#he is a little quiet and a little serious and also brimming with creativity and loves being onstage i love him :( | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yolkyeomie · 4 years

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Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect. Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl.

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

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mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years

Text

Hoodie Season

F/M Pairing: Y/N X Hwang Hyunjin

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 7K

Note: Another requested Fic! Enjoyyyy

It was a Friday morning and I refused to leave the familiar comforts of my bed. With the addition of the sun hitting just right from the low-slanted window, I was prepared to give up on the possibility of moving from my comfortable position, even if that meant missing work today. After all, I endured an endless barrage of tiring conditions throughout the week, listening to adolescent teenagers gossip and complain about every possible topic. Therefore, this type of treatment was certainly warranted, even if the sounds of the traffic outside proved to be an annoying disturbance.

I let out a yawn, turning onto my side to face away from the street, pausing when I realized that there was something beneath my hand. I reluctantly pried open one eye, glancing down to see what I had just discovered. Irritation boiled beneath my skin when I realized several pregnancy magazines were strewn across the sheets. “What the hell?” I groaned, suddenly losing any prior interest in sleeping. I gathered the magazines together before storming into the kitchen where Hyunjin was sitting at the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. I tossed the magazines onto the empty space in front of him. “You’re not exactly subtle these days,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

My husband glanced up at me over the brim of his coffee mug. “What do you mean?” he asked with innocent eyes.

“I don’t want kids right now, Hyunjin,” I said, glowering at him once more. “Isn’t it enough that we deal with students every day at school?”

“But they’d be our kids, Y/N,” he pouted, attempting to hand me a magazine from atop the messy pile.

I ignored his offering, shaking my head while storming into the kitchen. “I don’t care if they’re our kids, I’m not ready!”

“They’re so cute though,” Hyunjin said, opening one of the covers. “Look at how small they are!”

“Yeah? Well, they won’t stay that small forever,” I said. “And then they’ll be just like those horny high school demons we deal with every day.”

“Aren’t you being dramatic?” he asked which was quite ironic coming from the Hwang Hyunjin, AKA, one of the most over-dramatic people I have ever met in my entire life. The same Hyunjin who demanded that they move Mr. Henderson into a new classroom because he was located right next to the library where I worked and Hyunjin was certain he was flirting with me.

“Babe, you can’t even pretend to be serious,” I said, reaching for the cereal from the top shelf. “I think you’re determined to test me today.”

“Our babies would be so beautiful,” Hyunjin went on as if he was refusing to listen to my counter-arguments.

“You’re only acting like this because one of your friends had a kid.”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin shrugged, joining me in the kitchen as I spooned more Fruit Loops into my mouth. “But you can’t tell me that you weren’t enamored with your nieces at my mom’s Christmas party.”

“I was just being nice,” I grumbled, ignoring the way Hyunjin was now clambering for my attention, arms wrapped around my waist. Hyunjin was always clingy in the mornings, fresh-faced with the lingering effects of sleep clouding his eyes.

“Can you at least pretend to think about it?” Hyunjin whined.

“Maybe if you’re good,” I said, loosening his hold which allowed me to slip through to the other side of the counter. “Don’t forget that your little PR stunt woke me up early this morning, babe, and I don’t forgive easily.”

“Don’t act like you hated it,” Hyunjin said, reaching for the car keys out of the small dish we kept by the door. “Am I driving?”

“How else will I intake my daily caffeine addiction?” I asked, pouring the remaining coffee into a travel mug. “But slow down in the school zone, I don’t think our bank account can take another traffic violation.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes. “I was barely over the limit.”

I grinned at the way he tried to defend himself. “Give me twenty minutes to make myself look decent.”

“Wouldn’t want to scare the kids, right Y/N?”

“Thin ice, Hyunjin, you’re very close to sleeping on the couch tonight.”

Hyunjin smirked because he knew my threats were empty. I was weak for my husband and he liked to exploit my affections for him at every opportunity possible. For example, last night he pretended to be super excited for the new season of the Bachelor (even though he hates the show) just because he wanted me sat in his lap while he did his best to decorate my neck with colorful marks.

In conclusion, Hyunjin was my kryptonite, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Hyunjin and I arrived at school fifteen minutes early, parting ways in the mostly full parking lot because the students definitely didn’t need to see the way he liked to grope my ass when we kissed. Despite working together, I rarely saw Hyunjin throughout the day unless he made-up some excuse to come see me in the library. But this was a rare occurrence since Hyunjin, as a dance teacher, really had no valid reason to need library resources.

Speaking of which, the library, at my personal request, was the glorified version of an introvert’s paradise. It was always quiet, thanks to my meticulous monitoring, and was equipped with a small digital lab and self-named “relaxation room” where students (and staff) could enjoy a variety of stuffed couches and reclinable chairs to simply forget about the other horrors of high school. I was especially proud of the library’s progress, updating equipment and technology yearly due to my persistence in applying for a variety of government grants. Yes, I was satisfied with my status as the school’s “cool” librarian who enforced the strict library rules of conduct while also allowing a smidgen of favoritism when one of my students brought in a candy bar to eat during lunch.

Of course, such sanctity was frequently disrupted by my husband and his friends who demonstrated absolutely no regard for silence. Han Jisung was the worst of them all, waltzing into the library in stride to ask for whatever set of books he needed for his English classes. While I prepared the cart, he would talk relentlessly about everything from his ex-girlfriends to the much-dreaded topic of his endless stories about Hyunjin’s wilder days back in college. “I wish you could’ve been there, Y/N,” Jisung would snort. “Hyunjin took shots like they were water.”

“Yes, I know,” I would grumble while ordering him to leave the library before the remaining students were permanently traumatized.

And when Hyunjin would visit me, which seemed unnecessary considering he taught dance classes, he always made sure to completely take over my office, feet propped up on my desk while pouting at me to sit on his lap. Which was the opposite of professional considering the masses of students lingering around the bookshelves. But that never seemed to deter Hyunjin who always found a new and creative excuse to visit the library.

Like begging me to allow him to use my coffee machine.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin said, following me as I navigated the complicated filing system in the backroom. “I’m only asking because Jisung broke the one in the teacher’s lounge! And you know it might take weeks before they purchase a replacement.”

“Interesting,” I said, thumbing across the file tabs. “We have a coffee machine at home, don’t we, babe?”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment. “But what if I need more coffee later on?”

“One cup should be enough,” I nodded. “Caffeine isn’t good for you.”

“It’s actually great for me,” Hyunjin said. “If I didn’t have coffee, then I would be completely shut down by lunchtime.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I objected with a laugh.

“Y/N,” Hyunjin tried again. “As your husband-”

“- is that supposed to convince me?”

Hyunjin frowned. “I’ll clean the dishes and do the laundry until the machine in the lounge is fixed.”

I perked up instantly. “Well, I suppose I can make an exception for you...”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes, starting for the small kitchen connected to my office. “I should have unlimited access.”

“And I should treat all my coworkers the same.”

“I’m offended, Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re sleeping with the other teachers.”

I glared at him. “For your information, you’re the one who's always touting professionalism in the workplace.”

“But that was before I started to miss you during the day,” Hyunjin said, adjusting the settings on my coffee machine. “You have a safe haven in the library.”

“It gets the job done,” I said, joining him at the machine. “Did you know we had a new student at school?”

“Yang Jeongin?” he asked, pulling back his mug to take a sip. “He’s in my first-period dance class.”

“That’s him,” I nodded. “I noticed that always comes in here during lunch. Do you think he has any friends?”

“I don’t know,” Hyunjin mused. “I don’t see him interacting with his classmates.”

I shivered because the topic at hand reminded me too strongly of my own experiences in high school. “I feel bad for him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, babe,” Hyunjin reassured me. “If it makes you feel better, then I could talk to him tomorrow?”

“Would you do that for me?” I asked, holding on to his arm.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “Unlike you, I don’t ask for much when I’m doing something nice for my spouse.”

“Who else is going to keep you in check?” I asked him, pushing myself off from the counter.

Hyunjin gave my ass a polite swat on my way out the door. “Remember that we’re meeting Jisung and his new girlfriend for dinner.”

I groaned at the reminder. “Explain to me again, babe, why do we have to do that?”

“Because he’s my best friend,” Hyunjin said. “And he’s trying to make things less awkward.”

“Are we going to show up for all of his dates?” I asked. “To keep things less awkward?”

“You’re honestly just as dramatic as I am,” Hyunjin commented. “He’s only asking me for a small favor, and...” He leaned in to whisper in my ear. “If you’re a good girl, then I might reward you when we get home later.”

I swallowed hard. “It’s been a while since we’ve been out, hasn’t it?”

Hyunjin grinned at my willing compliance.

Han Jisung’s new girlfriend was...interesting, to say the least. She arrived with her arm tucked securely around Jisung’s while dressed in a bright pink mini-skirt and lime green crop-top that left very little to the imagination. The moment she walked into the restaurant, every pair of eyes watched as she shimmied through the tables, greeting Hyunjin and I like we had known each other since childhood. “You guys look great!” she exclaimed, leaning across the table to offer my cheek a polite tap. “Girl, you have to tell me who does your hair.”

“Oh...” I trailed off, glancing at Hyunjin anxiously because my husband had forgotten to mention that we were meeting an eccentric child. Because Jisung’s girlfriend didn’t look a day over the legal age.

“I’m Hailey,” she announced, smacking her gum obnoxiously.

Meanwhile, Jisung was smiling like an idiot. “I hope we’re not late.”

“Of course not,” Hyunjin said and I rolled my eyes since apparently being half an hour late for your reservation was perfectly acceptable.

“Holy shit, you look like a runway model!” Haily declared, pointing at Hyunjin with exaggerated motions. “Honey, you didn’t tell me that you were friends with someone this gorgeous.”

I frowned at the comment while Hyunjin just shifted uncomfortably next to me. “Thank you?”

“Jinnie’s always been a lady killer,” Jisung said, pulling out Hailey’s chair before taking the seat next to Hyunjin.

“But you’re all married now,” Hailey pouted as if she was actually disappointed with Hyunjin’s marital status despite the fact that she had come here with Jisung.

“2 years,” Hyunjin said with a dramatic flourish of his wrist. “Woohoo!”

“Y’all got kids and stuff right?” Hailey asked, ignoring the waiter who had arrived at our table, clearing his throat to get her attention. Thankfully, Jisung had enough sense to dismiss him with a request for two glasses of water.

“Not yet,” Hyunjin said, more attentive now that the topic had switched to a topic that he favored. “We’re planning on having two or three.”

I kept my mouth firmly shut because Hyujin was clearly living in an alternate universe. “That’s amazing,” Haily gushed, leaning into Jisung. “Did you hear that, Sungie? Isn’t that like the ultimate dream?”

“Is it?” Jisung questioned, offering Haily a gentle kiss. “Do you want kids someday?”

“A whole house full of them,” Hailey exclaimed and Hyunjin offered me a shit-eating grin like that somehow proved that I was in the wrong for denying him any children.

“We’re still talking about it,” I effectively inserted.

“Sungie tells me that you’re both teachers,” she continued, driving the conversation in an entirely new direction.

“I’m a librarian technician,” I said. “Hyunjin teaches dance.”

“Wow,” Hailey gushed. “That’s so cool, Hyunjin.”

I grimaced because apparently, Librarians weren’t as qualified to be considered cool. “I’m lucky that I have such willing students,” Hyunjin said, nodding appreciatively.

