#did not proofread so this is most certainly a mess. sorry <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[jeanmoreaux]

I want to understand so bad why so many people love Catching Fire 😭😭😭 idk why I remember getting bored send help I need to reread the series

Pls tell me what makes so enjoyable for you?

i think on my first read the story definitely managed to subvert my expectations; the twist and turns caught me off guard (which makes sense for a 13yo i guess but i like to believe that even for more experienced readers the story went ways they didn’t expect). to me the tension that this book creates is just something that draws me in (a tension that is created by an instability you can find in every aspect of the narrative). because the stakes rise—this is not just a story about an arena and 24 kids fighting to the death anymore. it’s about an entire nation and its people now. the internal politics take up much more space, you can see the oppressive system at work much more intimately because you see that it extends into every aspect of life in panem. it’s every and influences everyone. not even the capitol‘s citizen are exempt from experiencing the consequences of it in one way or another. you see how, intentionally or unintentionally, some are complicit in their own oppression while others, just as intentionally or unintentionally, rebel against it. and then you have the ones that actively fight it despite the threat of violence and death. you see how fear and propaganda are used to ensure obedience but it also clearly shows you how this method of control is playing with fire…. because desperate people have nothing to lose. for me, cf manages to but thg into a context that gives these games even more (symbolic) meaning. and ofc tensions also rise BETWEEN and WITHIN characters. the everlark dynamic is especially delicious to me in this book (some of these scenes are like bread and butter to me i‘ll never get over them). haymitch relationship with both peeta and katniss is so interesting ESPECIALLY when you know how he’s essentially betraying them both in different ways for half of the book. i also adore some of the side characters we‘re introduced to (finnick and johanna mean so much to me <333). and when it comes to katniss‘s inner world i think the tension collins creates shines the most. the first person narration lets you experience katniss‘s turmoil in a manner that has you realise how torn she is between different impulses and wishes and hopes and fears. and that makes so much sense given the situations she‘s finds herself in throughout the book. and ngl her reluctance to engage with this revolution and accept the role the rebels have assigned to her makes her such an interesting character to me. it’s so realistic how she deals with this entire situation. and what’s even more tragic is how realistic it is that friends and enemies and strangers alike us her for their own agenda without ever even really think about if that’s something she wants. because they can justify it as being ‘for the greater good’…..

the plot covers so much ground as well, from the victory tour to the quarter quell, and both just adds to add to our understanding of panem as a political entity. to have them back in the games again is exciting as well because technically things shouldn’t be different but they are, and they are not what you expect, which just adds to this feeling of instability that the book as a whole evokes in the reader. and at the same time there are light and funny and sweet moments this book that don’t feel out of place because they still have a space in this world that’s only at the brink of rebellion but not quite there yet. and these moments just make you feel for these characters even more because you want That for them. you want them to be happy and safe but you know that they won’t be because the scale is about to tip one way or another and you Know their situation is precarious.

idk there is just so much There from a textual analysis standpoint as well. it’s hard to explain why i love it so much tbh. i just think it’s really well written and very exciting almost in an anxiety-inducing way because you’re trapped in katniss’s head and she’s being drag in all these different directions by all these different people without really knowing what’s going on. like maybe my reread thread will give you some idea (it’s by far not everything that stood out to me. the post would have to be at least six times as long to come even close. i mean i don’t think i even mentioned some very basic stuff like the overpolicing and police brutality in district 11—a district with a majority of black citizens). there is also my VERY short goodreads review. i wish i could list you all the reasons this book is my favourite in the series but like you probably realised i am struggling to break it down even a little bit.

[kaszuma]

Acta, Non Verba | Hoshina Soshiro

Part 3 of "Certainly Yours"

pairing: Hoshina Soshiro × fem!reader

summary: Soshiro had never been good with his words. But you knew enough that he didn't need to say things out loud.

warnings: slightly suggestive. combat suit admiration.

wc: 2,697

--

note: dialogue is hard to write. So if it sounds weird and oddly paced sorry about that. Not proofread at all and have been busy with work

--

It had been days since you shared that chaste kiss with the Vice Captain of the Third Division. Soshiro Hoshina.

The image of both your lips under the stairs leading up to the Training room had been the only thing devouring your mind's eye as of late. And that memory alone was enough to keep you energetic for the rest of the fortnight after.

You remember it very clearly.

The way his calloused fingertips ran circles around the skin of your jaw. The steady breaths he took as if he too had been nervous about sharing your lips for the first time.

And although Soshiro had not shown an ounce of his nerves. Not a hint of his expressions had turned sour nor worried. Hinting no regrets at the actions that led up to that point.

And It had been made very apparent that he too craved to be near you, just as much you did for him. You sought after the lingering sensation of his touches. Your body magnets towards him when he tries to pull away. His bruised lips that had tasted like the bitter coffee of the early mornings, lingered on yours that had preferred the sweetness of something else. And that reminded you of all those sideway glances you'd do to the back of his head in the mess hall during the dinnertime.

Who would've thought that you'd end up kissing a man as respected as Soshiro Hoshina.

Sure, his way of kissing was a little sloppy for the most part. Likely from not having done it for so long. But it was far too gentle. Hungry even. Like a silent plea, begging you to never pull away from him. Like you'd disappear if he didn't hold you close enough. And you had reciprocated his eagerness with open arms. Showing the same amount of need to be in close proximity with him.

And since then?

Those one off glances that used to linger no more than a minute had now lasted far longer than it should have. And people have been starting to notice. Especially because Soshiro did not bother masking his intention of seeing you on a daily basis. Though no one had thought to ask, since the Vice Captain had always been an enigma to the common recruit. Not a stain on his record. And certainly not worth the risk of insubordination.

So it came to everyone's surprise when his usual routine had been replaced with an afternoon coffee break. Followed by hasty footsteps towards the research center which he had rarely visited beforehand. His direction? Straight to the repair rooms where your Lab had been located.

Soshiro had never been good with his words. But you knew enough that he didn't need to say things out loud.

And the moment the door had opened, you didn't even bother to look up from the blueprint you were tasked at reading up on. A smile already etched on your face as you knew who exactly appeared at your doorstep.

“Here for another maintenance check?” You quipped. Knowing how many times he had used that same excuse in a single week. And you hear that familiar cheeky chuckle of his. One that had been a common occurrence especially when he was off-duty.

“I can’t help but be thorough.” He shrugs, amusement in his voice. And you had pushed the blueprint away from your hands. Swiveling the chair that you sat on so that you can finally face him. Just in time to see Soshiro slowly shutting the door from behind him.

You clicked your tongue in mock disappointment. “Tut tut. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were slacking off, Vice Captain.”

“Then I guess you're my accomplice.” He replied.

Making careful strides to reach you. Hands slotted on the back of his waist as his gaze lingered down your own form. Clad in that snug pencil skirt that hugged the shape of your hips. Particularly admiring the way your skin disappeared underneath it. He tried not to make it too obvious however. He didn't come here just for that. At least not yet in that sense. He still had his wits about him. Even if you were a sight to behold.

But his expressions never gave way to his thoughts. Slotting himself just a few ways in front of you where his shadow had towered over your form.

“I assure ya that I won't be the only one getting into trouble when you're around.” Soshiro had replied. Pointing towards you as you let out a small but playful scoff.

“Well, I’ll save us the trouble then. How about you help me out with work? I've been meaning to ask one of the officers to beta test the new suit upgrades anyway.” You had smiled, matching the level of his banters. Your chin raised up slightly as you directed his attention to the side where a singular Combat Suit had been displayed.

And Soshiro tilts his head towards it. Raising his brow with a small hum.

“Hmm. If I help ya, will I get a reward for It?”

You had blinked a few times to rid yourself of the sudden warmth in your chest. Already in anticipation of what he was planning. Somewhat at least. And the timing had been perfect when you had been witness to the steady chuckles that left his lips.

Cheeky Bastard.

“Maybe.” You shrug. Glancing away from under his scrutiny. Cause God knows his gaze would’ve caught the way a smile had already etched on your lips.

“Quite a roundabout way of telling me you want a kiss, but alright.”

You had half a mind to roll your eyes. But this was a reply you had expected. And Soshiro had a way with reading you like a book without meaning to. “I’m not the one who's asking for a reward to begin with.”

“Acting shy now are we?” Soshiro had turned to face away from you. Already wasting no time as he shrugged off the standard uniform jacket he wore. Revealing the black compression suit he always had on underneath it. A rare sight since he had always been seen in the standard military uniform that had hid his figure very well.

But with that tight shirt on?

It felt rude just to look. Especially when your thoughts couldn't help but sink down into the swells of admiration. That was indeed beyond the precipes of the respect and hard work that the Vice Captain put into his training.

“Where was all that confidence the last time I took your breath away?”

And you hold in the urge to smile. Slightly glad that he was already busying himself by wearing the rigged combat suit. Lest he'd see your cheeks dusted with pink.

Anytime you glance at his lips, you're only reminded of the time he had so easily pulled you in. Leaving your mouth a raging red and your breaths labored. A thought that makes your heart flutter at the mere memory of it, and it feels as if he holds a sense of power over you. A reminder that he could do such a thing again. If you wanted him to.

The moment the suit had completely molded against Soshiro's body. Your eyes couldn't look away at the density of his build. The way it had traced the taciturn abdomen which had not been so noticeable until now. Often hidden away in the confines of his uniform. The compression shirt had proven enough coverage. But with the combat suit it had always had a way to mold itself into the body like it was a second skin. And somehow, it has always been a magnet for your eyes to feast.

Especially so when Soshiro had fit into it so perfectly.

“You should take a picture, it'll last longer.” He had spoken. Not realizing that he had long since turned to your direction after stretching his arms to adjust to the familiar tightness of the suit. And you couldn't help but roll your eyes this time.

“Really?” Playful sarcasm dripped from your voice. “Thank you for pointing that out, Vice Captain. If not for you I wouldn't have known.”

The mock dramatics were light. Her usual feist had not gone away it seems. And it only makes Soshiro chuckle. “I think I'm beginning to rub off on ya.”

“I suppose that's a good thing. It makes it easier to handle your stellar personality. Now hold still.” You smile. Making your way towards him until you were mere inches apart from one another. Your hand likewise had pressed its firm palm on the back of his shoulder blades. Passed the metal plates that had the symbol of Japan’s Defense Force on it.

You slowly circled around him, hand dragging along the bio weapon that had covered his skin. A silent reminder that he had worn this countless times into the field. A layer of advanced chainmail that had protected Soshiro in the case of a Kaiju sneaking up from behind him. It was impressive the way he looked better in it than the rest of the Officers you've seen wearing it. Or maybe that was just your preferences talking.

Your hands feel the steady ridges of the muscle fibers that make up for his armor. Eventually reaching the familiar metallic ends that traced the curve of Soshiro’s spine. Tracing your fingers from the nape of his neck, down to the tailbone of his waist. And he tries his best not to shudder in response. A sharp inhale is all you hear as he managed to turn his head away with slightly reddened ears.

“You're taking your sweet time. Any reason why?” He had breathed, trying to focus his mind on something else. And not the sweetness of your fingertips drawing honey out of his very being.

“I can't help but be thorough. ” Your lips quirked up, repeating the same exact words he had reasoned moments prior. And he held back a dry chuckle. Feeling the sudden way you had pressed firmly on a particular spot that had him flinching. “Don't tell me you're ticklish Vice Captain?”

And he sighs. Shoulders tense as your hand traces upward, back unto the nape of his neck, where his hair had met his skin.

“Ticklish is probably not the word I'd use. But let's go with that.” He spoke in a lower octave than he intended. And that voice of his felt a little strained. Making you smile, enjoying his scrutiny just for a little bit. His small twitches are something you hadn't expected from him at all. And it was nice trying to peel off layers of things you had never seen Soshiro in before. And you had a feeling that only you had been blessed to witness such discrepancies of that perfect expression on his face.

It was beginning to crack because of your touches.

You had turned back to face his front, hands placed against the swell of his waist. Which was sturdier than she thought. “Does it hurt when I press here?”

“No.”

“And here?” You had moved your hand to slide up onto a layer of plating on his chest. And you hear the way his soft sighs had turned a little shakier than normal. His hands immediately reaching to grab your wrist before it could move up further his neck, where his skin disappeared under the suit.

“...No”

“Ya’ know, why do I get the feeling that this suit isn't broken at all?” He looks you in the eyes. That smirk of his had been riddled with a new expression. As if he had just been provoked in some way.

“Maybe because it isn't?” A sweet smile etched on your lips made him chuckle. A small hum of disapproval had made it clear in his tone.

“I worry that you put so much faith in me.”

His voice had been all but a whisper this time. A deep rumble that had shot straight through her ear and neck as he took careful steps in front of her. Walking forwards as you take adequate steps baback. Until eventually, the back of your waist hits the surface of the small desk. Effectively allowing him to cage you in when his hands had grabbed the surface of the table beside your hips.

It was spacious enough for you to pull away. Should you want that. But as usual, you had only leaned forward. Open to his advances that you had once witnessed before. In fact letting him do as he pleased since you had rightfully poked the places you knew that would get him riled up. And despite that steady smile on his face, she could see how his lips form a thin line. A crack on his usual facade that she wanted to see more and more as days passed by.

“You should be careful when you're handlin’ me alone like this.”

“Why is that?” You tilt your head. And amusement flashes by his face.

“Because with or without the suit. Touchin’ me that way could lead me to do a lot of things to you.” He spoke softly, moving his lips much closer to your ear.

And although your breath had caught on from your throat. You only move in to press your cheek against his. “Things like?”

Soshiro chuckles. Leaning down to brush his lips against your jaw. The fan of his breath makes your heart pound against your ribcage. “You're playing a very dangerous game, sweetheart.”

“Well I won't know if you don't tell me.” you replied back. Likely a challenge to Soshiro's own words. Not at all rejecting his advances.

“I'd rather show ya’ instead.” He smiles.

And without as much as a thought to hesitate, his hand moved automatically. Already moving to cup your cheek with the warmth of his gloved palm. His eyes closed as your lips clashed against his. Sweet as it may. It had a slight hint of deviance in its movements. And you feel the steady bite of his teeth pulling at your bottom lip before it returns to bruising those pretty lips of yours. A warning perhaps that indicated more to come if she kept pushing him over the edge like that.

You shuddered. Moving closer to reciprocate his kisses. Hands already moving from his shoulders to his neck, nails gently raking to the back of his head. Feeling the soft stubble of his purple hair. Softer than she had initially thought they would feel.

Your chest heaved as he pulled away. Drawing a breathless sigh from you, as if he himself sucked all the breath out from that kiss alone. And it leaves your cheeks heated. Leaning against him to balance yourself with paced inhales that made you feel the pounding of your heart ringing in your ears.

Soshiro couldn't help but admire the state he put you in. His hands moved to grab your waist to let you lean against him if you wanted to. And he couldn't help but move his lips down to the crook of your neck. Pressing light kisses on your pulse that he had assumed had been working hard at keeping you breathing for him. A silent apology for leaving you in such a state.

“That satisfy your curiosity?” He mumbled, and you could feel the smile on his lips against your skin. Closing your eyes as you received his oddly uncharacteristic gesture.

A gesture you had understood despite it not being addressed. You were used to his off behavior. More so when he refused to elaborate on certain things you know he's speaking through his actions. And that was enough for now.

You didn't need to understand everything. Just the things that matter. Just the things he wants you to know right now. And his kisses had been enough to convey that thought. Your reply had not hesitated when you wrapped him into a tight embrace.

“Very.” And you had a feeling that he was willing to show you more, if you let him.

And that had been enough for you. Even if he never was good with his words.

[deadghosy]

“Attention Seeker”

SLYTHERIN OC X GN! GRYFFINDOR READER

Prompt: gaining the attention of the infamous Noah Drost, you must say you didn’t expect to like it in the end of it all.

Dynamic: strangers to enemies to lovers

Warning: didn’t proofread much, mistakes of writing, mentions of fighting and a small fight scene.

A/N: I’m bored so I wrote this while listening to an edit audio. It may be bad cause I never wrote for Hogwarts and might never will. WHO knows. Also inspired my Harry Potter phase and by Slytherin boy writers such as @theodorenmyth @phas3d @ahqkas and much more. (amazing writers btw!)

Noah Drost, Drost never knew to stop being a dickhead is what most Gryffindors said about the Slytherin. Always causing trouble and always setting people for failure, oddly he was an attractive lad with dashing charms. You never got the hype on why some of your girl housemates would even thirst for a "prick" like him. You never really got to know him, but the way he jokes around with others, the way his beautiful brown skin and that slit eyebrow did make it hard not to stare. But was he reallly that handsome to you? No one knows really.

What you mostly didn’t expect was to catch his attention. You didn’t need it later, and you definitely don’t need it now. He was certainly staring at you during charms class. Professor Flitwick was just yapping away in his lecture while you doodled a bit and took notes. Apparently doodling isn’t so peaceful when you keep feeling paper hit the back of your head. You turn around quickly with a sharp look only to see no one suspicious. But when you turned around, there it goes again. Those paper balls hitting your head. You turned around only for a paper ball to hit a bulleyes on your face. That’s when you heard that signature chuckle. You whipped your head at the curly haired boy who seemed to smirk a bit. "Why in the bloody hell is he messing with me?" You thought as you scoffed and went back to fully focusing now to the professor.

