been on my mind a lot lately. I do know why electricity isn’t in use anymore in this AU, but I forgot to mention it in the narrative (the monsters are drawn to electricity. Why? Because I the writer didn’t want electricity for plot reasons)... Also I am not writing this story! I haven’t worked out the logic of this universe... I have other things to write... Enjoy this. It’s Guy and Kyle’s first meeting in this world. Warnings for homophobic language from an OC.

The sun was beating down, the air dry, and not a hint of a breeze. It was still midday, sun high in the sky, which meant there was still a lot of time left to find shelter for the night, so if he found water he could probably take a break, he was sweaty, and dusty from the ride, and his horse, a chestnut named Dex, could use a drink. He could always make camp if he didn't reach another small town, the monsters that stalked the night preferred the ruined cities, and Guy knew how to make a campsite secure enough to catch an hour or two of sleep, it wasn't ideal, but could be done.

He wiped away some sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and tipped the stetson further forward over his eyes. His duster was in one of the bags, and he was considering taking off his waist coat as well and only ride in shirt and jeans, but it didn't add that much warmth so he let it be.

His horse's tack clinked a little, but besides that the dull thud of Dex's hooves on the ground, and the occasional rattle of pebbles rolling over the ground, the desert around them was quiet. In the distance there were mountains, and even further away he could make out the ruins of a larger city. The old map he had looked at had indicated that he would be passing what was left of the city of Phoenix. It had been four days since he left the burned down remains of Albuquerque, but he'd been lucky in finding smaller towns along the way, some in secured older buildings from before The Fall, but one brand new little village which had been built on the border between what used to be known as New Mexico and Arizona, now days the border between states had very little meaning. New borders were being drawn all the time, mostly in the north east, the south and the west being left mostly to take care of itself.

An hour later he pulled the reins to stop at the top of a low hilll. Below a large area of dead grass spread out in front of him. The desert had spent the last sixtyor so years reclaiming the old golf course, but it was unwise to ride through it, the grass had grown long before wilting and dying, making it the perfect place for animals to hide in, and with no way of making sure his horse didn't step into a hole and stumble, well, Guy turned the horse north instead. He'd ride around, and then carry on west. He would have to head north anyway eventually.

He continued to ride and soon enough could spot buildings in the distance, most of them new, and Guy suspected it was another new settlement. He was still a kilometer away when he heard the shouting. Urging his horse into a trot instead he rode towards the sounds. Getting closer he saw three people, two of them beating and kicking the third who was on the ground. The monsters might only show up in the dark – Guy thought – but men had no problem being monsters at any time during the day.

He held the reins in one hand, riding closer, the men too busy with their beating to hear him. Guy reached over his shoulder and pulled the rifle from it's sheath. Dropping the reins entierly, he sat down deeper in the saddle, and his horse slowed down. Steadying himself in the stirrups, he lifted the rifle, butt of it against his shoulder he took aim, and fired a warning shot above the shoulder and past one of the men's heads.

The men in front of him spun around. Guy let his horse walk closer, moving the rifle away from his shoulder, but still in a grip so that he could quickly start shooting again.

“What's goin' on here?” Guy asked. He was a couple of feet away when he stopped. The man on the ground was struggling to sit up, but one of the othr men put a heavy boot on the man's chest.

“None of your business,” one of the men said. Taking a step towards Guy, who trained his rifle on the man's chest.

“I'm makin' it my business,” Guy said.

“He's just some worthless faggot,” the man spat. “His kind's an affront to God.”

Guy frowned, and he felt that familiar anger rising, starting with a burning in his gut.

“I don't know if you've noticed,” Guy said, “but God abandoned us a long time ago, and that wasn't because of our ability to love each other.”

The man growled and reached for the holster with his gun.

“Ah ah ha,” Guy said, and moved his rifle a little bit up and down. “I only have to squeeze the trigger and you get to find out whether or not there's a heaven, though I can't see you endin' up there. I suggest you and your friend take off.”

The man glared, and cursed at Guy, but then turned and waved for his friend, and the two got back on their horses and galloped away towards the buildings in the distance. Guy watched them leave, before sliding the rifle back in place and getting off his horse, his own gun belt around his waist jingling when he landed on the ground. He walked over to the man on the ground, who managed to sit up with a grimace of pain on his face. Guy crouched down next to him. The man sported a black eye, a split lip; his shirt was torn, and his torso already showing brusing all over.

“You okay?” Guy asked.

“Yeah, think so,” the man said. “Thanks for the save. They surprised me, I'm usually better at defending myself.”

“just happy to help,” Guy said. “I'm Guy.” he reached out a hand, and the man took it with a smile, and Guy felt his heart skip a beat, the man had a very nice smile, even with a bloody lip.

“Kyle.”