Sometimes, Hyunjin loved being the center of attention.

“I’m in like some sort of dance club at my university,” Hailey said and I nearly choked on my wine.

“You’re in college?” Hyunjin asked, flashing Jisung a reprimanding look that sent the younger into a rapid explanation.

“She’s a Senior,” Jisung said as if that made everything better. “You’re graduating soon, right babe?”

“Supposedly,” Hailey said, making a mess of the breadsticks in the center of the table. “I have to somehow pass this boring math lecture first.”

Hyunjin was not convinced and neither was I considering Jisung’s problematic history of dating younger girlfriends. “How long have you been with Jisung?”

“I don’t know,” Haily shrugged indifferently. “Maybe two weeks.”

“And are you staying on campus, Hailey?” I asked the young girl who nodded affirmatively.

“Jisung wants me to move in though,” Hailey said and that was the last straw for Hyunjin who abruptly stood from the table.

“Jisung,” my husband murmured quietly. “Let’s talk outside for a moment.”

Jisung bowed his head, cheeks flushed because he knew that Hyunjin was moments away from one of his famous lectures. “Okay.”

Hailey was silent until they were out of earshot. “That was weird, right?”

I feigned indifference, even as my mind thought up several creative ways to kick Jisung’s ass for trying things out with someone who was at least ten years younger than him. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if said significant other was employed at some kind of big business as opposed to the salon next to her university. But I didn’t want to let Hailey know that anything was amiss, so I reached across to grab her hand. “Everything’s fine.”

Internally, I was screaming at the top of my lungs.

I woke up to the feeling of Hyunjin’s hard erection pressing against my ass. “Babe,” I groaned, attempting to fend off the lingering effects of sleep.

Hyunjin grunted from behind me, drawing his hips in methodical circles. “What?”

“Your dick,” was all I could manage before yawning over my words.

“Fuck, I was having a good dream,” Hyunjin whined. “Remember that bathing suit you wore on our honeymoon?”

“The bikini?”

“Yeah, I still think about it a lot.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re hard because of my bathing suit?”

“More precisely, you in the bathing suit.”

“Whatever,” I said, rubbing my face against my pillow. “The alarm hasn’t gone off yet.”

“That gives us time,” Hyunjin said suggestively, drawing a hand along the contour of my hip bone.

“To sleep.”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin countered, presence heavy as he drew himself up higher against the headboard. “You don’t even have to do anything.”

“Fine,” I muttered. “But don’t blame me if I fall asleep.”

“You know my dick’s better than that,” Hyunjin said, fussing over my panties as he pulled them down beneath the sheets. His fingers dug into my thigh, lifting my leg to a more comfortable position over his hip. I could feel his cock, thick and prodding, as he adjusted himself behind me.

“Are you ever gonna put it in?” I asked drowsily, wincing at the sudden penetration of his cock inside. “Shit, slow down you animal!”

“Sorry,” he murmured, slowing drawing out before pushing back in at a more acceptable pace.

“Slow is good,” I continued, adrenaline rushing through my sleep-deprived body, reacting to his advances with tentative thrusts back against him.

“It’s good, right?” Hyunjin asked with a touch of arrogance, reaching around me to play with my clit.

“It’s always good,” I said, deciding to satiate his ego for once, especially now that I was fully aroused, cognizant of the heavy drag of Hyunjin’s cock.

His vacant hand wandered up my shirt, teasing a nipple as he continued to punctuate each heavy drag of his cock with a low grunt of effort. “I feel like it’s been ages since we did this.”

“I guess you’re still horny from the ego boost Jisung’s girlfriend gave you last night.”

“What are you talking about?”

I imitated her voice. “Oh, Hyunjin, you must be in great shape from dancing all the time.”

“She’s right,” Hyunjin said, tightening his hold as he kicked his hips aggressively, slamming into me like he was trying to make a point. “Have you seen my thighs, babe?”

“I like to ride them.”

“Fuck,” Hyunjin cursed, pressing even more insistently at my clit while his cock continued to fill my core. “I feel like a teenager again.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think I can last much longer either,” I said, panting as Hyunjin started to increase the power of his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm while I focused on the way it felt to be stimulated by his skilled fingers and impressive girth.

“Can I cum inside?” he asked, voice desperate but I remembered that I forgot to take my birth control pill the other day.

“Outside,” I said, reaching back to push against his chest. “I’ll suck your dick.”

“Please,” Hyunjin agreed without hesitation, pulling out with a wince while I tried to steady my shaky legs, straddling his thigh while leaning down for his cock. Hyunjin curled his fingers through my hair, directing my head to the tip, allowing my tongue to get its first taste of his pre-cum.

I hollowed my cheeks, taking in as much of his cock as I could before I felt the tip barely touch the back of my throat. Still, it was enough to make me gag and I pulled back to avoid the risk of walking around school with a sore throat all day. I took the remainder of his cock into my hand, tightening my grip at the base which rewarded me with a loud moan from Hyunjin. Meanwhile, I had slowly started to rock myself back and forth on his thigh, aiming for my own release while trying to encourage Hyunjin to cum down my throat.

“Beautiful,” he said, eyes filled with tears and adoration as he watched me take in more of his cock, nose brushing against his skin.

It only took a few more moments for Hyunjin to finally cum, throwing back his head as his hips jolted against the bed. I swallowed him down with a grimace because I still hated the taste of cum no matter how many times I offered him a blowjob. Pulling off his spent cock, I focused on myself, reaching down to give my clit a few more well-placed strokes before I was following him into a hormone-induced coma.

I fell against his chest, allowing him to run his hand up and down my back. “Babe, you’re my hero.”

I snorted at his comment. “What time is it?”

“We still have five minutes.”

“Good,” I groaned. “I’ll need every second to recover.”

Hyunjin chuckled. “Want to take your mind off it?”

“Maybe,” I said, appreciating his warmth. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “I gave him a stern lecture last night.”

“You go, babe.”

“Seriously, I can’t believe he’s dating a college student.”

“The Han Jisung? Nothing he does surprises me.”

“He says he really likes this girl.”

“No offense,” I said. “But I hope that was to defend himself because the girl is a nightmare.”

“Might finally put Jisung in his place.”

“Nobody can do that,” I said, using my arms to leverage myself back into a sitting position. “How bad is my hair?”

“My fingers weren’t helpful.”

“A shower then,” I nodded, glancing back at the bathroom. “You wanna join?”

Hyunjin’s breath caught. “I think you’re spoiling me, babe.”

It had become a recurring pattern, watching Jeongin walk into the library during his scheduled lunch period. Every day, he sat down at one of the computers in the lab to play some kind of online game that I didn’t protest since he wasn’t disturbing the other students. Truthfully, I didn’t really care one way or another, but I was starting to feel like Jeongin was intentionally avoiding his classmates. I understood that it was probably hard to transfer schools, but to attend classes by yourself with no friends to support you?

I shuddered at the thought, making up my mind as I carefully approached him. “Jeongin,” I said, awkwardly leaning against the side of the computer desk. “That was the bell for lunch.”

The younger boy glanced up to me timidly. “Oh, well I thought it was okay for students to spend lunch in the library.”

“It is,” I acknowledged. “But I thought you might want to spend some time with your friends.”

Jeongin ducked his head down, cheeks blushing red. “Not really.”

“Okay,” I said, struggling to finish my thoughts before spotting Hyunjin walking into the library. “I’ll be right back,” I said before practically sprinting to meet Hyunjin in my office. “Come here,” I said, pulling him to the side. “We have a problem.”

“I know,” he said with tired eyes. “I have no coffee.”

“Hyunjin,” I chastised him quietly. “That new kid always spends his lunch period in the library. He says he’s not interested in hanging out with anyone.”

“Well, that’s his choice,” Hyunjin said. “Some kids are really shy.”

“I know,” I grumbled. “But you know I was the same way in high school and I regret it now, hiding in the library during lunch because I had nobody to sit with.”

“You were a nerd too,” Hyunjin giggled.

“Do you want to keep using the coffee machine?”

“Sorry, babe.”

“Anyway,” I continued. “I think we should help Jeongin make some new friends. What about group activities in your dance classes?”

“I guess,” Hyunjin relented. “But I don’t want to force him.”

“You assign the groups then,” I said. “And let me know how he reacts.”

“Well, just based on what I’ve seen so far, he definitely prefers to be alone.”

“Then we have to reach out to him,” I said, holding tight to Hyunjin’s arm. “Nobody should be alone all the time.”

“He may not like it if we try to force him into something.”

“Then we back off if he shows any signs of being uncomfortable,” I said, raising my hands in surrender. “A compromise.”

“If you really insist,” Hyunjin said, gliding past me for the coffee machine. “I’ll do my best, and I’ll let Chan and the others know.”

“Oh!” I gasped. “That’s a great idea! I can talk to the other teachers in the lounge!”

Hyunjin chuckled. “I thought you hated the teacher’s lounge?”

“Yeah? Well, I’m making an exception for the betterment of a student,” I proclaimed, waiting until Hyunjin finished refilling his coffee mug before ushering him out into the hallway. “Who’s usually in there?” I asked as we walked together.

“Jisung,” Hyunjin said. “Maybe Chan and Felix.”

“Chan and Jisung might be helpful,” I conceded. “What about Felix? Does Jeongin take art classes?”

“Babe, I don’t have his schedule memorized.”

“That’s first on the list,” I said with a nod.

We both paused outside the lounge as I attempted to listen in on the conversation progressing behind closed doors. “Who is that?”

Hyunjin chuckled, reaching past me for the door handle. He pushed it open wide, allowing us enough room to join the small group of teachers loitering between scheduled classes. “Y/N!” Jisung immediately greeted me, waltzing over to take my arm. “You never come in the lounge.”

“I’m making an exception,” I said, allowing Jisung to pull me to the table where Chan, Felix, and Changbin were all sitting together.

“You guys,” I said, sliding into an available seat. “What’s going on?”

Changbin eyed me suspiciously. “You never come here unless you want something.”

From behind my chair, Hyunjin snorted. “It’s one hell of a mission.”

“I knew it!” Felix declared, leaning back in his chair. “What sort of personal vendetta do you have now?”

“I’m offended,” I said, crossing my arms sternly over my chest. “Aren’t we all friends?”

“Of course we are, Y/N,” Chan said soothingly, ever the voice of reason.

“Exactly,” I agreed. “Which is why I need your help.”

Felix groaned, but I quickly jumped in to assure him. “It’s about that new kid, Yang Jeongin.”

“What about him?” Changbin grunted. “Other than the fact that he hates running exercises.”

“He’s taking gym?”

Changbin nodded, picking at the meager salad in front of him. “I don’t understand why.”

“Because it’s destiny,” I said, holding out my arms. “We’re meant to help guide him down the right path.”

“What path is that?” Changbin asked.

“The path of redemption,” I said, elbowing Hyunjin from behind when I heard him laughing. “He’s always in the library during free periods. I don’t think he’s adjusting to the school.”

“It happens with transfers,” Felix shrugged.

“But we can do something to help him,” I said. “Encourage him to make new friends and meet new classmates.”

“You want us to help with your ‘No Child Left’ behind agenda?” Changbin asked.

“I want you to help me lift a student’s self-confidence,” I said. “Jeongin is a sweet kid. He just needs a good push in the right direction.”