Week 1, your notes had ‘suddenly’ disappeared after you set them down? That couldn’t be right as you literally had them there…you kept checking around your desk. You were certainly going to freak out as you wanted to have a good grade. You’re not that much of an overachiever, but to not be with the class. You asked granger where your notes are and she looked sorry for you. She said she didn’t know and offer to help a bit. But really Noah was just chuckling behind his hand.

Week 2, after you figure out who took your notes. You made it clear to stay away from Noah but still give him dirty looks. He eyes you from across the hall, his deep brown eyes following your every move completely. Like a predator watching its meal walk freely. He hasn’t said anything yet which was good, but unfortunately wasn’t him. Usually he called you “lion” or “the cowardly lion” matter of fact when you didn’t do something about his antics. You scoffed at the thought of even thinking about him. “Thinking of sweet ol' me?” You jumped as you didn’t notice you practically walked past him. “How did he know?!” You thought turning around with an annoyed look. “Why in Merlin’s beard would I think about you?” You said crossing your own arms. Drost smirks as his eyes just hook onto your own. “I know everythin'…you can’t hide your prettty little head from me.” He then taps your head with one finger and taps his own head. You felt your eyes widen as your face felt warm. Quickly you walked away, hearing that echoing chuckle from the boy you seen. You hated his guts.

Week 3 was the final stretch for you. You was certainly in potions class, a fellow Gryffindor was giving you instructions. You mostly hated potions class because of professor snape, you knew he didn’t much like Gryffindors. So you didn’t want to mess up in front of his watchful eyes. As you look in the book and grabbed some ingredients, a figure quickly added another ingredient in the cauldron. Preventing from being seen by you, the gryffindor, and snape. Finally collected the ingredients, you set the recipe down. You only added a small piece of wolfsbane then suddenly the cauldron exploded. Particles of liquid scattered around the class, even hitting your face as you gasp. And there it goes again, that chuckle that seemed to enraged your whole soul and being. You swiftly turn around to yell only to face snape. And he did not look impressed. “..10 points from Gryffindors.” He said, looking down at you with a look that made you feel small. Most of the class laugh except for the Gryffindor you were helping. You glazed your eyes over towards the slytherin who you knew did this. Noah only smiled, a cruel smile. And you weren’t gonna let this slide for another second.

As it hit lunch time, everyone was sitted perfectly in the great hall. Almost too perfectly for a lunch. “DROST!” You yelled with a bellow. The great hall fell silent as you strutted a powerful walk. Your shoes echoing with each step as your eyes made an auto aim on the boy’s face. Your knuckles were almost white with how tight you held your wand in your dominant hand. Noah looks up, amazed at the Gryffindor he’s been pissing off lately. “Ah L/N..what must the Gryffindor want from me?” He says, his dimples showing with a small smile. “You bloody bastard! You sabotaged my cauldron and I want you to admit to professor snape or else I’ll drag you by your damned cloak and make you.” You said, you felt your heart pounding by your adrenaline. “Or what?” Noah said with a dark look. He stood up with a smirk, he was practically towering you. You stood your ground as you poke your wand to his chest. “What you gonna do lion? Roar your little words at me?” He grabbed your wrist tightly. You narrowed your eyes as you tried to pull your hand back only for him to bring it closer to his heart. He was testing you.

“Do it. Show everyone how 'brave' you are my lil lion.” You immediately dropped your wand and he smirked. You lifted your other hand and slapped him. The slap echoed making everyone’s head turn to the situation. Noah’s head was turned from your slap, he touched with his other hand that wasn’t holding your dominant hand. He scoffed and pushed you away. “Really? A slap. What are you, a ch—” before you knew it, your body reacted than your own mind. That’s when you punched him and he landed on his arse. His nose bleeding a bit. Now most students started an uproar. Noah angrily got up and tackled you to the ground. You grunted before feeling a punch to your cheek. “So you finally had the balls?!” He yelled grabbing to your shirt. His eyes dark, and the blood dropped to his mouth. Before he could land another punch he started to levitate in the air.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” a professor said as they immediately separated the two of you. Noah smiled crazily seeing you getting help by a student of another house. You glared at him before he got set down and escorted out. You still kept your eyes on the back of his head. That’s when he turned around and lick the blood off of his lips. You froze and looked away before a professor had told you that you will be getting detention tomorrow after you get checked up on in the hospital wing. You nodded, not having the energy to say anything else. The image of Noah’s face was now engraved deeply in your brain.

Honestly you hated his fucking face. You hated how he can just smirk with his nose bleeding, you hated how that was actually hot.

Maybe detention with him won’t be so bad..

Noah sat in his desk away from your own desk. You were doodling as he just stared at you from afar. You tried to ignore that heated gaze that sat perfectly on you. With each drumming tap of his fingers on the desk he was at. It was getting hard to ignore him minute by minute. “Y’know…I find it intriguing how you stood up to me. Lion.” He said with a tone you can’t explain. He smiled seeing you paused your drawing. “When you hit me, it felt like a kiss to remind me that you’re quite a brave one. Just unlike some Gryffindors.” You looked up at him weirded out as he only smirked. His dimples showing clearly which made your heart thump a bit. He tilted his head to the cheek he punched yesterday. “You look even more beautiful with that bandge on. Suits how coool you are my dear.” He teases lifting his head up as you lifted your own hand to touch your cheek. You scoffed looking away from the Slytherin. He raised a brow, sitting up correctly. He kept his brown eyes on you. He started to chew inside his mouth, he started to have second thoughts in how he basically pushed your limits during the weeks. He cleared his throat, getting out of his seat in one motion going towards you. “I..uhm. I’m sorry.” You slowly look up to see him walk towards you. His head down as he suck in his lip. “I was quite the arse to you and I must say I’m sorry for how I made you feel.” Those brown eyes that you can’t look away looks directly to your own eyes.

You for once seen vulnerability in his eyes. His brown eyes that seem to melt wonderfully towards your own eyes. You watch him closely incase it was one of his little lies. He kept that stare, a stare that begs for you to forgive. He cleared his throat again looking away from you. “It’s alright if you don’t forgive..you were right of course to call me a 'bloody bastard' love.” You chuckled at the pet name but mostly cause of the lack of confidence in his stance as well. His shuffling feet made it amusing on his part. You never seen him act this way before. You stood chuckling as you got up to face him. “Well…I suppose I forgive you.” You put out your hand for a truce. Noah’s eyes light up like stars, quickly taking your hand and shaking it with a smile. “Thank you li…I mean L/N..” he smiles, stopping himself to even call you lion. But you must admit to yourself that you did like the little nickname he gave you. “You like the nickname?” You jumped as you let go of his hand, only to see his devilish smirk. Before you could try to deny it, he intertwined his hand to yours. Bringing you close to his face.

He smirks, grabbing you by the back of your head. Your heads close together, eyes making contact as you held your breath. His smirk only grew wider, that dark wood scent was driving you crazy and he knew it. “Cmon darlin', speak your mind. I know your pretty little mouth likes to chat away.” He said, his voice low so you could only hear him. You bite the inside of your cheek, you wanted to slap him. But also kiss his lips, you didn’t know what to do. All you could was stare into his deep brown eyes that seem to hypnotize you. “Cmon darlin', I’m waitin'.” He starts to move away, his fingers leaving a slight lingering touch on the back of your head. As he smirked he didn’t know what shocked him most when you grabbed him by his tie and smashed your lips to his. His eyes widen, before you could break away embarrassed by your own boldness. He grabbed the side of your face and kissed you deeper, leaning forward. It was a hungry deep kiss, but also passionate. You drowned in his scent, the scent clogging up all your senses.

And ever since that, everything changed. And not for the worst surprisingly. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months with you two together. He started to actually be sweet than what was underneath that tough boy mask. He always carried your books, held your hand. He was slightly clingy but not in an overwhelming sense. He even makes sure you understand the class and give you notes. His teases are still there, but he’s more softer. You like how soft and how he shows how vulnerable he is.

One day, Noah basically ran towards you and tackled you to the floor, smiling wide with his pearly whites. “Ah my favorite lion! Have you missed me dear, why wouldn’t you.” The Slytherin boy had to go to a tutoring session and missed relaxing with you in the courtyard. He got up dusting his cloaks and helped you up as well. He seemed very happy to see you today, some students walked by. Giving odd glances that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor was much in a committed relationship. “Ah my favorite snake.” You snickered at him, he seemed to be waiting for something as he kept a closed smile on his face. The boy was nearly smiling his bloody ear off. You raise a brow while his own smile turned into a smirk. That’s where you realize and chuckle, leaning forward to do a small peck on his lips only for him to gently cup your face and kiss you hungrily. You must say, he is an eager man.

A/N: Sorry if it’s bad, I never wrote a troupe like this one. Hope it’s good!

[sevyneyes]

🔹️ ;; " stay with me, i don't want you to leave. "

satoru gojo x reader oneshot (?) ♡

contains ; suggestive, gn reader, partying, drinking / alcohol, romance, swearing >_<

a/n ; I MISS GOJO SO MUCH. first time doing this plz be nice aaaaaa, not proofread i did this at like 3 in the morning... (this is self indulgent)

Gojo Satoru was not above one-night stands. Sometimes— no, most of the time, the stress of being the strongest sorcerer and also the loneliness that came with it after Suguru left him would take its toll on him. So to distract himself from it, to just feel anything, he'd show up to a party, bar, whatever. He'd take someone home, have a fast one then dip in the morning. No strings attached. Like a hit-and-run, but less literal. It had turn into a habit... flirt, fuck, flee, repeat. Anything to fill the void Suguru left.

That was up until he met you.

Gojo had just recently finished up with a troublesome mission, so he had plenty more free-time to mess around. After walking through the bustling streets of the city of Tokyo, He found himself in the same bar he had visited so many times before, nonchalantly ordering drinks he knew he'd regret downing as a lightweight. Guilty pleasure. As Satoru was only just starting to sip his drink, someone had entered the bar. Someone who immediately caught his eye.

That certain someone, of course, was you.

You were celebrating with your friends since one of them had recently gotten promoted, and decided to take a gander at the drinks of a nearby bar naturally.

His blue eyes followed your silhouette, chin in his palm. He didn't wanna seem like a creep but god, who could blame him. You were the prettiest person he had ever seen, and well, he just couldn't resist as he left the various shotglasses had paid for unattended, to talk to you.

" Excuse me, sorry to intrude but do you mind if I buy you a drink ? "

Satoru spoke with the softest tone he could, of course with his trademark smirk that would make anyone fold. Intently taking in the sight of you, making it clear who he was speaking to. Your friends nudged you and before you could even say anything they spoke for you, rushing you along. 'come on [y/n] ! it'll be good for you.'

Well.. it wasn't like you would decline anyway, after all how could anyone? Pretty snow-like hair, hypnotic blue eyes hidden behind pitchblack glasses, honeyed tone and certainly a charming man... also, he was paying. You went for it.

" Ah... sure, why not ? "

You smiled at him, getting out of your seat as you eyed your companions snickering with eachother as they sent you off. The both of you then sat down nearby the shots he ordered earlier.

" [y/n] , " he spoke your assumed name, basing that assumption off what your friends called you just a few seconds ago. " I'm guessing that's your name? Pretty, if so. " He's said those same words so many times to so many other people, the only difference being the names he'd refer them as. You gave him a shy nod as well as a giggle.

" Mhm, what's yours? I think it's only fair if I know your name.. right? " You chided playfully, although internally cringing at your own words... you weren't really used to things such as this.

"Gojo Satoru. Feel free to call me what you like, as long as you call me." he replied with a wink, arms rested on the counter with his head resting on them. Oddly, as you chuckled, Satoru couldn't help but feel a small tingle that spread throughout his body, giving him goosebumps... He wasn't so sure what it was, but honestly, he didn't bother thinking about it.

" Gojo... I like it. "

Your small talk turned into longer and deeper conversations in the span of a few hours and the both of you grew comfortable, to the point he subconsciously had turned off infinity just at your sheer aura. Taking shots and drunkenly giggling with one another.. Satoru hadn't had this much fun with anyone ever since he was a 2nd year, and oddly enough you reminded him of those days. Your friends figured you were safe in his company. Eventually they informed you that they would be leaving due to how late it was and asked if you wanted to go back with them, but you stayed. Saying you'd either find a taxi or walk home—

Oh, you stayed? He wasn't sure why it made his heart beat out of his chest, why it made him perk up...

He didn't think much of it.

" Ah.. are you sure [y/n]? It's pretty late... it's alright if you go, you know."

" Oh, no, it's okay. I actually want to stay. "

...but, maybe he should've.

Your friends exchanged their goodbyes with you and they went back to their respective homes... now it was only you two. Satoru stared. Drinking in the sight of you and ending up with this weird admiration for you. It was incredibly unusual for him to feel such things about someone he had thought would just be another person at the bar, let alone someone he barely knows yet. Satoru didn't like how dangerously close to the sun he was getting. So he ignored it.

"...right, right."

During the time you spent together, that lingering, hollow feeling of loneliness of his... fades away. And eventually enough, safe to say he's taking you back to his place after the various shots. Speaking softly, he asks you: "Do... do you wanna go to my place?" the alcohol taking the wheel for this one question... he cursed himself for being such a lightweight.

First time he's ever felt shy whenever asking someone to head to his place.

Satoru tipped the bartender and walked out the bar with you at his side. Dizzy, ushering you inside the car the moment he gets the attention of a taxi... driving back to his place.

He wasn't a stranger to this type of thing. Satoru has of course done this many times before and yet... why were his palms so sweaty? He felt so uncomfortable, not because of you but because of himself. Unsure where to put his hands—

You held them.

All the way back to his house.

He didn't know how to feel.

The moment the both of you were in the privacy of his house, your lips interlocked with eachother's. Scary. This is scary. He doesn't understand why. The esteemed Gojo Satoru, he who fought the most anxiety-inducing battles and won, and he's won a lot. And yet still, so scared of losing.

'This is just a one night thing,' he thinks, he lies. How could the strongest sorcerer let himself get so weak?... for a non-sorcerer no less. Roughly 20 minutes into making out, he's taking you to his room. Messy and unorganized.. but navigatable.

'Gojo–' you say breathlessly inbetween kisses. His heart melts. Satoru's eyes bore into yours, stopping the kiss briefly.

" It's okay, call me Satoru, " he says, sitting at the edge of his mattress. Urging you to sit down.. and so, you do so. Straddling him. You swear you heard his breath hitch. He wasn't sure what made this time different from all the other times. But honestly... why would he think about that when he had you right there? He could feel your warm breath hitting his lips. Reeks of whiskey... but it's comforting.

" G–..Satoru, is this... just a one-night thing? " You asked the same question he had been asking himself all evening. His rule of no-strings-attached slowly blurred into wires tangled together.

"...just stay long enough to find out, sweetheart."

Well, this was gonna be a long night.

[reaveries]

▬  an admiration for perennials

summary: arthur meets a woman with an affinity for cliff maids

pairings: high honor!arthur morgan pov x female!reader

warnings: sad introspective arthur, sh*t word (:o), mention of mary, dying from flu, pollen (?? this thing is so fluffy, i'm grasping for straws here)

word count: 6.2k (estimated 26-minute reading time)

a/n: i have proofread this piece so.. many.... times... i'm so ready to finally publish it and get it the eff away from me. i hope y'all like it, i'm really happy with how it turned out! (i think, i can't tell anymore). i have a part two outline in the works so if you'd like to see that, please let me know by interacting w/ the post! also, this is categorized as a reader/self-insert but at one point there is very brief character description. i try to keep that to an absolute minimum and leave it generally gray enough to remain a self-insert fic. if that bothers you, i'm sorry, just overlook it! anyways, njoy, pardners <3

masterlist archive of our own

Revised for clarity 1/5/2024.

He takes a long drag from the cigarette between his lips, letting the harshness of the warm smoke enter his chest with ease. The cigarette had nearly met its end, so he knew it was getting to be that time. He jabs it into the ashtray along with the ashes from all the other bargoers and bids the barkeep a good night, leaving some change for his good company.

Unfortunately, Arthur hadn't found the solace he was searching for in the homely saloon. He’d filled himself to the brim with watered-down beer and a few shots of whiskey when he felt especially plagued by his thoughts. But as he pushes open the swinging doors and steps into the cool night air, his head still swarms with a myriad of upsetting things. 

His life is a complicated mess, though part of him knew it always had been. It just wasn’t until recently that he realized how unnecessary it was for it to be such. On the same street where he currently stands, he’d been responsible for putting lead in the heads of countless men a few weeks prior. He didn't even know their names, and he surely doesn't remember their faces. It was a wholly avoidable disaster. Not to say he’s bothered by the act of killing, for when he finds it justified to end a man’s life, there’s often no reason to dawdle. No, the mess of it all perturbed him the most. 

Undeniably, the land he calls home is becoming a different entity than the one he was born into, a land of law and structure that spits upon his way of life. The West is becoming a docile place, its wildness broken by the cracking whip of civilization. And if the West can’t survive, then all hope is lost for men like him. The only logical step to ensure that he, and the people he cares for, won’t meet their fates at the end of a rope is to adapt to this changing world. This meant mess would have to be a thing of the past. No more massacres over stolen oil wagons and certainly not wiping out an entire town to free a man he didn’t care for from a cell he belonged in. No more innocent bystanders gruesomely losing their lives over foolishly shallow plans like the botched ferry job in Blackwater. No more lives need to be taken for his benefit or the ambitions of the man who guided him. Somehow though, that man didn’t see things the way he did.

