#fun fact : he lives in the shallow waters and is where the sand is deeper and good for the hiding | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sohannabarberaesque · 5 years ago

Text

Underwater America: The Outer Banks and the Graveyard of the Atlantic

SCUBA diving is an oftentimes exciting experience. With each dive spot we visit, my crew and I gain a greater understanding of the underwater world—although let’s face it, some of us are in it for the thrill. In the past week we seemed to have plenty of them, exploring wrecks and coral reefs and interacting with the aquatic life that inhabit within. It had gotten to the point, of course, where we couldn’t seem to go a day without diving. Unfortunately, though, that seemed to be the case, as our next destination would be several states and many hours away. We were able to get some sort of a head start by leaving Key West late in the evening, sleeping at a motel in Melbourne, and leaving just before the break of dawn and before I-95’s familiar heavy traffic. “I’m bored,” Squiddly, riding shotgun that day, said to me, his tentacles barely moving. “Sorry, Squiddly. I know it’s a pain having to endure seeing nothing but cars for hours on end.” “Who said anything about boredom, to begin with?” was how Mildew Wolf parsed it—and, close at hand, Breezly Bruin could be starting to doze off, feeling slightly drowsy. “On the other hand,” Loopy de Loop remarked, “it always pays to imagine the very possibilities of our next diving journey—and after such a wonderful time in the Keys, who couldn’t swear it was almost like Paradise to a diver?” “I agree, Loopy baby, even if it seems like another day away!” Hokey chuckled, resisting the urge to try to put his feet up on the driver’s seat. “I guess we could use a little pick-me-up,” I said, sensing the need for nourishment as we drove past the Florida–Georgia line. “We won’t dive there today, but if you’d like, we could go to Hilton Head Island or Myrtle Beach and relax there. No exploring or anything.” “Which,” Magilla chimed in, “suits me just fine. Besides, I could use a little stretching of the old muscles every now and then!” To which Hardy Har-Har chimed in, “You can say that again—” “The name’s Magilla Gorilla.” “And I am Hardy Har-Har. Don’t let my myopic looks or personality fool you.” “Meanwhile, what’s there to be fooled in Magilla himself?” “This I have to see to believe!” was how Mildew Wolf snarkily parsed it. “Meanwhile,” Loopy de Loop chimed in with inherent Québécois charm, “I can’t help but recall just how wonderfully blue Okoboji was when we were diving there just weeks back…and how equally blue the waters off the Keys seem to be.” “Hence,” Mildew rejoindered, “I take back any and all remark about laundry bluing explaining the blueness of Lake Okoboji. It was more or less intended in jest.” “I’d have to concur with Loopy,” was how Magilla added to the conversation, “when it came to just how remarkably clear those Keys waters can get to be…on a par with Okoboji!” “We need to cool off!” Wally said, wiping sweat off his brows as the sun’s rays continued to hit. “All right, we’ll do it. We’ll stop for breakfast in a little while. I’m sure we’re all hungry, anyway.” After getting a diver’s breakfast at a restaurant in Brunswick, we continued up I-95, eventually crossing into South Carolina. The lighthouse with the red-and-white stripes—otherwise known as the Harbour Town Lighthouse—was the sign that we had arrived in Hilton Head Island, one of the South’s growing tourist resorts. We donned our masks, harnesses, tanks and fins and, following the customary dive-and-safety briefing, we waddled into the beach, much to the bemusement of maybe one or two people looking on, wondering about those weird animals and their hobbies. This moment of fun and sun would be the prelude—and antithesis—to a dive both dark and historical: the Graveyard of the Atlantic in the Outer Banks of North Carolina, a stretch of land and ocean that holds many stories and secrets.

Just about each of us had their own ideas for fun. “Just about,” I say, as I was content to just hold the film camera, slowly kick my legs as the fins bent upward and downward in a somewhat hypnotic motion, and watch. My friends discuss the joy that was had for about an hour that perfect day. As Magilla observed the town itself: “For a somewhat emerging resort as may not quite be Disney World, the underwater scene off Hilton Head may seem a little basic…but at least you had an opportunity to stretch out the muscles for the dive ahead.” And Mildew: “So it’s probably just ocean sand…yet you got an opportunity to basically recline on the bottom and kick back for just a few minutes.” Wally’s reply: “You know I had to join you. It never gets old, Mildew. Reminds me of the zoo! The better memories…” Breezly’s commentary: “Rather interesting dive discovery…and what an interesting way to relax, reclining on the sand alongside Mildew Wolf!” And here’s Squiddly: “Not interesting enough to go into the history books anytime soon, but whatever floats your boat, I suppose! Now this, meanwhile, is living…” he said, over footage of him spinning his tentacles as though they were the blades of a helicopter. Meanwhile, some others were playing tag, with Lippy commenting over grabbing Hardy’s fin: “Don’t sweat it, Hardy. Someday you’ll get the hang of underwater tag.” Here’s Loopy to close out the commentary: “‘Loopy,’ I said to myself, ‘is there nothing sacred when it comes to what you can do while diving?’ And I answer to myself, ‘what is there to be considered sacred?’” Without a boat, we simply came out the way we came in, like ten underwater monsters after human flesh. The hour well spent and our appetites well sated, we continued on our journey across I-95, reaching the town of Beaufort, North Carolina, in Cape Fear, by night, where we would get ourselves a nice dinner and lodging. Having consulted a guide book that evening for some possible wreck sites, I discussed a possible course of action for tomorrow with Magilla and Squiddly over some vending-machine coffee. Squiddly patiently waited for his cup to fill while I laid back against the wall with my cup in hand. “So we have two options,” I said to Magilla. “We could do a dive with more bottom time first, or the real deep one. The shallow dive will be the Hesperides while we tackle the City of Atlanta the day after. We can afford to do two days’ worth of dives here.” Magilla, nursing a cup of vending-machine coffee himself as was gradually becoming tepid by the long intervals between sips, couldn’t help but be fascinated at the idea offered. Especially considering where they would likely be able to do two days’ dives in the right conditions. “So, have any preference?” I asked the two of them, with Squiddly carefully handling his cup of coffee, rightly requiring two of his tentacles to do so. “We could do City of Atlanta first,” Squiddly said, wincing as he realized it was going to be difficult to set a cup of coffee down on the table with one tentacle holding the bottom, one wrapped around the cup, and both getting quickly warm. “That way I could go back there solo and get in a lot more deep wrecks. It’s no problem. You can go without me!” “Pretty amusing thing that Squiddly Diddly has for deep wrecks,” Magilla remarked. “And you wonder how that’s possible, particularly remembering his background as shallow-pool fodder back at Bubbleland.” “It’s not that I have a thing for them,” Squiddly replied with his brow arched as I helped him set down the cup. “It’s just that these wrecks may be deeper, and you oughta know you can’t do multiple deep dives like that with all that nitrogen buildup. That doesn’t affect me.” “Are you sure you’ll be fine?” I asked. “Now that the cup’s on the table, yeah, I’m sure,” Squiddly smiled. “That, plus the diving.” “Might it be possible,” Magilla asked, “that we might have to schedule the dive for just after daybreak, or maybe wait a couple hours after?” “We can conduct the dive late in the morning,” I said. “Given the depth, we wouldn’t want to be down that long.” But at any rate, even with Magilla’s coffee having become cold, he couldn’t help but sense a feeling of intrigue as to what could easily ensue at the sight of such an interesting wreck as the City of Atlanta. Especially the circumstances under which it was brought down. “As a matter of fact, Peter,” Magilla was prompted to ask, “what’s especially interesting about the City of Atlanta wreck?” “It’s got quite a history. It was one of the ships brought down by German U-boats during World War II. Plus, it’s within diving range for us. I’ll bring it up with the others,” I said, finding the coffee cool enough to finish with ease. “I’m sure there’ll be no objections.” And indeed, there weren’t. With the discussion over and my colleagues agreeing to the arrangement, we checked out just before seven in the morning in order to get breakfast, then continue north to the town of Buxton on Hatteras Island, where we would charter a boat to take us to our site. The conditions were right: few clouds, and the temperatures were considerably warm. Even so, we were prepared to take precautions given the depth of our dive. "Heavens to Jacques Cousteau!” Coming from the wheelhouse of the diveboat Diver’s Home Companion, such was certain to bring a sense of weird familiarity as our crew headed out to the City of Atlanta wreck site. “’Tis I, Snagglepuss, something of a legend among dive boat captains here in the Outer Banks.” “Jeez,” Mildew Wolf observed, “isn’t that voice a little familiar, albeit vaguely?” To which Wally Gator added, “Where have we last seen him?” Our team happily greeted Snagglepuss, a close friend of ours, upon hearing the familiar voice, although a few of us were curious as to what he was doing there. “That’s quite a coincidence,” Lippy said, scratching his head. “You’re on vacation, too?” Although I wouldn’t call it a vacation in the traditional sense, we were having good fun anyway. “Aaaaahhhh…to be among sea breezes, the gentle sway of the waves, the allure of the legendary wrecks as dot the Outer Banks—The Graveyard of the Atlantic, even!…Now what did you have in mind, Bluebeard’s legendary vessel, Queen Anne’s Revenge?” “Nope,” I said with a light chuckle. “We’re going to be exploring a World War II wreck, the City of Atlanta.” “I have heard something about the City of Atlanta in certain divers’ circles out this way,” Snagglepuss remarked. “It was U-boat action, wasn’t it?” “That’s right. We’re all going down there. You know, we could use one more.” “Provided we find a wetsuit that fits ya first!” exclaimed Hokey with his sly grin. “I do acknowledge,” Snagglepuss explained, “having done some diving here and there: Catalina Island, Hanamua Bay, the Florida Keys, even…and you can’t help but discover the challenges each dive brings about!” “You coulda joined us, Snag, old friend! We woulda spoken about old times inbetween dives!” Hokey said as he looked through the wetsuits to find out which was his. And in Loopy’s own case, it wasn’t quite hard to find his wetsuit—the one with a fleur-de-lis over his right breast, in the Québécois fashion. Fitting the wetsuit over such a furry body, however, could be regarded as easier said than done—particularly if you wanted to avoid getting the wetsuit’s zipper being caught in the fur. I, however, didn’t care much for fashion: just a simple black suit, with no markings to tell it apart: I was the only one who wore a wetsuit that large. “You didn’t dive alone, did you, Snag?” “I do acknowledge,” Snagglepuss remarked, “diving by myself…and finding a few companions here and there.” I groaned at the thought of such a dangerous thing. “Yeah, you shouldn’t do that,” I said, sighing as I zipped up. “If something happened to you, nobody’d be there to help you.” “I don’t think the fish swimming by you are that smart, anyway!” Squiddly added. Breezly chimed in, “I believe there’s an old saying to the effect of ‘dive alone, die alone’; am I correct?” I nodded. “I’m not much into sayings, but that’s absolutely correct. Although, Snag, you’ll have plenty of companions here, provided you join us!” “Hopefully, you do have a spare wetsuit as fits me!” was how Snagglepuss met the challenge. Hardy and Mildew offered to check the stock to find just the right one, and while it took a few minutes’ searching, one pretty close in size to Snag’s frame and dimensions did turn up. And once invited to fit the wetsuit, Snag admitted that it felt a little loose, but “at least it should suffice. Especially for such an interesting venue as you have in mind…and I guess we are approaching the same, judging by the coordinates you gave, Peter!” “We’ll be doing two dives in Buxton,” I said, showing Snag the map. “Tomorrow we’ll explore the Hesperides—it’s a dive with lots of bottom time and warmer waters.” “Oh, I’ve heard also of the Hesperides wreck! Didn’t that involve a load of pig iron complicated by a shifting sea bottom?” “Sure did. You’ll get to enjoy warm water against your fur tomorrow, but for now, we need to plot this dive out.” Snagglepuss piloted the dive boat miles out into the Atlantic Ocean. Once the boat came to a full stop, we hoisted the “diver down” signal and donned the rest of our gear. It seemed much heavier, since in addition to the usual gear we also had a wetsuit and a hood on. Although it was a very warm day, we weren’t about to take chances in what was ninety-foot water. Naturally, with the extra diver and extra equipment, it was a bit more crowded. Our dive time was going to be only thirty minutes at ninety feet with a five-minute stop at fifteen feet, so we had better make the most of all our time. Naturally, Squiddly would be there a bit longer to take care of any other nearby wrecks in the area and get off a few good shots. There was the usual safety briefing, and Snag was all ears this time. As we had an odd number of divers, I had Snag teamed up with Hokey and Wally. “All right, everyone,” said I, wearing the mask over the eyes, “Good diving.” With regulator in mouth between my teeth, we all entered backward in unison, Squiddly leading the way with a rope to aid in finding our way back. Believe you me, the wetsuit couldn’t have been rather comfortable. Such seemed to be the consensus among us in the dive, considering such rather chilly waters as these. Snagglepuss couldn’t agree more, considering the situation to hand; even then, the feeling of neoprene rubber against fur was a little unusual, it probably having been awhile since he dived thus. All of us stayed close as the sun penetrated the water less and less and things grew darker. We were about to go face-to-face with World War II history, one of the many casualties of America’s “Torpedo Junction.” Traveling from New York to Savannah, the City of Atlanta was noticed by a German U-boat on January 18, 1942, despite an attempt to remain discreet. Past midnight into January 19, one torpedo shot was fired—and was enough. The blast was so powerful that people from what is now the town of Avon, seven miles away, awoke. Of the 46 people on board, only three survived. We arrived at the stern of the ship, where we would all meet when we were done. We then started exploring the boat and discovered that most of whatever was left was flattened. Nevertheless, there was still plenty to explore. And given such a depth, and the general murkiness of the waters surrounding the wreck, flashlights and wetsuits seemed like welcome company considering just how intense the U-123’s shelling damaged the City of Atlanta enough to quickly bring her to ruin. Time, admittedly, did her number on the wreck, but the wheel as was one with its steering system could still be discerned though barnacles grew around its edges. Snagglepuss and companions in particular couldn’t help but notice how intact the engine and boilers remained; even shining a light on same revealed just how the barnacles had built up. Squiddly was able to get behind the boilers and film several divers—namely, Mildew and Loopy—swimming up and over it in the hope that the port side of the ship had anything interesting on view. The Diving Wolves, as they were, discerned a piece of the ship’s boiler which managed to survive the onslaught, chilled all these years in 90-feet waters…and even in the curiosity, Mildew’s flashlight gave out for some reason, prompting Loopy, through hand signs, to offer sharing with Mildew. Accepted. While Squiddly stayed with the wolves, I saw Hokey and Wally examining the port side, swimming along the sides of a boat to get a better idea of how it may have looked in a better time. While there wasn’t enough to go on, there was still plenty visible—never mind just how destructive the torpedoes from U-123 made quick work of the City of Atlanta, and the later flagging of the area as a hazard to marine navigation. It must seem rather amazing, Breezly Bruin thought to himself in the height of the dive, how the engine and boilers could have survived such destruction to begin with. Yet as a wreck, he had to be conscious of what it was and that care had to be taken around same, never mind the growths of barnacles all this time. Another interesting discovery: though barely visible through the sand of the bottom, Snagglepuss couldn’t help but notice a piece of the brass screw propeller as propelled the City of Atlanta all the while. Thankfully, Snag decided against shovelling out the propeller’s remains, recognising the wreck’s importance. Fortunately, I was able to get this discovery just as our time was just about up. We made our slow ascent at the rate of one foot every two seconds—it took a good two-and-a-half minutes to reach the decompression stage, which required an additional five minutes of waiting. Squiddly wanted to go up as well, if only to change the film in the camera for a new reel. Admittedly, we wouldn’t blame Squiddly for having to change the film, but decompression was decompression. And we could no doubt imagine what would emerge from the raw footage in the end. Once the decompression stop was complete, we climbed out of the water, eager to get out of the gear. Wally was one of those not ready to bake in the wetsuit. “Fuddle-dee-doo,” muttered Wally. “I understand the need for it, but it wasn’t that comfy!” Nor would Hardy Har Har have persisted in the wetsuit (“Ohh dear. How much longer would it have been likely before being dehydrated, as it were, in my wetsuit?”), but at any rate, he, among the others of the crew, were glad to pull off the suits of neoprene rubber, wondering what the stench would be like. Freed of the suits, we were all too eager to slap some of the sea water scooped up from the ocean waters onto our bodies. Squiddly, meanwhile, was the only one of us who appeared happy. He didn’t wear a wetsuit and was all too eager to go back for more, as soon as he loaded up another reel of film. “See ya in 30 minutes!” the octopus squealed excitedly, diving back in and swimming with a freedom the rest of us couldn’t cherish. As a bulwark against hypothermia, though, we were fine with dressing up just that one time. And thus was initiative more than anything to begin the debriefing over the City of Atlanta wreck, which Mildew Wolf opened by pointing out just how “stunning” it seemed to come face to face with as unlikely an item of history as that. “If we weren’t on such a schedule, we’d visit a lot more wrecks,” Hokey opined. They wished they could, but given the nitrogen buildup, it was best to wait a long time before they went under again. Breezly Bruin, for his part, admitted to a “certain sense of giddiness” at diving to such depths as the City of Atlanta wreck, contrasting such with his own diving experiences alongside Sneezly Seal in the waters of the Bering Sea off Nome: Somewhat bluish-green to the point of turning murky after awhile, chilly almost constantly, and the visibility somewhat limited, if that. Wally, listening attentively to Breezly, chimed in: “Shame I’ve been cooped up in the zoo so long. For a long time, I never quite experienced dives this deep before. As I became an independent ’gator I gained a lot of appreciation of the ocean’s blue bosom.” One could only imagine what Wally could have called the spring vent we witnessed a week or so prior. Loopy’s thoughts: “I have to admit that, back up among the Laurentians in Quebec, I’ve dived in a few lakes just to start the day more than anything while camping. More of a bracer than anything, but even then, some can get to be rather bluish-green after awhile. Depends on when you’ve got the turnover of warmer waters near the bottom such as drive colder surface waters itself to the bottom.” Magilla’s opinion: “I admit, being a gorilla myself kept in a pet shop window for attention’s sake, that it took awhile to find some interest in diving; this was after the surfboard escapade; I assume you remember that one.” And Mildew Wolf: “Pretty amazing how a lake can turn around as Loopy explained it, and yet not stink over a wide area!” Squiddly knew about Magilla’s brief dalliance with surfing; the gorilla had told him about it before with the energy of a ten-year-old on mescaline. However, the octopus was down there, earning his extra pay for the trip by shooting a few other wrecks within proximity. “So, Snag, any thoughts?” I asked, waiting on Squiddly to return. “Heavens to Neptune!” was how he began, in characteristic bombastic style. “And I have to acknowledge there that I was never much into wreck diving to begin with, but for a vessel of such size, as was to be imagined by the lay of the wreck, even allowing for parts of the engine and boilers to be exposed, was I impressed! Stunned, even!” Plenty of rest later, Squiddly returned from the water with plenty of extra footage in tentacle. We then took the boat back to shore and packed the gear into the trailer. One delicious seafood dinner later, we returned to our motel rooms to prepare for our comparatively leisurely dive to the wreck of the Hesperides. It was safe to say that the rest was well-deserved after as much the heartiness of the dinner as the exuberance of the dive into such an interesting wreck, not to mention plenty of the crew imagining what sort of footage, if any, would come out of Squiddly’s dive, and if it was of decent quality. The next morning, following another good breakfast, we piloted the boat carefully out toward the Hesperides, careful to stop so that we didn’t grind against the steering quadrant of the boat. We were very thankful that the weather was good enough for a dive such as this. “Just make sure, Peter,” Snagglepuss—again captain of the dive vessel—remarked, “that you’re able to clearly make out and discern the wreck from the water’s surface. The Diamond Shoals can be unpredictable, and that very unpredictability helped to explain what did the Hesperides in.” I brought the boat to a complete stop. A check of the map showed we weren’t over any part of the wreck; nevertheless, we slowly and carefully dropped anchor and hoisted the flag. And at any rate, gear was checked over and put on, fitted even, in Snagglepuss’ immortal style of phraseology. And who could fail to be impressed at the sheer clarity of the water whence the wreck was situated? Just let it be said that with the Hesperides at a comparatively shallower depth than the City of Atlanta was, who needed wetsuits? Particularly considering how the Hesperides landed where she was and was easily approachable at such depths. Sixty minutes at forty feet, in fact—enough time for us to explore, and there was plenty to see, unlike last time. We all entered in unison and, with the surroundings much brighter, split up once we determined our meetup point. Snagglepuss had been right in that the Hesperides’ downfall was on the shoals. A British steamer, she ran aground on those very shoals on October 9, 1897 while transporting iron ore from the River Plate Ports of Argentina back to England. Unlike our last exploration, the crew was not in any immediate danger, and all 24 of the ship’s men survived—even if took awhile for the life saving crew to come to the Hesperides’ aid owing to heavy fog. But back to the dive: It was nothing but sheer wonder to approach such a wreck in such shallower waters, and especially amazing was how the holds which carried the iron ore had managed to take on a life of their own, with plenty of soft coral having emerged on the surface of the ore hold all this time in spite of the sheer proximity of the colder North Atlantic Stream relative to the warmer Gulf Stream. Of particular focus was the bulkhead, or what remained of it: You couldn’t help but notice where hard and soft corals had accumulated over the years, and managed to thrive all along. I was able to get plenty of terrific shots of coral growing over most of the ship. I was near the bow, taking in some gorgeous light green coral, while Hokey and Wally noticed plenty of sheepsheads congregating near the boilers. What impressed Loopy, Breezly and Mildew in particular was the practically-intact engine, still standing stout and upright, and the portside boilers; corals could also be evident on such ruins. Nearby was what remained of the starboard boiler, which got knocked off its side thanks to tidal action over the years. No more impressive a sight was what remained of the steering section; as with much else of the Hesperides’ remains, corals and other marine growths could be discerned, not to mention plenty of marine life being evident. Sunlight filtering through the emerald-green waters made the perspective even more impressive. Another impressive sight was the vast number of fish around the steering quadrant. Taken as a still photograph, the busy sight of the marine life looked like flotsam from a still-fresh wreck. Here we managed to get a stunning sight of hundreds of small fish congregating close together. But the most impressive of all sights was in the ore holds, which years of coral and concreting growths covered to create a modest reef in its own right, attracting its share of reef fish attracted by such an unlikely junction of ocean currents converging on such a legendary wreck. It may not have been as spectacular as the reefs off the Florida Keys, but it was interesting to sense in its own right. And to sense how a vessel such as the Hesperides, stranded as she was in shoals known to catch the unsuspecting mariner trying to navigate the Gulf Stream as it crosses the North Atlantic such like the Diamond such, actually managed to remain intact in some measure impressed practically everyone in the party, even becoming a sort of mini-aquarium in its own way—especially in what remained of the ore holds! Satisfied with our dive, we returned to the surface after an hour had passed and climbed back onto the boat. Fortunately for us, there were no wetsuits to take off, along with the usual worry of smelling unpleasant. “Gentlemen, I’m sure you’ll agree I had a terrific time,” Hokey grinned, drying off his feet. And what a debriefing ensued about the Hesperides dive back on deck, over plenty of strong coffee come to think of it! What tales could be imagined of the discoveries to have ensued! Until a certain Hardy Har Har brought up the question of what ensued with Squiddly Diddly, who decided to do some discoveries in his own right after the City of Atlanta dive. It was something of a character trait of Hardy’s to be pessimistic, sometimes to the point of anxiety ensuing. “We’re going to pilot the boat over there,” I said in a reassuring tone. Indeed, the octopus took his own boat—a much smaller one—out to where we had been the day before. We arrived to find Squiddly just out of the water, packing up the reels. “Oh, hiya, gang!” was his call. “Didja have fun?” “You’ll say we did!” we cried out as one. To which Hardy Har Har was thinking aloud just how it was possible for Squiddly to have survived underwater all that time, and to produce so much footage of wrecks beyond the City of Atlanta such, no doubt bound to require plenty of editing. Even then, Snagglepuss was bound to know of at least one film processor on shore who could do a decent job on what Squiddly hath wrought. To think that Hardy didn’t consider the fact that Squiddly was an octopus and was born for the water!“I think that’s good enough for this episode,” I said, confident that we had enough footage to make a riveting episode. “We should head back to shore and get some rest. All of us.” Even as we imagined what sort of footage ensued of Squiddly’s discoveries, and how it would all turn out in the end.Anyway, we hope you enjoyed our tale of two wrecks, as well as the company of our friend Snagglepuss. Remember, if you are interested in the exciting world of scuba diving, please seek out proper instruction from a professional, and never dive alone. In our next episode of this series, we travel east of the Chesapeake Bay to explore one of the Eastern U.S.’s top beach destinations: Ocean City, Maryland. Until then, happy diving.