“Basically,” Hyunjin interrupted, leaning over me. “Y/N had no friends in high school and she wishes that there was a kind, sweet librarian with a great ass to help guide her way.”

“Don’t bring my ass into this,” I said, ducking away from his hold. “So what do you guys think?”

Felix sipped at his tea. “He’s not in any of my classes, but I guess it’s worth a shot.”

“Why not?” Jisung suddenly commented. “I think it’s a good idea.”

“You’re just trying to make up for last night’s dinner disaster,” I said, “but I’m willing to let you this time.”

Jisung let out a whoop while Changbin and Chan considered my words. “It’s fine with me,” Chan said. “Changbin?”

“Alright,” Changbin relented. “But this is your fault if the kid turns against us.”

“Trust me, nothing bad is gonna happen.”

A few days later, I received an urgent notice from the nurse’s office which was surprising considering the fact that I was usually stuck in the library all day. I sighed over my ever-growing stack of paperwork, gathering my cell phone before leaving the sanctity of my quiet office. There was an order form calling my name that I had been neglecting for several weeks now, but I figured that the unexpected notice could prove to be a legitimate distraction. After all, I was quite curious concerning why I was suddenly needed away from the library.

I paused outside the door to the nurse’s office, trying to listen to the sounds of conversation. Faint voices filtered through the barrier, including one that sounded awfully familiar. I held my breath as I walked inside, discovering my husband lying on top of the examination table. Hyunjin winced as the school nurse wrapped an ice pack around his ankle. “Fuck it hurts.”

“Hyunjin,” I said his name and my husband turned around to face me with a start. “What happened?”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin cried while reaching out for me. “Why did you take so long?”

“Really?” I immediately questioned him. “Babe, you’re the one with a bandage on your foot.”

“Well, yeah,” he said. “I twisted my ankle.”

I closed my eyes before releasing a sigh. “How did this happen?”

“Student-teacher race,” Hyunjin replied as if that possibly provided enough context for me to understand.

“A race?”

“Changbin thought it might be fun if the students competed against the teachers,” Hyunjin explained. “Like a reward.”

“You’re rewarding the students by putting your life in danger?”

“My life was never in danger, Y/N,” Hyunjin said with a sigh.

“Then why are you hurt?” I asked him, reaching over to land a scolding hit to his arm.

“Hey!” Hyunjin complained, holding his bicep now despite the ice packet still resting over his ankle.

“You idiot,” I groaned. “You aren’t 16 anymore. Why are you trying to outrace a bunch of student-athletes anyway?”

“Maybe I did it for you,” Hyunjin announced dramatically, falling rather ungracefully against the table.

“Why is participating in a race so important to me?”

“You said you wanted to get closer to that Jeongin kid,” Hyunjin explained. “He asked me to run with them.”

“Jeongin did?” I asked, suddenly unable to stop myself from laughing, practically slumping over Hyunjin’s lap.

“What’s so funny?”

“I may have told him a funny story about his dance instructor from your college days.”

Hyunjin gasped. “You didn’t!”

I shrugged. “I was trying to make him feel better.”

“By outing my humiliating secrets?”

“It was a worthy sacrifice, babe,” I said with a grin. “Just be glad I wasn’t there to watch it happen.”

“You’re always so supportive,” Hyunjin said, faintly protesting when I leaned down to offer him a gentle kiss. “Is this an apology?”

“I’m really proud of you, Hyunjin,” I said, reaching down to adjust the pillow propping his ankle.

“Whatever,” Hyunjin grumbled. “The kid was important to you.”

“But you didn’t have to go that far,” I said, gliding my fingers through his hair because I knew he loved the action.

“Maybe you can blow me later and all will be forgiven.”

“Done.”

The following week, I spotted Jeongin walking through the library on his way to class. He paused at one of the bookshelves, fingers skimming the faded spines. “Hey!” I said, catching his attention. “You weren’t in the library yesterday.”

“I know,” he said with a wide smile. “I was eating with some friends.”

My heart warmed at his words. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, eyes trained downward. “They seem pretty cool.”

“Jeongin,” I cooed because it was impossible to resist his adorable smile. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“I know you had something to do with it,” the younger boy said and my smile instantly disappeared. “But it’s okay, I’m really glad you decided to help me.”

“Jeongin..” I started but broke off when I took a moment to study the crooked aspect to his knowing grin.

The doors to the library interrupted the brief silence that had descended between us, and Chan walked in with his eyes scanning over a folder that he held between his hands. “Ah! I’m interrupting something,” he said, looking back and forth between me and Jeongin.

“Oh, I was on my way out,” Jeongin said, bowing respectfully to Chan as he passed him.

Chan watched him go before looking to me for answers. “Is everything okay?”

“Of course,” I said, quickly switching the subject. “Did you need something?”

“Just a class copy of these books,” Chan said, holding up his folder. “Do you think you can help me bring them back to my classroom?”

“Why not?” I shrugged, taking the folder from Chan. “I have some free time before I have to file a few things.”

I guided Chan around the library to collect the books on his list, casually talking with him about one of the new teachers in the Science department. “Minho?” I said, vacantly scanning the barcodes of a display with textbooks.

“Yeah, he’s starting next week,” Chan said, grunting as he adjusted his hold on the giant stack of books collecting in his arms.

“Should be interesting,” I said, adding one last textbook to the pile in Chan’s arms. “Is this everything?”

“I hope so,” Chan grumbled. “Do you need my teacher ID?”

“I’ll scan it later,” I said, watching him struggle. “Let’s go before these end up on the floor.”

Chan let out a grateful sigh, and I maintained a careful distance at his side to ensure that my precious books wouldn’t suddenly drop from his hold. Thankfully, Chan seemed to have everything under control, like he was prone to do in most aspects of his life for which I was grateful. “Jeongin’s doing much better,” Chan remarked to me in passing as we walked together to his classroom.

“Yeah, he really seems to be opening up, especially after Hyunjin’s stunt in the gym.”

Chan snorted at the reminder. “I wish you could have been there, Y/N. But, if you’re curious, Changbin has the whole incident on video.”

“I’d love to see that...” I trailed off, spotting Hyunjin approaching on his new crutches.

“You know, I could hear you all the way over here!”

“Hyunjin,” I said, meeting him halfway so that he wouldn’t need to walk as far. “I was planning to come by and see you.”

“My arms hurt constantly,” Hyunjin said, adjusting his stance. “Honestly, I don’t even think these things are necessary.”

“Doctor’s orders,” I said swiftly, directing a quick goodbye to Chan before I was redirecting Hyunjin back to his classroom. “And don’t even try to demonstrate any crazy dance choreographies for these kids.”

“How else are they gonna learn?” Hyunjin demanded, even as he leaned more of his weight against my side for additional support.

Later that night, after a rather long day of ensuring that Hyunjin didn’t try to do anything too outrageous, the two of us finally returned home. I was rather proud of myself since Hyunjin was still in one piece. I half-expected to receive another call from the nurse’s office because my husband decided he needed to show off his moonwalk to impress his students.

In any case, what Hyunjin didn’t know was that I had started thinking a lot about the future, especially after everything that he did to help Jeongin. Suddenly, the idea of having kids was a lot less unappealing. This is why I immediately started for the bathroom, a new purpose driving my steps, while Hyunjin carefully made his way across the living room.

I opened the medicine cabinet to retrieve a familiar box, returning to our shared bedroom to find Hyunjin laying in bed, phone in hand as his eyelids fought to stay open. Gingerly, I handed him my current prescription of birth control, watching as he struggled to focus. “What’s this?”

“Surprise!”

“Isn’t there an easier way to tell me that you’re running low?”

I rolled my eyes at his question. “That’s not what I meant.”

Hyunin frowned, taking the box from me. “It’s almost 9:00, Y/N.”

“You’re really bad at subliminal messages,” I said, kneeling down on the bed. “I’m giving the rest of the prescription to you because I’m not taking it anymore.”

Hyunjin’s eyes slowly widened as he processed my words. “But that means...

“I don’t mind the idea of kids anymore,” I said. “Especially if they turn out like Jeongin.”

“Y/N,” Hyunjin grinned, wordlessly tackling me against the bed. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“I am,” I informed him, tracing my fingers across his pretty lips. “I want to have kids with you. Preferably a boy, so we should start eating a ton of potassium.”

“What?”

“To increase our chances, Hyunjin,” I said. “There’s science behind the kind of diet you eat.”

“You’re trying to tell me that if I eat more potassium, then we’ll have a boy?”

“Well, it helps our chances.”

Hyunjin still appeared doubtful, but his eyes were warm. “Whatever you want.”

“That’s right,” I agreed brightly, wrapping my arms around his neck to draw him in closer.

“Y/N, I love you,” Hyunjin said, leaning down for a sweet kiss. “You know how much this means to me.”

“I know,” I agreed, snuggling up against his chest. “For the record, I love you more.”

“Should we put that to the test?”

I closed my eyes as I resisted a smile. “Goodnight, Hyunjin.”

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stay kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin smut

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vindicatedvirgil · 4 years

Text

only fools rush in / part eight: of flowers and freeing words

TW: sexual innuendo (thanks, Remus), mention of hospital visit, mentions of cancer/chronic illness, VERY vague mentions of domestic abuse, vague mentions of sex, cursing, anxiety attack

chapter summary: Patton reflects on his relationship with Remus, his friendship with Logan, and just... everything.

---

Like a river flows surely to the sea

Darling, so it goes

Some things are meant to be

Patton wasn’t sure if he believed in fate. Sure, his mom would read him fairytales as a kid and he hoped that someday, he would find where he was meant to be. But he had worked hard to get where he was, taking care of his mom when she got sick, helping to run the flower shop all throughout high school and helping when he could now that he was in college. Everyone he had dated in the past always felt… like a background character, or one of those characters in video games that you only really deal with for one quest and then you don’t see them ever again. A part of his journey, yes, but not someone to join him on the rest of his journey.

And then he met Remus. Remus, who was so unlike anyone he had ever dated, who looked at Patton like he held all of the stars in his hands, who held him so gently after their moments of intimacy that Patton almost felt like a porcelain doll, so fragile, so ready to break in the hands of the person who he loved so dearly, as long as Remus was happy.

It had all happened so quickly; from the moment they met, Patton was in it. Their first date was unlike any other he had ever had, because they both broke down their walls. And as they grew to know each other more, as they progressed physically and emotionally, Patton wanted more and more to believe that Remus was the one he was made for. That, perhaps, Patton Hart, in his mother’s womb all those years ago, was being crafted just so that he could be held tenderly by Remus Creative.

He didn’t want to lose that. He couldn’t bear the thought of it falling apart; perhaps that was why he reacted so negatively to what Roman did during the power outage. For the first time in his life, Patton had something that he was terrified to lose other than his mother, Logan, and the flower shop. And even though Roman was one of his best friends, maybe especially so, he couldn’t bear the idea that the theater major would get in the way of what was, in Patton’s mind, meant to be.

It haunted his every thought, though. When he curled in Remus’ arms, the fresh afterglow settling above both of them, when he sat in his child development classes, when he cut the stems off of the flowers in the shop, it was all he could think of: Roman’s letter. And now he felt guilty for holding this grudge over him, but he didn’t know how to resolve things; until he realized that opening night of the musical was coming up.

“Hi, Mama,” Patton said, stepping into the flower shop, Remus in tow. “How are you today?” She swept him up into his arms, pressing kisses into his hair and on his cheeks.