Whenever he brought up these concerns, Dutch always told him, “Don’t be so simple-minded, Arthur. Look at the bigger picture.” 

But the bigger picture was all he could see, and it was a terrifying sight.

His heels sink into the damp earth as he makes his way to Saint’s Hotel, crossing his fingers that a room is available for the night. He made the mistake of riding his horse with a stomach full of liquor before, and somehow it almost ended up with him drowning. How he ended up sopping wet and his horse dry as a bone is still a mystery to him. So, a room at Saint's is in order since he doesn’t particularly care to die tonight, even despite the pervasive thoughts that plague him.

Just as he’s about to step onto the hotel’s wooden porch, he hears a loud banging noise come from behind him. He turns around and, in the darkness of night, sees a woman knocking on the front door of the general store across the street. She raps her knuckles a second time against the door, just as loud as the first. The door opens and out steps the store owner, looking irritated.

“Hi, I know you’re about to close, but I’ll just be a second, I promise!” She says this with her hands clasped together.

“Alright, alright. Come on in,” the man says, stepping aside so she can enter.

As the woman moves past the older man, light from inside the store hits her, and he can see her more clearly. She’s dressed simply with her hair loosely pulled back into a plait that falls past her shoulders. These things are ordinary enough, but then the light catches on a dainty pink flower tucked behind her ear on the left side.

He stops in his tracks.

It looks identical to the one he keeps at his bedside, a memento of his mother. However, those flowers, cliff maids, he thinks they’re called, only grow out west in the rocky terrain bordering Oregon and California. He’s a long way from California and possibly even further from a level head, so he dismisses the possibility, chalking it up to the delusions of a drunken old man.

He heads into the hotel, and thankfully a room is available, the same one as always. He closes the door behind him and starts fumbling with his gear, letting it hit the floor haphazardly in a heap. As he stumbles over to the bed, he regretfully catches a glimpse of his reflection in a mirror. He usually tries to avoid looking at himself unless it’s absolutely necessary. Simply put, he doesn’t like the look of the man who stares back at him. There’s a residual yellow blotch fading away on his cheekbone from a dust-up he’d been in a few days prior. He doesn’t even remember the reason. His shoulder-length hair has tangles he’s had no energy to comb through, and his eyes are lidded for want of sleep. They have a far-out look even when he’s staring right at himself. 

“Maybe it’s you that’s the mess,” he mumbles, then gives way to his exhaustion and collapses against the mattress. His boots, spurs and all, remain on his feet. So remain his worn trousers and unbuttoned maroon shirt, and so does the dirt caked beneath his nails that never seems to leave. 

He checks out of his room early the following day and rides out beneath a sky as golden as dandelions. His mind feels clearer after a night’s rest, and he thankfully doesn’t feel as dreadful as he did when his head hit the pillows. Dew hangs in the chilled air and mists his face as he takes the beaten winding path leading back to Clemen’s Point, this new place his people called home. As he rides, he passes by some cottages and homesteads a ways off the path. He can recall the inside layout of a few of them, and even which ones filled his pockets the most back when he first arrived in the Heartlands.

Tall, thick-bodied oak trees loom over him and dance in the morning breeze. The way the sunlight flickers through them is beautiful but unfamiliar. It quickly becomes apparent that he’s taken the wrong path somewhere along the way, but just when he’s about to wheel his horse around and turn back, there lies a cottage beyond the tree line. 

It’s a quaint wooden home with a thin stream of smoke rising from the chimney. In the window of the cottage sits a vase of pink flowers. The closer he rides, the more confident he is that they’re cliff maids. There must be at least twenty stems in that one vase.

“I’ll be damned….” He says under his breath.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of a woman grunting coming from the side of the home. He presses his heels to his horse’s belly and trots toward the noise source. When he turns the corner of the house, he sees her, the woman he saw last night, pushing a wheelbarrow spilling over with dirt. She attempts to use her weight against the handle, but it hardly makes a difference, and the wheelbarrow doesn’t budge.

He clears his throat to make his presence known to the woman.

“Jesus Christ!” She yelps and turns to face him, shocked to see she has company.

“Didn’t mean to frighten ya. D’ya need any help, ma’am?” He asks.

She looks him over with caution.

“Uh, I’m alright, thanks,” she says slowly, her brows warily drawn together.

Arthur nods his head with a tight-lipped smile and pulls the reins to head back to where he came from. He considers asking her about the flowers in the window but disregards it seeing as she doesn’t seem to care for company. As he begins back down the path, he hears a clattering noise and the sound of the woman cursing.

“Hey, mister!” She shouts. He looks over his shoulder and sees her standing with her hands on her hips and the wheelbarrow completely turned over, the dark soil spilling out onto the ground.

“I take that back.” She says with her head cocked to the side and a bashful smile.

He lightly chuckles at the sight and rides over, swiftly dismounting from his horse a few feet from the mild disaster.

“Could you help me scoop it back in?” She asks as she goes to the front of the wheelbarrow and picks up the dirt with yellow gloves.

“Sure,” he says, kneeling beside her. His hands are perpetually dirty as it is, so a little more filth couldn’t hurt. As he helps her pile the dirt back into the cart, he notices she smells earthy and sweet, reminiscent of the air before a storm.

“Alright,” she says, standing up and brushing her dirty gloves against her smock. “Would you mind wheelin’ it for me?”

He moves to grab the handles and pushes them down with ease so that the wheelbarrow can roll properly. 

“What’s all this dirt for anyways?” He asks the woman walking beside him.

“Just a project I’m working on. It’s back behind here, mister.” She points to the rear of the cottage, which quickly becomes dense with plant life the further they step. 

She crosses her arms over her chest as they enter the more secluded area.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, alright?” She says, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye.

He furrows his brows at the slight, but he can’t deny it makes sense she’s thinking that way. He looks the part of someone with foul intentions. The brim of his hat darkens his eyes, which would normally obscure them from anyone else. But, given that he's a head taller than the woman, she sees their darkness fine. He internally curses himself when he remembers he's wearing the one jacket stained with animal blood. It's still smeared dark brown across his shoulder. Of course, he looks like a damn menace. To top it all off, the rifle slung on his back casts a long shadow across her cheek like some twisted reminder of who he is, lest a single act of kindness threatens he forgets. 

He glances at her with a small smile that raises up on one side more than the other.

“Most of my ideas are funny, ma’am. But I ain’t gonna hurt you if that’s what you mean.”

Her shoulders drop from their tense position as she lets out a half-hearted laugh.

“I’ll take your word for it, mister,” she says, slightly more relaxed than before.

The grass starts to reach his knees, and all along the path are bushes and fruit-bearing shrubs with dangling under-ripe berries. Various species of flowers grow throughout the backyard in no organized manner, like they’d been living here long before anyone else. White bark trees stand tall amidst the entropic garden. Dark moss creeps up their trunks, and instead of leaves, canopies of draping blossoms erupt from the branches like something out of a storybook. They hang limply in the air, and when the wind tugs on them, they sway in synchronization while their blossoms flutter away in the breeze. It’s all so beautiful. He’s never seen an abundance of such natural beauty in all his life.

“Is this all yours?” He asks, turning to the lady with a near slack-jawed expression. 

“It is now,” she says, nodding her head. “My mama used to care for it, as did her mama before her. But uh- well, the flu took my mama a few years back, and as fate would have it, now my grandma’s flame is startin’ to flicker too. So it’s left to me to care for all this.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” he responds. Her voice sounds sad, and it reminds him somewhat of Ms. Adler, the widow staying with them for the time being.

“It’s okay,” she says, waving him off. “Sometimes in the darkness, there’s light, and this is definitely the light. I get to care for this thing, and in a way, it cares for me too. Gives me purpose, ya know?”

“S’Good to have somethin’ that makes you feel that way. Lord knows most people don’t.”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that. Oh! I’ll hold the door open for ya.” She leaves his side and jogs ahead of him.

“Door? What door?” Arthur looks around, but he sees nothing but trees and plants.

Suddenly, she reveals an entrance blocked by the tall grass, and he realizes that a small building made entirely of glass is right before him. It camouflaged against the greenery and the vines that drape across it. Now that the door is ajar, he sees inside plants of all kinds strewn about in terracotta pots and deep soil beds.

“What in the….” He begins to say but trails off, caught off guard by the unexpected reveal.

A sort of giddiness takes her when she sees his expression, and she waves her hand excitedly to usher him inside. 

“Come in! Come in!” 

He rolls the wheelbarrow inside the structure, and once again, he’s greeted by the humble beauty of the natural world. Leaves spill out of pots hanging from the rafters, creating curtains that brush against him as he passes through. She gently closes the door behind him, and the air starts to feel thicker, heavier, like he’s being swaddled in a damp blanket.

The pots each have their own label, but the writing is so messy that he can hardly make out the names. Of the ones he can read, he recognizes names such as Sparrow’s Egg, Clamshell, and Dragon’s Mouth. They’re exotic flowers that the corset man in Saint Denis once asked him to collect, but he never got around to doing it. If only he had enough time to frolic through fields and pluck orchids. He’d prefer that over the menial errands he’s been consumed by as of late.

“Back here!” The woman shouts.

He can’t see her behind the tall plant-filled shelves that take up the center of the room, so he pushes past the vines and turns the corner to see her standing next to an empty plant bed. She looks at him expectantly because his task is clearly to dump the soil. But his mind is elsewhere. Behind her is another plant bed. This one is full and brimming with cliff maids so densely packed that he can hardly see the soil they’re in. He’s never seen so many of these flowers in one place. Whenever he found one in the wild, it was usually nestled between two rocks and sprouted three or four blooms. They weren’t nearly as impressive as the ones infront of him.

“What is it?” She asks when he remains in his spot. She follows his gaze and gasps.

“Why, are you a gardener too, mister?” Her voice gets high with excitement.

“Who, me?” He laughs. “No, ma’am. I’m no gardener. I’d make for a pretty awful one seein’ as I’m not too good at keepin’ things alive.”

“Oh, forgive me. I just- you seemed interested in the perennials. Most people aren’t, considerin’ how unassuming they look. Pretty things but nothing outwardly special about ‘em.” She moves towards the tall blossoms and reaches out her hand to stroke the petals. 

“You know, they don’t like it here,” she continues. “They like the sun, which would be easy enough if they liked the heat that came with it, but no, it’s the cool shade of cliffs and rocks they like. These little blooms aren’t easy to care for, but if you can figure it out, they’ll live all through the years. That’s what perennial means, after all. Anyways, these guys are my favorite. I think it’s cause they give me such a hard time.”

She twiddled with the petals between her fingers as she rambled about the flowers. When she finally looks back at him, it’s like she has stars twinkling in her eyes. There’s a new liveliness about her, something that sparked when she was given room to air out her affinity for the pink blossoms. Arthur stands there, attempting to wrap his mind around the unlikely chance of finding someone who holds this particular flower as close to their heart as he does. He doesn't notice his aforementioned heart beating a little faster in his chest.

“I- I like ‘em too.” The words clumsily stumble from his mouth when he realizes she’s waiting for him to speak. He quickly gathers himself. 

“I mean, it was my ma that liked ‘em, but I guess she sorta rubbed off on me. They're pretty little things.”

“You’re kiddin’... what are the odds?” 

He can tell she’s thinking about something during the half-beat of silence that follows, but he can’t find any hint of what it is when he searches her face.

“I never got your name, mister,” she says abruptly.

“Arthur,” he says. “Just Arthur.”

“What, you ain’t got a last name, Just Arthur?” She laughs.

He considers telling her his real name but quickly dismisses it. On the off-chance she recognizes it from the bounty posters, it would mean that whatever was happening here would come to an unfortunate end. Of course, no harm would befall her, but he’d have to leave and go right back to his mess of a life. He’d rather stay here, in the sanctity of the greenhouse, with this person he strangely feels like he was meant to meet. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were on a full name basis, ma’am,” he says flippantly, but he can’t help the smile that forms when she raises her eyebrows at him.

“Well, Arthur, you have good taste,” she says playfully, but her gaze falls to the wheelbarrow he’s still holding, and her eyes widen. “Oh, that must be heavy. I talked so long, I forgot you still had that. Go ahead and pour it into that empty bed right there.” She gestures with a quick wave of her hand.

He looks down at the wheelbarrow he also forgot he was holding and does as she says, tilting the lip of it into the wooden frame and letting the soil spill out. 

She smiles at him and pats his shoulder before leading him out of the greenhouse. They step back outside, and the cool air is a welcome feeling. He props the wheelbarrow against the wall of the structure while she shuts the door behind her.

“Thank you again. I would’ve had a much harder time without you there,” she says.

He wipes his soiled hands on the front of his jeans and opens his mouth to speak, but when he looks at her, she’s already looking at him with a gaze sweet as honey. It makes his breath catch in his chest. Not many women have looked at him like that before, and hardly any were as easy on the eyes as her. A thread of sunlight catches her eyes and reveals faint traces of amber, like sap spilling from the source. Her long lashes flutter when she blinks, and they rest against the soft edge of her brow as she looks up at him. Her hair, woven into a braid, is loose, disheveled like she’d slept in it. Stray strands feather around her jaw and frame the angles of her face, not unlike ornate golden borders that surround paintings in a gallery.

He clears his throat upon realizing he’s been gawking at the poor woman like some boyish fool.

“Ah, it was nothin',” he says, directing his attention elsewhere as heat creeps up his cheeks. 

A dragonfly jitters down from above and lands on the stem of some thyme growing over a narrow creek. Water trickles over smooth stones into a basin where leaves float along the surface. Some of them sprout delicate white flowers that open up to the sky. A thought comes to him as he looks at them.

“If it’s not too much trouble, would it be alright if I draw a picture of this place?” He asks. He’s never had to ask anyone permission for this sort of thing before; it felt unnatural. But it certainly would’ve been more so if he’d asked her what he really wanted, which was to draw her alongside it.

She tilts her head and looks up at him curiously.

“How charming…” She says, then ponders it for a second. “I don’t mind as long as you let me see it after.”

He chuckles, “Alright, just don’t make fun of it.”

“I would never!” She says, feigning indignance. “My mama taught me manners, Arthur! That means if it’s bad, I’ll just make fun of it in my head. Now go do your thing. I also have some work to do.”

She waves him off with a smile and steps back inside the greenhouse, closing the door behind her. He lets out a sigh, the tight feeling in his chest relinquishing now that he’s finally alone. He walks over to a bench along the path and sits down, taking his journal from his satchel and flipping to a new blank page. Before him, tall pink flowers that smell of vanilla cast long, dark shadows over the smaller flowering shrubs surrounding them. If they weren’t so dainty looking, their height and the size of their leaves would give the impression they own the place. He gives them the most detail in his drawing. Then he starts to etch the dirt path, adding the indentation the wheel of the wheelbarrow had left behind and the imprint of the woman’s footprints next to his. Just as he finishes up the sketch, adding minute details in the leaves, he hears light footfall behind him.

On instinct, his hand moves to hover above his holster, but once he sees what’s behind him, he feels ridiculous for it.

“Hey,” she says quietly, a sheepish smile on her face. She holds nearly a dozen cliff maids in her hands, stems clipped and bound together with a thread of twine.

“I thought you might like to have these.”

He looks at her for a moment, unsure what to do or say. She’s giving him flowers. No one has ever given him flowers before. That was usually something a man might do if he were sweet on a lady, a gesture shared between lovers. But maybe for a woman who spends all day surrounded by them, it must not have the same romantic meaning he knows it does.

“Those are for me?” He asks. His hands hang loosely at his sides. He doesn’t quite know what to do with himself.

She nods. “If you want.”

The talkative woman from earlier seems to have been replaced by someone different entirely, her sentences suddenly simple and sweet. He also struggles to find the right words.

“That’s too kind of you. Truly.” He reaches out to take them, and she places the bundle gingerly in his hands. 

His hold is gentle for fear he’d snap the stems if not careful. He knows he has to look a little silly. A man as rough around the edges as himself, with ammunition draped across his chest and pistols hanging at his hips, holding an overflowing bouquet of pink blossoms as a gift from a lady. If Dutch could see him now, he’d tell him he lost his edge. But if this is what it feels like to have gone soft, then he doesn't mind that much. The warmth in his chest is too comforting a feeling to let go of.

Her sudden gasp brings him out of his head.

“Is that the drawing?!” She points at the journal lying open on the bench. There’s no time to answer before she reaches over the seat to hold the leatherbound book in her hands.

“Wow… I- you captured it perfectly,” she says, her mouth slightly hanging in awe. “I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“You’re just minding your manners.”

She lightly thwacks him on the arm.

“You’d know if I was, I’m not a good liar. No, this is something special.”

He hardly knows a thing about this woman, and yet for some reason, her songs of praise feel so good that he wants to make ten more drawings. Hell, he’ll move as much dirt as she wants if it means she’ll look at him the way she is now each time. As her eyes flit between him and the sketch, he feels a fondness growing that he could’ve never anticipated when he first laid eyes on her. God, he almost feels like a boy again. It’s a feeling he hasn’t experienced in ages since he was last with Mary. Though, admittedly those feelings were guided by something less innocent than what he feels right now. What’s happening to him?