1 note · View note

imagineteamfreewill · 7 years ago

Text

Want Me To

Title: Want Me To

Pairing: Mermaid!Reader x Mermaid!Dean

Word Count: 4,202

Warnings: Physical pain

Summary: A morning mishap causes Y/N to have to return to the water, and a scare causes Dean to realize that he can’t truly forget who he is.

A/N: This is part three of the Back to the Start series! Feedback is always welcome. Enjoy!

Back to the Start Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

_______________

The morning after Dean yelled at you, you got up earlier than he did. The sun wasn’t even up by the time you were crawling out of bed and slipping into the bathroom, and you had to admit that you didn’t like getting up early. If you’d learned one thing about living on land, it was that mornings weren’t as beautiful, nor were they as easy, as they were underwater.

Yawning, you headed down the stairs and into the kitchen, where you began to pull the things out that Dean had used when making scrambled eggs. He’d shown you how to make them earlier in the week. He had been incredibly patient throughout the whole process. You’d asked lots of questions, yet he never seemed bothered by any of them. Dean did, however, laugh when you admitted to him later in the day that you still didn’t understand why they were called “scrambled” eggs.

You were just beginning to beat the eggs when Dean came shuffling down the stairs.

“Good morning,” you greeted him, hoping that he wasn’t still angry with you.

Much to your surprise, Dean grumbled sleepily and made his way to the coffee pot.

You watched him for a moment before returning back to cooking. The rest of the cooking process passed in silence, and when you finished, Dean was waiting with two plates.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“Let’s eat, sweetheart,” Dean replied. He took the plates over to the table and set them down, then sat and began to eat without another word.

Confused, you turned off the stove and followed him, sitting down and beginning to eat your own eggs. The two of you sat and ate in silence.

“How did you sleep?” you finally asked, unable to take the silence any longer.

Dean glanced over at you. His mouth was still half-full of eggs when he replied, “Pass the salt.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to decide whether you should pass the salt to appease him or press the question. When you didn’t move, Dean sighed and reached over your plate for the salt shaker. In the process, however, he knocked the glass of saltwater you’d made for yourself onto your lap. Your pajama pants were soaked through in seconds, causing your tail to appear as the water touched the bare skin underneath them. A cry left you as the scar on your human leg stretched and changed to the glittering scales of your tail.

Dean leapt to his feet in surprise. Almost immediately, he was scooping you up in his arms and rushing out the back door of the old house.

“Dean, what are you doing?” you asked. He didn’t reply, and you coughed as your breath moved from your lungs to the gills on your neck that had been inactive over the past weeks. Using the gills to breathe in actual air instead of getting your oxygen from the water burned the small flaps of skin. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to force yourself to breathe using your lungs, but it didn’t work.

“I’ve got you, Y/N. I’ve got you,” Dean murmured. He knelt down on one of the rocky shores that surrounded his house, then gently placed you in the shallow water.

The salt immediately soothed the irritation left behind by Dean’s sleeves rubbing against your scales, and you gratefully slid into the slightly deeper water. You ducked underneath it so that you could breathe in through the saltwater. When you came up again, Dean was watching you with obvious concern.

“I’m okay,” you told him, sighing in relief as your gills relaxed and you could breathe much easier. “I’m okay, Dean, I promise. You did the right thing for me.”

He nodded, his expression changing into one of relief. “Good. I’m glad.” The two of you stayed quiet for a moment before he continued, “You could probably swim home now. Your tail looks alright to me.”

Looking down, you watched the morning sun reflect off your scales, clearly illuminating the jagged, scale-less line where your scar was. Dean was right—you probably could swim. The question was, did you want to just yet?

“I don’t think so,” you replied, the words coming out before you’d even given the question proper thought. “It probably needs to heal for a few more days. Maybe a week, who knows. I’m not a doctor.”

You didn’t miss the hope that flashed across Dean’s face.

“Oh, okay. Do you want to hang out on the shore for a while?” he asked. “Getting your tail back seemed pretty stressful and the water might help.”

You nodded in response and he gave you a soft smile before standing once more and heading into the house. Not knowing why he’d left, you stayed where you were and flicked your tail underneath the waves, then watching as the sand swirled around you in response. The water felt good, and you couldn’t deny the fact that you felt stronger than ever. Maybe being on land had been good for you.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that Dean had come back with the rest of the breakfast food on a tray. He was already sitting down on the rocks when you blinked and saw him there, and you smiled up from where you were sitting.

“You didn’t have to bring breakfast out here, Dean,” you said as you took the plate he offered you. “I could’ve eaten later.”

Dean shook his head. “I’m not gonna spend my day off eating by myself when I can eat out here with you,” he replied.

“Your day off?”

“Yeah, I texted my boss this morning and told him I was sick.”

“You don’t look sick,” you commented, raising an eyebrow at him.

Chuckling, Dean replied, “That’s because I’m not, Y/N. I just… had some things I needed to take care of around the house and I decided that today would be a good day to do them.”

You nodded in response and began to eat the rest of the eggs. When you finished, you reached over and put your plate back on the tray, then sighed and laid back. All but the tip of your nose was under the water, and when you opened your eyes you could see Dean smiling down at you from the shore. You smiled back, happy that he didn’t seem to be mad at you like he had been the night before.

Dean gestured for you to sit up, and when you did, you realized that the shirt you were wearing was one he had loaned you, and now it was completely soaked.

“Oh, Dean, I’m sorry. I forgot that this was your shirt. It’s all wet now…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he told you, the smile still on his face. “How about you hang out here while I go get some stuff done in the house? You seem to be enjoying yourself, and I’d hate to be the bad guy and take that fun away from you just so you could help me fix some floorboards. I can come get you when lunch is ready.”

You smiled and nodded. “That sounds great, Dean. Thank you.”

He got to his feet and picked up the tray, then headed back up the rocky outcropping. You watched him from your spot in the water, your smile still on your face. Dean was attractive, you had to admit, and the realization that you were ogling him made you blush.

“That’s enough, Y/N,” you murmured to yourself. “Don’t act as if you’re staying long enough to have anything with him. He’s a human and you’re a mermaid. It won’t work!”

The scolding you’d just given yourself dampened your mood a little, and as Dean turned the corner to go around to the side door of the house, you sighed and laid back in the water once more. It was cool, but the sun’s rays kept you from getting too cold. You’d forgotten how absolutely wonderful the water was during your time on land. Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift off as you tried to enjoy the water to the best of your ability. If you wanted to spend as much time with Dean as you could before you left, you needed to get your fill now so that the rest of your days could be spent on land.

You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew, Dean was reaching under the water and shaking you awake.

Blinking away your grogginess, you sat up and yawned, “Is it lunch?”

“Sure is, sweetheart,” Dean replied, wiping his wet hand off on his jeans. “You feeling alright?”

You nodded and gave him a sleepy smile. “Scoot over so I can sit on those rocks and swing my tail up.”

Dean was just about to move when you realized you didn’t have anything to cover yourself once your tail went away.

“Wait!” you cried, stopping him in his tracks. “Do you have a towel or something I can wear? No offense, but the tail is personal enough. I don’t need you to see me naked or anything…”

You could’ve sworn that Dean’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of nudity, and you bit back a smile as he got to his feet.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice a little gruff. He turned on his heels and hiked back up the rocks, then returned only a minute later with one of your towels in hand. Dean tossed it to you and you caught it with ease, being careful all the while not to let any part of it touch the water.

A few minutes later you were climbing the steps to Dean’s porch.

“So you’ll be going back soon, huh?” he asked. He didn’t glance your way as he spoke, but you had a feeling that Dean was trying to act more nonchalant than he felt.

“Maybe,” you carefully replied. “It depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“On you.”

Dean stopped and looked over at you. “What?”

“It depends on you, Dean. Do you want me to stay longer?” you asked. Your hands went to fidget with the knot you’d tied to keep the towel around your bare waist and you had to stop yourself. It wouldn’t do any good if you accidentally dropped it because you’d messed with the knot enough that it came undone.

“Yeah,” Dean answered. “I do.”

With that, you nodded and opened the screen door, then stepped inside the house. Dean followed close behind, and as you sat down at the kitchen table you could feel his eyes on you.

“What, Dean?”

“Why would you stay longer if you’re well enough to go back?” he asked. “Don’t you miss your family? Hell, don’t you miss the ocean? Staring at it from the bedroom window probably doesn’t make you any less homesick. You were really enjoying yourself out there today.”

You sighed. “Sit down, Dean. Let’s just eat lunch. I’m staying, and unless you’re kicking me out, why does it matter my reasoning? If you want me to stay, I’ll stay.”

Hesitantly, Dean sank down onto his chair and began to put condiments on his burger. You could tell he was still curious, but he wouldn’t be getting any answers out of you today. There was no need for him to know that you were staying because you simply didn’t know how you’d live without him. If he were a merman, it would be a different story. If he were a merman, the two of you could swim back home and you would introduce him to your family. You could be friends and spend lots of time with each other, and if he was as willing as you were, the two of you could be together.

It would be a fairy tale ending, you thought as you took a bite of your food. My parents would want us to be married, and I’m sure that Dean’s parents would too.

_______________

Days passed and you and Dean spent almost every moment possible together. He showed you how his prized Impala worked, explaining to you that he’d bought it for almost nothing, then rebuilt it from the ground up. You’d been incredibly impressed, but not as impressed as when he showed you pictures of the house before he began repairs on it. The old house had been in a horrendous state of disrepair; it was a miracle that it was still standing today.

Now that your tail was healed and you’d gotten a taste of the water once more, you were craving it. You had to spend some time in the shallow pools around Dean’s property each day or your legs would begin to ache and you’d grow too tired to function. Dean compared your need for saltwater to the need of a drug addict. Of course, then he’d had to explain what a drug addict was, but as soon as you understood the concept, you’d agreed. It was the same feeling you had about Dean; without the sea, you felt as if you would die.

Dean was also teaching you how to cook more things than just scrambled eggs. You didn’t have a need to cook, but you’d agreed simply so that you could spend more time with him. Plus, you liked to see him work. He was incredibly capable with his hands, and watching him cut up vegetables was like watching the sun set over a calm sea—it was beautiful and mesmerizing from start to finish. You would never admit that to Dean, though. You didn’t want to give him anything else that he could tease you about. Your need for saltwater provided plenty of material for him to use.

The first step in cooking, Dean had explained, was to get the food that you wanted to cook. So, he’d taken it upon himself to show you around the grocery store on his day off.

“Do we need this?” you asked, turning to Dean and holding up the box of minute rice.

He shook his head and reached down to get a bag of rice from one of the bottom shelves. “That stuff is nice, but this’ll taste better. C’mon, we gotta get through the rest of the aisles before it gets too late. I don’t want to be eating lunch at dinnertime,” he retorted.

You rolled your eyes at him, then began walking again, figuring that Dean would follow you with the cart like he had been. You were just about to pick up a can of vegetables to ask if you’d need it, however, when you realized that you’d assumed wrongly.

Turning around, you frowned when you saw him bent over, his hands pressed against his shins. “Dean? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he replied. His voice was strained, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit more worried when he stood and you saw his eyes. They were filled with pain.

“We should get home, Dean. You don’t look okay,” you pressed.