“Much better now that you’re here, darling.” Her eyes fluttered over to Remus, who smiled, holding his hand out, but she pushed it aside and brought him into the hug as well. “Remus, you look very nice.” Remus glanced down at his outfit; he was wearing his dark green suit and had his hair brought back into a bun; it was the opening night of the play and they were making a quick stop before going to see it.

“Thank you, Ms. Hart.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek before stepping away to look at some roses, allowing time for Patton to explain what he needed.

“Yellow roses, Mama. For friendship,” he said thoughtfully, glancing at the vase he had dropped off with her the other day. “The usual fillers are good, though.” He fidgeted with the ends of his pink skirt a little bit. He had also dressed nicely; it was almost like he and Remus had decided to cosplay as Elphaba and Glinda. Patton wore white pumps, a white shirt with a sparkly bow tie was tucked into the skirt, and some sparkly tights. Remus had nearly dragged him into the bedroom when they met up at the apartment earlier. That would have to wait until later, though, because Patton didn’t want to miss a single moment of the musical.

Patton cheered louder than anyone for Roman, even louder than Remus (which… seemed impossible, but he managed to do it). The only person who rivaled his deafening cries was Janus, who beamed with joy and proudness whenever Virgil was on stage. And even Logan had to brush a few tears from his eyes at the end of the musical, when the entire audience stood and cheered as soon as Roman stepped out into the curtain call.

After the curtain call ended, Janus, Logan, Remus, and Patton stood expectantly where they knew Virgil and Roman would be coming out. Janus held the bouquet for Virgil, and Patton had the one for Roman. They stood there for a while, watching as families and friends greeted the actors and then left, and soon it was quiet.

“Where are they?” Patton asked hesitantly, and he shared a worried look with Janus. “Do you think Virgil had another anxiety attack?”

“They’re probably just fucking,” Remus muttered, his hands snaking around Patton’s waist, leaning down to press his lips to his earlobe. “Exactly what I’ll be doing to you later tonight, little flower.”

“Re!” Patton flushed hard, batting away Remus with his free hand. Janus smirked, a low chuckle escaping as he watched the encounter with the two. “You keep making moves like that and you’ll get nothing but a door in your face tonight.” Patton was teasing, of course, but Remus stepped back, a hand clapping on Logan’s shoulder as the two discussed a project they had in a mutual class.

Finally, Roman and Virgil stepped out of the green room, their hands intertwined. They were both cleaned of their makeup and costumes, and it occurred to them all that since the two were dressed in intricate costumes and makeup for the tin man and the scarecrow that it would take them a little bit longer to finish cleaning up. Janus moved first, scooping Virgil into a big hug, murmuring how proud he was and complimenting his work. Patton stepped up to Roman hesitantly, holding out the bouquet of flowers.

“You did amazing, Ro,” he said quietly, smiling up at his friend, whose eyes brimmed with tears. Roman took the vase with flowers, then set them on an empty table before hugging Patton tightly, sobbing into the smaller man’s shoulder. “Hey, shh, it’s alright. We’re okay, Ro.” As the two hugged tightly, he felt a pat on his shoulder, and glanced to see Logan, smiling brightly, but shaking his head, as if to say ‘you idiots, I love you.’

“Get in here, nerd,” Roman muttered before pulling the smartest of the three into their hug. Patton didn’t know how long the three stood there for, but when they pulled away, Janus was still hugging Virgil tight. Remus gave Roman a brief hug.

“Proud of you, bro. Though I still say the medieval play in high school was your best,” the mustached twin said, and a look of realization crossed Roman’s features.

“You… saw that play?” he asked, and Remus nodded, confused. “Mom and Dad said you didn’t want to go.”

“I sat in the back corner, but I was so proud of you, Bro-man.” Remus smirked at the nickname he had used in the past for his brother, and Roman laughed, pulling his twin in for another hug. “You did awesome tonight.” Patton apparently had snapped a photo of the pair hugging with his polaroid camera, and thus entered the struggle over who would get to put it on the fridge.

Janus won that fight.

Patton sat alone at one of the tables in the schoolyard, his brown paper bag full of goodies that his mom made sure to include. It was scary, starting in a new school halfway through the year, and all of the other kids made fun of the flowers he brought in for his new teacher. Then they made fun of him for wearing a pink sweater, for his big round glasses, and for having long hair that his mom had put into a bun for him that morning before he got on the bus.

So, there he was, second grade, sitting all alone. He didn’t mind, because he knew that when he got home, he’d see his mom, and they’d be safe.

“What are you doing?” A voice said from beside him. He looked up to see a boy with square glasses, neatly combed hair, a polo shirt, and a tie. Patton remembered him as the boy who answered all of the questions during the science part of their class. “This is my table.”

“O-Oh… I’m sorry. I just… didn’t have anywhere else to sit.” Patton looked down, trying to hold in his tears. He didn’t want to be known as the kid who cried on his first day at the school, and his mom always knew when he’d been crying. “I’m s-so sorry…” The other boy sighed, sliding into the seat across from him and setting a book down.

“It’s fine, just stay quiet so I can read, okay Patton Hart?” he asked, and Patton looked up at him through teary eyes.

“Y-You know my name?” His voice was shaky, and he slid his glasses up to sit in his hair so he could wipe his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. The other boy nodded.

“You’re the new kid. You have a frog backpack and a notebook with a kitten on it,�� the boy said matter-of-factly. “A little bit frivolous, but if it’s what you enjoy, then there is no harm there.”

“Fribolous?” Patton asked, giggling. “You use a lot of big words.” The other boy sighed again, adjusting his glasses.

“Yes. Frivolous. F-R-I-V-O-L-O-U-S. It’s something that does not have any serious purpose or value,” he explained, and Patton nodded, face deep in thought.

“You know that underwater sea animal, porpoise?”

“I am aware of them, yes. Why do you ask?” he asked, and Patton giggled, having thought of the perfect pun.

“So… if I put a porpoise with serious guy glasses and a tie on my notebook… would it stop being fribolous?” He giggled all the way through his joke, and the other boy groaned.

“That was… awful. Why did you do that?”

“I thought it would be funny,” Patton said, sinking down a little. “D-Do you not like jokes?” He thought about his father, who never made any jokes around him. Who glared at Patton whenever the jokes came out of the small boy.

“I do not think that they lead to important discussions, is all,” he explained, and Patton nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. Then realization struck.

“What’s your name?”

“Oh. I’m Logan Crofters.”

As the weeks passed, Patton stayed sitting at Logan’s table, dishing out puns whenever necessary but mostly asking Logan about different kinds of science-related things. He liked the way that Logan explained things; he made a lot more sense than their teacher, sometimes.

“Am I bothering you?” Patton asked one day. He had slid over his grapes to Logan, who was munching on them between reading paragraphs from a book about frogs.

“What?”

“Am I annoying?”

“No, Patton. you’re not annoying.” Logan seemed a bit exasperated with the question, but he answered it anyway.

“Are we friends?” Patton’s eyes were focused on Logan, it had been so long since he had a friend that wasn’t his mom or one of his many stuffed animals.

“Oh. Um… I don’t know. I’ve never had a friend before.” Logan’s response was curt, and Patton’s jaw dropped.

“What!?” He jumped up from where he was sitting, then ran over to sit next to Logan. “Can I be your best friend, then??”

“Um. Sure?”

“Yay!” He wrapped his arms around Logan tightly.

Logan ran into the waiting room of the hospital, finding Patton sitting on a chair, his head in his hands. He approached him quickly, a hand instinctively going to his best friend’s back. “I got here as soon as I could, is she okay?”

“She collapsed, Lo. I just… She went into the back to rinse off the new roses, and when I went to check on her… she was on the ground.” Patton leaned into Logan’s shoulder, tears staining the polo shirt he was wearing. “The doctors say... it might have come back, but they’re running tests.”

“She’s in good hands, Pat. I’m going to text my parents and let them know that I’ll be here with you until she goes home, okay? And then I can be there for you.” Logan’s phone was in his hand, and he sent a quick text.

“Tell me something logical, please,” Patton whispered once the two were seated together, hands twisted together, Patton’s head on Logan’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” he asked, and just got a nod in return. “Well… logically speaking, a bee should not be physically able to fly–”

“Lo!” Patton was giggling, his grip tightening on Logan’s hand. “You know me so well. Thank you.”

The morning after opening night of the musical, Patton entered the apartment, yawning. He didn’t get much sleep thanks to Remus, and he was hoping to take a nap before delving into studying for his final exams. When he entered the apartment, he found Logan sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him.

“Hey, Lo. No Janus?” he asked, glancing around. Logan shook his head.

“He went home a while ago. Roman and Virgil are still in bed, though,” he explained, stretching his arms up. “Did you have a good time with Remus last night?” Patton’s face reddened at the question, and he nodded. “Does Hannah like him?”

It still caught Patton off guard whenever Logan referred to his mom by her first name, but they had been friends for almost fifteen years, so of course it made sense. Logan could call her mom, too, if he wanted to. He was there whenever Patton needed him, whenever she had a doctor’s appointment that Patton couldn’t drive her to because someone needed to look after the store.

Patton wondered why Logan did all of this. Sometimes he thought back to that time when he asked him if they were friends, all the way back when they were first getting to know each other. And Patton, little Patton, just… proclaimed them as best friends. Did he shoehorn Logan into their friendship so that he could never branch out?

No, that couldn’t be true, because Logan joined debate and chess and academic decathlon in high school, but still spent all of his free time with Patton. And even once Roman and Janus and now Virgil and Remus entered their lives, he still regarded Patton as one of his best friends.

“Hey, you look like you’re having some troubling thoughts, Patton. Want to talk about them?” Logan’s voice was pulling him back into the present, and he nodded, sitting on one of the stools. He was quiet for a bit, though, and Logan kept writing some notes down until Patton finally started talking again.

“Are you just my best friend out of convenience? Because I claimed you so early on and never really had any other friends? Do you just… stay my friend out of pity?” Patton was looking down until he felt Logan’s hand on his back, and then a laugh came from the usually stoic man.

“Patton, you’re my best friend because everyone else is annoying. If I didn’t want to be your friend I wouldn’t be, you’re a lot to deal with but I’ve been dealing with you for fifteen years and I plan on dealing with you for many more.” Logan’s voice was serious, and Patton could tell that he meant what he was saying. He leaned into Logan, wrapping his arms around his best friend.

“Thanks, Lo. Love ya.”

“Love you too, Pat.”

Patton’s arm burned, but in a good way. Underneath the plastic he could see the vibrant colors of his very first tattoo, his mother’s favorite flower and a bee sitting on its petals, to remind him of Logan. He didn’t tell anyone that he was getting it, not even Logan, so when he got home to find Logan sitting at the kitchen table doing homework while talking to his mom, he was surprised.

“Lo? What are you doing here?” he asked, putting his arm behind his back so neither of them could see. He kissed his mother on the cheek before sitting on one of the chairs beside them.

“I came by to study but Hannah said that you went out for something,” Logan explained, pushing his glasses up further on his nose.

“What did you do, baby?” his mother asked, glancing at him carefully. He was still hiding his arm, but he smiled and brought it out, settling it on the table.

“I uh, I got a tattoo, Mama,” Patton said hesitantly. She looked at it carefully, smiling a little bit. “A sunflower. Your favorite.” Logan eyed the tattoo as well, nodding in understanding. “To celebrate you beating the cancer again.”