She clasps her hands together and takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Arthur, would you, um- would you like something to drink before you head out?” She asks. “I have just about anything.”

Without giving it much thought, he opens his mouth to answer, but a ringing noise sounds before the words can come out. It’s a clear jingling sound of a bell, and it’s coming from the house. 

“Oh, never mind. It seems like my grandmother needs me,” she sighs and hands back his journal. “Maybe another time?”

“Another time,” he agrees with a thin smile, deflating slightly at the abrupt goodbye.

She walks briskly to the back door and slips inside the house, the door swinging shut loudly behind her. He approaches his horse he’d left hitched to the woman’s front porch and goes to find a place to secure the flowers. As he’s slipping them through a notch on the saddle, the front door flies open.

She steps out, looking grateful he hasn’t left yet.

“Hey!” She calls out to him. She stands at the edge of the top step with one hand on her hip and the other shading her eyes from the sun.

“I’m sure you know already, but those can only last so long now that they’re cut. Perennials live all through the years but only when they’re planted,” she says, shifting her weight on the step.

Arthur’s mouth parts slightly as he searches for the words to respond.

“Oh. Alright.”

She sighs and brings her hand to her forehead in an exasperated motion.

“Okay- what I’m trying to say but failing at, is that when those flowers start to wilt, you come and find me.”

He tilts his head down, so the brim of his hat hides the smile forcing its way onto his lips. He hadn’t been sure if she was just being polite before, if every word was mere courtesy. But now, part of him felt that maybe some of it was more than that. He could at least tell for certain that she liked him, and that was enough.

“I’ll do that, miss. You take care of yourself, now.”

She then waves him goodbye before heading back inside.

The sun has risen high above his head by the time he returns to camp. Everything seems to be just as he left it a few days ago. Dutch is sitting outside his tent with a book in his hands, a finger pensively to his lips. Some men are sharpening their weapons or cleaning their guns and talking to one another while they work. Over by the campfire, Micah gestures wildly to Bill and Javier, who sit on the log by his feet. 

“If we leave at dusk, they should be sittin’ pretty at the station a while before leaving for town. So once things get movin’, I say Javier handles the lockbox, I’ll deal with Walton and his lady wife, and Bill, you hang back in case anyone else shows up.”

Javier looks up from polishing his pistol, “You don’t think Walton’s going to have any extra protection? He’s carrying a lot of goods, it’d be stupid for him not to.”

“Well, that’s what Bill’s for. Ain’t that right, Bill?”

Bill nods his head with a serious expression. “Damn right.”

As Arthur listens to this conversation, it’s as if he can see a dark thread spinning and tangling itself into a knot. A knot on top of a knot, on top of another. Soon enough, the thread will become one giant, twisted mess so tightly entwined it’ll be nearly impossible to unravel. The way things are headed, this seems like the only plausible ending for his people. But before that happens, the Pinkertons will likely find them again, and they’ll be packing their things again, only prolonging this mess of things a little bit longer, letting it become bigger than it ever needed to be. People will keep dying for nothing like they always have, and maybe he’ll be one of them, an unfortunate tally added to their death toll, necessary for the bigger picture.

The young woman had the right of it. Her words still echo in his head even now. 

Perennials live all through the years, but only when they’re planted. Only when they’re planted. 

The world won’t open its arms to drifters, even with a pistol pressed to its head. It’s past time they grow some roots, start living like people, and stop living like wild animals backed into a corner. Sure, there’s no glory in honest work but there sure as hell isn’t any in dying. Arthur had given this idea some thought before. He wouldn’t mind settling, living a simple life working odd jobs, or even finding work on a ranch somewhere. A peaceful life, a predictable one; it sounded just fine in his head.

He passes by Mary Beth and Tilly, scrubbing clothes on a washboard and laughing. Tilly looks up from her busy hands and waves at him.

“Hey, Arthur!”

“Hey there, Miss Jackson,” he says with a friendly nod.

He finds his tent and sets the bundle of flowers down on the cot before reaching into his satchel. 

“Are those flowers, Arthur Morgan?” 

He jumps as Tilly’s voice is suddenly right behind him.

“What the hell! Don’t sneak up on me like that, girl,” he says, turning to face her and Mary Beth standing just outside his tent.

“My goodness, they are!” Mary Beth says, her hand flying to her mouth. “Where did you find those?”

“A lady,” he responds, biting his cheek to force away a smile he doesn't want them to see. He doesn't want to be stuck rattling off every detail to the excitement-starved women. 

“Like, you purchased them from a lady?” Mary Beth leans forward and raises her eyebrows.

“They were… given to me,” he reluctantly admits as he places the stems inside a gin bottle on the table. He moves a few of them around so they look nice.

“Don’t tell us they’re from Mary, Arthur.” Tilly's voice goes low with disappointment, no longer seeming excited.

He grimaces at the thought. “No! No, they’re not from Mary. I met a woman earlier today, and she gave them to me, that’s all.”

The two women quickly glance at each other and share an enthusiastic look.

“Arthur Morgan, you’re in love!” Mary Beth nearly squeals.

He scoffs loudly, “I am not in love. I hardly know the woman!”

“Well, she’s surely in love then. What kind of person just gives someone flowers if they ain’t sweet on’em?” Tilly says matter-of-factly.

“Exactly! So when are you gonna see her again?” Mary Beth asks.

“I don’t know,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. He should’ve known this conversation would happen. He should’ve sucked up his pride and said he purchased the flowers for himself to have avoided it entirely. “She told me to come back when they start to die, so whenever that is, I guess.”

Mary Beth hums and looks past him at the flowers in their makeshift vase. 

“Hmm… well, they look a little limp if you ask me. Dare I say… dead even? What do ya think, Tilly?” 

Tilly nods her head dismally, but even she can’t hide her smile, “Yeah, look at ‘em. They’re all sad-lookin’. Seems like you’ll need to head over first thing in the morning. Just to be sure.”

He shakes his head and laughs, “Alright, out. Both of ya. I can’t take it no more.”

He takes both women by their shoulders and guides them away from his tent despite their protests.

“We just want you to be happy, Arthur! Is that so bad?” Tilly cries out.

“I know, I know. Thank you, ladies. But I’m happiest when people ain't meddlin’ in my private business. Now go on.”

“This ain’t the end of it, Arthur!” Mary Beth calls out as they both walk away. They start talking animatedly as they return to work and keep throwing glances that he can only shake his head at.

Later that night, Arthur sits alone at one of the tables, eating his stew and staring off into the water. Most everyone else is off doing their own things, evening chores, and such. He's in the middle of bringing the bowl to his lips to get the last bit of broth when Mary Beth sits down beside him.

She keeps her word, not letting him hear the end of her numerous questions. Some of them he entertains, like when she asks what the garden looked like, and if she can see his drawing to get a better idea. He can practically see the story forming behind her eyes.

"What's she look like?" She asks, leaning against her hand on the table. "I'm picturing a sort of Isabelle Standish type in my head."

"Ah, come on now. You can't ask those sorts of things."

"Oh, Arthur! Please! This is the most exciting thing I've heard in so long. Just give me something to work with!" She gives him a pleading look, to which he dramatically rolls his eyes at.

"Alright. Well, she gives them girls on cigarette cards a run for their money, I'll tell you that."

She giggles, and asks him, "So when are you gonna see her again?"

He shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know yet."

“You don’t want to keep her waiting too long,” she says, in warning.

“Nah, I think she’ll be plenty busy without me. I’ll give it a few days.”

“A few days? But what if tomorrow another man comes by and sweeps her off her feet? What if she gives him flowers and forgets all about you because you took too long?” Her voice gets higher as she spitfires these potential events. 

“Mary Beth. If I visit her tomorrow, I’ll look like an idiot.” His face scrunches up, cringing at the thought. "And if that's really what happens then I can't do nothin' about that."

“Well, if I were her, I’d find it romantic,” she says and pats his hand on the table.

“Yeah, well, you find a lotta odd things romantic,” he chuckles, thinking back on the strange things in her novellas that have made her kick her feet.

For a second, it looks like she can’t tell if she should be offended. But then she joins him in laughter, giggling at herself.

“You might be right about that!”

Following his talk with Mary Beth, he retreats to his tent and slumps in his cot. He closes his eyes and turns to face the side of the wagon, but sleep doesn't come easy. The cot creaks beneath him as he shifts, trying to get comfortable. He groans and rolls over, opening his eyes to stare into the darkness. Against the dark canvas of his tent, he can make out the silhouette of the cliff maids standing tall in their bottle. He traces the outline of their leaves and thinks back to the woman and her garden, the tranquility of her home, and the opposing restlessness of his heart whenever she looked at him. Before he’s ushered into unconsciousness, a strange thought enters his head that he can only explain away as the delirium of drowsiness. It was that in the distant future, he could see himself settling down, working odd jobs, or finding work on a ranch, sure. But maybe, the preposterous idea of taking care of flowers wasn't so bad neither.

[1kook]

commercial break ; NINE

this is part of my netflix & chill series!

SUMMARY “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?” WARNING angst with implied smut at the end!!, flashbacks, low self esteem, alcohol consumption, jk is (implied) a virgin in this, there’s a lil fondling by oc u know the usual  MISC they r soulmates <3, our queen doyeon returns, i tried to use symbolism👁 in the dialogue so yes everything drunk oc says has a meaning hehe RATING m bc alcohol WC 2.2k

NOTES i said once a long time ago that n&c couple were prolly at the same party once but didn't realize so hERE WE GO ! its not proofread bc um. yeah<3

Homecoming week. 

Jungkook doesn’t even think his university’s football team is good, but he had read somewhere that part of the college experience is obnoxiously supporting this team all four years. And well. Jungkook wants to fit in. Frankly, Jungkook feels a little dumb having accepted this invitation from Kim Taehyung from his first-year writing class. He’s only known the man a solid four weeks, probably won’t know him this well once Taehyung finds real friends, ones who suit his outgoing personality, and decides Jungkook is too boring, but Jungkook will make the best of it while he can because, again, he wants to fit in. Badly. It’ll be different this time, he had told himself while getting ready. You won’t be awkward anymore. You’ll make friends. 

And then it’s nearing midnight and Jungkook has spoken to a whopping two people at this party of over a hundred. Not including Taehyung, it’s down to one. Even that had only been to ask where the bathroom was. He feels severely out of place, like he’s both too large and too small to be in this area, to be at this party, so he shuffles into the kitchen when he hears them call for another match of beer pong. He’s actually pretty good at the game, has refined his skills at get togethers with his older cousins. But it’s not like anyone here wants to be Jungkook’s partner anyway. Or even knows who he is for that matter. 

Taehyung had bumped into him a little past ten, had had two girls clinging to his sides when he had greeted Jungkook. One of them had almost looked tempted, Jungkook wanted to believe, brushing her hand against his arm. But he didn’t act quick enough— what would he even have done? what did he even want? —and Taehyung disappeared with both girls soon after, leaving Jungkook by himself once more. 

The kitchen is empty, the drinks long since having migrated to the living area of this huge frat. With a defeated sigh, Jungkook sinks back against one of the counters, setting his lukewarm cup of beer down beside him. He’s buzzed, drank in a feeble attempt to ‘lose himself’ as all the movies claimed. But now all he can feel is a pounding headache threatening to consume him. He doesn’t even like drinking— why did he drink this much? 

He should go home. 

Events like this, parties like this— they weren’t meant for someone like Jungkook. He was too quiet, too shy to let loose like everyone else. He doesn’t do well in social situations, or at least not as well as his therapist had told him he would. He hesitates too much, never speaks when he needs to. Haerim from his freshman basics class had even said so. “You’re quiet, huh,” she had smiled, and when her notebook had touched his elbow, he flinched. She didn’t take it to heart. Just like Taehyung wouldn’t if he left right now. They know how he is. He doesn’t belong here. These types of parties were made for outgoing people, people who lived on the edge, people who weren’t trapped in their own thoughts all the time, people like—

Like the girl who stumbles through the doorway now. “Woooo,” she slurs, and then promptly faceplants into the dirty tile of the kitchen, the same tile littered with sticky footprints and random debris. He can’t even imagine what else is on the floor of a frat house mid-party. Jungkook flinches at the sound of her knee hitting the ground, before rushing over to help her up. 

She’s a giggling mess, eyes half shut by the time Jungkook gets her into a seated position. “Are you okay?” he flounders, hand on her shoulder when she wobbles again, nearly falls back down. 

“Just peachy,” she sings, flashing him a sloppy thumbs up. Her neck isn’t doing a particularly good job of holding her head up and when Jungkook places a hand on the back of her head, she leans into it, blissful smile on her face. She’s really pretty, it makes Jungkook’s cheeks burn when she aims it at him next. “Pucca loves Garu,” she lets him know, eyes finally fluttering open. “He’s a pretty boy.”

Jungkook blinks. He has no idea what you’re talking about. “Huh?” he stutters, glancing back at the bar stool by the counter instead. It’s probably infinitely times better than the sticky tile beneath your bare legs. “I’m gonna stand you up,” he tells you, taking your loud cackle as a sign that you’re okay with it. Jungkook’s been working out all summer, so you’re not heavy in the slightest, arms thrown around his shoulders while he slips his own around your back. Your proximity leaves him drowning in your scent. 

The giggles don’t subside when he sits you down, not even when he begins opening random cabinets in search of a glass to get you some water. He’s had his fair share of experiences looking after drunk people, so he has a pretty good idea of what to do now. However, your sudden bout of commentary certainly doesn’t make it easier. “Isn’t it, like, super cool how the sun and the moon are, like—“ a hiccup, Jungkook settles on tap water “tooootally different beings, but, like— they, like, both maintain the earth?” Your hand reaches for his forearm when he returns, gives him this little squeeze in your excitement. “Like— Like they both have to, like— work together? To keep it perfect, y’know?” 

Jungkook pushes the water into your hands. You’ve got this sparkly sheen to your eyes, the one that most people get after one too many drinks, but it’s accompanied by this childlike wonder that leaves Jungkook breathless when you meet his gaze. “Yeah,” he says quietly. You beam. It’s blinding. So blinding that Jungkook promptly looks away, nudging the cup in your hands. “You need to drink this.”

You frown. “Boooo, so boring,” you huff. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t heard before, but it is a little disheartening to hear it from a stranger. He stamps the feeling down, pursing his lips as he gives up on letting you drink yourself. The cup is swiped from your hand and Jungkook tasks himself with making you drink it instead. And of course, like all wasted young adults, you put up a fight. “Ew, what is that?” you spit. 

Jungkook sighs. “Water.” 

At his defeated tone, the exaggerated grimace slips off your face, replaced with a rather solemn expression instead. Jungkook tries to take advantage of it and pushes the cup against your lip again, but all he really accomplishes is sloshing it down the front of your dress. You don’t yelp, but he does. “I’m so sorry,” he panics, sliding the sleeve of his shirt down around his thumb to wipe your chin. 

You let him, head tilted curiously to the side. Jungkook tries to ignore your analytical gaze until: “you’re cute,” you announce, and abruptly send him into shock. 

He recoils, face a blazing mess. “I’m—“ he chokes, swallowing when you wipe your hand down your own chest, leave a glistening layer of water over your sternum and down between your breasts. 

“Cute,” you repeat, downing the glass he had been trying to coax into you like it’s nothing now. With it gone, you don’t waste any time, throwing your hands around his shoulders, fingers brushing through the hair at the base of his neck. You pull him close, so close in fact, that he ends up having to hold the back of your chair to keep from accidentally crushing you with his weight. “Your name, pretty boy?” 

He can’t think. You’re so drunk and smell so good and are just so pretty— his brain short circuits. “Um I’m, uh, Jeon J—“

“Jeon,” you repeat, silly smile back on your face. You’re not technically wrong, so he nods along with a blush high on his cheeks. “Well, Jeon,” you purr, but you’re still so drunk, eyelids fluttering in a rather funny way. “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?”

Jungkook doesn’t even know what that means, and honestly, he doesn’t really hear you over the thundering of his own heart and the bass in the other room. “Um, but you’re really…” he stammers, leaning back but a finger loops around one of his curls and he gasps when you pull at it. “You’re drunk,” he rushes out, lower lip trembling when your nose knocks against his. 

A soft hum, the sound sending electricity down his spine when you cup his cheek. “But don’t you think I’m pretty?” you murmur, eyes flickering to his mouth. 

“Yes,“ he chokes out, “you’re a very, very pretty girl. But I really shouldn’t—“

“Hey,” you shush, tilting his head just the slightest. Jungkook has never had a girl touch him like this, has never even touched a girl before either, but, well. He really wants to kiss you. And that’s saying a lot considering Jungkook has never kissed anyone before. 

Despite how good it feels, he knows you’re still really drunk. It’s with a decisive huff that he pushes away, hands on your waist to keep you from touching up on him any further. You’re not that strong anyway. And then he’s met with the biggest pout he’s ever seen, an absolutely distraught look on your face. 