“I told you I was fine, and I meant it. Let’s just get these groceries,” Dean said as he began to push the cart again. He only made it a few steps before he was bent over again.

Quickly, you hurried over and placed a hand on his back, leaning over slightly so you could see his face. He was pale and his breath was coming in short pants. Dean was definitely not okay, and ice-cold fear crept into you. You didn’t know anything about medicine or human health. If Dean was sick, you had no way to help him.

“Dean, we need to go home. You need to lie down,” you told him, leaving no room in your tone for argument.

Thankfully, Dean gave you a tight nod. He let go of the cart as you wrapped your arm around his waist and began to limp toward the exit. His steps were slow and jolting, and halfway to the automatic doors, you began to wonder if the two of you would even make it to his car.

By the time you finally arrived at the Impala, Dean was practically bent in two. You could tell he was in a lot of pain, and when you let go of him so you could dig the keys out of his jacket pocket, he almost fell. He would’ve crumpled down onto the hard pavement had he not braced himself against the metal of the car.

After you’d gotten the keys from his pocket, you opened the driver’s side door and moved to help him in.

“No,” he groaned. “You’re gonna have to drive, Y/N. Help me over to the other side.”

“What? Dean, no! I can’t drive! I’ve never driven!”

Panic welled up in you as Dean lifted his head to meet your gaze.

“Y/N, you’re gonna be just fine, sweetheart. I’ll talk you through it, but right now I just need to get over in that seat. The sooner you help me over, the sooner we get home.”

Swallowing thickly, you nodded and wrapped your arm around his waist again. You helped Dean limp around the front of the Impala, and once he was settled in his seat, you went back around and got in the driver’s side. Your hands were shaking as you buckled your seatbelt like he’d shown you earlier that day, and when he let out a moan of pain you bit down hard on your lip.

“I can’t do this,” you whimpered. “Dean, I can’t drive your car! What if something happens? You love this car!”

“I don’t care about the damn car, Y/N!” he replied, his voice almost a shout as he grit his teeth against the pain. “We just need to get home! Can I trust you to get me home?”

You nodded hard and fought the fearful tears that threatened to well up in your eyes. I can do this, you thought. It’s probably not as hard as it looks.

“Okay. The first thing you need to do is stick the key in that little hole there and then twist it toward the front of the car,” Dean instructed.

Picking up the key from where you’d dropped it on the leather seat, you did as he said. The car rumbled to life beneath you and you let out a sigh of relief. That wasn’t so bad.

Dean continued to instruct you as you fumbled your way around the instrument panel of the car, and soon you were maneuvering the car onto the street that ran through town. Thankfully, most people were just getting into work and the road was just about empty.

“What’s wrong with your legs? Did you get hurt working on the house?” you asked as you slowed to a stop at the only stoplight in town. There weren’t any other cars at the intersection, and you frowned as the light continued to stay red.

“I just need to take a hot bath,” Dean replied. His voice was still tight with pain and you felt sympathy well up in you. “It’s probably just a muscle spasm or something like that.”

You nodded in response and pressed your foot against the gas pedal, quickly apologizing when Dean flew forward and hit his forehead against the interior of the car. He waved you off and stayed bent over, one hand on his legs and the other pressed against his head.

Finally, you pulled the car into the driveway of the house. As soon as you’d tugged the key from its spot, you raced around to the passenger side and helped Dean out. He almost fell when he tried to stand, and you had to take a shaky breath so that you’d be calm enough to help him inside. He was troubled enough already; Dean didn’t need to deal with both the pain and you freaking out.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” you asked as you began to help Dean towards the front door. He gave you a jerky nod, then reached out to support himself against the wall of the house. Once you were sure he was steady, you let go of him and opened the front door. Dean was ready and willing to accept your support almost immediately. You helped him all the way to the bathroom upstairs, but that was where Dean began to grow belligerent.

“I can take care of myself, Y/N,” he grumbled as you went to turn on the bathtub faucet for him.

“Dean, it’s just a bath, let me help you. You’re in serious pain!” you replied.

“Y/N, please, just go! I promise I’ll call if I need anything. Just let me take care of the bath myself.”

Reluctantly, you pulled your hand away from the knob and stepped back into the bathroom doorway. “You’re sure you can do it?” you asked.

Dean grit his teeth against a wave of pain. His eyes squinted shut for a long moment before he finally opened them and looked up at you. “Yes,” he answered, his jaw still clenched tightly. “I’m sure.”

After a few seconds, you nodded and stepped back again, this time into the upstairs hallway. You shut the bathroom door and stayed put for a moment, listening to make sure Dean made it into the bathroom without slipping or falling down onto the tile. As soon as you heard the water turn on and Dean sigh in relief, you headed down to the kitchen to figure out what you could make for him to eat.

_______________

Dean had put it off for too long, and now he was paying the price.

Y/N hadn’t figured out why he was in so much pain, thankfully, but as he slipped into the saltwater that the extra pipes he’d installed had pumped into his bathtub, he wondered if she even suspected him of being a merman. He didn’t think he’d given her any reason to, but she seemed smart. A slip-up of any kind could be enough to clue her in.

Sighing in relief, Dean closed his eyes as his bare legs shifted into his tail. When he opened them, he frowned. His scales were duller than normal.

Is that because I’ve been out of the water so long?

All Dean could do was hope that his tail would return to its normal sheen, so instead of dwelling on it, he sank down into the water and took a deep breath through his gills. The burn from breathing air disappeared almost immediately and Dean let out another sigh, this time of contentment. He’d missed the water. Why did he ever try to pretend that he could be a normal human? It was foolish to try and forget who he really was, especially since Y/N was always around to remind him of it. If he wasn’t so scared of facing his past, maybe he’d consider swimming back with her. Surely she had a pod that he could join, and maybe they’d even let him join with the other men to help protect the group. He was out of practice when it came to fighting, but he could hone his skills again if he had some time.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed himself up above the water and reached over to turn off the faucet. In the quiet of the bathroom, he could hear Y/N in the kitchen beneath him. She was probably trying to cook again, and Dean made a mental note to make sure that he got food she might be able to cook the next time he was in town for work.

A knock at the door made him flinch. His tail knocked a soap bottle off the edge of the tub, and Dean saw the door handle jiggle as Y/N tried to open it from the other side. He silently praised himself for having the insight to lock it before he’d shed his clothes.

“Dean?” Y/N’s voice was muffled by the door, but he could hear the worry in her words almost as if she were in the tub with him.

Now that’s a thought… Y/N in the tub with me…

Dean cleared his throat and shifted so that his tail wasn’t pressed uncomfortably against the metal faucet on the wall.

“I’m fine, Y/N,” he called back. “What’s up?”

“Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am. The hot water helped a lot. Did you need something?”

It was silent for a moment before Y/N replied, “No, I… I just wanted to make sure you were alright. I was worried.”

Her concern made Dean smile. It was nice to have someone that cared about you around. It made you feel… loved, Dean decided. He felt loved.

“I’ll be down soon, Y/N,” Dean replied. He paused for a second before continuing, “I’m glad you stayed. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there with me.”

“I’m glad you wanted me to.”

The smile in her voice was clear as day, and even though she couldn’t see him, Dean smiled in response.

_______________

Want to be tagged? Add yourself to my Forever, Dean, or series-specific tags HERE!

If your name is crossed out and bolded, it means that I cannot tag you and you are at risk of being taken off the tag list.

Forever Tags: @deathtonormalcy56 @purgatoan @feelmyroarrrr @shadowgirl077 @mogarukes @jayankles @amaranthinecastiel @jpadjackles @d-s-winchester @kickasscas67 @mrswhozeewhatsis @therebel1967 @supernatural-harrypotter7 @allinhishands @ultimatecin73 @crystallstaircase @a-screaming-ghost @huffleypuffelycas @procrastinating-fallen-angel @kittycat-cas @dracsgirl @deansleather @queenindecisive @wildfirekhaleesi @fuckyeahfeysand @sandlee44 @plaidstiel-wormstache @spontaneousam @kristaparadowski @adaliamalfoy @winchesterforever12 @fangirl1802 @supernaturalyobessed @mamaredd123 @findingfitnessforme @weepingrebelhottub @notesfromalabprincess @dustycelt @becaamm @riversong-sam @you-know-whodoesthat-crazypeople @therewillbeblood @fangirlwithasweettooth @ohgodjensen @notmoose45 @yvngkinggchristyy @becs-bunker @wingsanddarkness @docharleythegeekqueen @xthefuckerysquaredx @megasimpleplan4ever @tiffanycaruso @sup3r-pott3r-lock3d @lynnebla @crushing83 @4401lnc @essie1876 @lostnliterature @apeshit7x @emoryhemsworth @illbewendyyoubepeter @l4life @beatlesobsessionlove @goldenolaf25 @shellbraa @sammiesamness @tattooedmomster13 @carryonmyswansong @fangirlextraordinaire @brooke-supernatural16 @owlluver @supermoonpanda @holywinchesterness @pureawesomeness001

Dean Tags: @lipstickandwhiskey @itsemmyb @ezauraemmaline @beriala @charliesbackbitches @crzcorgi @ellen-reincarnated1967 @gryffindorable713 @walkingencyclopediaoffandom @growleytria @thegleegeneration @samtomydeanwinchester @treble-maker95 @sis-tafics @fandommaniacx @meganwinchester1999 @samanddeanwinchester67 @ferferelli @iridianuniverse @the-morning-star-falls @ackleslaugh @fangirling-instead-of-working @hellbentcrowley @eyes-of-a-disney-princess @torn-and-frayed @spnsimpleman @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @winchesterfiesta @pada-ackles-reads @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @gadreelsforbiddenfruit @curliesallovertheplace @jencharlan @thebunkerismyhome @beachy2014 @fandom-book-nerd @shipping-people-writing-things @tia58 @sams-little-toy @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @saving-things-hunting-family @winchesterswoonathon @a-closet-full-of-skeletons @ruprecht0420 @thegoodhunterrr5 @jotink78 @lucifer-in-leather @i-dont-know-how-to-write @deantbh @babypieandwhiskey @waywardjoy @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @spn-fan-girl-173 @samsgoddess @thegreatficmaster @megansescape @faegal04 @everyday-supernatural-af @wevegotworktodo @deerlululucy @sleep-silent-angel @trenchcoats-and-bees @not-so-natural-spn @shelovesallthethings @memariana91 @chelsea-winchester @revwinchester @supernaturalyobessed @matteson-crazed @allonsy-yesiwlill @akshi8278 @donnaintx @iwrotemyownending @quiddy-writes @lavieenlex @winchesterseeker @crazysocklovingfangirl @love-me-some-pie21 @naturegirl70 @its-not-a-tulpa @iwrotemyownending @plaidshirtsandmetalarms @deangirl8757 @pheonyxstorm @shamelesslydean @bebravekeeponfighting @fangirlandnerd @woodworthti666 @super--dale @mayasmedberg

Back to the Start Tags: @troubletrumble @msdooos @deansgirl215 @deangirl8757 @multifandom-slytherin @karibou90 @levilou19 @sneaky-midnight-adventures

160 notes · View notes

apelafas-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Day 3&4 swimming with sharks 🦈

Day 3 consisted on feeding dolphins, seeing some old rocks, and driving. We started off the day by going to a place called monkey mia dolphins. At this place a family of dolphins swims up to the shallow water, about knee deep. When they were there people could feed them fish. each dolphin would get about four fish and when the fish was gone they would dump a bucket of water into the ocean and the Dolphins knew this was the signal for no more food. They would then swim into deeper waters and wait for the next feeding. When they hear people walk into the water as a big group they know it is time for their next meal. The staff who ran this had to have a bucket behind all the people filled with fish that distracted the pelicans LOL because they wanted the fish too! After seeing the dolphins we drove to an area where we saw tons of rocks out of the water called stromatolites. These rock formations are some of the worlds oldest and largest living fossils, if you are a geology geek it's pretty cool. At this time we were still being attacked from flies like we were covered in garbage ( probably smelled like it from the heat). I started to notice a lot of people with nets around their entire head that tied off tight at the neck. These people were messing around with the flies ha ha After we left the rock formations we drove some more until we arrived at our hostel for the night. This was another large room with about 10 beds in it. The hostel provided food which was nice, and the whole crew sat and was watching some Australian football in the bar of the hostel. After dinner a lot of people were tired, but I knew I would only be on this trip once so once again I stayed awake with the Irish ladies. We decided to walk down the street to a pub where we found live music playing and it was great. The last song they played was Wonderwall and he did a pretty good job singing it I would say 👊🏼 when he finished singing we walked back to the hostel where I then found one guy from Sweden and the other guy from Japan who were on our trip hanging out looking for something to do. We decided to walk down to the beach at night time to see what it looked like. I would find by the end of the trip that these two guys would be some of my better friends, even though we had a very strong language barrier and my friend from Japan barely spoke any English. We were really good with hand gestures ha ha. We then got back to the hostel and went to bed because we were getting up pretty early the next morning to go snorkeling and searching for whale sharks, the biggest fish in the ocean. The next morning half of the group went whale sharking while the other half did things like snorkeling with the turtles and or just relaxing on the beach. I was about to find out that this might have been the most thrillseeking adrenaline junkie thing I have ever done. We suited up with our snorkel gear and our flippers and hopped on the boat. I found out that the two girls who would be our snorkel guides I had played ping-pong with the night before and they were pretty cool girls so I was excited for the trip. We started the trip off by heading out into the reef where we jumped straight into the water and just did snorkeling over lots of the Ningaloo Reef. This was my first time ever snorkeling and it was the coolest thing I think I've ever done. Being able to swim next to fish right over a coral reef was amazing. And the tour guide told us we were lucky and she had never experienced what was about to happen next.... about three minutes into the snorkel we saw a giant stingray about the size of two family pleaser Monicals pizza's playing in the sand. And about 30 m ahead in the reef we were swimming with four reef sharks. This is my first time swimming with something dangerous and the sharks looked like baby great whites or something to me ha ha. The scary part was she said they are normally that far into the reef which means there might have been something big out of the water… 🦈 After the snorkel with then were set on our trip to try and find a whale shark. It felt like we were in the boat forever waiting...and the waves kept getting rougher and rougher. The captain was in contact with a pilot who is flying over the waters over a 10 km span in an airplane Who is searching for a whale shark. It took us about three hours until we were told that they had spotted one and we would take the boat for 30 more minutes to find it. At this point half of our crew was extremely sea sick from the very choppy waves and people were throwing up all over the side of the boat or just laying down looking like they had the stomach flu.. my stomach felt a little weird, but luckily I've been on a roller coaster or two in my life and it didn't bother me, but watching my friends throw up all over the boat wasn't fun. Once we got to the area where the whale shark was the atmosphere just changed and everything seem to be very intense. The crew was split into two groups to get in the water and I was with the rest of the girls who I would be traveling with on my trip. The advice that we were given was once you get in the water the only thing that matters is when you see the shark swim to the left or to the right of it so you don't get hit by it straight on, seems easy right? Wrong. The very first jump we did into the water I was so nervous because I couldn't see the shark anywhere from the top before I got in and I had no idea where it was coming from or what to expect. I jumped in the water with about eight of my fellow travelers as we followed our guide about 30 feet from the boat. Remember the water was very choppy so it made things hard to see, I had my snorkel gear on but my head was above the water because I was trying to watch where my guide was taking us. The next thing I know she yells "SHARK" I put my head down immediately into the water, and I kid you not this enormous whale shark the size of a bus was swimming straight at me and was only about 20 feet away. My gut dropped and I was scared shitless as I stared at the thing coming straight at me like a deer in the headlights. I realized if I didn't move immediately my knee was going to hit it straight in the forehead head so I scrambled quickly to my left while the shark swim right past me. When it past me it was only about 10 feet away and the size of the shark made me feel like I was a minnow. Then I saw everyone chasing after it so I quickly swim after the shark and we followed behind it for about 100 feet, but he was swimming pretty fast and we were right behind him on his tail. Finally we stopped and waited for the boat to come pick us up to try and find him again. We then back onto the boat and sat down still breathing heavily because we just chased a shark through the ocean...I couldn't realize or take in what I had just done. The shark was about 7 m long or 21 feet to put things into perspective for you. It was an absolute tank and I stared it straight in the eyes from about 20 feet away. When we all got back into the boat we all looking at each other in shock and talking about how we all had no idea where it was coming from and how we all felt like we had to move right out of the way. Unfortunately, for some of the crew getting back on the boat meant they were immediately throwing up off the side again waiting to get back into the water. Two of the girls in my group were studs because they went from throwing up to putting their masks on and hopping in the water about 30 seconds after they threw up to go chase another shark. I had to give them some credit for that without throwing up in their snorkel gear LOL. We chased the shark four times and on the fourth and final time I had my closest encounter. The same thing happened as the first time I had hopped in the water, but this time I was looking around frantically trying to find him so I could be prepared and know where to get out of his way. But being the unlucky person I am, I had my back turned when he appeared out of nowhere and as I turned he was already 20 feet away. However, this time a girl was in front of me and so I didn't see him until he was so close I thought my knee was going to touch him. My stomach got really tight as I felt sick because I was afraid I was getting ready to kick this massive shark in the head. Our guides also had informed us we need to get out of the way and do not touch the shark because it will dive down deep and we won't be able to see it again. This all went through my mind very fast as the shark was quickly approaching. I surfaced to the water as fast as I could and got about 5 feet to the sharks right hand side before it went past me. This time I let everyone else chase the shark as I slowly just followed behind as all of these thoughts racing through my mind still I was trying to take in the fact that I almost once again had a head on collision with a whale shark. When we got back on the bus we had nothing but stories to tell to the rest of the crew. We were so excited that we saw a shark and we all thought it was the coolest thing we had ever seen. We then we're on our way to Yardi Creek. Where we would be camping the next two nights. We arrived at the campsite late at night so we had to find a tent and put everything in our tent in the dark. We then had spaghetti and sat around a campfire. At this point I decided I would stay up with whoever was awake every single night of the trip because you only get one opportunity sometimes in life and I wanted to hear as many stories and do as many cool things as possible. This night was very interesting because as we sat around the campfire I kept hearing a thumping noise out in the distance. I came to find out that I was hearing the noise of kangaroos hopping around in the dark. I found this funny because back home you hear coyotes howling at night time and where I was I could hear kangaroos hopping around with their buddies.