“Patton, will you take me to get a tattoo?” Logan’s voice was there suddenly, and the two Harts looked at him with surprised expressions.

“Lo, you… want a tattoo?”

“I want to get a constellation tattooed on my shoulder. The one that was in the sky on the day we became best friends.”

Patton leaned into Remus’ side, the taller man’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. They were at the cafe, the others having gone home long ago to study or sleep, but the couple stayed long after, chatting with Remy whenever he brought them over refills on their drinks or small pastries. Remus’ grip got a little tighter around Patton each time he shone his signature bright smile at the barista, earning a soft thigh squeeze from the smaller man and a kiss on the cheek. Maybe that was why he did it; not because he was worried about Patton flirting, but because his boyfriend always comforted him with those delicate touches and sweet kisses.

The bell above the door to the cafe rang gently as a few men stepped in. Remus glanced out of the corner of his eye at them, and he thought his heart would stop. “Shit,” he muttered, looking down, earning a confused squeak from Patton. “Shit, we need to go. Right now.” Patton glanced over at the group of men, all dressed in leather, covered in tattoos and piercings, evil smirks on their faces as they noticed Remus.

“Do you know them?” Patton asked softly, and Remus buried his face into the other’s shoulder, a small note of truth escaping his mouth. “Are they…?” He didn’t need to finish the sentence. Patton wasn’t a fool; he could tell by Remus’ body language and the way he tensed up that this was the group of boys he had spent time with in high school. “I’ll go pay our tab, will you be okay?” Remus said nothing but gripped onto Patton tighter, shaking his head.

“Remus Creative,” one of the voices said, dark and gritty, and Remus cringed, looking up at him. Him. “Looks like you found yourself a precious pansy, hm?”

“Fuck off,” his voice was weak, trembling, and the memories of those eyes tore through him.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten, he’ll tire of you soon enough and you won’t have to deal with his voices and crude comments,” another one said, and Patton considered lunging at him, but held back, because Remus was trembling beside him.

“Everything alright, babes?” Remy was there, thank god, and Patton smiled sweetly at him, taking his debit card out of his pocket.

“Can we pay off our tab, please, Remy? We have to get going,” Patton said, his eyes flickering from the barista to the men, and a wave of understanding seemed to cross Remy’s face, who nodded and took the card, going back to the counter speedily.

“Running away again, Remus?” That voice asked again, and the mustached man shuddered, unable to look away from the grimace on his face. “You were always so good at that.” Patton’s frown deepened, and he glared at the man. “Aw, are you going to try to defend him, little kitten? Trying to be so cool with those floral tattoos–”

“I TOLD YOU TO FUCK OFF!” Remus was standing, his fists clenched, glaring at the men. Patton scrambled to his feet, a hand gripping the back of Remus’ jacket. Remy reappeared, handing the debit card to Patton, placing himself between Remus and the group of men.

“Alright, boys. Get out. You’re not welcome here if you’re going to torment some of my best customers.” His voice was firm, and they all glanced at the ‘Manager’ title on his name tag. “I don’t want to have to call the authorities. Get. Out.” The group scrambled out the door, the bell clanging almost annoying to the three, and Patton’s arms were around Remus.

“Hey, you okay, babe?” he asked, feeling his taller boyfriend shaking, his head low. “Shh, it’s okay, everything is okay, we’re okay.”

“Are you babes gonna be okay?” Remy asked, still standing there, arms crossed as he watched the group of men outside in deep discussion.

“Thank you, Remy,” Remus finally spoke, his voice still low. “If you hadn’t stepped in… I might have done something I’d regret.” Remy smiled, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, no one messes with my babes like that,” he said before going back to behind the counter. Patton’s lips were against Remus’ cheek, grounding him.

“Let’s go, Re.”

Remus woke up, feeling Patton’s arms around him loosely. The smaller man was snoring softly, and Remus smiled, carding his fingers through the fading pink hair. When they got back to his bedroom last night, he needed to be grounded, and Patton was there, being gentle and soft, his hands and lips all over his body until Remus felt relaxed enough to fall asleep.

Patton groaned a bit in his sleep, stretching his arms and legs, his eyes fluttering open to meet Remus’. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice heavy with sleepiness. “Morning, little flower,” Remus said, leaning down to press a stinky-mouthed kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “Thank you for last night.”

“Oh. Of course, honey. Anything for you,” he said quietly, but Remus could tell something was on his mind. “What did they mean by… you tiring of me, or running away?”

“Before you… I never really had a… committed partner. I’d run at the first hint that things were getting serious, when they said those words, I ran,” Remus explained, looking down. “But… that’s not going to happen with you, Patton. You mean so much to me, you’re… everything to me.”

“Everything?” Patton asked, a smile appearing on his face, his lips pressing to Remus’ cheek and then his neck.

“Patton,” he started, his heartbeat speeding up, and he wondered if the other could hear it because soft blue eyes met his green ones. “I love you.” Patton blinked, absorbing the knowledge, and then his arms were around Remus’ neck, their lips pressing together joyously.

“I love you too, Remus.”

Remus smiled into the kiss. He wasn’t afraid anymore. Patton was there, he was with him, and everything was good. And if things came up, they’d work through them together. They were a team, and they always would be. He kept repeating those words between kisses, the weight from his mouth lifted, and he wished he could have said those words to Patton weeks ago, because it felt so right to say them.

---

teaser for part nine: and the dark one is soft for the sunshine one

Roman wanted to object, but he knew that Virgil would just remind him of their nights practicing for the auditions, their super early mornings running lines, the way Roman was always there to watch Virgil’s scenes. Virgil was there too, always supporting, always smiling, even when his anxiety got the best of him, even when it was hard to focus.

part nine will be (hopefully) posted on Sunday, September 6 at 12PM PDT

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part nine | part ten

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taglist

@winterrose42

@are-you-even--real

@lallyphant

@deceits-left-glove

@aricana8

@pixelated-pineapple

@starstruck-xavier

@thiel

@sophiexteresa

@cemmy

@toadink2005

@eeveeeclair246

@i-cant-find-a-good-username

@pansexualpuppet

@morgan-leaf

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starberrywrites-ships · 4 years

Text

Sealing the Deal

Hubert x Constance

Constance wanted a little help with the uncertainty that is her future, and who better to ask than the one magic-user she believes might be better than herself.

Read on AO3: HERE

It was a beautiful day. Just enough wind to keep one cool while enjoying a hot beverage. Edelgard and Hubert spent this time having tea, as a little break from their intense planning. It was a very uneventful day, perfect for relaxing. Or so they thought.

“Your highness!! Hubert!!” Constance cheered from afar, skipping over to their table. Her large umbrella high in the sky, preventing the sun from shining on her. It wasn’t uncommon to see her around holding it. While under the overcast, she folded up her umbrella and set it by her side. “Hello!”

“Hello, Constance. Is there something you need?” Edelgard asked, wondering how she is so energetic all the time.

“Yes, there is! But not by you. I was wondering if I could speak with Hubert for a moment!”

This came as a surprise for both Hubert and Edelgard. Why would Constance need to speak with Hubert and him only? Hubert hoped Edelgard would say they’re busy and he needs to accompany her.

“Sure. I don’t see why not.”

Damn it.

“But Lady Edelgard-” Hubert began before being interrupted.

“I’ll be fine Hubert. We can meet up later. Constance, nice seeing you today. Enjoy your time.” Edelgard said, leaving her seat and the area completely.

Constance made herself comfortable, sitting down across from Hubert and noticing the teapot still had water in it. She smiled, grabbing the pot and began to heat it up from her hands using magic. This captured Hubert’s attention. Resulting in him making a judgemental face. Though, it’s hard to notice the difference from his regular expression.

“You use your magic for everyday life. Why bother? Is it not draining?” He asked, taking into consideration he himself only uses his magic for important things. Like training, protecting Lady Edelgard, missions, things like that.

“Why would I limit the window of opportunities to use my magic to simply only when I am in danger! You get no proper practice from that! I see it as a perfect way to make life more enjoyable while benefiting from it.” She said with a closed eye smile. “And besides! A great sorcerer such as I needs to live up to their title in order to restore House Nuvelle!”

There it is. Constance’s classic ‘Restore House Nuvelle’ line. It’s almost as annoying as Ferdinand repeating his name over and over again. At least to Hubert.

“Will you get to the point already? You asked to speak with me and yet here you are speaking at me.” Hubert said, wanting this to be over.

Constance poured herself a cup, took a sip, and placed it gently on the table. A large smile on her face as she opened her fan and began to laugh. “I want us to be work partners!”

“Absolutely not.” Hubert said immediately. He didn’t need to think about it. Working with anyone other than Edelgard is a big no, and Constance? Also a big no.

“Allow me to explain myself first will you?!” She said, beginning to fan herself. “You’re a big deal in the empire. Although I’m sure you already knew that! All I’m asking is that the two of us work together! I could use your help in restoring House Nuvelle! And I’ll repay you in any way!” She said in a more serious tone. “I need someone who can match my magical abilities! Or perhaps someone better even.”

“No. I serve Lady Edelgard and that is that. Go find someone else to beg.” Hubert said, taking this as an exit ticket. Lifting from his seat and walking away.

Constance watched as he disappeared, a frown on her face as she let out a defeated sigh. “What am I going to do now . . .”

- -

It’s been a few weeks since their last encounter. Constance had been locking herself up in Abyss, hoping some new invention spirals into her mind. There was no luck. She was frustrated by her lack of creativity and failures in spell casting. She came to the conclusion she simply needed a new environment for the time being. Grabbing her umbrella, she made her way towards the surface to see a very special someone.

“Luna!” Constance cheered, finally in view of her pegasus. Rushing over to the stable she began petting the animal, to which Luna purred and nudged into Constance’s palm. Constance proceeded to give Luna a hug, still holding her umbrella in a secure grip. “You’re lucky I care for you so much . . . Otherwise I wouldn’t bother coming to the surface,” Constance said, her tone growing soft.

Constance placed her forehead on Luna’s while letting out a sigh. “Oh, Luna. Why did it have to be this way. . .” her voice cracked, full of despair. The pegasus took note of her change in attitude, budding her head to lift Constance’s chin and make her laugh.

Constance smiled tiredly, going back to petting Luna. “While I hate to admit it, I feel if I am unable to accomplish this, I’m a disappointment.”

She was so caught up in her conversation with the animal, Constance didn’t notice the presence growing closer with each step.

Hubert let out a low chuckle, almost mockingly as he stood a good distance away from the Wolf, arms crossed over his body. “You’re never hard to find. Look for the large umbrella and you’ve found your very own Constance.”

Constance lifted her head to see who was speaking, locking eyes with Hubert. She quickly looked away, letting out a huff full of attitude. “Were you looking for me? Well, I have nothing to say to you.” She was clearly still upset over the last conversation they had.

“Perhaps you don’t. But I do.” He said, taking a few steps closer, stopping right at the brim of where her umbrella ended. Close enough to speak to her properly, but far enough to ensure he doesn’t accidentally hit what’s preventing her from going into a depressive episode. “I find your attitude to restoring your house rather endearing, I’m simply curious as to why you’re so caught up in being the best sorcerer and getting your noble title back.”

“Don’t you see it?” Constance said, turning her body to face Hubert completely. “I’m not working up my magic simply to be the best”, She drops her head to the ground. “It’s what I need to do for my family.”