And that was how Guy Gardner met Kyle Rayner. He'd tell that story many times during the years, although he never told the actual real story, always embellishing, exaggerating, or straight up making up shit on the spot. He got particularly inventive whenever Kyle could hear him, because Kyle would smile whenever Guy made up extra outrageous claims – there was a dragon once.

“Well, Kyle,” Guy said. “I assume your horse is still left where they grabbed you?”

“Yeah,” Kyle said with a sigh, before pointing towards the buildings in the distance. “They've settled in the old golf resort over there. Even have a massive wall protecting them.”

“Want me to go get it?” Guy asked. Kyle turned bak to Guy and smiled again, not as wide and close mouthed this time, but there was warmth and surprise in his eyes.

“It's nice of you to offer, but I suspect I might have to move on without her,” Kyle said. “I don't know what they find more offensive, me or you talking about there not being a god.”

“Guess that means you need a lift from me,” Guy said. “Where're you heading?”

“Oh, you can just drop me off at the next settlement,” Kyle said. “I'll get a new horse and be on my way.”

“Sure thing,” Guy said. He turned and whistled, and his horse came over. He dug through one of the bags and pulled out a shirt for Kyle to wear, since his own was in tatters, it was a bit large on him over the shoulders.

Guy sat up, and helped Kyle get up behind him.

They took a detour to get past the golf course settlement, no need to get too close Guy figured, and then headed west again, towards the border to what had once been California.

“So, Guy,” Kyle said, from behind. “Where you from?”

“The north,” Guy said. The signs had all said Baltimore, but no one ever called it that. Baltimore was a place from the past, a past Guy had never been part of. He was a first gen. One of the kids born after The Fall, too young to know what things had been like before, and old enough that he was starting to see kids born to his own generation. Kids to parents who had never known another life than this one.

“Long way from home,” Kyle said.

“Yeah, well I heard you could make money hunting monsters, so.”

“There are still monsters in the north isn't there?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, well,” Guy said. “I needed a change of scenery.” He wasn't in the mood to tell Kyle about seeing people he had called friends turn in front of his eyes. What he had left were bad memories, and he had needed to get as far away from them as possible. “Where are you from?” He asked. Changing the subject.

“New LA,” Kyle answered. “It's where I'm heading now actually. Mum's still there, and I've been down in Mexico, looking for my father.”

“You find him?”

“Nah,” Kyle said. “Not a sign of him. Still not sure how I'm gonna tell mum.”

“She'll probably just be happy you're still alive, and not turned into one of the monsters.”

“Yeah, she wasn't exactly thrilled when I said I wanted to be a hunter.”

“You a hunter too?” Guy asked, unable to hide the surprise.

“Yeah, why's that so surprising?” Kyle asked.

“You don't look like it,” Guy said with a shrug.

“Oh, I'm sorry we can't all have biceps larger than our heads,” Kyle said.

Guy lifted the hand not holding the reins, flexing his arm a bit while looking at it with a considerate expression, mouth pursed a little bit.

“Hm,” he muttered. “I don't think they are bigger than my head. Though you are right, they are impressive.” He turned a bit so he could look over his shoulder at Kyle, and grin. Kyle gave him a crooked smile and snorted. Guy laughed.

“We were a group actually,” Kyle said, his tone slightly wistful. “We split up a few months back. Wally wanted to go back to the midwest, Dick went with him. Connor followed me to Mexico, but we parted ways at the border, since I was heading back home, and I don't know where Roy and Donna went off to.”

The carried on riding, talking and even laughing. Guy found himself really enjoying Kyle's company. He'd been mostly alone now for months, and it was nice to have another type of interaction than just ordering drinks or paying for a room.

Eventually though, as the sun started to inch its way lower in the sky, and they were stil surrounded by nothing but desert Guy was starting to wonder if they were going to have to make camp out in the wild. Having Kyle along should make it safer. When Kyle, who had been given Guy's binoculars, exclaimed.

“Hey, there's a barbed wire fence that way.” He pointed to their right, and Guy started to steer them in that direction.

“A farm?” Guy asked.

“Probably,” Kyle said, and returned the binoculars to one of the saddlebags.

It turned out to be a farm. The tall main building located on top of a hill, overlooking the grounds, a dirt road leading up to it from the gate in the fence, a fence which was at least a foot taller than Guy's horse.

“You hunters?” The farmer asked. He was a young man, looked to be at least a few years younger than Guy.

Guy and Kyle stood on the ground, horse between them, behind them was the first gate, which had been easy enough to open and close again behind them, in front of them stood the second gate, which was locked with a heay chain and two large padlocks. The farmer, on the other side of the gate, eyed them suspiciously.

“We are,” Guy said, with a smile. “You been havin' any problems recently?”

“Not recently no,” the farmer said. “So I'm not going to hire you to protect anything. I've got all the protection I need.” He patted the guns he had hanging off his hips, and on his back, much like Guy, he had a rifle.