1 note · View note

chocosvt · 8 years ago

Text

read additional ending here

⚬ pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader. ⚬ word count: 18K. ⚬ warnings: nothing too jarring, but there is an unplanned pregnancy. ⚬ genre: everything, angst, fluff, smut, romance, drama.

— ✧✎ synopsis: you work as a part time florist whilst jeon wonwoo balances his time between being a body piercer and helping out at his uncle’s garage. the two of you are thrust together in an awkward meet up when you get your first piercing. wonwoo thinks you’re kinda odd, but he knows he isn’t much different, and little by little he becomes infatuated with how you can make watering hibiscus flowers sound so interesting.

— ✧✎ a/n: don’t rlly have anything 2 say other than have fun reading, the soul has been sucked out of me!! jeon wonwoo destroyed my feelings!!

He is quiet, still like a marble statue that encases ivory bone and hot scarlet. He is impassive, a heavy brow left without a single crease nor a wrinkle, the ink that churns in indolent pupils murky, yet clear with your image that reflects in similarity to a mirror. His lips are beautiful, decorated in lovely shades of rose, yet they are not curled in a signature smile that flutters a heart or preludes a giggle. That is because, above all things, the boy is gobsmacked, perhaps even a little enraged.

Therefore, Jeon Wonwoo’s lips are plain straight. No, if they were to smile, you would burst like a water balloon, sprinkling the earth in droplets of solace. But it is not solace you feel when his face finally cracks, when his eyes flare in smoky streaks that practically engulf your lungs with desolation.

There is a click in your mind, an instinct to clasp your palms to your stomach as Jeon Wonwoo points his chin toward the floor and swears. Your words are still echoing around the room, burrowing within couch cushions and empty coffee mugs. They are permanent reminders that will forever linger, steeping around your limbs and tugging softly at your clothing. They remind you that your life will never return to normal, if normal even existed to begin with, and that sometimes, life can only prevail if a mistake is there to kindle it.

He will not hurt me, you acquaint in the sealed tomb of your skull. He will not lay a finger on me even though he is confused and angry. Every syllable that ricocheted behind thick bone only amplified how your chest ached, like someone’s fist had enclosed around your heart, squeezing it while the organ beat frantically. His fingers carded in exasperation through sable black hair, a groan so deep and desponding spilling in fashion to liquor from his lips. Still, you knew he would never bruise your flesh out of anger, out of spite perhaps starting to brew. You are beautiful, and Jeon Wonwoo does not bruise beauty.

Instead, he leaves it.

You cannot sleep. Dreary bags of ash take refuge under your eyes, dragging at the skin, positively ruining it. The clock ticks close to you, a shallow serenade that doesn’t move you to turn your head, for the digits displayed would only purloin any happiness you had left. However, city lights twinkle before curtains too thin, the door to your very cramped and cigarette stained terrace split open just an inch. The sky has become a midnight canvas, the luminance glowing beneath the paint.

If sleep won’t grace you just as it graced thousands of other lamenting lives, you mine as well prosper in what’s unfolding. You part from a comforter that no longer smells of crisp cotton, bare feet halting before the terrace door to pull away curtains slick with dust. Your reflection is hazy in the glass, and it is also a familiar sight. It’s his eyes, how they ripple sleekly under moonlight, how they exude brightness before sunshine. They are gorgeous eyes, and when you used to see your reflection in them you would believe you were gorgeous too.

Things do change however, like the flip of a dime.

They were not sleek or bright when you stared into them that one morning, and your reflection was no longer gorgeous. So to capture a glimpse of yourself in the door, stomach slightly bulged like a melon and dark lavender marring below lashes was not a pleasant sight. You decided to erase it. The door creaked open, a fresh breeze patting in embrace along your figure, tinged with the smell of dew and the bustle of city life. Just as you thought, the sky was indeed a canvas, raveled in midnight sheets that poured with no end, adorned by light that gleamed from every slope in the near distance.

You sat in one of the two chairs near the banister, allowing your gaze to melt along a view that swiped the breath from your lungs every time. Absentmindedly, your palm grazed up your tummy, fingertips rumpling your large t-shirt. You hadn’t spoken to the innocent yet, in fact, you had primarily ignored it, even though it absorbed the same nutrients as you, listened to same tunes pervading from your record player, heck, it even sat through your annual The Office marathon. Inhaling a deep breath, you patted your stomach with a smile.

“Hello,” you lilted, trying to develop a warm strength to your voice, “we haven’t properly conversed yet, I’m, Y/N. Nice to meet you.”

A silence follows, and your lips curl.

“I guess I can’t ask for your name, you don’t exactly have one yet. Got any ideas?” Car engines plagued by rust grumble from the streets, tires speeding over damp pavement hover between your every silence. It prompts annoyance. You are trying to have a conversation.

“Don’t mind all the noise. I swear everyone is being especially loud tonight, and it’s only a Tuesday? Very disrupting I know, but back to the main subject. What was it again...?”

You question, a finger tracing the outline of your lips. “Oh yeah!” Then it’s spiraling back to you, your feet kicking into the air like a small child who’s never sat in a rocking chair before.

“We were discussing a name for you! What? Why are you asking me? I’m awful at names. If it were up to me I would name you after the first thing I see… like that airplane! Do you really want to be called Airplane?”

Anyone who might be hovering in terraces far up or down below would sip their nightly tea with an eyebrow knitted expression, their ears perking at the exuberance threaded through your tone. You are a neighbour usually so quiet, reclusive, and now that you snicker and howl into the gentle breeze of the night, you may have lost those qualities. It wasn’t like you would be sobbing over it, slipping little apology notes written in peach ink under everyone’s door so they could forgive you. They were bellows of amusement after all, laced with happiness.

The digits on your alarm clock were still bright, winding deeper with all your conversations that ceased to stop branching, and it was at this time you leaned back in your beach chair, palm cradled carefully over your stomach, that you told Airplane the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo.

“You deserve to know, Airplane.” You whispered. “You deserve to know at least a little about your father, about the man who helped bloom your pretty soul.”

And Airplane listened, through the poignancy that was thick like mud on your tongue, the limerence that fizzed at your fingertips whenever you would press in recognition to your stomach. Whoever Jeon Wonwoo was, he brought you a great deal of blithe. But he also turned the water that washed along your shore a dark, harrowing red, staining the sand like grapes mushed to make wine.

In fact, the story of you and Jeon Wonwoo did indeed commence with the colour red, for it was the colour that crackled off your cheeks that summer evening, sticking to the air so sweltering and hot.

But where it really commenced was the piercing shop.

“I’m telling ya, Y/N, this is the best place to get a piercing done. I mean look at all the shit I’ve got on my ears!”

Jeongyeon was your best friend and by far the most ecstatic of the bunch when you announced your interest in body jewerly. You figured she would be, since each shell on her ear was covered with miniature silver rings, even gold beads that cast twinkles when the sun hit them. Recently she’d taken a visit back to the shop, her hair the colour of raspberry tea requesting an urgent re-dye. But that wasn’t the sole thing she’d changed for the beginning of summer.

She came trotting up the beach with a glimmer reflected on her stomach, and you realized she’d gotten her belly button pierced.

Painful perhaps, you thought, but it looks nice.

And that was how you wound up in a sketchy brick building towards the edge of town, your thighs already adhering to the peculiar plastic coating on all the chairs. You were seated by the large window that showcased all the townsfolk ambling by, wide-rimmed sunglasses on the bridges of their noses while lemonade straws hung from the corners of their lips. Even in your tank top and shorts the heat was festering along your skin, so you and Jeongyeon dashed to chairs by the air conditioning.

“Okay, but who is gonna do my piercing? I don’t want any of the newbies your dad hired.”

Yeah, Jeongyeon’s dad owned the piercing shop, which explained how she could afford to dye her hair each colour that danced across the rainbow. There was perks for you as well, you got half off on your piercing. Not too shabby for your taste. But the raspberry haired girl was suddenly coiling, her brows pinched together.

“Yeah, about that, I think you might get a newbie. But!” She exclaimed before you could let a single word roll off your tongue. “If my suspicions are correct, there might be someone who isn’t so inexperienced. He might not want to though. When it’s his break he likes to sit on the roof and read. Start looking at the piercings over there, I’ll go look for him.”

Then she spun from her seat and disappeared up a staircase, leaving you to awkwardly peel your thighs from the chair and inspect the display of jewelry. Some were distinct in colour, others in style, size. It was no difficult task to dismiss those you would never wear in a million years; however uncertainty was simmering in your gut when you dwindled your options down to two perfect piercings. One being a silver crescent moon and the other a sun, pale in flecks of gold. You had no idea how long you stood there having a mental quarrel, but the world came gushing back to you when the sound of Jeongyeon’s heavy boots hit the tiles.

“Y/N! I found him!” Jeongyeon’s lilted voice dragged your inspection away from the counter, her smile grand in satisfaction as she hauled some boy along with an ironclad grip on his wrist.

And that was the first time you saw him, the first time you casted cherry glazed cheeks and star speckled eyes toward, Jeon-

“Wonwoo, his name is, Wonwoo.”

Holy shit clogged every nook of your skull, holy shit, holy shit, and holy shit. If you held convictions that the summer heat was bad, than the burn that glowed from Wonwoo’s stare was in every way worse. You were too occupied with singeing his facial structure before feathered lashes to notice his palm outstretched, a tilt pricking at the edge of rose plump lips. Jeongyeon was switching a watchful eye between you both, mentally counting each second that dripped by without your response. She was impressed, ten seconds of silence settled before you snapped.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You felt like a cheery housewife who was forced to act merry toward the neighbours she secretly envied, for the words pushed past gritted teeth and exploding pupils.

“I would say your name is pretty, but I have to say that to everyone.” He answered.

His palm was a cool embrace, soft, yet ever so slightly rough around the hills near his fingers. They were slender and hugged very nicely between your own, so much in fact you felt a stone of disappointment drop into your stomach when he pulled away. But whatever forlorn he imbued was quickly churned to dust when he spoke. You just about wilted to the floor.

Jeongyeon suddenly butted into the poorly held conversation.

“You could say she’s pretty instead, compliment a girl on something other than her name for once, Wonwoo.”

“I’m here to give her a piercing, not shower her in compliments.”

“Just admit you don’t like commitment.” Jeongyeon sneered with an eye roll, arms folding along her chest in a petulant manner. Hearing them bicker back and forth only gave you the pleasantry of listening to Wonwoo’s voice, reaching deep into forests thick with pine, sunlight hardly spluttering through gaps in bushy tree leaves, and since he was slightly agitated, it could do nothing but lower.

“I’ll admit I don’t like you. Stop pestering me and go elsewhere, get some iced tea, read a damn book. Just don’t be here.”

You wondered if Wonwoo was serious, for his eyes were darker than coal and his lips were twisted in the opposite of smile. But then his hand drifted atop Jeongyeon’s head, ruffling the raspberry strands while simultaneously heaving her away.

“Can I read your book?” She called from the staircase leading up to the roof top. Wonwoo stood next to you, getting ready to see what piercing you’d chosen, yet he cocked his head to bear pearly teeth at your best friend.

“Fine, but don’t lose my page number.”

“I wouldn’t dare to.” She was on the brink of leaving, but her head popped down one last time for a reminder that left your heart an unbridled drum.

“Make sure to tell Y/N she’s the prettiest girl in the whole universe!” The venomous words flowed in a sing-song tone, alerting the few customers dotting around to swivel their heads. There was really nothing to see as you lay your forehead into your palms atop the glass counter, flames tingling beneath the squishy flesh of your cheeks.

“She’s so embarrassing.” You gritted into your hands.

Wonwoo gazed upon you and blinked sincerely. He understood where you were coming from; he’d been friends with Jeongyeon for an ample portion of his life, and if she didn’t embarrass you once, it’s not crazy to speculate she doesn’t like you.

“You don’t have to say that by the way.” Wonwoo was silent as you unsheathed yourself from the burrow of your palms, eyes glossy and fingers tugging the hair from your cheeks. Now that he stood before you, under fluoresce beaming from the counter, could he conclude you were a strange one, sheltering emotions he couldn’t begin to grasp understanding of.

But Wonwoo found himself to be a strange person too, and sometimes friendship can only prevail if there is a similarity to kindle it.

“Hmm?”

“Like you don’t have to say I’m pretty. Not that it’s my decision to decide what you say, but I can understand how you would feel uncomfortable, ya know we just met and that’s weird right? It might be weird to call someone you just met pretty… But then that’s how some relationships start and it’s not like I’m a love guru or anything,”

Wonwoo studied the curve of your lips when you spoke, how your eyes flicked to different spaces in the room though he was right in front of you. His gaze lowered to your ring finger, how you tugged on it like it was encompassed in a Chinese finger trap. You were nervous.

“You talk a lot.” Wonwoo said simply, his elbow relaxed over the glass while his head titled ever so smugly to the side. Besides his voice, blood was apparent in rushing through your ears, your heart pounding relentlessly against a paper rib cage. You swallowed,

“You talk too little.”

It was a senseless remark that spilt off your tongue, a drastic impulse to reply in snide and not look so pathetic. A surge of magma was constructing in your stomach, melting your bones as Wonwoo slipped his elbow off the counter and took a step closer to you. Smooth collarbones were jutting from underneath milk skin, the faintest traces of makeup adorned to the creases of his eyes. Even if Wonwoo did not see the beauty that twined in abundance to your figure inside and out, he was still pretty, prettier than you could ever hope to be. He leaned forwards, his arm slipping past you to grab something on the counter.

You could not look away from the onyx pools that were taunting, dark like a midnight sky. His scent was in comparison to fresh blackberries, mild yet encompassing you all at once; toxic in the manner it possessed you to bite your tongue.

“Want a piercing or not?” Wonwoo dared to ask, voice treading deep roots around tense limbs.

“I want one.” An almost inaudible jingle of keys echoed from behind you, yet you did not turn your head even an inch to inspect. Wonwoo leaned forward even more so he could finally scoop the metal off the counter, his lips not hesitant in draining the perfect alignment of words by your ear.

“Then be good, okay pretty, Y/N?”

Chills had never swept down your spine so sharply.

When you could not make a decision between the moon piercing and the sun piercing, Wonwoo hefted a sigh. Both his elbows were positioned on the glass, chin cradled in cushiony palms as he observed you trace each millimetre of glitz.

“This is something you should do before dragging me from the roof.” He balked.

He unlocked the counter for you, allowing a better view at the jewerly that would soon be pierced through your navel. Looking at each of the velvet boxes up close certainly wasn’t aiding your situation.

“This was really last minute, okay?”

“You know you can change them right?”

“After it heals, and that takes how long?”

“Four to six weeks.”

You did not reply. Wonwoo rubbed his temples and bustled on to a different approach. He moved the velvet boxes until they were positioned between you, allowing a clear angle of the twinkles cast upon them.

“Why do you want the sun piercing?” He asked.

You chuckled wryly. “Cause it’s pretty.”

Wonwoo carded back the thick mop of charcoal on his head, eyes turned to tiny slits that seethed mock agitation toward your indecisiveness. You met his gaze with a timid shoulder shrug, laughter laced into your response.

“I answered your question!”

“That’s not what I meant.” Wonwoo huffed, fingernails tapping against the glass until he found a better way of elaborating. “You know how people get tattoos that symbolize stuff? Deaths, milestones, loved ones?”

“So you want symbolization? I really don’t wanna go back to The Merchant of Venice test sheets you know.”

The boy chuckled deeply, almost to himself, reminiscing on the pure hatred that brewed for the play after answering so many of its symbolism work sheets. His pink tongue suddenly appeared, wetting his bottom lip whilst he failed at trying to conceal a grin. You wished your heart would thwart its doings until it simply stopped beating. It could not keep up with deep voiced boy’s mannerisms.

“Shoot.” Wonwoo said.

“Well, I guess the sun makes me think of spring, and spring is about life rejuvenating, coming back stronger and more beautiful. So, I guess the sun, for me, symbolizes a new beginning.”

He nodded, eyes flickering from the golden sun back up to your lips, how they curled tenuously, so smooth and petal soft. He had never thought of things that way before. New beginnings, rejuvenation, it all sounded faulty on the ears, but he supposed you had a point. Wonwoo had just found life to be a continuous loop of tragedies. They were encased in lead bullets, perfectly shaped to inflict the pain that cracked from one person to another.

“As for the moon…” you pondered, reaching deep into your mind for an answer. While staring at the silver crescent you were unsure of what to think, bringing Wonwoo’s words to recall.

Deaths, milestones, loved ones.

And then your head turned ever so slightly, eyes trailing along the boy who kept an abundance of patience covert under porcelain skin and onyx pupils. For the first time, your gaze hovered along his whole appearance, from his black jeans, his black t-shirt, his black hair. He really had a thing for dark colours, so dedicated too, amongst the hot weather bubbling outside. Yet you preferred not be so cookie cutter to everyone else, only examining Wonwoo’s surface and not the layer underneath. And then, like the morning mist had cleared, you could see it all.

The hues of sable that were silk ribbons in his hair, lashes long wisps of honey grass that feathered in breezes so subtle it could only be night time. His plump lips held the shallowest slope, perfect for loading lethal whispers that could only amount to sin, drolly syllables aimed at open hearts. But who could miss those eyes, so lacquered and mystifying. If you gazed into them long enough, you could swear you were under a sky of stars in the middle of the day.

But what those stars were missing was the moon.

“Let’s go with the moon piercing.” You decided confidently.

“Hmm? What made you choose so suddenly, huh?” Wonwoo asked, unsure of what summoned your wide smile.

“I was just thinking about what the moon symbolizes.”

Wonwoo smirked. “And what’s that?”