“Your deceased family,” Hubert commented. “Both parents and a brother, correct? How is that of any importance to you? They’re gone after all.” He wasn’t asking to be rude. He’s just a little stupid sometimes.

“Simply cause!” Constance raised her voice, realizing just how tightly she was holding onto the handle, resulting in her hand going completely white. She lets out a sigh, collecting herself. “After the fall of House Nuvelle, I was furious at the world. If this so-called goddess truly cared about her people then why us? Why my family?! And why must I be the one left standing? Others may see it as a defeat, a sign not to carry on. I want to honour my family for all that they did. Being alive gave me a chance to show the world what the Nuvelle name means.”

Hubert tenses up. He wasn’t expecting a full confession, let alone from Constance. Her ‘high and mighty’ act had been completely dropped from this conversation. Leaving her openly vulnerable. Hubert noticed the little things while she was talking, the disappointment in her voice, her anxiously playing with her umbrella, the fact she couldn’t stand still while speaking.

Her drive and motivation for her family. It reminded Hubert of someone dear to him.

Constance shakes her head, letting out a painful laugh. “I’m aware it’s a ridiculous reason. Doing something for the dead. There’s no gain in doing such. But without this drive I have nothing.”

“‘It’s not ridiculous. I’ll lend my aid.”

She locks eyes with Hubert once more. Completely shocked and unsure if she even heard him correctly. “I beg your pardon?!”

Hubert lets out a sigh himself. “Do not make me repeat myself . . . I’ll lend my aid.”

A smile rises to Constance’s face. It was clear that a simple sentence boosted her mood in a positive way. “Hubert!!” She cheered.

“ Only after we reach Lady Edelgards goal. I’m expecting your magic expertise for the empire, payment for my future services.” He said, keeping her under control. But he did slightly enjoy her being as cheerful as she is now, it brought a small smile to his face as well.

“Thank you . . . truly.” Humble Constance. What a sight to see. While it is weird to her that Hubert’s help would mean so much, she knows with him around her dream isn’t so out of reach.

“Don’t fret over it. I’m simply seeing the plus side in having you involved. And besides, you need the best competition to train with.” Hubert said, his smile turning into a smirk as he remembers her praising him.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself.” Her regular over the top dramatic way of speaking returns once more. Bringing the tension between the two to very comfortable. It was surprisingly quiet around them, a beautiful day to have some tea. Or . . .

“Would you care to accompany me in a cup of coffee?” Hubert asked, watching Constance’s eyes widen at the question. He figured it was simply because of how out of character he was acting at the moment.

“How are you aware I like coffee?” She asked, genuinely impressed. The only time she had some to drink was when she got her hands on it and shared it with Hapi. It was absolutely divine, but unfortunately way too expensive for the ex noble to have on a regular.

It was a hard question to answer. It’s not like he could openly say he has spies down in Abyss to keep an eye out. At least, not yet he can. So, he resorted to the next obvious response. “You talk loudly.”

“Excuse you!”

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magical-gays-au-fanartfunart · 5 years

Text

*Insert Panic!At the Disco Song Quote Here*

Summary: Superhero AU- Thomas Sanders sure has a lot to deal with some days.

Ships: Logicality and Prinxiety

Warnings: Panic/anxiety.....yea that’s the most of what I can think of. Tell me if there’s anything I’m forgetting.

Words: 1334

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Thomas Sanders, at this point, had gotten used to some periodic sudden anxiety. It just happened to work out like that when you’re connected to a group of superheroes. One way Logic had described it once was- he was their center, their core, in a sense. The threadweaver of all the strings that connected them all. That said… He also was rather content to stay out of the direct fray and be the mediator, a calming presence on the sidelines.

That desire was also strongly influenced by the fact that he wasn’t particularly useful when he was curled into a ball of himself trying to fight off whatever THIS wave of panic stems from. Thomas squeezed his arms in time with his breaths, eyes shut. Thomas hissed one of his breaths- it really wasn’t helping that he felt like he was gonna die.

And it was gone. Thomas took in a harsh, ragged breath. Not all of it. He still felt extremely anxious. But the feeling of being suffocated had lightened so quickly Thomas was certain he’d been taken on some else’s emotional rollercoaster.

“Goodness Gracious,” Thomas huffed. Now to figure out who it was he should be trying to talk to. Patton had been trying to teach him how to parse through the emotional connection between the 5 of them, but it wasn’t exactly easy when it just felt like You.

Thomas was fairly sure his current swirl of anxiety was coming mostly from Virgil. Mostly. It could be his own. He has plenty of reasons to be anxious on his own. Thomas lulled his head against his knees and sighed. Virgil and Logan are the most likely to not mind a quick thought-chat. Thomas shook his head. Virgil it is.

“Ro will be fine! Logan had the medics look at him- It’ll be cool! He’s not gonna die or anything and we’ll be fine.” Thomas rubbed his temples and shook his head. “And I talk to myself way too much-” Thomas grumbled making another round in his pacing, half confident he’d run a hole into the carpet sometime soon.

Ring. Thomas paused. Ring. He scrambled over to the couch to snatch his phone from it’s clutches.

Ri-

“Hello?”

“Did you like… Run a mile or something?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Thomas grumbled into the phone.

Roman laughed on the other side of the call, “You sound like Anxiety when you say that.”

“I’m feeling kinda extra anxious right now so I’m not surprised.”

There was a shuffle on the other end- maybe like someone adjusting blankets?- and Roman let out a breath, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Ro, no I-” Thomas groaned and fell back into the cushions, “I’m just glad you’re safe, okay? How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay. Tired, but, okay.”

“You should take a-”

“Thomas, I’ve been asleep far longer than I ever want to sleep again.” Roman laughed, “Seriously, how does anybody lie in bed for more than 6 hours?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, “One day buddy, you’re gonna regret your teenage rebellion against sleep.”

“Hey now! I’m almost a legal adult!”

“Not if you still have to add the qualifier of ‘legal’ in front of it,” Thomas muttered into the phone, shaking his head.

“Bleep you.”

Thomas let out an exaggerated gasp which sent Roman into a round of rumbustious laughter. “No- Stop- Stop laughing this is totally serious- No swearing young man!”

“-you’re redder than your sash,” another voice crackled on the other end of the line.

“Who was that?”

“Oh yeah! I’m at a friend’s house. His mom let me stay over.”

“You’re not at home?” The bubble of joy popped.

“Um.” Thomas felt a hint of- was that guilt? It weighed in his chest like a rather large dog had decided to stand on him. He heard a door shut before Roman sighed and whispered, “Kinda useless hiding it from you, huh?” A small pause of quiet. “I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

“Yeah- um.” Thomas shifted the phone to his other ear. The anxiety had settled right alongside the other emotion- weirdly comfortable in a way. “Okay.”

“Hey, uh.” Roman leaned against the doorway, “So, Lo said Anxiety was gonna talk to you-”

“We talked, yeah.”

“Well. Um, I don’t have his number or like- anything, and I know he’s probably super worried and- I guess I was hoping you could tell him I’m okay?”

Thomas huffed a laugh, “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

Roman let out a breath, “Thanks.”

“By the way- who’s your friend?”

“Oh, his name’s Virgil!”

Thomas choked on air. He coughed a few times for good measure and- “Oh-kay, tha- That’s cool!”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah bud. Just- just dandy.”

“Oh! Pizza’s here! Um-”

“Go hang out with your friend Ro.”

“Kay then I’ll talk to you later sometime-”

“Hey, Ro?” Roman hummed in acknowledgement and Thomas sighed, “I just- I want you to know I’m here for you, okay? I’m one call- or, well- even just a thought- away, okay? And… It’s okay for you to be scared. I’m not gonna hold it against you, and you shouldn’t hold it against yourself either.”

A beat of silence. “Um. Thanks Thomas.”

Thomas had waited before trying to contact Virgil.

‘Hey, how’s the Anxious one?’

‘Fine, why?’ was the reply back. Virgil always sounded a little more echoed, slightly more distorted when they talked this way. Thomas always wondered if he sounded different to the others when he talked to them psychically. Hadn’t ever had the confidence to inquire however.

Thomas smiled, ‘A certain Creative boy asked about you. By the way, how’s the sleepover going?’

‘How did you know about that!?’

Thomas winced, ‘Quieter please. Roman called me, talked about his friend Virgil. I only know of a few Virgils.’

‘Oh.’ A moment of silence, ‘Wait, he asked about me? Ohmygod wait he talked about me? What did he say-’

Thomas rolled his eyes, ‘Please, gay panic somewhere else. It was brief, ok. He’s as oblivious as a doornail though, I hope you’re aware of that.’

‘Yeah that’s half the appeal,’ Virgil joked, ‘but really, what did he say? I’m gonna be stressing bout it for hours if you don’t tell me.’

‘He just wanted you to know he was ok, and he just mentioned you to explain he wasn’t back home. That’s that.’

‘ohmygod he wanted me to know he was ok ohmygod-’

‘Gay Panic elsewhere!’

‘**** you. I’m panicking in my mind, it’s your own fault you’re here too!’

Thomas laughed ‘yeah, you’re right I suppose. I’ll leave you to panic.’

Virgil swore at him once more and Thomas opened his eyes with a shake of his head.

“Well, can’t say I didn’t check up on him now.”

Thomas didn’t feel like pacing anymore, so he counted that as evidence that either Virgil had managed to relax or that it really was his own emotions and the phone call had helped relieve some of those lingering fears.

He was vaguely aware of a bundle of concern from one of the others (likely mostly from Patton now), and a restless energy (probably Logan or Roman- probably both), still pulling him to opt for a walk.

The light of day was lingering on the horizon, a lovely hue of pinks and oranges. Thomas hummed to himself, phone in hand as he typed out messages to affected community members, considering posting some of his singing. He was never sure if his power itself actually worked through recordings, but, at the very least, people still found comfort and joy in it. It’s the least he could do, right?

“You’re- Thomas Sanders, right?”

Thomas looked up from his phone and smiled at the redheaded stranger. He’d gotten a little too used to people just- knowing him. “Yep! Who may you be?”

The densely freckled boy adjusted his hat and smiled. He glanced up from under the brim of his cap, eyes a shocking golden yellow. “You can call me Dee.”

#thomas sanders (character)#Roman Sanders #Deceit Sanders #Virgil Sanders #superhero au #magical gays au #writing #fanfic #Ya'll better like my quirky titles.#:P

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 4 years

Text

in too deep (part 3)- jules

jules x reader

warnings: language, anxiety, creepiness, some violence, homophobia, overall just weird vibes (if you’ve seen the movie you know what i’m talking about)

TW: MENTIONS OF NON-CON (please don’t read if you’re triggered by this!! this was the bit of the story i had to change for the story to make sense since i swapped mickey’s gender. it doesn’t actually happen, but if the threat triggers you, do NOT READ!!!)

notes: i’m gonna try and keep this one shorter bc writing long chapters stresses me out

also! i’m writing this based on a pdf of the original script for the movie, so some dialogue may be different, or it may be my own creation because believe it or not, there are times that i do in fact possess creativity!!

you woke up with a jolt, dreams of the strangest variety plaguing your subconscious. you reached up to touch your pounding head- well, at least you would’ve if it wasn’t restrained.