Something in him says you’ll cry if he doesn’t explain himself soon, so he launches into it right away. “You’re very pretty,” he says, almost laughing at the way your entire face lights up immediately. “But you’re very drunk.” You huff. “You deserve to be treated like a queen.” Mostly regurgitating something he heard in a motivational video. 

It works. Eventually, you stop being fussy in his arms and settle with a frown. “You’re too nice,” you grumble, forehead on the countertop. He doesn’t see how it’s much better than the floor but he lets you be. “You got a girlfriend, don’t you?” 

At that, Jungkook laughs. “No,” he reassures you, hesitates, and then gently pats your back. Jungkook actually feels you melt under his touch. That sultry look is gone, replaced with this rather tranquil look that he doesn’t quite understand. 

“That was pretty,” you murmur, but Jungkook doesn’t quite hear. 

“What was that?” he asks.

“I said your smile was pre—“

“There you are!” someone hollers from the kitchen doorway, the shrill tone of their voice making both you and Jungkook jump. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a rather tall girl angrily stomping your way, eyes a blazing fire, fists clenched by her side. Jungkook realizes only a second too late that she’s looking at him. “Get off of her, you sweaty city-owned dumpster,” she hisses, using the strength of three football players to push Jungkook away. “You make me sick—“

“Doyeonie,” you beam, launching yourself into the angry girl’s arms. Ah. The Help had arrived. 

Said angry girl (Doyeonie?) is still using every mash-up of words possible to degrade Jungkook as she hauls you into her arms, shooting daggers every step of the way. “I can’t believe you would try to take advantage of a poor girl when she’s this drunk,” she spits. 

“What?” Jungkook coughs, cheeks warm. “I wasn’t—“

“Tell it to Campus Safety when I report you, you wannabe, dollar store Rain.” Jungkook clutches his chest at the acidity of her tongue, surprised anyone could be so mean. 

All things considered, this was actually good. Someone who knew you had come to take you to safety, meaning Jungkook didn’t have to look after you anymore. When this Doyeonie turns around, he’s met with your smiley face smushed against her shoulder. 

(It’s weird. He’s a little sad to see you go.) 

“Bye, Jeon,” you giggle, hand brushing down his arm, squeezing his hand, before you’re abruptly yanked away. Jungkook manages one weak wave, cheeks lit ablaze once more when you send him a silly air kiss from the doorway, urging him to catch it. He does, and he feels really silly when he puts it in his pocket, but he can hear your laughter for a second more before he loses you. 

The last few minutes being so hectic, he decides to go home. Parties weren’t really his thing. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever go to one again. 

Until a few years later. 

“You’re, like, really pretty,” you slur, lips against his throat. Another invitation, this time, Taehyung’s birthday. His friend had practically begged him to come, knowing how Jungkook was. In the end, it had been you who had accepted on his behalf. 

“Baby, not here,” he laughs, hand on your shoulder when you try to shove your hand down his pants for the third time that night. 

Taehyung had been ecstatic to see Jungkook here. And then had quickly become annoyed when he caught the two of you making out in his storage closet an hour later. “Bro, don’t be that couple at parties,” he had groaned, locking the door behind him. 

Jungkook had laughed. “I wouldn’t know what ‘that couple’ is at parties,” he reminded him. 

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m sure your girlfriend can fill you in.”

Apparently not. You’ve been trying to kiss him for the past three minutes but keep missing because you’re so drunk. “Just one,” you beg, so pretty but so drunk. The fake lashes you’d worn today make you look like a doll, batting them his way until he’s giving in, slotting his lips against yours. You’re probably going to throw up in his bathroom when you get home, so he should make the best of your kisses now. Jungkook pushes that thought aside as he reaches a hand out to wipe at the sweat accumulating on your chest. There’s something weird about the gesture, like he’s done it before at another party. But that doesn’t make sense; he couldn't have— this is his first party with you. 

“We should, like, leave,” you whisper against his ear, fingers burying themselves in his hair; when you pull on a strand, he nearly moans. “Go home. Maybe netflix and—“ a hiccup that makes him smile “—chill?”

Jungkook kisses your temple. “Sounds good to me, pretty girl.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[pradaksj]

the swimming lessons

all rights reserved © pradaksj

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ pairing⟶  jungkook/reader

❧ genre⟶  swimminginstructor!jungkook , fluff, a bit of comedy? head canon/bullet points 

❧ rating⟶ e for everyone??? none??? idk how ratings work lol i just know that m = the dirty, which this story has none of

❧ word count ⟶ 5,000 

❧ summary ⟶  accidental swimming lessons with jungkook were definitely worth the money 

❧ a/n ⟶ i literally dreamt something similar to this in like january and told myself i'd write about it when i had the time so hear i am :)) this goes out to all my folks who can’t swim !! i'm on the same boat with you , get it?  cause we can’t swim ... ok anyways ... enjoy ! (note: i have not proofread this yet so sorry for any mistakes!! ill get to it soon !! ) 

“hello, welcome to lucky duck swim school, how can i help you?” the receptionist, who was loudly chewing her gum, sounded more like an automated voice message than a person...

see today was your first official swimming lesson

yay!! 

how fun!! ...

://

totally not embarrassing for someone your age !!!

honestly, it wasn't your fault you didn’t have any family members or friends with a big pool you could learn in growing up 

and by the time you did, you were too much of in an awkward phase to be properly taught

aka your body absolutely refusing to float on its own anymore

but after several trips to the beach with friends and attending different pool parties, you were tired of being made fun of !! 

no longer would you remain at 5 feet and under !!! not on your watch ! 

and so here you were, ready to start your journey into the world of swimming :)) 

“hi i um have a swimming lesson at 3 with um ... i believer her name was um—” 

hmmm what was her name ??? jennie??? no, maybe it was aaliyah ??? no that wasn’t it.... 

the receptionist taps on her keyboard buttons, her long nails making a noise 

pop, her bubblegum goes 

“jungkook” 

“yeah jungkook” you mindlessly say. 

wait 

WAIIITT

jungkook????

ummmmm 

that was not the game given to you by the last receptionist 

jungkook is a boy’s name !!! 

you didn’t want a boy instructor !!! 

not with the way you were looking 

“i um—i had asked for a girl instructor—” you awkwardly mention 

she rolls her eyes

um RUDE 

she continues clacking with her keyboard, looking for god knows what 

she sighs 

“there’s no slots with female instructors available for today, nor for the rest of the month, the earliest i can probably squeeze you in by is july.” she bluntly states. 

JULY??? 

july was when you needed to already know how to swim !!

that’s the peak of summer ! 

there was no point in knowing during winter or any other season besides summer for that matter 

and you were not going to get made of by your friends this year

no no NO

“soo do i reschedule you or.....” 

you sigh 

“no ill take it” you pout, resembling a child. 

“it it makes you feel any better, jungkook’s our best instructor, most popular too” 

wink 

oh yeah that makes you feel so much better 

>:( 

you were going to make a complete fool out of yourself in front of the so called “best instructor” 

“well go get yourself washed up, get into the pool, and jungkook will be with you shortly” she smiles, her attitude now changing now that (what looked to be a supervisor) was passing by. 

what a bi—

flip flop. flip flop. flip flop. 

your sandles press onto the water on the floor of the girls locker room, a grouchy look now on your face 

this wasn't fair 

you made an appointment with a female instructor!! 

you didn’t care if he was the best instructor or the most popular ...

squeeaaakkk , you twist the rusty shower handle

...because now you were you were going to be judged for your lack of skills 

not that you had any to begin with, but still! 

god, you sounded like such a karen ... 

it’s just ...

a guy instructor ??? 

really??? 

you understood that this wasn’t elementary school anymore and boys certainly didn’t have cooties anymore but like :// 

no no, you had to give this jungkook guy the benefit of the doubt

if he was one of the best, it was clearly because he was professional and good at what he does 

putting your worries to rest, you turn off the shower 

this was going to be fine

just fine 

clearly your worries were not put to rest 

just a temporary halt 

:) 

pat. pat. pat. 

okay let’s get it ! 

making your way out to the pool, you dip your foot in 

ooooo 

cold

VERY cold indeed 

1 ...2...

you dip your whole leg in, quickly using the momentum to place your whole body in 

“5 feet and below ... you’re my bitch !!” you think to yourself 

your hand still clearly gripping onto the ledge, still afraid of accidentally reaching 6ft

.... now to wait 

“megan seems to have fractured her leg last weekend on a rollerskating day gone bad, so you’ll be taking up her appointments for the next month of two until she’s cleared for work” 

huh ???

“but—” 

“also she, well now you i guess, have a lesson to teach at..” 

jungkook’s supervisor looks down at his watch 

“oh i guess in 30 minutes, could’ve sworn it was at 4..” he mumbles that last part to himself

30 minutes?! 

“don’t worry i’ll up your pay for the remaining time that she gets better” 

he winks ;) making a clicking noise with his mouth before leaving the staff room 

jungkook sighs 

today was supposed to be an easy day :/ 

a simple cleaning of the pool along with a couple of measly hours of being the lifeguard and that would’ve been it but noooo 

he just had to be the highest rated swimming instructor on the company website 

he couldn’t complain though, sometimes it was fun reading the reviews past students left, even if sometimes they were a little too...

whats the word...

provocative? 

it often made him wonder if he was in fact an actual good swimming instructor or if the high highly rated reviews were for other reasons.... 

honestly it’d be dumb of him not to acknowledge the amount of googly eyes he’d get ranging from the mother’s of his younger students to his actual adult students (female and male) 

he just liked to think that didn’t come into play when they wrote their reviews 

hehe 

changing into his black fitted rash guard, he glanced at megan’s schedule 

name : y/n 

age: 23 grown

swimming level: beginner  aka noob. 

he chuckles to himself 

well won’t this be fun 

he couldn’t lie beginner adult swimmers were always a spectacle to watch 

they almost reminded him of baby ducks learning how to swim 

only that they’d verbally curse their frustrations here and there 

quickly showering, he begins to make his way to the pool 

hmm, he wonders..

what should he eat after today’s lesson? 

a bacon cheese burger sounded really good 

maybe even grab himself some birria tacos from that new restaurant that just opened near his apartment 

hmm no he had to start spending less on takeout 

sigh 

looks like it’d be rame—

woah 

as corny as it sounded, he could’ve sworn he felt his heart skip a beat 

because whoever it was in that pool was pretty, like really pretty 

hOly ????? 

wowzers 

you couldn’t be y/n ... could you?!?!?! 

you were the only person who looked 23 years of age in the pool ...

ermmmmmm 

mayday mayday 

jungkook.exe has STOPPED WORKING  

whoever this jungkook person was, sure was taking their time 

deciding to have some fun before your lesson, you begin to gently play with the water 

swish. swoosh , the water goes 

soon you’d be well on your way to becoming the next michael phelps 

hehe 

maybe with time you’d even be able to a somersault in the water like your friend always—

“y/n?” a voice from behind says your name

ah finally 

taking in a deep breath, you turn your attention to the so called “best swimming instructor” 

OH.

MY .

GOD. 

WHAT ?????? 

this man looked like he came straight out of GQ magazine !!!! 

this HAD to be some mistake , there was just no way ... 

your cheeks feel as if they were burning up 

probably because they quite literally were 

there was no way you’d be able to come here every saturday for the next month, not without fawning for this dude every single minute 

“u-um” 

of course you were a stuttering mess

of FuCkiNg course 

“that’s me” 

cue the awkward smile 

:) 

“be professional” jungkook tells himself

at the end of the day, you were his student 

any crush on you would just have to wait until of course ... you were no longer his student 

for now the only goal was : teach you how to swim 

the next one down the list being : to take you out on a date ! 

he offers you a handshake 

wow he had a strong grip 

“i’m jungkook, i’ll be your swimming instructor for the next month” 

he flashes you his all too famous smile

there was just no way this man was real

just nO wAy 

“um..” 

crap, you were still holding his hand! 

idiot, idiot, idiot ! 

“sorry” you awkwardly laugh 

ha ha ha 

so funny 

:/ 

god did you just want to hide to disappear 

“it’s fine” he laughs 

even his laugh was attractive :( 

ugh 

“so y/n, before we begin with anything, i think it’s important to review about what kind of things you already know and what you don’t” 

oh right ... 

for a moment you had COMPLETELY forgotten you were here for swimming lessons 

how embarrassing 

“oh um..” 

um, um , um. 

IS THAT ALL YOU KNEW HOW TO SAY???? 

“so like floating, holding your breath underwater, pushing, gliding, arm movement, that kind of stuff,” he explains 

you knew a cool trick to make it look like you were water bending :D 

of course you weren’t going to admit that here 

silently you nod your head no 

he gives you a reassuring smile, sensing your timidness 

“that’s fine, only more for us—” he corrects himself, “for you to learn,” he laughs 

hey you weren’t complaining 

;) 

“so i personally always like to start off with teaching my students how to float. as long as we get that down then you’ll have no problem learning the rest” 

gosh his smile was so infectious 

shaking your head, you reminded yourself that this was your teacher 

+ you paid 300 bucks for these classes, so you couldn’t afford to be giving him the googly eyes all day 

you were so cute :( 

jungkook couldn’t help but find you so endearing 

the color of your swimming goggles even matched your swim suit :(( 

so cute ! 

“okay so the first thing i want you to practice is going underwater for a couple of seconds, just so you get used it,” he instructs, “i’ll demonstrate” 

taking in a deep breath, he goes down under 

1...2...3 

he’s back up 

pausing for about another three seconds, he takes in another deep breath of air before going back under 

1...2....3...4....5

he repeats the same thing over and over, until the max count becomes 20. 

“use my finger as your reference of when to go up, but come up for air whenever you feel like you need to. it’s important to go at your own pace, so don’t feel pressured to get it the first try” 

no pressure at all 

okay 

“you ready?” 

you nod your head 

“okay, deep breath in”

you sink your head underwater, mentally counting the three seconds before going back up 

“good job,” he gives you a high five, and you almost feel like a schoolgirl, “now let’s try to five seconds” 

woo!!! 5 seconds here you come !! 

taking in a deep breath you go down under again 

1....2.....3....4...5

easy peasy ... LEMON SQUEEZY 

“okay now to ten” 

1.....2......3......4.....5......6....7

umm

now why were these seconds going by slow all of a sudden? 

sucking it up you manage to make it to 10, but not without being out of breath 

“you okay?” he’s quick to ask 

yup, totally fine ! 

you definitely didn’t see the gates of heaven for a quick moment :D 

nodding your head, you enthusiastically say, “let’s go for 15″ 

he smiles at your enthusiasm

ahh so cute 

“1....2.....3......4......5.......6......7......8......9.....10.....11.....12....13...

nope nope nope

you were not going to make it to 15 

immediately you make your way back to the surface, trying to catch your breath 

“hey you did amazing,” he immediately reassures you, “remember as long your going your own pace then you’re doing just fine” 

<3 

well doesn’t that make you feel better 

you wonder if he’s this kind to all his students 

besides the most obvious reason, there was no question as to why he was the “most popular” instructor 

and to think you had been complaining earlier !! 

and soon you’re back underwater, going at your own pace until finallyyyy you’re able to make the 20 second count 

“nice !!” he genuinely celebrates with you, making you feel completely proud for yourself 

“okay now that we have that done, we can move onto learning how to float facing both front and back” 

ohhhhh

he was just thinking ahead 

cool :o 

“so what i want you do is first relax,” he laughs, gently pushing your stiff shoulders down 

as if your blush couldn’t get any deeper 

“now my personal belief is that all humans can naturally float, just that for others, it takes a bit of a push to get them at that state,” he begins to explain 

others meaning people like um you 

“the key to floating is to relax” 

oh you’ve heard that before

many MANY times and each time you’ve tried to so called “relax” you just end up sinking 

“the moment you fight or stress for even a tiny bit, you will sink. now i know what you’re thinking, ive heard that before” 

damn 

he was good 

“but sadly it’s true, until you learn to relax then you’ll be able to swim” 

you sigh 

this was where it became hard 

you were the queen of stress 

you and stress went hand in hand almost like a married couple 

it was just that deep water was scary !! very very scary !! 

the amount of horror stories you’d seen on tiktok was enough for you to know, ocean = scary 

“so here’s what i need you to do, i need you to place your arms on top of the water like as if you’re going to fly” 

you follow his commands 

he separates your arms, which had been too close together, giving them a small rub 

“remember you need to relax y/n,” he chuckles, feeling the tension in your arms

“relax, i need to relax,” you repeat 

“okay now right now when i tell you, you’re gonna take a deep breath in and look down, from there you’re gonna let you body move forward. so remember you’re not gonna jump, you’re just gonna let your body glide forward and float. almost as if you’re flying to me,” he explains 

mm it was easier said than done  

“you ready?” 