But you were not willing to shed any light on your conviction. If Wonwoo wanted to know, then he would have to do what you had simply done. Look. Now you had adapted to Wonwoo’s earlier position, being as candor as you could while leaning up to his ear, whispering in a tone so sickly sweet it made the boy’s stomach somersault.

“Figure it out, pretty, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo thought you needed some form of solace. After all, you lied back in the parchment covered chair with such stiltedness he found his heart aching. He sat on his little stool, rolling it toward the counter to pull out a new pair of black plastic gloves. Your eyes were trained to the way they stretched around his fingers, and though your mind was reeling with every thought possible, you quickly concluded that no one else could look so good while doing so.

“Scared?” Wonwoo asked. He had a tray set next to him, a bottle of sterilizer sitting alongside some cotton pads. Your arms were flat at your sides, threatening to twitch.

“No.” Your reply came out more breathy than intended, encouraging the slight head shake Wonwoo turned to you with. Twiddling your feet, you finally caved.

“Maybe a little.”

“You’re not very good at hiding it.” He remarked, eyes flitting down your legs to examine your feet bobbing in an invisible breeze. You shouldn’t be this nervous, this fidgety. Yet the secret was anything but hidden. It was Wonwoo who imbued such quarrels upon you, not the piercing itself.

He was slow in reaching for the bottle of sterilizer. “Do you want me to get Jeongyeon?”

“No, I’m just overreacting I guess. I know it will only be a little pinch.” He was really not a large help in soothing your heart, the genuine care that was ardent in his tone of brass a dear enemy. Your chest felt swollen just by the soft glisten in his darkly shaded eyes, how he glanced at the hem of your tank top.

“If you insist. Mind pulling up your shirt a little for me?”

He could have said just a little, why did he have to add for me? It was stupid you were tracing those thoughts, but they were persistent in painting themselves along every nook of your skull. You were overwrought, swallowing thickly while exposing the strip of skin. Yet Wonwoo held the same glow in his eyes, the cotton pad fresh with sterilizer now gliding around your navel. Instinctively your fists clenched, and Wonwoo chuckled.

“Cold isn’t it?” He hummed; his form leaned over your stomach.

“I guess it’s nice since it’s burning outside.”

You seemed less tense when you spoke, and as Wonwoo continued his gentle manner of swirling the cotton pad, he ambled off more questions. He also figured you could distract yourself. He noticed you rambled a lot.

“Don’t like the heat?”

“It’s not that I hate it, it’s just overbearing, especially today. The canteens love it though. I caught them selling lemonade cups for 13 goddamn dollars. I bought one of course, or else I would have fainted before I even got here.” Wonwoo grinned while wetting another cotton pad. This much sterilization wasn’t necessary, but the lilt of your voice was pretty to listen to.

“You should go swimming then.”

“The beach is packed. Have you ever walked down there during the summer?”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about the beach, Miss. Sassy.”

“Then what are you on about?” You wondered when he would finish with the bottle, with softly running the cotton around your navel. On the other hand it was calming the knocks against your chest, so maybe he should take his time.

But of course, Wonwoo proceeded to toss the pad in the garbage and quirk his lips at you.

“There’s a lake, stupid, if you follow Barley Street and don’t fork left, you’ll get a lake.”

You lifted your head from staring fuzzy dots at the ceiling and blinked toward the sable haired boy.

“Do you go there?”

He shrugged. “Quite frequently. Why? You wanna come with me next time?”

And then your head slammed right back down against the chair’s padding, cheeks already set ablaze with more than the sticky summer heat. Your tongue peaked quickly at your lips, tasting the lemonade you’d slurped like a madman earlier.

“You can go by yourself.”

Wonwoo grabbed the needle off his tray, smirking at the blatant tapping presented by your fingertips. He realized it was quite the riot teasing you, and that any aloof façade he pulled before people’s eyes had blinked away in an instant when it came to your tenuous smiles.

“Nah, it’s probably cause you can’t swim.”

“What!?” You barked in disbelief because that assumption was indeed false. Wonwoo had your moon piercing ready, staring at it one last time in puzzlement before leaning back over your stomach.

“I can swim just fine!”

“Prove it.” Wonwoo challenged.

“How so?” Your question was greeted with a placid sigh, one that tempted your nose to crinkle and fingers to absentmindedly clench. If Wonwoo ushered the words you were hoping to be conjured, you would simper so grandly that your cheeks would implode; your heart would feel so swollen that no amount of coaxing could calm it. You would itch to sprint home and bury your face in a plump pillow, bellowing away your elation.

So maybe it was a cleverly crafted idea for Wonwoo to convey the words while piercing your navel.

“What do you think? I’m asking your dumb, pretty face to go to the lake with me.”

For once he had pulled away with a grin concocted of malice and blithe, you were whining sharply. Yet it was just a pinch, a tiny, tiny pinch.

“You were right,” he beamed, “just a pinch.”

You sat up, eager to glaze upon the jewelry adorned to your stomach. It was pretty, and it symbolized ever so perfectly the twinge nestled behind the cherry walls of your heart.

“Yeah, it was just a pinch.” You drawled, still fawning over its soft glitter. Then your gaze was twinkling up, meeting in full bloom with Wonwoo’s eyes that portrayed the milky constellations above.

“And, yeah, I guess I’ll go to the lake with you, pretty Wonwoo. Or should I say Wonwoo that is pretty dumb.” You giggled, sticking out your tongue.

He picked you up at lunch in his Mercedes. No, it wasn’t an expensive car with a grey glitter coating and rims so polished you could perfect your eyeliner in them, it was more like about-to-be scrap metal that a barbecue dad would snatch for six-hundred bucks. You were sat on the stoop leading up to your porch when the cream coloured vehicle rumbled to a stop on the curb.

Wonwoo leaned over and pushed the door open for you, flashing a smile that decorated his plump lips of rose. You must have been quite the sight, wrapped in your sunset coloured beach towel, tongue flicking at your wrist as you tried to savour every drop of your watermelon popsicle. Sunglasses were perched on the top of your head, yet they only remained because if you attempted to tug them out a heap of hair would follow suit.

“Get your ass in the car!” Wonwoo shouted, beckoning you over with the air conditioner ruffling his up-do.

“Yikes, I’m coming. Let me finish this first!” You shouted back, eyeing the generous amount of popsicle that had yet to be swallowed. Wonwoo seemed like the type to bark a stream of never ending warnings not to get sticky juice all over his cheap ass leather seats and dash, so you did what anyone would do.

“How clever of you.” He remarked as you slid into the car, tossing your bag into the backseat. Your mouth felt encompassed in a cold burn, turning the delicate flesh numb and jabbing icicles into your brain. You tried to mumble a response, but it came out as the most incoherent thing ever spoken, the taste of watermelon drilling without mercy into your teeth. The sable haired boy set one hand on the wheel and slowly applied pressure to the pedal, his clearly expensive Mercedes now gliding down the street. Yet he feathered the brakes ever so gently when you rolled the window down and hung your head out, his brow quirking when globs of pink could be seen from the rear-view mirror.

“That was… Attractive.” Wonwoo mumbled, his hand disappearing into the glove compartment to fetch you a tissue.

“I’m glad you perceived it that way. Never again will I take my chances and try to deep throat nearly a whole popsicle. Some risky shit, almost lost my teeth.” You heaved while cleaning up your chin.

Wonwoo etched the air conditioning down and kept his eyes on the road, his deep laughter pervading the snug space of the car. “That would be an even more attractive sight.”

“Concurred.” You said with a grin.

So what did you learn about Wonwoo?

For starters, you learned there was a Jeon to his name, thus unraveling the annoyance he was soon to bear when you would cease to stop calling him that. You were both set to attend college once summer fizzled to an end, and you masked your excitement that he picked the same place as you.

He worked part time as a mechanic aside from his hours spent at the piercing shop, under the keen eye of his uncle who held wishes that Wonwoo would take over the business.

“I just fix engines, do some retouching on paint jobs, and tell the old ladies that their AC isn’t working because they pressed fog lights instead. Intense right?”

You fought with winding the sunglasses out of your hair. “Very. I don’t know how you manage to pull it off.”

Wonwoo’s thumb tapped against the dark leather of the steering wheel, his shoulders rippling in a shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know either.”

It was a sworn secrecy to never expose how your heart crackled at the thought, the appeasing view of Wonwoo in his mechanics jumper with the sleeves rolled up, grease smeared at the elbows and maybe a tiny dot on his nose. You pressed your lips together while staring out the window, observing the tan coloured buildings smear into a long strip of fuzz as your destination dawned closer. He would probably swear a lot, his willowy complexion set aglow with sweat as he accidentally burned his finger or screwed up something mechanical that you couldn’t possibly name.

You could envision him stuck underneath some grimy pick-up, firing every swear word off his tongue like a bullet, but then turn around and showcase his soft smile to an elderly lady who needed help with her air conditioning. The more you tortured yourself with the idea of mechanic Wonwoo, the more your insides melted in fashion to the popsicle left on the pavement, your cheeks feeling ripe and rosy.

What if I were his girlfriend? You randomly thought, already piecing together the heartfelt scene of bringing him lunch on his break, holding his chin ever so gently in your fingers as you wiped away the dirt and grease. His eyes that were so sleek and capable of imbuing fear within midnight would turn tender, glossy, his arms coiling around your waist and head snuggled against your stomach as you soothed him through a sweltering and irritable day. As Wonwoo forked to the left off Barley Street, he caught your tiny smile, the way locks of hair danced uncoordinatedly by your cheeks, instilling the epitome of sweet and peachy. Your lips were blooming bright in bubble gum, their smooth qualities beaming under sunlight spilt through the window.

“Whatchya smiling about?” Wonwoo posed, quickly gluing his eyes back to the road. Poignancy ballooned is his stomach when your voice became a ginger lull in his ears. He just wished he had of seen the curl to those lips as you spoke.

“You helping frail old ladies after swearing up a storm under a truck.”

The road dusted from dirt to bumpy gravel, trees beginning to paint emerald scenery through the windows of Wonwoo’s Mercedes. When you gazed out past the dash, you could catch glimmers of azure blue stretching wider and wider, dotting among tree trunks and blueberry bushes.

“It happens.” Wonwoo chided. The lake was growing before his eyes, every air freshener looped around his rear-view mirror bouncing due to the gritty roads. You had finally twisted the sunglasses out of your hair and tossed them on the dashboard when the vehicle rumbled to a halt, your jaw loosening in an ecstatic gasp.

“Holy shit, you have this place all to yourself?” You gushed after whipping your bag out of the backseat and shutting the car door. Wonwoo padded around to rest against the cream hood with you, letting his charcoal irises fleck across the lake and its dark blue beauty. Trees towered like skyscrapers around the water, shielding its glaze from anyone who didn’t suffer from wanderlust, anyone who didn’t crave the taste of pure sunshine and dew droplets on their tongue. Wonwoo cocked his head to stare at you, how the breeze drifted stray hairs to curl and twist. He even noticed the peculiar bump placed at the top of your head, and held in his chuckle at realizing it was a mark from your sunglasses.

He didn’t think when his fingers stretched out to smoothen it, garnering your wide-eyed stare.

“A few other people know about it, but I’m here the most often.”

You swallowed. How could someone look so gentle, so enchanting while conveying such a simple gesture. Something scorched up your neck and threaded hotly through your veins, making the mist that blew off the water appear like a snack to munch on.

“That lump would have fixed itself if we got in the water.” You simpered.

Then Wonwoo booped your nose, he fucking booped it.

“Maybe I just wanted to touch your hair.” He commented slyly. You bit the inside of you cheek.

“Was it at least soft?”

Then the sable haired boy had the audacity to grin, your heart smashing into your stomach when he began peeling off his shirt.

“Not really.”

You squinted in mock disdain toward him, mustering your every ounce of control to not bombard his lithely toned chest in swooning stares. To distract yourself you began copying Wonwoo, tossing your sunset orange towel to lie atop his Mercedes’ hood, kicking off your slip-ons with unnecessary vigor. For some reason, a simple mid summers drive to the lake turned into a competition of who could scramble down the sand faster, who could allow the cool balm of the water to wrap around their limbs first. Your toes met with the foam just before victory when you felt something sturdy clutch your shoulders, Wonwoo’s form sailing above you before he crashed into the water.

His impact sent you stumbling forward, until nothing but blue swirled around you and the slight taste of moss branded your mouth.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Water formed in a tiny spout flowing past your lips, bringing Wonwoo to warble without a care in the world.

“It was a race wasn’t it? I won.”

You pushed away the heavy hair curtaining over your eyes, sunlight splashing like gold paint along each ripple of azure. It was almost as though you were trapped in a painting, an image so lush and vibrant in colour sculpting the land. A belated reply finally poured through Wonwoo’s ears along with the water he knocked out of them.

“What if you screwed up and took my head off? Bet you would feel like such a champ then, huh?” You seethed back, though in reality, your lividness was wearing thin, hardly sustained as you wallowed in the beauty Wonwoo had kept to himself. Until today that is. The sable haired boy followed your gaze, knowing it was not gleaming at him, but the nature greeting you on all sides. Droplets were rolling off the tip of your nose, fingers stretching absentmindedly through soft peaks in the water. The sunlight seemed to like you, for it always brought a glossy flare to your lips, reflecting speckles of luminesce in your eyes.

“Ah, Y/N,” Wonwoo hums while treading toward you with his usual smirk, “I would never hurt you; never leave a single scar on any pretty part of you.”

Yes, Wonwoo says you are pretty. And he is not wrong.

Your lashes flutter when he floats around you, his nose just peaking above the surface. Flush tones of ruby coat your cheeks, his words cooed in a voice deeper than tree roots can knot themselves. You do not fare well under his midnight eye flitting, the way he attempts at circling you.

“You shouldn’t call just any girl pretty.” You remark, lowering yourself into the water yearning to protect you from the sun. “Dangerous stuff.”

Wonwoo managed to drift right behind you, his stare scorching up your back that glistened in clear droplets, to the string around your neck that ties up your bikini. He wonders how supple your skin is to touch, if it glides under his fingers like pearls and silk. You would probably smack him if he traced an innocent little line down your shoulder blade with his finger, though if he had you, he would not hesitate in doing so.

“I’m not calling just any girl pretty, I’m calling you pretty. I’ll take it back if it winds you up that much.”

He is met with your body whipping around, raindrops from your hair splashing his cheeks. You curl your lips at him, feigning innocence and everything sweeter than syrup. That is until you push water into his face, and Wonwoo’s nose is crinkling in the manner you adore so dearly.

“I’m just saying if you use it too much, it’ll loose meaning.”

Wonwoo cards the sable out of his lashes, fingers tangled in the thick strands and leaving them to stick up quite cutely. “Cocky. Are you expecting me to compliment you?” He splashes you back.

“No,” you cough, “it’s just a life lesson.” Hesitance does not mar you as your arm slaps across the glittery blue, wetting him in return. Wonwoo waddles along the squishy banks of sand beneath him, already preparing his next assault.

“Also,” you pipe up, “I can swim, so in your stupid face.”

“You’ve just stood there so far, not really swimming involved.”

“Cause if I try you’ll splash me!”

“Don’t act like you didn’t start it.”

“What?” You exclaim, jaw beginning to slack. “You practically yippee ki-yayed your way over my shoulders, so the blame is on you.”

“You’re just a bit feisty, Y/N. Anything getting under your skin lately?” You try to dodge his attack that is more than expected, but still end up with the taste of moss in your mouth.

“Maybe I’m just like that naturally, you assuming son of a bi-“

You do not get the opportunity to finish before Wonwoo splashes you again, and your cackles are swallowing the open warmth that basks the whole lake, slithers up the rocky cliff sides scattered about, and bustles amongst lime tree leaves. Time does not wait for you to stop floating like starfishes atop liquid linen, nor does it pause for even a moment when you cannonball off the rock jutting between oak trunks. It is continuous, ticking and ticking, though either you or Wonwoo are potent with enough care to disrupt your laughter.

He learns that you work part time at the florist shop in the centre of town, an abundance of your shift going toward grooming the petunias or watering the calla lilies. You tell him that you your boss gave you jean overalls to wear, and at first, you despised them. (His mouth remains shut even when his mind soars with images of you gardening in them, looking inexplicably adorable with dirt smeared cheeks he just wants to cup.) But then your mother cuffed the legs for you, she bought a sheer white t-shirt for you to sport underneath. He chuckles when you tell him about the snacks you keep hidden in their deep pockets, your face lighting up as relay your enjoyment while snipping the dahlias.

He keens to know more as you stride up the bank, fuzzy blotches of peach dotting the sky. You smile toward the ground when Wonwoo wraps you nice and snug in a towel burrito, his thumb brushing the liquid beads off your nose as your heart claps like thunder. You say there isn’t much more to spill about the flower shop, and you can’t help but study his pouty lips.

“Why are you so interested?”

“Y/N, I’ve been listening to conversations about spark plugs and transmission mufflers for what feels like a decade. I don’t mind hearing about the daffodils you watered for eight seconds.”

So you tell him, and his heart beats unprecedentedly fast the whole time.

Jeongyeon’s head of raspberry tea pops through the hatch in the rooftop, lips separating to coo for Jeon Wonwoo.

“Dad wants you to come sterilize the needles.”

He does not budge from his sprawled position across the dingy couch, a book propped over his face, though Jeongyeon recognizes the cover as one he’s read a million times, each word long encrypted into his brain. She calls again more sternly, her boot stamping against the rooftop. His eyes flit over for a second of examination before he spurns her to translucence, the gruff sigh that breaches his ears a common one.

He is oddly indolent, yet Jeongyeon does not think it is odd at all. She has known Wonwoo since playground escapades and the purloining of chocolate chip cookies; therefore she is well aware of his lackluster responses.

“Okay,” she huffs, lifting up Wonwoo’s gangly legs to sit comfortably on the couch, and supposes her father will have to wait, “why so glum, chum?” She still has no clue how Wonwoo was able to maneuver the patchy blue thing to the roof, but solving that mystery was for another day. When his reply is slow to dribble like molasses, she plucks the book out of his grasp and gets a responsive grunt.