“what the hell?” you tugged on the handcuffs, quickly realizing your legs were tied down, too, rendering you completely immobile. upon discovering this, you began to panic, breaking out in a cold sweat as you called out for your security blanket. “jules! jules!”

“she’s not gonna hear you. she’s down in the basement with sweetiepie.” gloria said calmly as she entered the room.

not impressed with her answer, you questioned her. “what are you gonna do to her?”

“my, my. you asked about her safety before even questioning yours! the bond the two of you share must be stronger than i thought.” she mused, looking down at your panicked expression. “your belle is safe and sound, don’t worry. but if you want to see her again, you’re going to have to cooperate.”

“cooperate? what the fuck are you gonna do to me?” you wrenched at your restraints, your heart rate beginning to pick up sufficiently. you depended on jules more than any other person in your life, and without her, you began to quickly unravel.

“just sit tight, all will be revealed soon enough.” gloria stated with an eerie smile. you hated how calm she was, it made you feel like she knew something you didn’t. “would you like to see some photos of my son?”

was she serious? look at some photos of her son? all you wanted was their car! how did you end up in this mess? the sudden aggravation caused you to lose your composure.

“no, i don’t wanna see any pictures of your fucking son! i wanna get my girlfriend and that fucking kid and get the fuck out of here!” you screamed. “i wanna get the fuck away from you and your crazy ass husband! i wa-” your sudden outburst was cut off by a firm slap, giving you little time to react before gloria had you in a chokehold.

“you keep your damn mouth shut! you won’t refer to anyone in this family like that under my roof!” you spat in her face, taking in a wheezing breath as she let go of you to wipe her face. her sudden anger morphed into what you assumed was her signature brand of unnerving calmness.

“you wanted to know what i’m going to do to you? i’ll tell you.” she smiled creepily. “you see, george and i have wanted our own children for the longest time, but that’s just not what the good lord had planned for us. so think of yourself as a vessel for us. an oven for our bun, if you will.”

your jaw dropped, the color in your face draining as your eyes widened in shock. “fuck! what the fuck? that’s so fucking fucked up! you’re not gonna fucking touch me, you bitch!” you couldn’t catch your breath, your chest heaving with every intake of air.

gloria got up to leave, her long skirt spinning with a flourish as she made her way to the bedroom door. “d-don’t f-fucking leave,” you wheezed as she exited the room, slamming the door behind her.

“jules!” you shouted. “jules, please fucking help me,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes in defeat.

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

time ticked by slowly, your arms and shoulders starting to ache as they were held in the same position. you tried to reposition them to get some relief, but none came.

suddenly, you heard the door click open, your eyes flitting up hopefully. gloria entered with a grin on her painted lips, making her way towards you.

while you were in the room by yourself, you had used the time wisely to come up with what would hopefully be a successful escape plan. you looked up at her with your best puppy dog eyes. “gloria, can we talk?”

“absolutely. what’s on your mind?” it was creepy how quickly she seemed to get over your defiance from earlier, but you pushed the thought from your mind.

“well, honestly, your proposal.” you began. “i know how i acted the other day was totally uncalled for, and i’ve reconsidered.”

“well, you didn’t really have much of a choice, sweetheart, but i’m glad you feel that way.” she stroked a hand over your stomach, making you feel physically sick. “is there anything else?”

“yeah, there is. can we start now? i wanna start these happy nine months as soon as i can.” you faked a smile, the words coming out of your mouth churning your insides.

“well yes, i guess that could be arranged,” she moved to get up and you panicked, your plan quickly setting out of motion.

“wait!” you exclaimed. “can you uncuff me? i don’t think it would really be enjoyable if i was tied down like i am now.”

she looked skeptical, but sat down next to you anyways. “give me one good reason you wouldn’t be trying to escape as soon as i untied you.”

“well, i’ve had a change of heart.” no i haven’t. “i’ve considered it, and i think you’re right.” no you’re not. “i think this experience would be really beneficial to me,” no it wouldn’t. “especially if i wasn’t chained to the bed the whole time.” definitely not.

“it seems that you’ve really put some thought into this, i’m very proud of you.” gloria crooned. she sat on the side of the mattress, working on uncuffing your hands from the bedposts. as soon as both your hands were free, you took a tight grip of her hair and used your body weight to launch her off of you and onto the floor. she cried out, clutching her head as you worked at the ropes around your ankles.

“you psycho fucking bitch!” you cursed at her. “i’m getting my girlfriend and that fucking kid and we’re getting the fuck out of here!” once your legs were finally free, you took off, running down the stairs as the damsel called out for her husband.

you raced towards the door, prying at the handle, when a gunshot goes off right next to your head. you jumped in fear, raising your hands in defense to see george at the top of the staircase, wielding your pistol.

“exactly what in the hell do you think you’re doing? get your ass up here!” he shouted, waving the weapon threateningly. when you stood frozen in your tracks, he spoke again. “i’m a crack shot, kid. i missed you on purpose that time. now get on up here.”

you grudgingly headed up the stairs, keeping your wide eyes facing straight ahead. you heard gloria sobbing in the other room, sounding as distraught as ever, and you knew you were in for it. “who the hell raised you like that? you of all people making a woman cry like that.”

“i’d blow your brains out if i thought you had any,” george sighed. “well, i’ll tell you one thing; you’re a bit too spry for my liking.”

suddenly, he pulled the trigger, and the bullet ripped through the meat of your thigh. you screamed in agony, clutching the wound as you cried out. “fuck! what the fuck? you just fucking shot me!”

he acted like it was nothing, simply tossing a towel at you to stop the bleeding. “quit your whinin’, ya sally. we’ll get you bandaged up.”

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

“don’t make me put another bullet in ‘ya. just behave, goddammit!” george growled as he dragged you down the basement stairs. through your hazy vision, you were able to make out jules handcuffed to a pole not too far away from the girl. he drops you to the floor, yanking your hands behind your back and cuffing them next to jules’.

“y/n!” jules called out, a happy yet worried smile making its way onto her lips. her gaze landed on your leg, her eyes widening when she saw the bloody wrappings. “oh my god! you motherfucker, what did you do to her?”

“what are you blind? i shot her.” george stated matter-of-factly. “now you two keep quiet down here. keep an eye on ‘em, sweetiepie.” he looked over to the girl before heading upstairs.

“fuck, i’m so happy you’re alive, baby! i heard those gunshots go off and i was so scared i was gonna lose you! are you okay?” jules blurted out, trying to turn towards you.

“it hurts so fucking bad, but i’m okay.” you panted, breathing labored. you wriggled your arms, pulling on the cuffs frustratingly.

“can you pick it?” jules asks hopefully. your heavy eyes darted around the basement, searching for something in arm’s reach small enough to fit in the keyhole.

“i don’t have anything to pick it with.” you huffed, leaning your head back against the pole as tears of frustration brimmed your eyes. “shit!”

you peeled your eyes open to look around the room once more, eyes landing on sweetiepie as she stared back at you in fascination. you had had enough of this little girl; she was the reason you were in this whole mess. if she just would’ve fucking cooperated, the three of you could be outta here and on the route to florida. “oh, i’m so glad you’re here, i didn’t get the chance to say fuck you!”

jules nudged you with her elbow, as if to discourage you from swearing at the child. “leave her alone, she feels bad. she didn’t know what she was doing.”

“how the hell do you know? she talked?” you asked in confusion at her statement.

“i don’t know, i just do.” jules shrugged. sweetiepie had resumed playing with her toys once more, the little princess dolly riding away on the heroic stallion’s back. you sighed at the seemingly hopeless situation, letting your eyes fall shut.

this was gonna be a long night.

***************************

okay so an itty bitty change of plans: if this ended where it was originally supposed to, it would be really long and kinda unsatisfying (to me at least), so i’m splitting this into two chapters.

which means that instead of a 5-part series, this will be 6 parts! it just makes more sense to me that way.

anyway, i hope you guys enjoy!! i really had fun writing this part!

tags: @emmyrosee @flowers-in-your-hayr @willyourecognisemee @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass

#jules #jules x reader #jules imagine #jules oneshot #jules fic #jules fanfic #jules fanfiction #jules villains #villains #villains 2019 #maika monroe #maika monroe character #my writing

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bensboynton · 5 years

Text

the bookshop on the corner b.h

this request was originally a blurb but then i wrote a few thousand words and it turned to a fic. so. oops?

WC: 3.3k

warnings: none besides typos!! only ONE curse word.

John Green once said, “As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, then all at once.”

And as a hopeless romantic, Y/N has wished since the original publication of the novel said quote appeared in (The Fault in Our Stars; one of her more modern favorites) that she could relate. In even the slightest!

Although, it was quite hard being a hopeless romantic who had absolutely zero men who were even slightly interested in her, zero social skills, and zero opportunity to fall in love with anybody.

Until today.

Y/N works at a bookshop in the corner of a quiet East Sussex street, in a town called Rye. The shop is squished between a small deli and a bland boutique that sells flowy shirts she swears she’s seen her grandmother wear on a few occasions.

The store itself is quaint and small; an absolutely staggering number of seven whole bookshelves filled to the brim with words, a lounging area, and her desk where she also had an old cash register. Y/N often worked alone, as the owner had other businesses and placed almost all her trust in Y/N. The girl was completely okay with working alone.

Her routine was always the same; wake up at 6 am, get ready while dancing to whatever music she’d been listening to recently (you’d be surprised by how fast her music taste changes: just yesterday she was listening to Miley Cyrus and now she’s listening to various punk bands she discovered on the internet). She’d then walk to the café that was exactly 95 steps away from the stoop of her apartment (give or take a few) and she’d spend around 20 minutes talking to the old woman who runs the place.

After stalling at the coffee shop, she makes her way across the street to the book shop where she works with one other person; the owner of the shop.

Y/N’s life is very monotone, and to other people, extremely boring. But not to her.

Y/N’s entire life exists in a 5 block radius of East Sussex. She goes to the grocery store sometimes, but that’s about as far away she gets from her apartment and she’s completely okay with that. She eats takeout a lot, anyways.

As pathetic as that sounds, this is probably the happiest Y/N has been in her entire life. Besides when she adopted her cat. That was a very close second in her book.

Y/N was completely satisfied with her life. She’d talk with the woman who owned the book store she lived in, would greet her mailman with a cheery smile every morning. She knew everybody and everybody knew her. She was friends--scratch that, acquaintances-- with everybody who was around her. And that’s how she liked it.

In fifth grade, Y/N was bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready to find a love like she saw in the movies her big sister watched on the TV all the time. While other kids her age were watching Finding Nemo, Y/N was watching Pretty Woman.

Then one day, Dale Erdelac, otherwise known as Y/N’s crush, asked her to be his girlfriend during lunch. She stood there with her mouth full of sharp metal braces and her heart full of adrenaline and butterflies. She said yes all too quickly.

Needless to say, Dale wasn’t serious. Y/N found out a few hours later that it wasn’t, in fact, a serious proposal. It was a dare from his snotty little friends. Y/N cried a lot more than she’d like to admit that day.

It would be completely immature and nonsensical if the only reason Y/N’s love life was so disappointing was because of a dumb mouth-breather in fifth grade. It’s not, but that’s definitely part of it.

Y/N has never truly been in love.

Her mom tries to tell her she has, but she knows she hasn’t. She dated a guy in high school for two years just to pass the time. She told him “I love you” and he said it back, but she didn’t feel love. She didn’t feel the speeding up of her heartbeat when she saw him, or the warmth that spreads across your chest when they laugh like the pretty girls talk about in the movies.