“okay deep breath in” 

you inhale a deep breath in 

“look down” 

you do that as well 

“and let go” 

slowly your body begins to rise on its own 

oh my god !!!!! 

you were about to float!!!!! 

the day has come !!!

no more staying at 5 feet and under 

you were ready to hang with the big kids :D 

but as quick as the momentum came, the faster it left because soon you felt yourself sinking, the breathing exercise jungkook had made you do now coming in handy 

no!!!! 

you almost had it :( 

it was right in your grasp, only to have it snatched away 

not wanting to offend you, jungkook keeps his giggles to himself 

“hey at least you almost had it,” he comforts you, “let’s just try again” 

you sigh, now letting your doubts creep in 

because of this, this time your body almost immediately sank this time

he frowns 

you were losing confidence :/ 

“come on i’ll help you” 

grabbing your hands, he signals for you to follow his breathing pattern

“deep breath in” 

“deep breath out” 

god, was his voice soothing 

“i need you to relax y/n, let everything go” 

a soft feeling of relaxation washes over you, similar to that feeling you’d get when you were on the verge of sleeping

“i’m gonna let you go at the count of three, and then you’re going to float, okay?” 

silently you nod, knowing that speaking would only cause you to tense up again 

“1...2....” 

he lets go, and soon you’re floating, just like he said you would 

you hold your breathe for a good while before standing back up, a huge smile on your face 

“holy shit! i did it!!” 

he gives you high five with both of his hands, for a second holding them before letting go 

“now let’s try floating on your back” 

he notices that there’s now a fire in your eyes that wasn’t there before

clearly you were now more determined to learn, excited too

preparing yourself to float once more, you realize you were missing something.... 

“jungkook...” 

he tilts his head, confused by the faint blush on your cheeks 

“do you think you can um—” 

now it was his turn to blush 

“o-oh yeah” 

what was his problem??? 

you were a student asking for help 

that was all ...

point blank. 

he helps you get on your back, his hand placed under your back as a way to keep you up 

“1....2....” 

you float easily again!! 

“nice!!” he smiles 

summer, here you come !! 

“okay so we’re gonna keep practicing that for the remaining time that we have and next week i’ll start teaching you about stroke techniques and which ones are easiest to do” 

nodding your head, you practice your floating by the end of the hour  having it practically mastered 

the two of you get out of the pool, now drying off 

“you’re a really fast learner y/n,” he compliments you 

hehe 

you mean, you didn’t wanna brag butttt 

you were a fast learner indeed 

“thank you,” you say in return, “but that’s only because you’re a great teacher” 

woah 

did you really say that :o 

aren’t you feeling a little bold today y/n  

his blush returns for the second time today

well technically you weren’t in class anymore ... 

a little flirting wouldn’t hurt right? 

if only he knew what to say .... 

hmmmm 

“well at least you won't ever drown!” 

HUH???????

jungkook, you idiot !!!!! 

someone needed to smack him straight in the face for that ! 

at least you won’t drown????

no fucking shit 

well there goes his chances with you now going down the drain 

but to his surprise, you laugh 

“you’re right, i won’t,” you say in return, “well i’ll see you next weekend jungkook” 

you flash him a smile, and he was certain he felt butterflies in his stomach 

walking into the girl’s locker room, you let out a sigh of relief

wheeeeew ! 

faking confidence was hard ! 

very VERY hard 

“so today you’re going to learn how to stroke so you can officially be called someone who knows how to swim, next week you’ll learn to tread water and continue perfecting your swimming, and then the final week i’ll teach you some fun extra things” 

“sounds good,” you say, definitely excited to learn more. 

“okay so now that you know how to float, right now when you float facing downward, you’re going to pull against the current with your arms, alternating each one. now the tricky part is that while you do that, you also have to paddle your legs a little and come up for air when you need to, and when you’re back in the water you should slowly be exhaling bubbles of air rather than holding your breath” 

well that sounded hard :/ 

“let me give you a demonstration,” jungkook says

he’s quick to float facing downward, showing you the maneuver he wanted you to learn while coming up for air every five seconds

thought it was a little childish, he somehow still looked good doing it 

he truly was blessed with the looks of a god 

he comes out the water

“okay now your turn” 

you nod your head, that determined look you had on your face last week now returning 

following his example, you begin your attempt at paddling and stroking your arms at the same time

SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASH! 

immediately you begin to panic and water begins to splash everywhere, including on jungkook 

noticing your panicked state, jungkook is quick to grab you and place you back on your feet 

“hey hey, i got you,” he comforts you, not wanting you to feel discouraged 

you sigh 

:/ 

well that was embarrassing 

“remember y/n you have to learn to coordinate everything, so think of it this way. your legs have to always be paddling, it’s the arm and coming up for air that switch roles. when you come up for air, it’s only your legs paddling, while when you’re head is back underwater it’s both your legs and arms paddling. once you get that pattern, the bubbling will come naturally” 

you make an ohhhhh face

you could do that ! 

“remember what i told you last weekend y/n, you need to relax and be comfortable so you can build confidence. there’s no need to panic because i’m here,” he smiles at you 

gosh this just wasn't fair >:( 

cute and charming ???? 

this boy really had it all 

not wanting to disappoint, you try one more time, failing once again 

now you were frustrated :/ 

“damn it,” you mumble to yourself, a sadness to your voice

jungkook feels his heart swell 

he didn’t like seeing you sad :( 

but doggy paddling was the most basic technique he could teach you so he couldn’t really cheer you up by offering a different technique 

you needed to learn to doggy paddle before you could move on to the more bigger strokes

damn it ://  

“hey don’t feel bad about not getting right away,” he gives you a small smile, “i remember when i first started learning it took me forever to even learn how float, so the fact that you’re already at this point is enough of an accomplishment” 

well that makes you feel little better ... 

“but you were probably a kid, im ...” 

old , is what you want to say 

figuring what you were gonna say, he only laughs 

“who said i was a kid? i was probably like 19″ 

whaaaaaattttt! 

assuming he was your age (which he was), you do the quick maths in your head 

that was like .... 4 years ago ! 

how the hell did he get so good in such little time???? enough to be teaching courses ??? 

“not knowing how to swim is nothing to be embarrassed about y/n, if anything it takes a lot of courage to even sign up for a class so don’t beat yourself up too much for not getting it right away” 

he ruffles your wet hair, a small affectionate gesture 

you didn’t know how it was possible but you were falling for this man and QUICKLY at that 

he was just so ??$%@^! 

UGHHHH

“so let’s try one more time, and if you still can’t get it then we’ll push it to next week, a free extra lesson on me” 

eeeeek 

though the temptation to purposely fails was very intriguing indeed, you still had to try for the sake of it 

if you got it, you got it, and if you didn't well .... 

an extra week with jungkook it was :D 

“you ready?” 

you nod your head 

“1...2...” 

you float and begin to paddle, this time actually getting the hang of it !!!

you hear jungkook’s muffled voice from above the surface, “there you go!!” 

holy shit ! 

you officially knew how to swim !!! 

at least enough to save your own life if push came to shove 

once you were out of breath, you stand back up, a grin on both of your faces 

for jungkook it was hard not to tackle you in excitement so instead he settled for a very enthusiastic high five 

“you did it!” he cheers 

“ahhh!” you giggle like a child 

“from here on out, the rest is a piece of cake!” 

yay yay yay !!! 

“now let’s start working on deeper strokes, maybe we’ll even have time to throw in backstrokes!”

:////

noticing your changed expression, he awkwardly laughs while scratching his neck 

“or maybe not” 

this week was the final week of swimming lesson with jungkook

:(( 

last week’s lesson of treading water and perfecting your swim seemed to had gone by in literally the blink of an eye ! 

and so today was possible the last time you’d see jungkook unless you managed to grow the balls and ask him out once that clock hit 4, once you were no longer his “student"

by now you were 100% sure you liked the dude... like a lot 

and he was definitely someone you wanted to get to know outside of this pool 

you just weren’t sure if he liked you the same way 

you mean yeah there were definitely times that had you raising an eyebrow here and there, but you always excused it as him simply being a kind hearted person by nature 

because clearly his five star rating on the company’s website had to come from somewhere 

not that you checked or anything....

who were you kidding 

yes you did

your favorite review was the one that went..

“wow!! this dude is amazing !! came here for beginner lessons and even i found myself fawning for the dude , and i don’t even play for that side of the team !! not only were his lessons thorough, but he’s a very charming person ! 10/10 recommend!” 

and so you were stuck 

did he liked you or was he just treating you like he treated everyone?? 

“ahh y/n,” jungkook’s voice suddenly brings you back to reality 

“today’s our final lesson!” he announces, not sounding too sad

in fact he sounded excited  

damn :/ 

he playfully jumps into the pool, today being his so called “fun day” 

“so since today’s your last lesson i thought i could teach you how to do a.....” 

he pauses for dramatic purposes 

“SOmERSAuLT!!”

immediately your eyes light up 

ahhhhhHHHH!!!! 

you always wanted to learn how to do a somersault in water, remembering the number of times you’d look at your friend in jealousy whenever she did one 

“you ready??” 

eagerly you nod your head yes

“okay so the steps to doing a summersault is first of course, you need to take a deep breath” 

okayyyy 

“from there you tuck your chin to your chest, next you do the moment of the somersault by swinging your chest forward and gently kicking out your legs, so basically forming a ball and then kicking out.  naturally, if you have enough momentum, you’ll spin, but if you don’t just use your arms to complete it” 

“think you can give me a demonstration?” you innocently ask 

he winks at you, “of course i can” 

taking in a deep breath, he follows his own instructions, and you watch he perfectly executes his somersault 

“woahhh, that was so cool!” you say, even now finding the trick to be amazing 

“now i dont expect you to get it right away, so right now that you try i’m going tog hide you thought the movement so you get the gist of it” 

sounds fair enough 

you weren’t trying to drown on your last day either 

“okay, you ready?” 

“yes” 

“let’s get it!” 

taking a deep breath in, you feel jungkook’s hand get placed on your back, ready to push you so you could do the somersault 

“1...2...” 

and slowly you feel yourself spin with the help of jungkook, a smile already forming on your face 

“ahhh!” you smile big and wide, causing Jungkook to smile along with you 

“you think you’re ready to try it on your own???” 

“yes sir” 

“okay 1....2....” 

mustering up as much as force you possible could, you push yourself into ball and successfully do the somersault 

YUPPPPP 

WHOSE DOING IT LIKE YOU???!$%@$!

feeling an immediate rush of adrenaline, you begin to splash water all over once you come back up for air, declaring an all out water fight with jungkook 

soon the two of you are chasing one another, you now using your new swimming abilities to get away 

hehe 

you’re a swimmer 

:D 

the sound of jungkook’s infectious laughter fill the air and soon you feel him grab your waist at an attempt to stop you 

“gotcha” he says, and he turns you around to face him 

slowly each other’s heavy breathing becomes relaxed, and it’s as if you’ve felt a shift occur in what you considered your new “friendship” 

“so....” he awkwardly says, hands still wrapped around your waist 

his was was RED

like cherry tomatoes red 

this only makes you giggle 

if you had doubts before, you DEFINITELY didn’t have em anymore 

he liked you :)))) 

and you liked him :)))) 

and in ten minutes you were officially no longer his student so......

“there’s this new restaurant that opened near my place....” you say 

immediately his eyes light up 

“cancun eats?” 

you nod your head and he gives you a toothy grin 

“i was wondering if you’d want to go out some time...” you muster up the courage to ask him out 

%^@%!@&!@^&@%! = jungkook’s brain 

holy crap !!! 

you liked him!!! 

he wasn’t just delusional !!! 

“hello?? jungkook??” you laugh, waving a hand in front of his face for jungkook.exe had truly stopped working this time 

nodding his head yes like a child,  the two of you being to lean closer to another, the clear goal in mind being each other’s lips

because honestly you’d come this far now, might as well give him a .... 

“wait!” he suddenly interrupts  he glances at the digital clock on the wall, remembering your final lesson officially ends at 4

because no way in hell was he going to get fired for kissing a student on the clock 

3:59 

.....

4:00 

“okay now,” he smiles, and you only roll your eyes, happy to have taken up on those swimming lessons. 

a/n : i was gonna make this longer but this was always meant to be a small little head canon so :))) pls give this a like, comment, or a reblog if you enjoyed it !! (if u can of course) and my ask box is always open for whatever !! :)) see yall next time 💞

[drawlfoy]

Sound of Magic P.3

masterlist (part 1 and 2 are on here, i’m too lazy to scroll down and link each individually)

pairing: draco x halfbloodamericannanny!reader

request: yes! you know who you are, thank you ♥

summary: after his wife dies, draco malfoy is in need of a governess to take care of his son. he reaches out to his connections in america, landing a certain witch who recently went through a tragedy and is still finding herself.

warnings: honestly there’s children present in this story so nothing but mentions of tragedy

a/n: i’m going to start trying to write more now and i promise i’ll get back on schedule! i apologize if this is an especially short fic, this is one of the hardest ones i have when it comes to motivating myself to write it but i want to honor the request!

music recs: literally anything from the sound of music

word count: 1,055

The man in the chair in front of Y/N was striking. He was thinner than she expected, his features gaunt with something heavier than age. His skin appeared like porcelain, making Y/N’s own sunkissed skin look out of place.

And his hair--an icy, icy blonde, meticulously styled back. Mr. Malfoy was expensive, both in aura and appearance. Y/N couldn’t help but think that he would make bank modeling in America.

“Miss Y/L/N.” His posh accent floated over his desk, highlighting the arched eyebrow prominently displayed on his face.

“Mr. Malfoy,” she responded, nervously smiling and shifting her weight back and forth.

Yes, this was the exact type of person she would imagine living in a manor such as this.

“I trust that Hokey didn’t give you too much trouble?” Mr. Malfoy asked, the right corner of his lip quirking.

“Huh?” Y/N couldn’t help the casual expression of confusion from coming out of her mouth. “Uh, I mean, pardon?”

Off to a great start already.

“Hokey, the house elf,” Mr. Malfoy slowly said, narrowing his eyes. “Did you not read the list of instructions I sent you?”

“I wasn’t aware that there was a list of instructions, sir,” she told him truthfully. Y/N had never seen a list sent her way, either by owl or email.

Mr. Malfoy rubbed his temple in a gesture that Y/N was sure meant he was already disappointed in her.

“I guess that means I’ll be caring for Scorpius today. I’ll have the list rewritten, and you’ll spend tonight studying it. Okay?”

Blushing, Y/N nodded.

“I’m sorry sir, it must’ve gotten to my office after I left, or perhaps it got lost over the Atlant--”

“Hokey will show you to your room,” Mr. Malfoy interrupted. “She’ll also be serving you dinner and anything else you might desire. As long as you’re quiet and mind your own business, we’ll get along just fine.”

Hokey began to turn around, motioning for Y/N to follow. Choosing not to embarrass herself any further, she sent Mr. Malfoy one more smile before she left the room.

So, so, so, so embarrassing.

She pinched her forearm, attempting to ground herself.

I am a strong woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone, regardless of how wealthy they are. I am a strong woman who doesn’t take shit from anyone, regardless of how intimidating they are.

Y/N repeated the mantra through her head as she was led up the spiral staircase leading to what she assumed was her room.

Her first day and she had already messed up? How much of a mess could she be?

♥♥♥♥

Y/N had only been in the manor for 2 hours and she was already ready to go back home. Hokey had brought her a long sheet detailing every task she was meant to do from the moment Scorpius woke up to when he was tucked into bed, and she was shocked with the level of specificity. Just how much guidance did a 6 year old child need?

Hokey had dropped dinner by her doorway when the clock struck 7, and Y/N found herself lethargic and jetlagged as she finished the meal. It was some random fancy dish that she had no chance of identifying.

Her mother had always told her that British food was bland, but this was most certainly not. Perhaps Mom wasn’t nearly as worldly as she appeared to Y/N.

Suddenly, Y/N was struck with the desire for chamomile tea. She hadn’t had any since she was a young schoolgirl doing intensive study sessions in her Horned Serpent dorm room, but she had a feeling that this was exactly what she needed before she went insane from the sheer magnificence of the manor.

Mr. Malfoy had instructed her to ask Hokey for anything she needed, but she wasn’t quite sure how to call a house elf--she’d never interacted with one outside of the Ilvermorny kitchens and she certainly never was waited on by one before.

Instead of embarrassing herself any further, she decided that she would try to find her way to the kitchens herself. It couldn’t be that hard--maybe it was a large manor, but there was still a finite number of rooms, and it wouldn’t take her all night to locate the kitchens.

At least...she hoped.

♥♥♥♥

Y/N must’ve been stumbling around the manor for half an hour searching for her tea, trying to tread as quietly as possible. It was way past Scorpius’s bedtime--probably around 23:30--and she still had no clue where to find tea.

Deciding that she may as well just admit defeat and go to bed, she turned around, planning on going back down the hallway she had just come out of. Unfortunately, what met her was two dark hallways, each looking equally as unwelcoming as the other.

Which one had she emerged from?

Y/N tried to think about what she had been thinking when she had entered the large ballroom she was in, but came up with nothing.

She was lost, plain and simple, in the middle of a strange house at nearly midnight, without her wand, no less.

Y/N chose one hallway, quickly walking through it to find herself in a completely different room. Definitely not the way that she came. When she turned back, she realized that there were two corridors that she had to choose from.

Why was this house so god damn big?

She picked the one on the left, emerging into a room that looked vaguely familiar...but she couldn’t be sure.

She repeated the process multiple times, each cycle becoming more confusing than the last. It was indisputable at this point; she wasn’t simply just lost, she was completely, utterly, and hopelessly without her bearings, and it wasn’t looking like it was going to get any better in the near future.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Y/N began speeding down every corridor she could find, praying for a familiar landmark.

No luck. The more she tried, the further away she was from anything she had known before.