“What have I told you about grabbing my shit?” He snaps in his brass tone, snatching it back.

“I’m just trying to get your attention! You’ve been quiet all day, and I have my suspicions.” She quips in return, her stomach churning at his unexpected aggressiveness. Wonwoo didn’t mean to dampen her spirits, but he was sorting through musings in his head, pinpointing the flame that kindled the ache in his chest.

The boy’s head hits the arm of the couch, the spread of grey cotton across the sky cancelling any sunshine. But the lack of cheery light is not his reason for acting slightly petulant and intoned, and Jeongyeon frowns as he pushes his wavy fringe back with a sigh.

“It’s her.” Wonwoo mumbles, sounding like a poet who is suffering poignancy and imbued with forlorn. Jeongyeon pats his leg, an image already swallowing her mind.

Her voice is delicate as she answers. “Y/N?”

Wonwoo bites his lip, practically lacerating the puffy flesh with his ivory fangs. A hand falls behind his head, propping his stare from the ashy sky to Jeongyeon’s sympathetic glow. There is a twinge lodged in his chest, feeling like a corkscrew that twists and twists without resistance.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” Wonwoo pauses, “about her, about anyone.”

“What happened?” Jeongyeon prompts, unable to halt her brows from furrowing. Maybe this is odd the way he’s acting. His eyes are usually so vacant in coatings of midnight black, but now they shimmer uncertainly, like they are wavering on emotions he does not comprehend. His fingers clutch in random spurs at sable spun hair, pulling subtly but enough to keep his mind grounded with Jeongyeon.

“We just hang out a lot now,” Wonwoo utters, repressing thoughts of the black hole that is college, how in less than two weeks he’ll have start more work, “and she’s making it really painful.”

Jeongyeon pursed her lips, fingers toying with the rip at Wonwoo’s kneecap. “Is she hitting you?”

“No…” Wonwoo manages to chuckle, tugging at his hair again. “It’s just the things she does.” His stare flickers straight back up to the sky, how it’s dreary, drowsy qualities reflect his mind turning to mush. His masochist of a brain wanders to the last time you hung out, every miniscule detail that crafts your presence triggering the jerk in his heart, how it slams without shame into his ribcage. He remembers it all, though it’s a pain the whole way through. Wonwoo catches Jeongyeon glance up too, and in that moment his lips spill like a waterfall.

“Fuck, her giggles are so cute, the way her cheeks get all squishy and how her hair falls around her face. I can tell when she’s trying to hold in her laughter, don’t know why, maybe she thinks it sounds weird, but it’s like music to my ears. Then there are her eyes which sparkle, they fucking sparkle, and when she stares at me I can hear my own heartbeat. Maybe that’s a health problem, I don’t know.”

Jeongyeon blinks down at him, the boy who is known for being impassive and cold, wearing a dark flint in his irises and a crook on his lips. She hasn’t seen such a sporadic look mapped along his features since elementary school, when they would ride their bikes through the forest trail and haul up pant legs by the stream. His voice is fluttering in different cadences, and the fingers woven through sable hair continuously fidget. Jeongyeon has never seen Wonwoo like this, her face as still as marble.

“You know those overalls she wears?”

Jeongyeon nods and Wonwoo bites his lip again.

“They’re so pretty on her, plus the worn out sneakers she has and the way she pulls her hair back. She isn’t aware of it, but she hums when she gardens, makes me wanna take her cute face and kiss her on her pretty lips, on her cheeks and her nose and her forehead. I just wanna sit her down and kiss the fuck out of her, ya know? Maybe run my fingers through her hair, tickle her thighs, buy her snacks, anything.”

At this point Wonwoo’s chest feels swollen and the crimson rushing through his ears is overpowered by an electric heartbeat. The world above him that is grey like winter slush and hollower than each crater on the moon has become a little brighter, yet it is you that made things appear that way, and not the clouds beginning to disperse. His lower lip is sore from each drag of his teeth, yet it does not register within Wonwoo’s mind. He continues to chew it, to take advantage of its plumpness as his eyelids encompass themselves in portraits of you.

Jeonyeong’s throat is dryer than sandpaper, the raspberry hair feathering her lashes a mere pebble compared to the boulder of information she just heard. She always teased Wonwoo about being afraid of commitment, every girlfriend he brought in and out of the piercing shop never hearing him utter the three sacred words that could permanently seal a relationship. They always left, yet he never seemed bothered. Then again, he had never spoken about any of them in the manner he just spoke about you.

“You know,” Jeongyeon said while gulping, “the first time you met her, and you didn’t wanna drop a single compliment. Now look at you.” Then she found a curl embrace her lips, turning their straight expression into a smile. “Kinda sounds like you lo-“

Wonwoo shot up from the couch, cupping a palm around her mouth. “You won’t tell her a single fucking word of this.” He growled. “And don’t say the L word either.”

Jeongyeon yanked his arm away, her eyes two pools of cocoa. “You have to tell her if you feel this way, don’t let her get away! Commitment isn’t always a bad thing you pussy.”

He ignored his best friend, threading a loose grip around her wrist and forcing their gazes to meet. “You will not say a word to her, understand?”

And Jeongyeon cracked, finally carding the hair from her lashes. “I understand your royal wimp.” She cackled, but not without getting a forehead flick from Wonwoo and his faint pink cheeks.

Your hands cupped the dark clay of the flower pot for the tenth time, turning it an inch more to the right and bobbing the flowers that sat brightly in the soil. Then you stood back on your knees and tapped a finger against your chin, examining their new position in the floral shop’s front window. It was difficult to tell which position looked better since you weren’t standing outside, but luckily, there was someone here who could assist you with that.

“Jeon Wonwoo!” You sang, getting up from your knees and dusting off your overalls. The boy sat on the counter, next to the register with a pink bubble blowing from his lips. It popped when he turned his head from the floral magazine in his hands, his curious gaze shifted from the glossy pages to melt over you.

“Will you do me a favour?” You entreated, swaying back and forth on the balls of your old sneakers. Sunshine splashed through the window and poured along your hair in a sumptuous shine, making it nearly impossible for him to ignore you.

“What would that be?” He responded while sliding off the counter, not bothering to mark his place in the magazine he’d been scanning. Maybe it wasn’t the magazine he was looking at in the first place.

“Can you go stand outside for a sec and tell me how these hibiscus flowers look? I’m trying to find their best angle.” You gestured toward the cream yellow flowers that sprang up from their pot, tiny dots of hot pink placed in the centre. They all looked the same to him, and he assumed they would look no different from outside the shop, but he’s learnt not to assume when it comes to you, so he chewed his bubble gum and headed into the summer warmth. He spared a quick glance at you through the glass, how your hands lie atop your hips as you scanned the flowers with a pinched brow.

He just spotted the fruit snack package peaking from the pocket of your overalls, and it made him smile. You were too cute for your own good.

“What is he smiling about out there?” You asked yourself as Wonwoo examined the flowers. “What’s so funny about a damn hibiscus plant?”

He gave you a thumb up through the window, but you mouthed for him to stay outside a little longer. In a flash you were back to swivelling the flower pot, and Wonwoo could only blow another pink bubble while shaking his head. Yet he kept his mouth shut and pulled off the best acting of his life, even taking a few steps back and cocking his head to perceive their bright colours better. People strutting past offered amused glances, grinning to themselves or their accomplice while the last week of summer drawled onward.

You rested your hands on your hips again and stifled your dorky grin as Wonwoo leaned forward and squinted, creating an inconvenience for townsfolk ambling by. He looked quite nice that day, for his sable locks weren’t swept away from his forehead, but nice and fluffy in settling by his brows, creating an appearance that’s soft in lieu of intimidating. He had a loose grey sweater on, the sleeves bunched up to his elbows and its collar exposing fields of milk skin around the shoulders.

It was one of those days where you pretended your adoration for him was latent, hardly in bloom as he swung his legs cutely at the counter and pointed out all the flowers he liked. The stupid smell of his bubble gum followed you everywhere, sweet and sugary, thwarting you from concentration and preluding each lick of your lips.

Speaking of lips, you often wondered about Wonwoo’s. How they appeared silkier than some of the flower petals that lined the shop, how they always remained smooth and pink like roses. You sometimes wondered how they would taste, and you guaranteed that if you pulled him in by the collar and kissed him, bubble gum would explode quite delightfully in your mouth.

You eventually allowed him to come inside, and he approached you with a pinch to the stomach.

“Ow! What was that for?” You sulked though butterflies feathered your stomach, the stupid smell of bubble gum swarming you once again.

“Punk, making me stand outside for who knows how long just to put them back where they were originally.” He growled without malice, eyes twinkling playfully before he squeezed your side one last time. Your giggles were like stardust being shaken in a jar, so light and pretty Wonwoo craved to tickle you forever if it meant hearing them in a mantra. Yet he knew how fast they could develop into full blown cackles if the right joke were said, which was usually when you attempted to muffle yourself.

“I needed a second opinion, don’t act so salty.” You beamed back. Then, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the package of fruit snacks, giving them an enticing jitter.

“Share to make you feel better?”

Wonwoo blew one last bubble with his gum before giving a nod.

“… Okay.”

So, together, you made your way to the garden outback and sat in front of the owner’s prized chrysanthemum patch, your fingers plying open the plastic and letting the colourful gummies tumble into Wonwoo’s palm. He had to throw his gum out, and you thought it was impressive he’d been chewing it since your morning arrival at the florist shop. You said you could buy him a whole pack, but he dismissed your offer, flashing you a coy smile while revealing the tiny container slipped up his sleeve.

“I took inspiration from your overall stash.” He purred, looking pleased with himself. Your hand lifted to Wonwoo’s head, fingers winding invisible ribbon through the dark strands while he threw his fruit snacks down the hatch.

“I feel so honoured.” You murmured, ruffling them without thought, a burst of strawberry washing the inside of your mouth. The boy stole a glance toward your complexion he adored to the moon and back, obsidian pupils curving along your wispy lashes and the slope of your nose. He traced the bump of your lips that were supple in a coat of watermelon chapstick, the hairs that were so incredibly thin along your cheeks being highlighted under the sun. He observed the way your feet twiddled, how skin peeked between rips in your pale blue overalls. His heart was aching again for some reason, and he pretended not to know why.

“You know what would be fun?” He heard you usher softly, the last fruit gummy popped onto your tongue. Your fingers pulled away from Wonwoo’s scalp, and he inwardly groaned, yet the disappointment was replaced with his deep chuckle.

“Tell me. What would be fun, Y/N?” Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat when you scooped a lock of hair behind your ear, knees tugged against your chest as you eyed the chrysanthemum’s protruding their orange warmth. He could tell you were biting the inside of your cheek, pondering over the words caked behind your lips. Wonwoo peeled his gaze from you, and studied the flowers in similar fashion, the euphony of your voice becoming quieter, more sentimental. The usual summer breeze swept across the garden, an occasional petal fluttering high into the eggshell blue sky before settling back down to earth.

“Coming here with your kids, letting them run around the different gardens and take in all the sweet smells and colours. When I was younger, my mom got me an orchid seed and though she had to remind me a lot, I learned to take care of it. When it began growing, and actually blooming, I almost pissed myself.”

Wonwoo bit his lower lip while your voice trickled dulcetly through his ears, casting the faintest peachy glow to prickle along his porcelain cheeks. When you suggested the idea of something fun, he certainly wasn’t prepared to envision children scampering around the back gardens, stuffing their noses in the alluring petals and sniffing the pollen until they couldn’t stop coughing. Yet his lips still sprung at the mention of it, maybe because you felt it would be a precious moment, and that made the moment feel precious to him too.

“I looked after that orchid like my life depended on it. I watered it, left it in the sunshine. I played it fucking nature sounds at night, like creek water rushing between rocks and tree leaves rustling.” You laughed to yourself, sneaker scuffing over the ground.

“I think I named it something too. But I suck at names, so I named it after the first thing I saw, which was a dragonfly. Can you believe that, an orchid named Dragonfly?”

Wonwoo flicked his pupils after a flower petal rippling through the wind, how it spiralled in slow patterns down to burrow among the stone walkway. It was dark blue, and stood out like a sore thumb compared to the grey swathing around it. A pitiful sight that is, Wonwoo hummed in his head, something so beautiful by itself. His mind began thinking about the moon, and how strange it would look if the stars didn’t exist to accompany its glow of ivory. He was almost tempted to go pick the petal up and place it among a company much more welcoming than lifeless grey, but he repressed himself, and shrugged his shoulders.

“I can believe it actually. Sounds like a Y/N thing. You probably cried when it died, right?”

Wonwoo teased as the moon and stars plot floated at the back of his head.

“Of course, you know me well Jeon Wonwoo. So anyways, I was being a sulky baby over Dragonfly the orchid, sobbing to my mom all the things I could have done better to keep it alive. But she said that life could hurt sometimes, and that it was necessary in developing a dynamic character. Hard to believe at first, but sure enough I noticed a sprout pop up in Dragonfly’s soil some time afterward. I got two Dragonfly’s instead of one, and now that I had a second chance, I looked after them even better than before.”

You cocked your head in Wonwoo’s direction to come across his eyes glazed with their usual midnight lacquer. It was refreshing, similar to plunging off the cliff side at the secret lake and having a sudden coolness embrace your limbs. Charcoal fringe was mingling with his lashes, so you raised a ginger hand to swipe it away, lightly carding it back until his forehead shone through for a hot second. You were ready to indulge in another babbling spree when Wonwoo caught your wrist, his fingers pressing gently into the flushed skin and skyrocketing a heartbeat that was a timid slumber only a moment before.

“So your orchids were like your new beginning?” He questioned.

You smiled bashfully. “Yeah, they were now that I think of it.”

Silence began filling the gaps between you, birdsong and the buzz of bumblebees not registering in either of your ears.

“You remember the day you got your piercing?” Wonwoo asked out of the blue, his eyes never parting from your wrist. You quirked an eyebrow and swallowed a subtle breath, praying he couldn’t detect the pulse booming through every inch of you.

“Of course.”

“And you remember leaning in real close, whispering to me, telling me to figure out what the hell that moon piercing meant?”

“Mmhm.”

How could you forget, you had that day stored in a mental file, the day you met pretty Jeon Wonwoo. Nerves bubbled together like a chemistry mix in your stomach as you thought of how the silver crescent was still placed in adorning to your navel, elegant and flashy as always. You had known what it meant since the day you compared it’s qualities with the sable haired boy, yet you let him simmer with the unknown conviction. You couldn’t deny that it frightened you, that he may hold knowledge of the adoration that bloomed for him since day one.

Many sounds were barking around you, tree leaves rustling in unison, children gleefully laughing from tracing chalk outlines on the street, wind chimes tinkling in the near distance. Yet you could near none of it, not one measly little squeak. And it was all because of him. Jeon Wonwoo.

He leaned in close to you, the familiar tinge of blackberries that always hovered on his skin pervading your senses. Your wrist was practically shaking then, tremoring as his thumb stroked softer than a feather in an attempt to calm your frantic pulse. Burying yourself into the crust of the earth seemed like a fabulous idea as his lips so plump and delicate brushed against your ear’s cusp, deep voice vibrating from his chest and melting smoother than chocolate along your skin.

“Y/N, do you like me?”

Your body froze. Then it burst into flames. And then it froze again with every lick of heat sealed tight inside your chest, your limbs. When you invited Wonwoo to laze around the florist shop, you hadn’t planned for this whatsoever. And now your face was scorching, crackling without control.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” You breathed between quivering lips, your wrist most definitely shaking.

Suddenly Wonwoo pulled away, his free hand not marred by any hesitance to cup your cheek that almost burnt his palm. There his eyes were again, two midnight pools encompassed in stars.

And all they needed was a moon.

“You like making things harder on yourself, dontchya pretty baby?” Wonwoo crooned, his thumb painting just below your lower lip, tempted to pull down the soft flesh and smudge the rough pad with watermelon chapstick. You blinked directly into his stupid sparkly eyes and nodded, crumbling faster than teacake.

“Yeah, kinda.”

And then Wonwoo’s head fell to face his lap and he chuckled, the grip on your wrist faltering so he could thread his thick onyx strands back. He thought back to the rooftop of the tattoo parlour, to the dreary afternoon spent aching on the couch. Jeongyeon’s words hadn’t stopped chasing him, whacking him over the head without mercy. And there he was, sitting across from you before patches and patches of silk flowers and mirthful honeybees, sweet smells encasing the breeze and curling stray tendrils of your hair. He wanted you, so inconceivably bad that he couldn’t bear to laugh in disbelief to himself.

“Is this a good time for me to say something cheesy?” He heard you utter quietly, your pupils bloated wider than any galaxy and voice wrapped in tenaciousness. Wonwoo readjusted his palm on your cheek and grinned.

“Shoot.”

You hesitated at first, resistance and fear pooling like syrup into your gut, however it had been collecting for ages at the back of your mind, not willing to disappear. “We’re both sort of incomplete. You have all the stars but no moon, and I have the moon,” you looked toward your stomach, where your crescent was pierced, “but no stars.”

You turned your head to the side and blew out a breath of embarrassment. “God, this is so cringy, I don’t wanna say it.” The Sahara Desert had practically inhabited your face, sweltered up your neck. Wonwoo’s stare was soft, cool, yet you couldn’t face him directly.

“Well you are saying it.” Wonwoo quipped, brushing back your hair. “It’s just me, okay? Now spill.” He motivated with a pout, giving your cheek a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m basically saying we complete each other…” You spluttered out, heart abusing your ribcage so ferociously you feared it may crack like glass. Wonwoo’s palm fell from your cheek and curled into his lap, and he didn’t gain consciousness until you stood from the bench and threaded your fingers through his collar, shaking him. You had just shovelled such a grand amount of torture and weight off your shoulders, confessing boldly to the grumpy boy you met at the piercing shop, and his reaction was blander than flour. So maybe you felt a little bit riled.