Her older sister, Peyton, tells her to move on a lot. “That fairytale love doesn’t exist,” she’d say, “it’s a creative outlet for fictional writers to display their nonsense dreams and desires. It can exist in your head, but never in real life.”

That’s what she said every time.

Y/N ignored her and kept on living her life in the small bubble of 5 blocks in Rye.

She was happy. She told herself that. No, she knew she was happy. She was secure! What else could she want in life?

And then he showed up.

The tiny bookstore in the corner of the block didn’t get a lot of visitors (although that could be easily inferred due to the description of the little community there). Y/N pretty much knew the name and story of every single person who stepped foot into the shop.

Until one day, she didn’t anymore.

It was a cold January day; not the kind where the wind pierces your skin like daggers. It was the kind of cold that felt dry; like it was sucking the water out of your body through your skin and leaving behind a red numbness in its wake.

A man walked in. He was tall and blonde, muscular and carried a chaotically calming energy. His eyes raked over the book store slowly, as if he was trying to imprint the old wooden rocking chairs and chipped bookshelves in his mind forever.

It was like every move he made had a perfectly logical purpose.

Y/N watched him intently from across the room, hidden by a pile of books she’d been meaning to put away for more than an hour now. She was so intrigued by him it made her stomach do a backflip. This was unusual for her.

As soon as the man started looking her way, she looked down into the book sitting open on her lap, scrambling to pretend she was deep in thought over the passage she was reading.

Her pupils glossed over the same paragraph three times, but she couldn’t comprehend a single word knowing he was in the same room as her.

“Excuse me?”

Y/N’s body jolted slightly due to the sudden sound of his deep voice. She was the only one in the bookshop at the moment, as the owner had gone home for the day and it was her turn to close up. The store was never populated by more than six people at a time, and it would be especially dead considering New Year’s Eve was two days ago.

“What can I help you with?” she spoke, mentally slapping herself for the way her voice sounded. It was pinched and sounded like a squeak. She cleared her throat desperately to return it to its normal sound.

“I’m looking for a book.”

“What kind of book?”

“Well... that’s what I need your help with.”

She smiled as an involuntary blush made its way to her already rosy cheeks, “I think I can help you.”

She stood up and walked from behind the desk, beckoning the tall blonde man to go with her. The pair made their way to the bookshelves in awkward and palpable silence. The girl was panicking- she had no idea what to say.

“I was wondering if you had any recommendations?” The Brit added to the nonexistent conversation.

Y/N thought for a moment, “...well, I’m not sure what kind of person you are, but I recommend any classic literature to people who ask.”

“Does the type of person I am happen to determine the type of books I like?”

“It’s the only thing that determines what type of books you like.”

The girl turned around, her fingers lightly dancing over the spines of the books as she walked. The tall man was on her heels, seemingly just as intrigued by her and she was with him.

“Of course we have Jane Eyre, Pride and Prejudice, To Kill A Mockingbird, Wuthering Heights, and of course, my favorite of all time, The Great Gatsby.” She was picking out the books from their places on the shelves that she had memorized over her six years of working here. She knew the placement of books and authors like the back of her hand.

The man gazed at the pile of books in her arms thoughtfully, before meeting her eyes. “I’ll take it.”

“Which one?”

“All of them.”

She grinned at his eagerness.

After ringing up his books and a slight burst of confidence, Y/N was able to discover the man’s name and his reason for suddenly buying four books two days after New Year’s Eve.

Ben (a name she thought suited him particularly well) was starting a New Year’s Resolution; read one book a month. He confided in her his self-doubt on his ability, but with a small grin, she said she believed in him. His smile grew as he picked up the bag and left.

Y/N could’ve cursed herself into oblivion for not getting his number.

The girl walked across the street that next morning, balancing a coffee and a copy of the newest book that had arrived at the store.

That was one of the best perks of her job, she thought. Access to the newest stories. While she pondered the last chapter she had read of her book, a blonde head of hair in the distance caught her eye.

“Excuse me?” a very familiar voice spoke. Y/N’s cheeks almost immediately flushed at those two words. Deja Vu.

“You’re back!” she spoke, almost as to question why. It’s not often someone new comes back twice, much less is standing at the door before she even gets there.

“I am,” he spoke breathily, scratching the back of his neck, “I wanted to come back to... well...” he trailed off, eyes dancing to the floor.

Y/N waited patiently for him to say what he meant to (she knew that’s what she’d want if she was in his shoes).

“I needed to get your name, at least. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t.”

The girl bit the inside of her cheek to stop her mouth from stretching into a grin that was a mile long. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she stared at her shoes for a moment.

She made direct eye contact with Ben’s hazel eyes and smiled, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose slightly.

“Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, his eyes going hazy as he thought about it.

Ben followed her inside and sat down next to her desk quickly, almost as if he was afraid he’d run out of time.

“I read The Great Gatsby yesterday... you said that one was your favorites, right?”

Y/N nodded, taking a delicate sip from the paper cup of coffee still in her hand.

“Right. Well. I have a few questions.”

Y/N nodded vigorously. She could practically feel the twinkle in her eye, “I’m all ears.”

Y/N went home that day with a swarm of butterflies making a home in the pits of her stomach. Ben had spent the better part of four hours with her, discussing the book he read and many, many other things.

When Ben left the shop that day, she had learned that his favorite color was clear (he thought it made him quirky) and he had a dog named Frankie. Y/N saw quite a few pictures of Frankie that day. She was a cat person, but she couldn’t tell if it was the dog or the way Ben’s eyes lit up when he talked about her that made her heart swell.

She also learned that Ben hated reading, and that he was mildly confused as to why he seemed to enjoy the Great Gatsby so much.

“It’s got to be because of you,” he mused, “I’ve never enjoyed reading a book until this one.”

Y/N also learned that Ben was an incredibly smooth talker.

He made her blush and giggle like a school-girl almost all day. It physically pained Y/N when she had to leave him alone to help a customer. She wished she could sit there and bask in him and all that he was.

Y/N wasn’t positive if love at first sight existed before, but now she hadn’t been more positive of anything in her entire life.

Y/N hadn’t had anyone new to talk to in years (she wishes that was an exaggeration).

So you could definitely imagine the girl’s surprise to see a young British man with a shared admiration for the Great Gatsby at the book shop again before opening time.

The day prior seemed to repeat itself. And then, every single day after that.

For three months, Ben would come to the book store and wait outside for Y/N to come and open up. And Y/N spent three weeks barely getting any sleep and talking to her cat about how excited she was to see Ben the next day.

Y/N and Ben got very close.

Insanely close.

So close to the point that Ben knew every single secret she had kept to herself. He knew the name of her first pet and childhood address (which she realized Ben could easily use to change the passwords on innumerable online shopping accounts).

Ben knew about the one time she had an allergic reaction to a medicine she was on when she was younger, and he even knew about fucking Dale. That was a story Y/N kept to herself. But she told Ben.

But this relationship was definitely not onesided. Y/N knew just about everything there was to know about Ben.

She knew the names of his childhood best friends and his favorite flavor of ice cream. She knew about the one time he got arrested when he was a teenager because he was lighting off fireworks in the street at 3 am. She also knew that Ben was an actor that was currently working on a new film. But she wanted to know even more.

Ben left every day at around 11:30. Y/N had no idea where he went or what he did, but he was never more than five minutes late before he stood up, gave her a big smile and left.

Y/N had never been in love before but she knew with every fiber of her being, with every bone, muscle, and cell in her body that she was in love with Ben.

And almost as soon as she realized this, there came some news.

Earth-shattering, heart-wrenching news.

He was leaving.

“I have to go back to the states to finish this film in three days,” he muttered into the quiet air of the book store he had grown so familiar with, “and I won’t be back for at least two months.”

Y/N could physically feel her heart drop in unison with the butterflies in her stomach. He was leaving, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

She had given him a sad smile and taken a thoughtful sip of the tea sitting on her desk.

“Oh well. Guess I’ll see you in two months, right?”

"Yeah,” Ben said with a grimace, “right.”

The two of them spent those last few days talking quickly; trying to fit as many words into as little amount of time as possible. It felt like they were suffocating with how fast they were talking and how fast the conversation was moving. Her head would hurt at trying to process so many conversations and stories and little peccadilloes the pair were hurling at each other.

It was like they were making up for the time the two of them knew they were going to lose.

On Ben’s last day, Y/N told him of her fear of love and the lack thereof in her life. She told him of her strong desire to be able to relate to the John Green quote. He didn’t say much to that.

She was so in love with him. And she didn’t think he was in love with her.

His flight was at 1:00 that day. He left at noon instead of 11:30. Y/N felt her heartbeat increase as the seconds passed by for that last half hour, almost like she was genuinely frightened of him leaving.

He said goodbye with the first hug the pair ever shared and a light kiss to the top of the head. Y/N’s face was comparable to a fire hydrant.

Ben swore he would keep in contact, but with the differing time zones, Y/N knew deep down that wouldn’t happen.

So, with a heavy heart, she caught up on some things around the shop she had been slacking on these past few weeks.

She blinked away the tears in her eyes a few times, mentally shaming herself for being so upset this man she met three months earlier was leaving. She should’ve known. Or even better, she should’ve said something.

The girl watched in agony as the clock hit 1:00 that afternoon, and felt a pang in her chest as she thought of him jetting far, far, away from her.

He would never remember her. She was a quiet girl who worked in a quiet bookshop that was located in a quiet corner of an even quieter town. There was nothing she could do.

She started sweeping lazily, letting the broom lightly drag across the floor. She didn’t even acknowledge the fact that she wasn’t sweeping anything up.

She almost peed her pants, though, when a loud noise sounded throughout the otherwise empty bookshop and the door was thrown open the fastest it’s been in its entire life. So fast, in fact, that it fell off its hinges and onto the floor, simultaneously shattering the glass panes that made up the middle.

The girl stumbled backward in shock, her heart pumping not only because of the loud noise, but also because of the person who broke the door.

Ben.

The widest smile to ever adorn her pretty face was stretching across her lips. In an adrenaline filled moment, she was off the floor and in his arms. He was stiff and shocked at first, but almost immediately melted into her strangely warm embrace.

“What are you doing? Your flight was supposed to leave 15 minutes ago!” Y/N exclaimed, the confusion finally finding its way to her intricate brain.

“I-I couldn’t do it. Not without telling you something first.”

Y/N’s heart was beating so hard she swore he could see it pounding out of her chest like it does in the cartoons.

“There’s really no easy way to do this, but here goes nothing,” Ben spoke, clearing his throat, “Y/N, I know we haven’t known each other for that long but I really, really, really like y-”

Before the beautiful, perfect man could finish his sentence, Y/N was pushing her lips against his in a mad frenzy to release a tension that had been palpable for months.

Ben melted into the kiss faster than he melted into the hug, his lips moving against hers oh-so-perfectly.

It felt like they were made to be together.

It felt like Y/N had been searching for the final puzzle piece to her life for 27 years, and now here she was, standing in the middle of the bookshop on the corner with the glass door shattered on the floor, finally finishing her life-long puzzle.

“I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” she whispered into the quiet that had again settled over the bookstore.

Maybe Y/N didn’t fall in love while watching Ben read, as John Green said one of his characters did. But she did fall in love like she fell asleep.

Slowly, then all at once.

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