“We were more interested in a place to sleep,” Guy said.

“And, perhaps if you had a horse to sell,” Kyle said. “Mine got spooked and ran off,” he lied easily, with a smile that if Guy had been on the other side of it, would definitely have managed to convince him of anything.

“We'll see about that,” the farmer muttered. “You can sleep in the barn if that's okay with you?”

“I've slept in worse places,” Guy said. The farmer frowned.

“I'd need to test you.”

“Of course,” Guy said. Both he and Kyle stuck their hands thrugh the metal slot, for the blood test. It wasn't a hundred percent sure fire test, but unless someone had recently been bitten, it would prove that they weren't about to turn as soon as darkness fell.

After confirming that both Guy and Kyle were still very much human, and a discussion about payment for the privelige of sleeping in the farmer's stable – all technlogical progress over the past 100 years gone, but money was still an important part in the broken society they lived in, though it had lost its value in some ways, and bartering was once again a huge part of how business worked in many parts of the country – they were allowed through the gate and started walking up the hill.

It was a small farm, besides the main house, and the barn, there were a couple of smaller buildings, two sheds one larger and one smaller, a long, one story building which had been built to house several families who had moved in after The Fall. In the yard a couple of kids played with a kitten, watched over by a teenage boy.

“It was my grandparents place,” the farmer, Mr. Jones, explained. “I never met them, my mum raised me here.”

They continued towards the stable, and between the buildings Guy could see the fields. Only a small portion of the grounds seemed to be used for growing crops.

“We only grow enough to feed ourselves,” Jones explained. “And sometimes we get enough to sell to any of the nearby settlements. Though they tend to have farms closer by.”

The stable wasn't very large either, but there were three horses inside. A massive clydesdale gelding, which completely ignored them as they walked inside, but the two quarter horses, one palomino and one black, eyed them and Guy's horse in particular with curious eyes, and ears perked up. One of them even made a small noise.

Guy took care of his horse, while Kyle explained to Jones how he had also lost all of his belonging when his horse bolted, Jones hadn't seemed entierly convinced by Kyle's lies, but did go to the main house and rustled up a sleeping bag for Kyle.

Guy carried his bags up to the hayloft, and joined Kyle there.

“You do this a lot?” Kyle asked.

“Hm?” Guy looked over at him. “Oh? Crash in some farmer's barn? Yeah, sometimes. In particular if they have had problems. I offer to keep guard of the animals. Can usually catch a bit of a shut eye as well, and since the farmers are more interested in keeping their home and live stock safe they aren't much interested in the money.”

He always tried to split the reward money evenly but most of the time they were so grateful they let him keep all of it. More often than not though, the farmers already had a system in place to protect themselves, and so Guy would just pay to crash in their barn.

“When we were a whole group we could pretty much get a whole night of sleep every other night,” Kyle said. “And Mexico had a lot of underground settlements.”

Guy nodded. The fact that the monsters only showed themselves during the night often meant many sleepless nights of hunting, and of protecting themselves. Having some place secure to sleep every now and again was vital for a continued survival.

Guy brought out the beer he had in his bags, and they drank and ate some of his provisions. They talked late into the night. Kyle telling Guy stories about the group he had travelled with, and about their hunts. Guy told exaggerated stories about hunts he'd done since he came out west. By the time they fell asleep, curled up in their sleeping bags, with the soft noises from the horses below, Guy found himself thinking that he wouldn't mind spending more time with Kyle.

In the morning Kyle convinced the farmer to sell the palomino. Kyle bought it with Guy's money, when his own cash wasn't enough – “I'll pay you back,” Kyle said – and once outside the gates again they both mounted.

“I've been thinking,” Guy said as they let their horses start walking. The sun still rising, and the sky dull blue-ish pink, the air cool for now.

“I've only known you a day, and that still made me worried,” Kyle said. A teasing smile on his face.

“Shut up,” Guy growled without any heat. “How would you feel about riding together?” Guy asked, not looking at Kyle, but when he didn't answer right away he looked over. Kyle was giving him a scrutinizing look.

“I know you don't prefer riding alone,” Guy said.

“I'm just surprised you don't,” Kyle said. “You seem like you would be the 'lone wolf'-type.”

Guy shrugged, and didn't answer. Instead he looked away from Kyle.

He kind of was a lone wolf, at least ever since he came out here, but he liked Kyle. It had been easy to talk, and to laugh with someone again. He had missed that. Had missed having a friend.

“Sure,” Kyle said. Guy looked over at Kyle, who gave him a small smile. “If you're willing to go with me to New LA first.”

“Sure, I've never been.”

“You haven't missed much,” Kyle said. “It's a dump.”

“The whole world is a dump,” Guy pointed out, which made Kyle laugh.

Guy smiled – yes, this would work – the thought.

#sometimes i write things

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