“Okay I said it you stupid oaf! Are you happy, are you gonna go prance around to kingdom come and buy a megaphone to shout it to the streets?! I say my stupid, cringy, cheesy line and this is the reaction I get? You don’t even know, you don’t even have a clue as to how much I like yo-“

And then Wonwoo shot up from his seat, gripped you by the straps of your overalls, and tasted the sweet gloss on your lips for the first time. He kissed you.

He kissed you on that bench, surrounded by flaming chrysanthemums and every other flower you named so prettily but he could never remember, he kissed you until the sky replaced its eggshell blue with soft lavender, nipping and tugging and sucking until your lips were numb and your fingers couldn’t seek the exit from the maze of his charcoal locks.

Jeon Wonwoo had kissed you.

It was not responsible to distract Wonwoo when he worked, when the teal hood of a car was propped up and he plucked at grungy looking things that resided underneath it. You sat on a stool by the work bench, next to an array of shiny wrenches and wires twisting from weird box type mechanisms. He told you at least a million times to keep your dainty hands in your lap and not touch anything littering the table. When you provoked him with the consequences, he simply shook his head and smirked, returning to his work. Without much to do you repeated flattening out your skirt, tying and untying the laces of your worn out sneakers.

His voice echoed around the garage, alerting you that he was almost finished with fixing up the car’s engine and that you could go out and eat together.

“You’re washing up first.” He heard you balk, “As hot as you look with your hair pushed back and the occasional smear of grease on your cheek, we’re not going to some restaurant like that.”

Wonwoo’s head popped up, the back of his hand swiping along his forehead. “We can just order take-out, baby?” And then he was back to twisting and tugging things, a hand grabbing the light hung from the ceiling to brighten certain nooks and crevices. As much as you basked in sitting down and munching comfortably in each other’s presences, you hadn’t dug deep into your closet for a pretty lilac blouse and cream skirt just to laze around in them.

“C’mon, I put on this whole getup and spent an eternity smoothing out knots from my hair in the shower. I used up the last of my apricot conditioner! We definitely need to go out.” Yet your whining was squandered when you realized Wonwoo wasn’t listening, his eyes trained to fiddling with something deeper into the car’s hood.

Suddenly a crackle seared around the garage, your body instinctively flinching as Wonwoo’s hand shot from underneath the hood, his fingers waving about.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hissed, throwing his head back and pacing around the room. It was then you noticed a slight red mark on the side of Wonwoo’s hand as he darted to shut off the car, the key yanked from the ignition. Your mouth fell open, but any words spoken were drowned out when he slammed the car’s hood down and released another string of curses from under his breath. If your relationship were just in the beginning stages, you would have cowered slightly, whispering at your heart to relax, but it had come quite a long way, and you knew his anger wasn’t directed at all toward you.

“That hurt like a bitch.” He growled.

A sigh tumbled from your lips as you slid off the stool, retrieving the first aid kit among the clutter of Wonwoo’s work bench. He sat on the car’s hood, feet resting on the bumper while he carded thick locks back with slender fingers. He didn’t bother looking up when you approached him, yet he was forced to do so anyways with the glide of soft fingertips under his chin, holding the bone ever so carefully while you tugged free some cleansing wipes.

“You always tell me to be careful when you’re the one who ends up getting hurt. Now I have a puppy with a burnt hand. Tsk, tsk.” You murmured while decorating your lips with a smile, hoping to erase some of stress sticking like cobwebs to his every limb. Wonwoo allowed you to run the cloth along his forehead, in soothing strokes down his cheeks and the slope of his nose, your eyes shining with flecks of adoration and the softness he instilled in your chest. Not until he had been ridden from the grease and grime sticking to his complexion did you sit down next to him and fiddle for the burn cream, smirking at his dissuading whines.

“I can do this all myself.” He grumbled, watching you unscrew the cap and squeeze the gel substance onto the back of your hand.

“Shshshsh.” You crooned while planting a quick kiss on his nose, “Just let me help you at least once, okay?

Wonwoo squinted toward you, his lower lip jutting out slightly. Yet he knew of your persistence, how you yearned to bundle him in your affection, not to point where it became unbearable and embarrassing, but until chickadees were warbling pleasant melodies in his stomach, warming the cherry walls of his heart. It brought him to smile, rose lips tilting upward in infinitesimal movement, for if he allowed himself to smile any wider you might pounce on him. Your chin steadied on his shoulder, peaking down at the darkening burn on his hand.

You were quiet, wallowing in the tranquil silence that bathed the garage, Wonwoo’s fingers curling and uncurling as you soothed his injury with the cooling gel. It may have stung a little, but your touch was cautious, gentle, assuring his recovery and that it wasn’t something to lose sleep over.

“See?” He felt your breath tickle his ear, “All better.” Wonwoo hummed in reply, knowing you still had to protect the burn with the bandage you discovered.

“Bam.” You said smugly. “I’m a healing wizard.”

The sable haired boy turned his hand back and forth while you returned the first aid kit to the work bench, admiring the neatness of your bandaging. It was something anyone could have done, but when it unravelled under your touch and the love that simmered in your heart, Wonwoo felt as though no one could have fixed him up any better.

“Can I at least get a thank you? I mean sure you could have been humble and did it yourself blah blah blah, but ya didn’t! Your really amazing girlfriend made everything dandy and she still really wants to eat.” You chirped while twirling in front of Wonwoo, accenting your skirt.

“I mean this outfit is really nice too, but I guess I can’t complain if you still want take-out seeing as you burnt yourself and everything.” Wonwoo remained on the hood of the car, elbows resting atop his knees and gliding his midnight stare after your very word and twirl and smile. You were right; your outfit did look nice, very nice.

“Y/N?” You halted in swaying from side to side, plucking at the pale lilac colour of your blouse.

if you don’t like smut, keep scrolling until you recognize this line!

“Yeah?” You replied innocently, lashes swishing down and up. Wonwoo was marvelling over you in an ardent stare, two orbs of white glistening like tiny snowflakes in his pupils. His voice that had always been encompassed in brass managed to drop lower, sweeping along the dark ocean floors as he wiggled his finger at you.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” The four syllables practically dripped from his lips, warning you it was perilous to approach him, yet they held a certain nuance that urged you to step closer, the innocent smile that framed your face wiped straight off by the grip he installed around your wrist.

The next thing you knew, your back was flush against the car’s teal hood, Wonwoo’s arms placed on either side of your head as your legs automatically latched onto his waist. Your breath was staggered between parted lips, shaky during its journey to breach the air, your heart pumping at an unprecedented level while you could say nothing, do nothing but feel Wonwoo’s gaze devour you whole.

“Your outfit does look really nice.” He taunted you with his whisper, lips ghosting at your ear’s cusp, “But it would look so much better if I ripped it off of you, hmm?”

You couldn’t help but squirm against him, your arms that had been lying limp beside your head now settled on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving them a subtle squeeze. The top part of his jumpsuit had been unbuttoned, peeled to rest around his waist so a white t-shirt could shine through. It was of course smeared with blotches of grease, and it became the principal scent to hover around you. Not entirely pleasant, but the stars swirling in Wonwoo’s eyes were sufficient in distracting you, tempting your thoughts to entre lascivious realms.

But Wonwoo was at work, and he needn’t dwell in distractions.

“Why now?” You squeaked, not able to shovel aside the heat bubbling in your stomach. The risk factor was enormous, yet an almost inaudible voice cooed at the back of your skull, encouraging you to continue, to keep the sable haired boy’s body pressed tightly against your own.

“Because I really can’t stand to watch you parade around in a skirt so fucking short and a blouse so see through. We can go out if you want, I don’t care, but if others are gonna see you in this then they’re gonna know who you belong to.”

He breathed hotly against your neck, palms cascading in hunger down your thighs, slipping underneath them and pressing forth the indent of crescent moons. You felt responsible if his uncle were to amble in and have such a sight mar his vision, but the husk adorned to Wonwoo’s tone was not in one bit unfamiliar. He had spoken using the same assertiveness when his clients at the piercing shop dug under his skin, when his uncle assigned him to rewire another car or take over three paint jobs supposed to be done by other workers. It was the tautness of not getting payed enough for his efforts, that college was not too generous with its work load.

It had all been accumulating, festering. Wonwoo often hid his stresses from you, but there had been more than one occasion where he burned for an outlet, fingers curling attentively around the column of your throat, a voice rumbling in cadences low and rough warning you to keep quiet as his hips slammed into your backside, the lewd act sheltered by a dressing room. He would never tell you he was stressed, but it broke through quite clearly when he would cease your conversations and eye you with glossy irises, intent scribbled through the manner of his tilted brows and tapping fingers. At first you may have been nervous, but by now it brought excitement to course through your veins, to create a coil of anticipation.

And at this moment Wonwoo was stressed, your doubts ebbing away piece by piece. You could understand that, the car he’d been prodding at for who knows how many hours refused to work, his hand just got crisped, he still had your date to worry about, college studying to swallow. He was plating it all, which meant bruises impossible to cover with concealer for you.

“So who is it?” Wonwoo crooned lowly into your neck, his lips attaching to suckle a patch of skin ever so gently. “Who is it that you belong to, baby?”

A hand slid from his shoulder to run through his hair, tangling within the sable locks and twisting them with enough intent for him to nip below your ear.

Your lips parted, a breathy answer slow to roll off your tongue. “You.”

Wonwoo ran his nose down to your shoulder; inhaling the vanilla body wash you adored so much. His palms mapped along your thighs he could never squeeze and scratch enough, slipping under your skirt and making a slow crawl toward the silk waistband of your underwear. How lucky he was that you’d chosen a skirt.

“You can do better than that, baby.” He hummed, your head titled back with the kisses he planted up your throat, taking his sweet time in nipping polished enamel along skin so soft and warm. Eventually he was at your lips, licking slowly into your mouth until your fingers grew like a python strangling his hair, your hips twitching upward to brush in want against his.

“Tell me who you belong to.” Wonwoo entreated again, his voice heightening in demand. You felt like a kitten as you mewled against his lips, every trace of sly fingertips under your skin nothing but a skim, a tease to get your centre aching.

“I belong to you.” He heard your voice crack when his free hand slapped underneath your thigh, clutching the meat and curving into its suppleness with blunt fingertips. Lust was brewing like a potion within his every fiber, the heap of stress he kept bottled beneath tendrils of assurance beginning to melt free. Wonwoo pulled your lower lip; not at all shy to prelude it’s swelling by the use of his teeth. Satisfaction had yet to blaze within his eyes, your weakening voice pleasant, but still not enough. And then Wonwoo kissed you one last time, his lips adapting a much softer rhythm in lieu of nipping and sucking. His head was lifting away, your lips mindlessly chasing after his with sparklers igniting before your closed eyes, imbuing the familiar waves of ecstasy.

When he’d teased you into a sitting position, your legs still curled around his waist, did he bunch together every strand of your apricot hair, forcing your head back.

“We’re gonna try this again, okay?” He whispered with peculiar dulcet qualities. It was difficult to nod with his fingers woven so tautly through your hair, yet you attempted anyways, something sticky ruining your favourite pair of silk underwear as he demanded you turn around. Wonwoo hovered behind you, your eyes glued to the windshield of the car and how you reflected in the glass, your lips swollen, hair a twisted mess, the sable haired boy’s favourite. Your knees pressed into the car almost uncomfortably, but you had no choice with Wonwoo’s body slipping right behind you, a distinct hardness brushing your back.

Through the reflection you could see his smirk, your breath bated as you knew it was him wondering of all the ways to summon your whines.

And then he acted upon one of them, your body suddenly bent over the hood of the car, his hand taking refuge in your locks once again. A finger trailed up the back of your thigh, tracing circles and stars, shooting shivers to prickle down your spine and tiny valley’s to erupt from your flesh. However you knew the game had really started when Wonwoo flipped up your skirt, his fingers twitching ever so infinitesimally in your hair as the view of your silk soaked underwear and legs sinfully parted washed across his vision. It took every ounce of self-control he could muster to not rip each piece of measly fabric off you, to take you right then and there, his fingers tugging your head back as he slammed his impatient length into your walls so slick and hot.

You heard him groan, and right before you could speak up, he slapped a palm across your ass, the smack of skin against skin rippling around the garage. Wonwoo leaned over you, his musky scent driving your heart to slam more vigorously into your ribcage, so unfathomably fast it could probably dent the hood of the car.

“I’m gonna ask one more time, baby.” He growled into your ear, his voice the perfect mixture of gritty and smooth. “Who do you belong to?” You were more than ready to spill his name like a mantra, to scream it if he asked you, the desire that scolded your insides so thoroughly only containing the concept of pleasing him, washing away his stress. So with a little quirk to your lips, you opened your mouth to respond, but it was not a word that came out, but a moan.

The rough pads of Wonwoo’s index and middle finger were coming into contact with your clothed clit, rubbing lazy circles upon the sensitive bundle and applying enough force to make your thighs quiver, heat amplifying in your stomach. He only pressed harder when you didn’t respond, his voice crackling by your ear.

“Who the fuck do you belong to!” He hissed, his hand untangling from your hair to harshly slap against your ass. Your whole body jolted, jittering underneath him as he dragged his fingers to prod up your slit before circling your clit again. You were positive your whole outfit would be ripped to shreds by the end of his high, your high, as many highs as he could force you to reach.

“Wonwoo!” You belted when he ripped away from your backside, his hands tearing the drenched silk from your legs, the growl of ripped fabric slicing through the air and causing you to whine against the car’s hood.

“I belong to Jeon Wonwoo!” He spread your legs even further before his fingers found your slick again, rolling across your rose bud in figure eights and making the occasional dip to your slit. Finally the answer he’d been longing to hear, the name you could pester with calling him all day long, but hesitate to when had you keening to the stars. Wonwoo was back over you in an instant, the lewd noises his fingers were creating casting a lurid sheen to encompass your cheeks.

“That’s right, sweetheart, every pretty part of you belongs to me, every pretty part of you gets ruined by me, and then every pretty part of you gets taken care of by me. You understand?”

Boy, he was stressed alright.

“Yes.” You could barely afford to choke, his lips making the occasional kiss to your ear as he spoke. His fingers drag your gloss up the inside of your thighs, satisfied at how he felt them quiver and shake, but nothing licked warmth to his chest more than hearing you mewl, the heel of his palm rubbing sins into your clit. Wonwoo doubted he had ever wanted you so bad before, the emotions popping in his stomach so intense that he had enough energy to pound on the car’s hood more than once as well as the backseats and rear.

Amongst pulling your hair and soaking his fingers in your arousal, a brief moment flashed before lust tinted irises. The views he snagged of you during your first drive to the lake, his adventures alongside you in the floral shops garden, and the ache in his chest after going home from your first kiss.

Wonwoo may have been engulfed in lust, want, a burning need to dissolve his stress, but he also cared about your feelings too, the rapid pace you jumpstarted his heart with. You were surprised to hear his gravel tone soften during your escapade for pleasure, his palm slowing down on your clit ever so slightly so you could focus on the burst of radiance that glowed in your chest.

“And every pretty part of you is loved by me, okay? Every single fucking part of you, my baby, I love more than anything.”

Jeon Wonwoo loved you; he loved you like the stars love the moon.

So where did it all go wrong?

smut over! sorry this line is so short im typing to make it longer blah blah

You were occupied with washing the dishes. Bubbles were swallowing the sink, popping in claps of lemon as you dragged a sponge up and down your plate. The television hummed in the background, displaying the scenes of some spy based show you could never get into, yet Wonwoo always babbled about the latest episode to Jeongyeon when you all hung out on campus. You didn’t take a liking to sitting there in silence, munching down fries or sipping from your canteen as their excited chirps echoed around the room. Forcing yourself to sit through hours of footage that went in one ear and out the other wasn’t your ideal night, but you put yourself through it anyway.

After placing the dishes back in the cupboards, you bounced on your sofa a few times and raised the volume on the television. You thought you might be getting into the plot just a tiny bit when your phone began vibrating, the screen flashing with bundles of text. Heaving a sigh, you swiped it off the coffee table and realized it was just nothing more than Wonwoo and Jeongyeon exchanging details surrounding the show, details you were all absorbing with your own eyes, so you were clueless as to why they were updating each other on every second that passed.

“I’ll never understand their friendship.” You chuckled to yourself, about to shut your phone off when something caught your eye, the date. There it was, gleaming back at you and staining white light along your face, yet you were a bit clouded over as to why it snagged your attention so much, the measly appearance of a number and a month. But then it hit you, coalescing into one grand realization that brewed stiltedness in your stomach.

Wasn’t I supposed to get my period like five days ago?

You chewed into your lower lip, opening the calendar app and scrolling through all the months that had dotted past. Memories were filming by in your mind, portraying an episode more thought provoking than the one hogging the television screen. You remembered getting your period for the last few months because it struck during such inconvenience, but at this time, you hadn’t even received a sign of it.

It was impossible for you to not jump to conclusions, eyebrows furrowed as you pinpointed your last moment of intimacy with Wonwoo. Everything was there; the foil packaged being ripped, your fingers scrolling it down his length as you sat at the edge of the bed. The chances of getting a faulty condom were quite low, yet you were positive, absolutely positive nothing had slipped through. By now the texts shared on the group chat were white noise to your ears, nothing consuming you more than the anxiety steeping in your gut.

It’s probably just late, Y/N. You assured yourself, that’s all it is, your period is late.

Your giggles echoed down the corridor as you unlocked the door to your apartment, the key clicking before it was right back in your pocket. Wonwoo hovered by the doorway as you kicked off your shoes and shook out your aching feet, a long day of exploring the town making an appearance through the drag in your bones. He curled his rosy lips at you, bringing your heart to float on a sea of feathers, a factor that never died away or changed in the slightest.

“Goodnight.” He purred when you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling his forever lasting scent of blackberries that made you feel at home, diminishing any stresses or worries. Your fingers ruffled through his thick fluff as you parted, scattering the fringe before his eyes until he pinched into your side.