Finally, when she was out of breath, she allowed herself a break, putting her hands on her knees and panting heavily.

Her moment of rest was interrupted by a familiar voice.

“I hope, for your sake, that you have a good reason for roaming around in the middle of the night.”

final a/n: ooh cliffhanger also i’m so so so sorry for however many spelling errors i may have or grammatical errors--i didn’t proofread and i knocked this one out in a little less than an hour. i want to spend more time on this series in the future, but i’m starting to apply for scholarships so it’s taking up a good portion of my time. a new fic is coming soon!

[istheresomebodywhocanimagine]

Tomorrow Never Came PT. 5

You’re over four decades into the past, and now you’re almost halfway through the year you had to prepare for the attack. Summer has come, and you begin to get into a groove with your routine, but when you step out of that routine for just a moment, something - or someone - finally comes to stop you in your tracks. 

Read PT. 1 here | Read PT. 2 here | Read PT. 3 here | Read PT. 4 here

(a/n: I DIDNT HAVE TIME TO PROOFREAD DONT KILL ME anyways hi i’m opening requests again since i should have the rest of the main ones out of the way before the weekend is over)

July in London felt like it always did back in the future – did that sentence even make sense, you wondered? Not that your life was making sense anyways. It hadn’t since March, but at the same time, you’d never felt happier. You had a steady job, lovely roommates, and you were slowly figuring out how you were going to save your mother from a most undesirable future.

Anyways, July was in full swing, and the weather being up in the 70s to match the year had you in high spirits. Freddie and Roger were in high spirits too – they had finally played a show with Deacon as the bassist, and they’d raved about it for days afterwards. Suddenly, they were begging you to come see them play. They’d only played a few gigs here and there since you’d met them, and never with Deacon, so they desperately wanted you to see them in action.

You’d considered, of course. Although you’d gotten over the initial shock of being in cahoots with Queen, going and seeing them perform would certainly be a daunting check off of the old bucket list – after all, who else born after 1995 could say that they’d seen the original lineup of Queen play in some dingy, underground London pub? Hint – nobody. But at the same time, you worried. How would that affect the future of Queen? Would your presence make someone miss a note or forget the lyrics, inciting an argument that broke up the band before it even began? They were all testy fellows, for sure, and there was no telling what your presence alone could set off.

Roger, though, was incessant. And you couldn’t blame him – this band was his life, his dream, and he wanted to share it with you, one of his closest friends.

“It’s late tomorrow night, surely you can skive off work early?” Roger complained, tossing a fry into his mouth as you rolled your eyes. You’d explained this to him a hundred times over, and honestly, you were beginning to get tired of it. He batted his eyelashes, purposely accentuating the alluring blue of his eyes as he practically stared you down. “I mean, this is the first day you’ve had off in weeks.”

“Rog, I’m the only closing person out front tomorrow night. I’m afraid I can’t.” Pouting, he looked down to his plate again and let his shoulders sag a bit. He was awfully melodramatic today, and you couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head. “Nuh-uh, no amount of crying like a baby is going to make me lose my only job. I’ve got to pay rent, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, throwing a burnt crisp of a fry at you and giving you the stink eye as he continued to eat. He was seated across from you in a cracked vinyl-upholstered booth at some burger joint you’d heard him mention once or twice. It was a bit out of the way for you, so you’d never stopped by, but he’d insisted on it tonight – Freddie was out with Mary and you didn’t want to cook tonight. “I swear, you work every day. Don’t you ever want a break, love? Your feet have got to be killing you.”

He was right on that, your feet did ache like no other nowadays. You’d tried switching up shoes to make it better, but nothing could combat the hard concrete that was underneath the tile of that café. The wince that contorted your face when he said that answered for you, and a knowing smirk graced his lips as he crossed his arms and leaned forward on the table, arching a blond eyebrow in challenge. “That’s not the point, Rog,” you dismissed, a warning tone to your voice as you picked at your fries, your stomach starting to feel a bit full.

“I think it is,” he replied in a sing-song voice, lifting his nose at you for a moment before laughing. “Come on, Y/N, one night won’t kill you! Ask that greasy bloke that’s always giving you one-liners to cover. He’d do it for the chance to breathe your air again.”

It was tempting, and you hated how right he was today. He was making good point after good point, and you were quickly running out of defenses to avoid what you were probably going to do anyways. Looking around, you tried to stall, and you scanned the restaurant for anything to help you. A family waiting for their food. A young brunette girl sitting at the counter 10 feet away from you, talking with the chef. A salt-and-pepper-haired man, older looking, sitting a booth or two behind Roger and reading a newspaper. Nothing. Sighing in defeat, you reached for your napkin and wiped off your hands as you grumbled, “I suppose I could do that. He’s in tonight, anyways.”

Cheering, Roger grabbed his napkin as well and wiped at his face so quickly he almost knocked his hat off, his big doe eyes alight with excitement as he tossed enough money to cover the tab down on the table. He scooted out of the booth, almost crowding you in his eagerness to go over to the café. “Come on, I want to hear what the oily old chap has to say today. Maybe I can learn something from him.”

“You’re something else, Roger,” you laughed, rising out of the booth and grabbing your purse before pulling it over your shoulder. “And don’t even think about taking notes from him. He’s a disgusting pervert and you’d get slapped in an instant if you ever tried to use any of his lines.”

“They work so well on you! After all, you do have his schedule memorized,” he teased, poking at your side in fun as the two of you exited the burger place, Roger holding the door open for you before following you out onto the sidewalk. You gave him a warning look, and he whined as he fell into step with you, heading down the sidewalk together. “You know I’m joking, don’t be such a prude. I’m funny and you know it, admit it!” Throwing an arm over your shoulder, he reached up with his other hand to mess up your hair, receiving a gentle smack on the wrist for it.

“You’re such an arse sometimes, truly!” you laughed, trying to fix your hair in vain before just giving up and letting it blow back into place from the soft breeze that filtered around the corners of buildings. Stepping out into the street, you two looked like a regular couple to the untrained eye, especially when you wrapped an arm around his waist, clinging on to the white button up/suspender duo he had on. His arm was casually dangling over your shoulder, holding you to his side and bumping hips with you as you both walked. And though Roger’s scrawny figure wasn’t an imposing sort, you did feel like he offered you some blanket of security that way – you felt safe, impossibly safe, in his arms, and that scared you.

This part of the city was a bit unfamiliar to you, but you’d heard your mom mention it once or twice, and you suddenly felt a pang of sadness in your heart as you missed her dearly. You missed her smile, the way her eyes nearly closed when she did so, and the way she said your name – it was relaxing, and you hadn’t heard it in so long. And that laugh, when you said something really outrageous, the way it twinkled – God, it made every second here worth it. You loved your mom dearly, and if this was the way to bring her back, then you were determined to succeed.

Lost in your own thoughts, you felt as if you were in a daze as Roger led you down an unfamiliar street, lined with carts touting fruit and other goods for sale. An array of smells battered at your nostrils, overwhelming you with stimulation as you glanced around, taking in the sight and feeling a significant sort of loss at the fact that something like this was so rare in the 21st century.

And that’s when you heard it. Her voice, followed by that unmistakable laugh. You thought you were imagining it at first, but it was so present, so real, that you found yourself clutching on to Roger for dear life as your head whipped around, searching for the source of the sound desperately.

You found her. There she was, chatting away with a vendor who was talking her up and trying to convince her to buy just one more peach for the road. She was laughing at the flirty smiles being sent her way, her smile the same as ever, just framed by a younger, less troubled face. Roger noticed your frantic change of demeanor, and he looked down at you with a curious expression on his face. However, you gave him no time to ask questions as you ducked down, practically forcing him into the nearest alleyway and using him as a human shield when she turned away from the vendor, heading straight for where you just were. Peeking around him, you watched as your mom wandered off, vibrant, glowing, and so unbothered by life. Troubling, how the years had changed her.

Roger stood still, baffled by your behavior in the last 30 seconds but patiently waiting for an explanation as kept his arm around your shoulder. You’d turned his back to the street, so now he was leaned against the back wall of a building and mostly shielding you from view. You held him stationary with a firm grip on his arm that was leaned against the wall, your other hand still grasping his shirt like it was your lifeline.

Realizing how tightly you were holding on to him, you felt your cheeks burning as you pulled your hand away, mumbling softly. “Sorry. Er, thought I saw an ex out there. Didn’t want to see them.”

“Oh?” Roger said, suddenly interested when you’d brought an ex into the equation. “You should have told me! I could have given ‘em a serious case of jealousy, signed with a big old smooch from ol’ Roger Taylor himself.” The smirk on his lips was undying, and you fought off a smile as you rolled your eyes playfully, heading back out to the street with him now that it was a bit safer.

“Talking about yourself in the third person is weird, you know?” you pointed out, and Roger dismissed the suggestion with a wave and a scoff. “Plus, you’ve got a lot of nerve thinking that I wouldn’t smack you silly for kissing me out of nowhere.”

“That’s what they all say,” he teased, and you groaned in mock disgust as you started to head down the sidewalk with him again, heading back towards the café

The next night, the pub was noisy, as expected, and the crowd clamored with anticipation as the time for the boys to play grew closer. You’d given Roger and Freddie good luck hugs, and then headed back out to grab yourself a drink before the show started. Settling for a pale lager, you found a seat at the bar that was close enough to the stage that you had a good view of all of them, even if it was from a side angle. Turning around, you leaned back against the bar as you took a drink of the beer, observing the makeshift stage. Roger’s drums were already set up, ready to go, and some small amps littered the space, not looking completely ordered, but you knew that it wouldn’t matter anyways.

After you had a good portion of your beer gone, you saw Roger take the stage, his golden blonde hair flying over his shoulders as he quickly mounted the throne, sending a quick side glance to you and grinning before nodding as the rest of the boys took the stage. With hardly any introduction at all, they were off.

Of course, they didn’t need an introduction. Half of this crowd was here specifically for them, and the other half had most likely heard about them at some point tonight. Everyone was buzzing about Queen, the outrageous garage band that just came out with a new lineup and stole the show with their brilliant recorded demo and scarcely-muted flamboyance.

The buzz was all for a good reason. Queen’s stage presence was incredible, and they played like professionals on stage at Wembley, not four scrappy young guys who fought over who got the last of the crisps. They were a whole, a cohesive unit that played as one, and you found yourself so entranced by their work that you hardly noticed the man who’d seated himself next to you, ordering two lagers.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked, snapping you out of your focus and drawing your attention to him. The dim light made it hard to tell, but you felt like you’d met him before, and you squinted a bit before glancing at the bartender as he sat two beers on the bar. “It’s on me.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You smiled warmly, briefly forgetting about the boys as you finished off your first beer and took the one offered to you. If you hadn’t seen the bartender pour the drinks, you may very well have told this man to fuck off, but you were in a good mood, having had the day to relax and take your mind off work. So, you decided to entertain whatever was about to happen. From what you could see, he wasn’t bad looking, and even if it was terrible of you, you wouldn’t mind screwing up the past a bit in order to get laid by some random person who’d probably never have an effect on your future. After all, it had been four months, and you had needs just like everyone else. “What’s your name?”

“My name?” he asked, turning a bit towards you as he pursed his lips. “My name is Anthony. Yours?”

“Y/N.” You held out your hand, offering it for a quick shake, and he took it gently, his calloused one dwarfing yours as you continued to smile at him. “You here for the band?”

“Oh, no,” he chuckled, leaning an elbow on the bar as he glanced at the boys, who were playing one of their last songs. “I had to come here for different reasons.”

“So mysterious,” you laughed, leaning forward a bit and also resting on the bar as you sipped your drink. “What reasons, may I ask?”

He gave you a queer look, and then looked back at the band, his eyes settling on Roger for a moment. Following his line of sight, you also found yourself staring at Roger, admiring the energy he put into his performance – he was truly master of that drumset. Turning back to you, the man suddenly looked worried, age lining his face as he spoke just loud enough for you to hear. “You don’t belong here.”

“What?” You were taken aback, thoroughly confused by what he’d just suggested. Here you were, planning on going home with the man, and suddenly he was accusing you of being in the wrong place. Last you checked, this was the bar Queen was playing at. You assumed you had the address right, considering the boys were literally on stage right now.

“You don’t belong here! Get the hell out of here, go home.”

“W-what are you talking about?” you stuttered back, a bit nervous now and backing away as you sat the beer down on the bar. He was scaring you, his voice and words far too sure and serious to just be some random drunk convincing you to shag him somewhere else.

“Go back while you still have time. You can’t keep this up,” he demanded. When you remained stunned into silence, he sat his drink down as well and tugged you off the barstool with a firm grip on your arm, dragging you to the back corridor as the boy’s set ended. You looked back at Freddie and saw that he’d just caught the tail end of whatever you were doing, but he misinterpreted it wildly and gave you an encouraging thumbs up as you disappeared around the corner. When you were out of earshot of pretty much anyone, he finally stopped and made you face him.

“What’s your fucking major malfunction?” you spit, shrugging his hand off and stepping away from him. You got a chance to look at him in the slightly brighter light, and realized it was the man from the restaurant yesterday. In fact, you realized you’d spotted him around often in the past few months, at the café, on the street, in your building. “Are you following me, you creep? I ought to-”

“Y/N, you’re not supposed to be here, you and I know it!” he interrupted, cutting you off with a firm voice. “Go back to your time. You’ve put everyone in danger here.”

Stunned, you couldn’t think of any response as you tried to grapple with the fact that there was a middle-aged man telling you to go back to the 21st century, that you didn’t belong here and you were fucking up royally by being here. “Who even are you?” you asked apprehensively, not sure what in the hell to think of this man. “What do you want from me?”

“My name isn’t Anthony. It’s Weston, and I’m from the future too. I know you went through that fucking closet, and you need to go back through it right now, before you put everyone you love in danger, including those guys.”

Your mind was reeling, thinking of hundreds of questions per second as you tried to get a handle on the situation. This man, Weston, whatever his name was, was from the future, and he knew you. He knew that you were putting people in danger, and he knew about the closet. “How do you know this? How can I even trust you?”

“That man – the singer – Freddie’s dead,” he countered quickly. “That proof enough?”

“Everyone dies,” you pointed out, his eyebrows furrowing as you called out his weak point.

“Fine. Freddie died of pneumonia in ’91, when I was a teenager. You weren’t even a fucking thought yet. Happy?” You were quiet, and he took that as a sign to continue, sounding more and more frantic as the moments went on. “Now you really need to go home, back to whatever you’re trying to fix, because it can’t be fixed. Stop while you’re ahead. Reset. Forget this ever existed, and go live a normal life.”

What was he saying? Could you really be doing this for nothing? Why was he telling you these things, and how did he know about your plans? Your mind was a raging torrent, flooded with all kinds of anxieties that had been building up since that dreary day in March when you first met Roger and Freddie. But how much could this man really know? You were literally on the path to save your mother from something horrid, and how could he tell you to pass on that?  

“You’re mental if you think I’m not going to fix things by doing what I’m doing,” you scoffed finally, pushing him away as you began to walk away from him, done with the baffling conversation. You had already made a mental decision to ignore his demands, to write him off as a phony. But he caught up with you, hissing a warning in your ear as he failed to make you stop.

“You keep going and you’re going to destroy them! Your family, Roger, Freddie, everyone! They’re all going to come crumbling down with your plans if you keep trying to mess with the past like this!”

But you were gone before he could keep going, flipping him off with a steady hand as you made your way back through the bar. However, you couldn’t ignore the heavy weight settling in the bottom of your stomach, making you drag a bit as you went out the front and around the side of the building to where the boys were loading up their equipment.

“There she is! God, you look flushed,” Freddie pointed out, smiling mischievously as he took your face in his hands. He looked you over for a second before chuckling. “Was he that bad?”

“Who?” you asked, already blanking on what he was talking about. Sometimes, Freddie’s conversations were so one-sided you couldn’t even begin to understand them.

“That man!” he laughed, letting go of you before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you towards the van. “You two were quick, he must have been a wham-bam-thank you ma’am kind of chap. You know, I never pegged you as one to like older men, but I guess I can kind of see where he was cute. Was he big?”

“God, Freddie, shut up,” Roger groaned, lugging his kick drum from the sidewalk to the back of the van as he shot the two of you an annoyed look. Putting the drum in the van, he continued to look slightly miffed as he loaded up his set, carefully packing everything away so it wouldn’t get damaged, but he looked as though he was bothered, somehow. Something was off with him, and you couldn’t even begin to tell what it was, but you knew you had to set the record straight.

“We didn’t do anything,” you corrected Freddie. “He tried to get me to go home… with him. But I said no.”

“Shame,” Freddie pouted, letting go of you before glancing to Roger, who was just out of earshot. “I was really enjoying driving him crazy. Oh well.”

“What?” you asked, your cheeks heating up as Freddie shrugged and walked off towards Roger, stopping him with a gentle hand on the arm and whispering something to him. A considerable amount of annoyance erased from Roger’s face, but he feigned apathy as he shrugged, walking towards the van again, where you were awkwardly standing, not sure what to do with yourself. What had just went on in the bar had rattled you a bit, and Roger noticed that you were a bit off as he packed away his cymbal.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he remarked, stopping in front of you and pulling out a pack of smokes before offering one to you. Usually, you’d abstain, but you accepted the offer right now, needing an oral fixation to take your mind off of everything. Holding out his lighter, you perched the cigarette between your lips and leaned forward towards him, looking up to watch the dim light of the lighter’s flame reflecting on his eyes, which were fixated on the end of your cigarette. His free hand was cupped around  the flame, keeping it from blowing out as you inhaled, lighting up the end and nodding to him in thanks as he looked up to meet your gaze.

After staring for a moment, he nodded back and looked down, putting a cigarette between his teeth and lighting it as well, then nodding towards the van. Both of you perched in the back as the other three headed inside for a drink, leaving you two behind in the dark alleyway, your only company each other and probably some disgustingly huge rats by the trash cans. This was uncharacteristic for the both of you. Usually, you would talk each other’s ears off, never running out of things to say. But something was off. You were scared. Roger was unaware. The conflicting emotions played off of each other just like the boys did on stage, mutually working to create a jarring silence that scared the living hell out of you.

“You guys were fantastic.” You finally spoke, taking a drag and holding the smoke for a moment before exhaling slowly. Looking over, you saw Roger leaned against the side of the van, facing you, and you mimicked his position, facing him and pressing your feet up against his as you watched him quietly. “Really smashed it up there.”

“Thank you, love,” he replied, giving you a small smile before he took a drag, closing his eyes and letting his head rest back against the plastic covering on the inside of the van. “I’m just happy you finally came out to one of our shows. It’s about time.”

“I should have dropped by one a lot sooner,” you admitted, taking another drag and exhaling it quicker this time, still observing him quietly. He was a bit sweaty from the show, his shirt partially unbuttoned and revealing more of his slender, scrawny build that you still couldn’t believe belonged to one of the greatest rock drummers of the century. Wavy golden blond hair fell over his shoulders, a bit damp with sweat, but still smooth and shiny under the moonlight. You were momentarily distracted by a couple passing by the van, laughing, and you redirected your focus to them, not wanting to lose yourself in Roger’s good looks for the thousandth time. Or maybe you did. It would be something to keep your mind off of Weston, after all.

“Did we look good up there?” Roger asked, distracting you and pulling your focus back to him as he opened his eyes, staring across the open space at you. His eyes were analytical, searching your face for a reaction as we spoke. “I’d like to think that I’m the show-stealer, but that’s kind of hard when you’ve got a big ass cymbal directly in front of your face. Really kills my vibe.”

You laughed, looking back out to the sidewalk and shaking your head as you conjured up the image of them on stage again, chewing on your lip. “I don’t know, I kind of thought Brian’s hair was hard to miss. And Deacon? He’s bound to be the show-stealer in general. Girls dig that wholesome, innocent thing he’s got going on.”

“What in the hell!” Roger complained, laughing with you as he kicked your foot gently. “He’s not an innocent little boy, he’s literally the saltiest man I’ve met on this our side of the Earth and he’s got you believing he’s an angel. God, what’s a handsome, charming guy like Roger Taylor got to do to get a little recognition and praise around here?”

“You’re speaking in the third person again,” you reminded him, and he groaned before flipping you off, taking another drag.

“Bugger off, you Deacon-lover. I ought to kick you out of our flat for that one, that hurts.” You snickered as he put on a faux upset look, avoiding your gaze so he wouldn’t laugh. After a moment, he had to continue. “You know what? Deacon does have good hair. I’ll give him that. But what else does he have that I don’t? I have redeeming qualities, right? Right?”

You were quiet, letting him simmer as he caught your gaze again, waiting impatiently. When you didn’t answer, he huffed and started crawling out of the van, tossing his cigarette on the ground and stomping it out as he stood up. “No, Roger, I’m taking the piss!” you laughed, moving to dangle your legs over the edge of the van and also put out the butt of your cig as he stood half-turned from you, unsure whether to trust you or not. “I’m serious now, promise.”

Sighing, he turned back around and leaned against the door that hung open in front of you. It creaked a bit as he leaned on it, but it didn’t seem to alarm him, so you dismissed your worries about the old clunker genuinely falling apart. The veins in his arms were more prominent as he crossed his arms, giving you a look that you were convinced was actually, truly upset. He must have been a bit more sore about the subject than you’d expected which baffled you. Roger was a gorgeous man, and had plenty of attention from women, so the fact that he was convinced that Deacon was more of a ladies man than him was almost laughable. 

“I’m asking this seriously, friend to friend – why do girls like Deacon so much more?” His eyes searched your face as he spoke, desperate to find a reaction to hang on to, and you realized he was as serious as he could get. 

Plus, he didn’t mind getting to stare at you - he enjoyed it more than he’d like to admit, mainly because Freddie would kick his ass if he admitted it. Unbeknownst to you, they’d made an agreement on the day you moved in that you were off limits for him, but every day, you made the rule harder and harder to abide by, and Freddie was obviously no help either.

“It’s definitely mainly the shyness,” you admitted, swinging your legs back and forth as you looked up at up, glad to have a petty distraction from the man named Weston. “Girls love a tough egg to crack. And Deacon’s never around our place much at all. He’s definitely far more mysterious than you-“ you noticed Roger started to look irritated, so you backtracked a bit, “-which isn’t a bad thing! Some people are just quiet, like him. So girls see that and think, ‘Wow, a soft guy? Wonder if I can-“

“What are you talking about?” You heard Deacon’s voice around the corner of the van, and he emerged moments later, joining the two of you as you grinned up at him, Roger thoroughly annoyed at this development.

“Hey, John!” you greeted warmly, patting the spot next to you and trying not to laugh as Roger rolled his eyes, grumbling. “We were just talking about you, actually.”

“Oh,” John mumbled, looking a tiny bit nervous as he sat in the back of the van with you, sitting a respectable distance away and offering you a cigarette. You looked at Roger with a knowing look, which set him off when you gladly accepted, thanking him.

“Piss off! I literally just offered you a ciggy and Deacon gets all smiles for doing the same thing? God, women make me sick sometimes,” Roger ranted, his voice high-pitched and defensive as he kicked a small rock, grumbling to himself as he stalked off towards the pub’s side door, leaving you with Deacon.

“What did I do?” Deacon asked once Roger had gone, looking at you with a baffled expression. You looked over at the fresh-faced 19 year old, laughing and reaching over to wrap your arm around him, patting his head and holding him in a side hug for a moment.

“Don’t worry, you did genuinely nothing. That’s more than enough to set off Rog. Gotta love him.”

PT. 1 PT. 2 PT. 3 PT. 4

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[dandelion-girl]

I hate you, I love you - Simbar

Now proofread! (Sorry there some stupid mistakes...) So this is quite a big chapter, I guess I was feeling inspired. Hope it’s not too boring. Trying to post a chapter at least every two days. Feedback is very much needed and appreciated!

Plus I have a new fic (a requested one) about this amazing couple coming up! It’s called “Story of My life” and it’s basically what would have happened if Ámbar had been the one telling Simón she burned the skating ring. 

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5

Part 3

Ámbar’s POV

I close the door quickly behind me and slide to the floor. My eyes burning with tears forming. And this time I don’t hold them. This time I let them out. I need it. I need to not be strong. I need to hurt. Because I did bring all of this to myself. Or better, that stupid girl sitting downstairs did… This was all her fault… Why did she have to get in my life? Everything was so good without her.

I sob and shake, crying as I never did. All the anger, sadness and evil, dark feelings escaping my body in the form of tears. It was so ugly, so weak, but I never felt so good in my life. Not good in the sense of happy, or even calm, just good in the way that I didn’t have to hold everything inside because it was a sign of weakness, of failure to show such emotions. I let out a strange laugh. I had no one, literally no one, who was going to judge me for feeling? Certainly not me, because this was what I needed. I was done concealing my emotion. I was a mess; why would I hide it? No one cared. About me, more the less about how I was.

I get up and wipe the tears. It’s good to let it all out but this was getting ridiculous. No need for anyone downstairs to witness this scene. I lie on my bed and look at the ceiling. My head going at a thousand miles per hour. I was wrong. No one cared about me, yes that much was true, but they didn’t need to see how that affected me; how their happiness without me hurt me; how it broke me inside to know that I lost everything that I had and loved. The problem was, it was never mine to have or love. And there was no need to fool me when I said they, I meant him… I wanted to blame Luna for everything but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t have Simón if it wasn’t for her. But I didn’t have him, and if she had never appeared, I wouldn’t be suffering for him.

Who would guess that Ámbar Smith, the most beautiful and wanted girl in Blake, in the Roller, would ever be truly suffering for a boy… Yes, life can be crazy sometimes…

Me going down to dinner today had a point. I wanted them to feel as uncomfortable as I did on my own house. But the cards switched and I was left even more uncomfortable. Efforts were made to make me feel welcome, but not from who I wanted, from who I cared. What was I expecting? That the guy I begged not to left me, but did it anyways, would show some affection, concern? Please, Ámbar… Stop it… No one can really love you… When you were popular people like you for what you were, what you represented, not for who you really were. And now that you are nothing but a complete mess of feelings, emotions, thoughts, ideas, what is there to love?

I change into my sleeping clothes as I listen to Luna talking and laughing with Simón in the room next door. There won’t be peace for me today. Sleep will be my only consolation.

 Simón’s POV

The next day, after taking brunch with Luna (yes brunch because we stayed up basically all night since she couldn’t stop rambling) she suggests we watch a movie together. Still super sleepy, I agree not really wanting to do anything that requires a lot of energy.

It was a cloudy day in Cancun, not good for a pool day and not exactly the best weather to go roller skating. It was one of those days where you just want to stay on the couch and do nothing, for as long as you can. 

Since Monica and Miguel were out to visit some friends, Luna invited Mr. Alfredo to watch the movie with us. He agreed as long as he could choose and disappeared upstairs to find something for us to watch. I mentally laughed, thinking we would probably end up watching something in black and white with no one talking, but it was more about the company than anything else.

“Do you want popcorn? I do want popcorn. A movie isn’t a movie without some. I will be back in a moment!” Luna said heading to the kitchen.

“Try not to burn them, okay? Remember it’s only three minutes!” I joked and could feel her rolling her eyes while closing the kitchen door. A wise choice since we wouldn’t want the whole house smelling like smoke. Carolina (the maid here in Cancún) wouldn’t be too thrilled about it when she came back from her shopping.

I grab the remote and start binge watching, not paying attention to anything, my thoughts on dinner last night.

A click sound of shoes on the stairs breaks my thoughts and I turn my attention to the source of the noise. Dressed in a simple but oh-so-flatering black dress, paired with a leather jacked of the same colour with silver details, was Ámbar. Her bangs her pulled up and she had less makeup than yesteday, making it very obvious that she had a rough night. My heart skipped a beat, worry filling my body. I noticed she had a big black bag on her shoulder and figured she was probably going out to skate.

“Are you going roller skating? The weather isn’t so good…” I let out without even thinking. Ámbar, who hadn’t noticed me yet sitting one the couch, blinks and then raises her eyebrows, her cold mask now taking over her features.

“Simón, we are not partners, or friends, basically we have no bound, so I don’t have to give you any explaination…” She spits, copying the words I once told her and heads outside, slaming the front door.

Just then, Luna comes from the kitchen with a puzzled look on her face. She then looks at me and smiles. “I thought you had left without saying a word!”

“What? How would I ever do that to you?! It was Ámbar who just left…”

“Oh… Yeah, she does it everyday… She is either outside or locked in her room…”

“I guess she is feeling the consequences of everything she has done… I told her winning the Roda Fest meant nothing. Not when she lost everyone in the process… You know what, I don’t want to talk about her! Where’s the popcorn?”

“Oh Simón, the popcorn!” Luna exclaims and runs to the kitchen. I shake my head laughing. Her real name might be Sol, but there’s no better name for her than Luna. She does live on the moon!

Mr. Alfredo shows up on the stairs, holding a black box in his hands.

“Simón it’s good to see you have waited for me! Where is my granddaughter?”

“She forgot the popcorn, again, and just ran to the kitchen. May be I should go check out just how serious the damage is!”

“Oh, Luna… I wonder where she got that distraction from… Not from me of course, I always know where my head is!” He plays, winking. Luna was sure just like her grandfather. If they were left all alone I don’t know what would happen, but it sure would involve some unpleasant events.

After rescuing Luna in the kitchen (fortunately she acted before anything happened), we settle on the living room. Mr. Alfredo already has his chair reserved, and I sit next to Luna on one of the bigs couches, her legs on my lap.

 “What are we watching, granpa?”

He opens the box and takes an old cassette (something I haven’t seen since I was a kid). Of course we were watching something from last decade…

“Well, my dearest Luna, I actually don’t know. There aren’t many movies around this house. I looked everywhere but it seems like my daughter wasn’t a fan of the seventh art. However, I was able to find an old box with several of these cassettes. How I love these! So I am sure it must be a good movie! Everything that is old is amazing, just like myself!”

We both laugh as Mr. Alfredo prepares the movie. The living room had a big TV, bigger than any I had ever seen, it was modern but it looked like it had little to no use, since Luna and I spend a whole morning (my kind of mornings) installing what was needed to actually watch anything there. But, nonetheless, there were other old devices on the tv table, one of which was a cassette reader.

Everyone is on their places when the movie starts. A date shows up: 22/07/2007. Well, it wasn’t as antique as I though, but still I was 9 back then. The first moments of the movie are strange, the only thing is a cement path and a garden on the sides, no people or voices, just a fixed image. The scenery looks familiar, but I can’t make sense of it.

“Isn’t that the Buenos Aires mansion?” Luna asks but before anyone can say a word, her question is answered.

“Are you going to show me anything or not? I don’t have time to waste and you know this sun makes my head hurt…” Ms. Sharon’s voice is heard talking.

A few seconds later, a blonde little girl shows up at the beginning of the path. She has her roller skates on and a confident posture. Ámbar. She starts skating, not simple skating, giving a show actually, putting her personality and own moves to it. So little and yet so good, obviously she had a natural talent. She skates in reverse to the begging of the path and takes a deep breath, clearly preparing for something. Mini Ámbar starts skating again and jumps, making a perfect rotation in the air but failing the landing, which causes her to fall on the ground and scratch her knee. She quickly gets up without saying a word.

“Seriously, Ámbar? This was what you had to show me? What you wanted me to film? I already told you I expect nothing from you but perfection. If you can’t get something right, don’t show me. I don’t want to see failure. Or something basic. And don’t even think about crying. If you can’t skate, then don’t. If you want to take this seriously, then you can continue, but if it’s only a childish game, this ends now. You need to focus on what is important… I was told you arrived late at your French class and didn’t get every answer right. Is that how you expect to get in the Paris University? Oh Ámbar, you have so much to learn… Now get changed. You have to get back to your studies.” Sharon criticizes the little girl in front of her, who doesn’t move an inch all the while. The video is over just like that and no one speaks a word.

Everyone is absorbing the fact that an 8-year-old Ámbar, looking so happy and free while skating, was called down for not landing perfectly a move that’s clearly advanced for someone her age and for having fun. How instead of motivation words, only critics were uttered and how a kid was told she had to worry about college, not having time to play.

Mr. Alfredo sighs. “My daughter… This is what I talk about. She corrupted Ámbar. She made her who she is. My poor girl… I should have been here to avoid this and all the evil she has done… To you too Luna.”

“It’s not your fault, granpa…”

“Oh it is Luna… I am to blame for who Sharon is… I didn’t give her the attention she needed, she was resentful and became someone with a cold heart. And then, she took it on others, even on her own daughter, who she was never able to assume to the world… I wonder why she even adopted her… What did she want with this?”

“You can’t blame yourself! People make their own choices! But look at the good side, Ámbar continued skating and she is amazing! She was given the opportunity to go to a really good school, where she, again, is amazing!”

“Yes, yes… Luna you are right! But look at what cost… This is just a bit of how she grew… I don’t even know a third of it… However, I can see it affected her, oh if it did… How can someone raised by Sharon be good-hearted? It’s impossible! And now that Ámbar doesn’t have Sharon, I thought she would be better, that she would make her own decisions, be her own and truer self, but it actually made her worse…”

 Everyone gets quiet again, probably lost on their own thoughts… I can’t take the image of that pair of blue eyes, filled with tears, but none shed. She was so little, so fragile, all she needed were words of consolation, of pride for what she had been able to do and not hurtful words about what she wasn’t. Ámbar might have grown with everything, but the most important, which was not material, was love. I know I had lots of that, I know Luna has had it too, but what about Ámbar? I guess I was right when I told her she wasn’t able to love because she was full of hate. But, now, now I understand part of it wasn’t her fault. And somehow, knowing and seeing what I just saw now, made my own hate for her diminish, being replaced by an extreme urge to hug her and tell her she didn’t have to be perfect all the time, the only thing she had to be was happy.

 Luna gets up and hugs her grandfather. “You know, granpa, I think what Ámbar needs is love. So if she sees she has that, may be who knows she can change. We are here to help her. Right?”

“Oh my Luna, you are too good for this world. Yes, we will help Ámbar! But we have to make it subtle or she will close even more…”

Luna nods and then starts forming a plan. I can’t really focus on what they are saying. The only thing I can think are two images of Ámbar on the verge of crying. One when she was 8 and the other when she asked me to stay by her side but I didn’t.