“Goodnight, love!” You half yelped, half cackled as Wonwoo took a few strides down the hallway. He began walking backwards, blowing a kiss off his lips that he wouldn’t ever fathom doing if in public. Of course you played along cheesily and caught it, his wave the last thing you fawned over before he disappeared into the elevator. You shut the door and ended up in the bathroom, turning the shower handle and allowing the cool water to splash against the tiling as you undressed. A soft tune lulled in your throat, one that had played in Wonwoo’s cheap ass Mercedes during your late night town travels. You couldn’t stop replaying the flashes of his smile, of his arms curling around your waist and head nuzzled into your shoulder during the long wait for churros.

By the time your shirt was a limp clump on the floor, you stared down at your stomach, admiring the silver crescent that still sparkled as brightly as ever from your navel. You were gentle in taking it out for your shower. It was expensive material, so it wouldn’t rust, but you had grown to treasure it so much you wouldn’t dare wear it swimming or bathing as frequently as before. However, when it was safe on the bathroom counter and your last articles were tossed, did you notice something strange.

Your stomach was a bit bloated, more rounded than usual. And then your eyes dared stray to your underwear, how they were spotted with dark red dots. It definitely wasn’t the first time you’d noticed this. In fact, the longer you stood with the shower gushing precious warm water, steam enveloping the room and fogging the mirrors, did you gulp down the lump in your throat, the ball of overwrought emotions and consternation that tripped your breathing.

But when, your mind belted, it’s impossible, it’s fucking impossible.

And with shaky fingers that struggled in dragging open the shower curtain, you dismissed the possibility that was painted in bold.

I am not what I think I am.

Wonwoo was too enthralled in the yoyo he won at the pancake lunch to pay notice to your shuffling, how after classes finished you made a beeline for the convenience store to supposedly wrack the shelves for toothpaste and plastic cups and tea bags. He never noticed you scribble down a fake list in the corner of your calculus notebook and tear it out, brushing the hair from your cheeks as you handed it to him on your departure from class.

“Can you look for this stuff? I have some things of my own to get.”

Wonwoo’s eyes darted over the list impetuously, his yoyo still flicking by his side. His nose crinkled, pushing up the silver spectacles he wore before nodding.

“M’kay.” He accepted without batting an eyelash. “Meet you at the counter.”

You swayed him with a sweet smile that accents the pink gloss on your lips, the reflection of white light twinkling in your eyes, and Wonwoo is smiling back, the yoyo finally ceased of its constant spinning.

He tapped your nose, which you learned was the equivalent of a kiss, making that first day at the secret lake a memory littered with blushing. While the sable haired boy was distracted with seeking out items you didn’t quite need, you were zipping between each isle, heart hammering like a drum in your chest until the shelves that smelt of baby powder pulled you in. Your breath was ragged as you make contact with the tiny white box, smooth against your fingertips yet imbuing fear to root through your body. The outline of a mother with a swollen stomach is slapped on the front, her hand cradled under the melon like bump.

You could not afford to stare any longer. Very hastily you darted to the self-check-out on the opposite side of the store, the crimson sloshing through your ears a constant balk to not squander a single moment in covering the box from any curious eyes. You heard the beep, the intoned voice of the machine drawling to you for what felt like ages. Finally it was done, the deed was over with as Wonwoo popped out of an isle and blinked at you, each item bundled in his arms.

“Where are the things you got?” He prodded while flicking his yoyo again.

“I realized I don’t really need them.”

Wonwoo pouted, his plump lips wiggling at you. “Well do you still want this?”

You could feel the box press against your arm, digging into your flesh yet concealed by the oversized sleeves of your jacket. Your hand brushed against Wonwoo’s cheek before selecting the tea bags among the other items in his hold.

“Let’s keep the tea.”

And then the sable haired boy was grinning, arm latching around your waist and turning you back to the self-check-out. His fingers lingered around your elbow, dangerously close to the box pressed up your sleeve.

“You feel kinda tense, babygirl.” Wonwoo said softly. “Everything alright?”

You leaned your head into his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“Everything is perfectly fine, Jeon Wonwoo.”

Except it is the opposite, and with your head so preciously tucked against him, it was impossible for him to see the glassy lacquer in your orbs, the slight scar on your lip from biting it too much.

No, everything is not fine.

Everything is far from it as you stand outside your apartment door, palms resting comfortably on Wonwoo’s shoulders as he peppered your forehead in feather light kisses, whispering you for to sleep without worries, reminding you that the moon he loves and yearns to engulf in sugar spice and everything nice will always be you. He may have sensed that something was off, shifted into darkness that he cannot light up, so Wonwoo tried his best to kindle warmth within your chest, and soothe your heart that had been twisted and pulled in every direction.

He cupped your cheeks and placed his lips atop your own, whispering three words you had come to hear so often, yet melted with each breath they were spoken in. Wonwoo tapped your nose before gently shutting the door, leaving you to stand in silence, to make yourself some tea and slip under rumples of linen.

Or so he thought.

In reality you were rummaging through your jacket, you were sprinting to the bathroom and tearing open the stupid white box without hesitation. Your mind was blank as you sat over the toilet seat and waited, tendrils of hair spiralling before your eyes and a sickening thump drilling louder than steel against steel in your ears.

But nothing was louder than the sob that cracked from your throat when you leaned against the bathroom sink and grazed into the two pink lines ever so present on the stick, the two pink lines that burn your flesh in hues of dread.

Burn. Burn. Burn. A burnt hand. A teal blue hood. A lilac blouse paired with a cream skirt, swiped from bruised flesh in such a bold lust that there is no time to think about precautions.

You are pregnant. You are carrying Jeon Wonwoo’s child.

Every single moment spiralled back to that day, all blooming from your encounter at the piercing shop, your exchange of different symbolisms, the heat flushing your cheeks as the most handsome boy you’d ever seen teased you about not being able to swim. The drive in his eggshell coloured Mercedes that brought you to hurl your watermelon popsicle out the window when swallowing it whole was not the most intelligent option, your daydreaming of his part time job as a mechanic, sunlight bathing across your features as the boy admires you in secrecy. Water encasing limbs sticky in summer heat, droplets of azure splashing into the air as you jump from slabs of rock.

It’s the gushing of one another in private, swooning and suffering in the misery of unfilled heart ache until you’re seated before flaming orange flowers and the urge to taste each other’s lips is simply too strong. The moments could scroll forever, yet they all dwindle down to the darkest that had been waiting for its chance to pounce.

You’re back to a curse word slipping toward the floor, a hand shifting to hold your stomach as you look him in his midnight eyes and articulate as clearly as you can. You show him the pregnancy test, the online pages you’d bookmarked, the swelling of your stomach. Your cheeks are hot and damp as you explain to him the spots in your underwear, the period you never got, the cramps that seize your stomach with jabs of pain. Wonwoo can only thread fingers through thick onyx strands, his eyes stretching wide.

“Y/N, how could this happen?” He stutters, speaking into his hand. You can’t look at him for a second longer; the dismay slacked into his features causing your eyes to grow glassy.

“Pretty sure it was the day at the garage, we were in such a haste to get things done, we forgot protection…”

Silence sticks to every corner of the room, most definitely laughing at the both of you, though you could never hear it. But even the mocking silence cowers when Jeon Wonwoo booms out a curse word, his deep voice striking your heart like a shot of lightning.

“We can’t be parents, Y/N!” Wonwoo says while pushing his hair back, visibly confused, frustrated, petrified.

“We’re two dumbass college kids who can barely look after ourselves! We have so little money; we would have to work our asses off to pay for that child, to give it the life it deserves!” He shouts, reaching the pinnacle of his lamentation. Your fingers are clenching, the hand that rests atop of your stomach twitching to ball up. Wonwoo does not expect you to take a step forward, though he does not expect you to lie limp and bawl salty pearls either.

“You think I don’t know that! I didn’t ask to get pregnant either Wonwoo, but that’s life and life fucking hurts sometimes! I know we don’t have a lot of money, I know there’s a lot on both our plates and that we would have to work so goddamn hard to support this child, but it’s here and it’s growing and neither of us planned for this but it’s time we damn start!”

He thinks about the story of the orchid.

There is nothing more you can say, nothing more you can do before Jeon Wonwoo’s eyes turn just as glassy as yours. Your mind is blank, though you frantically keen for more words to howl, to make him understand that this new chapter of your life deserves to be embraced no matter how unexpected it may seem. He clearly needs time to think, a moment to clear his head that refuses to stop spinning. Neither of you have anything to shout at each other, for it would go through one ear and straight out the other.

Wonwoo glances toward you, his eyes quickly dropping to your stomach that is indeed bulging the more he examines it.

“I need to think…” He breathes out in a tone so strained you wish you could take the best years of your life back. However that is a fool’s way to think, and you are not a fool.

But are you human and the pain of him closing the door as he exits your apartment proves that more than anything.

“This might disappoint you but, that’s the end.” Your voice was a lilt that drifted from the terrace, echoing into the fresh air of midnight and the misty noises that sounded from cars running up and down the street. The hand that rests ever so thoughtfully on your stomach etches for the first time, curling into the fabric of your oversized t-shirt. You sniffle, and it is then you realize the apples of your cheeks are glistening under moonlight, damp in the memories that stem from a summer too fateful and wrapped in bliss.

There is pain that lingers too, that Jeon Wonwoo had been absent in your life for nearly a month, his face hardly spotted flipping pages in the library or typing a report under the sakura tree that blooms on campus. You hate to admit you miss him, but how could you not when he presented you so much? When he kindled warmth so vibrant in your chest you couldn’t sleep because of it?

“I just want to let you know, Airplane,” you murmur, teeth briefly sinking into the laceration that was practically permanent on your lower lip, “That you shouldn’t be angry at your father. As much as you may want to be, your arrival had us both in shock, and he needed time to process things. Perhaps how life would be if you were in it, if you weren’t.”

You patted your growing stomach, aiming a smile toward the tiny human who listened to your long tale so intently and quietly, absorbing every detail and monitoring the different cadences your voice fell into when referencing something happy, something sad.

“Airplane, do you like flowers?” You ask while blinking toward the sky, pupils reflecting the milky threads of constellations and the silver crescent that does not suffer ineptitude when the challenge is to shine brightly. Silence is greeting your question, and it makes you smile.

“I think you’ll grow up to like flowers. Maybe orchids, maybe hibiscuses, maybe even chrysanthemums. I can teach you a lot about them, I promise I won’t make it boring.” The temptation to laugh at yourself bubbles for a moment, because how crazy do you sound right now? Alone, at the hour of midnight, rambling on and on to an unborn baby named Airplane about first love and piercings and flowers. Anyone who happened to be awake and gazing upon the satin sky as keenly as you would hear your conversation and furrow their brows, rub their hollow eyes to rid them of stardust and potential lucid dreams.

They might seek themselves out to be the crazy one.

Or maybe they do not think you’re crazy, but just happen to be the tiniest bit strange.

“If you end up being allergic to flowers, I’ll show you books. If you don’t like books I can show you music. And if you don’t like music…” You warbled while twiddling your thumbs, a curl suddenly forming along your lips.

“I’ll show you how a spark plug works, I’ll show you how not to confuse your fog lights with your air conditioning. I can demonstrate the perfect cannonball, and show you tricks on a yoyo. I’ll try to learn everything so I can show you everything.“

“How does that sound?” A deep voice mumbles from inside the garage, reading glasses about to slip from the bridge of his nose as he flips the next glossy page of the magazine. His eyelids are droopy, yet they are determined to absorb every word they run across, to learn every secret that the pages have to offer. He hears his uncle call out from underneath his truck.

“What did you say, Woo?”

The sable haired boy cocks his head around from his work bench, watching his uncle slide from underneath his pickup, grease stains smudged along his face and gloves.

“Nothing.” The boy responds, flashing the older man a slight smile. “Just talking to myself.” He then faces the magazine pages again, his desk lamp attracting moths to flutter inside from the open garage door, starlight bathing the scenery dotting outside. The page flips, and he immediately recognizes the silk texture of the petals, the hot pink splash in the middle.

“Hibiscus!” He beams triumphantly, “That’s a hibiscus flower!” And he is correct too, yet his uncle just has to butt in again.

“What’s up with you kids and talking to yourselves?” He grumbles from underneath the truck, “You sure are a strange bunch.”

Though the boy hardly hears him through the glee that bursts in his chest, the light glimmering in his pupils of midnight, for he is too swept up in the fact that he’s making progress.

“I told you I’m learning, Sun.” He made sure to whisper much lower, for his ears only. “Once I learn about all these flowers, I just have to learn about everything else. I mean, your mother could teach you about flowers, but she can also teach you about spark plugs too. I can only do one, and I can’t have her besting me like that.”

The boy’s uncle could still hear him mumbling to himself, the old man’s eyebrows beginning to pinch together before he slid from underneath the truck and wiped his forehead with a damp cloth, willing to pester his nephew just one last time.

“Why on earth are you whispering to the sun, Wonwoo? Gosh, you’re quite odd, aren’t you?”

Not a single answer swallowed the silence that brewed, Wonwoo’s uncle eventually giving up and retiring all his tools to his own work bench, leaving his peculiar nephew to contain his conversation with the currently nonexistent fire ball in the sky. A yawn stretched off the boy’s lips, hardly paying notice to the moth that perched in his fluffy locks of sable, peering down at the magazine alongside him.

“I’ve gotta learn everything so I can teach you everything. I won’t let her do it on her own, that’s too much work. She has to take care of herself first.”

Wonwoo let his chin rest in his palm, eyes glazing along each snapshot of a flower different in colour and shape, memories of light blue overalls and worn out sneakers and fruit gummies tinting his mind.

“She’s really pretty too, Sun. You’ll be pretty like her too, whether you’re a boy or a girl.”

It was getting late, and though Wonwoo felt drowsiness and indolence slowly begin to encompass him, he shook the feelings away, scaring the little moth from his hair. He couldn’t afford to let you down again, to witness such pain mar your features and turn your curled smile into a frown. This unprecedented chapter with you was exactly what he needed, and after pondering for hours and hours on the roof of the piercing shop, skipping classes and meals and work, could Wonwoo say confidently that he wanted this, he wanted you. He was in love with you.

But he also wanted his little baby who he had given the nickname of Sun, because as you once said, the sun symbolizes a new beginning, and what better way to commence in this new beginning than with a family.

✎ hi, it’s choco typing from the grave, hope u enjoy, stay hydrated, eat ur vitamins, lov wonwow. peace.

#wonwoo #seventeen #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #wonwoo smut #seventeen fanfic #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #kpop #kpop scenarios

3K notes · View notes

hobistagram · 8 years ago

Text

Seaside

merman!AU

Part 2

A/N: this wasn’t requested but i’ve actually been working on this fic since the new year but i finally finished it! this will be a chaptered fic, that’s why it ends where it does. i really really hope you all like it! and don’t worry, i’m still working on drabbles.

wc: ~4K

The apartment you’d been living in with your brother for the past six months was cramped, to say the least. Which was why there was a brochure for a vacation house near the beach on your coffee table. Right beside an itinerary and a printed confirmation email for the car you’d rented with your friends for the following weekend.

Then the rain had come. It wore you down, making you sleepy. The city looked weary, the rain falling nonstop from sunup to sundown. You lost the motivation to carry yourself to class and your brother laid around the apartment without initiative, skipping class altogether to play video games in your living room.

At first, you’d pleaded with the weather every day as you checked outside your window. “Come on,” you murmured, looking at the pouring rain flooding the sidewalks outside, “I just need one day.”

Somewhere, someone must’ve been listening. Because on the ride to the beach, your best friend driving slow in the downpour, it stopped.

Jina tried to change the song playing and you smacked her hand away. “Driver doesn’t DJ,” you eyed her as she shot you a look, “shotgun DJs.”

“That’s a dumb rule,” Hana whined in the backseat. “Besides you always play the same stuff.”

“Just because you two don’t like pop music doesn’t mean I have to suffer,” you huffed but you were fighting a smile. The sudden sunshine had cheered you.

It wasn’t so much that you minded having your brother live with you, it was just that you’d never meant to have anyone in your apartment other than yourself. With him around, you had no privacy and you missed being able to blast the radio while you cleaned the kitchen and sit on the couch in your towel during the summertime when it was too hot to put on clothes.

The beach had always been a healing place for you. Even when you were little, whenever your parents had taken you to the beach, you had always come back feeling more chipper, more calm. Your parents had a superstition about the sea water—that it could help cure illness. In a way, you guessed they were right.

“Do you have the address?” Jina asked, tugging on your sleeve to prompt you into action. You dug through your tote bag for the papers and read the address of the house. “That means nothing to me, Y/N,” she deadpanned, “Can you google directions?”

You nodded, swatting her hand again when she tried to skip another one of your songs, and navigated her to the house.

It wasn’t a long drive compared to the time you’d spent on the highway, but it was a quiet one. The neighborhood was tranquil and you felt out of place. Part of you had hoped the place would be touristy, full of crappy-looking gift shops and greasy-smelling fish restaurants, but it looked like a place lived in, not visited.

Hana confirmed as much. “It looks…suburban, right?”

You grimaced. “Yeah.”

“But there’s a beach, isn’t there? And that’s all we wanted.” Jina pulled into the driveway of the home and turned off the car. “No whining.”

Hana pouted and gathered her things. “I’m not whining.”

The three of you tumbled into the house and glanced around. It was humbly furnished, clearly owned by someone who had decorated the house in a different decade. You had been the one to book it, after the ones you’d looked at in the brochure for a different beach had been well out of your budget. Still, it had everything you needed—two bedrooms for you and the girls and a kitchen where the three of you would attempt to cook but likely order in.

Hana and you took the big bedroom, agreeing to alternate for the following night. You dumped your things and changed, already planning to head to the water. “You coming?” You asked Hana as she searched through her suitcase.

“Ah, but I’m so hungry,” she moaned. “I think I’m gonna ask Jina if she wants to go to the grocery store.”

“Fine, you baby,” you laughed at her miserable expression. “I’ll be in the water.”

“Have fun, you mermaid,” she retorted.

The beach was empty when you arrived which would have struck you as odd if you hadn’t noticed on your way into the neighborhood that the houses were all nearly empty. You supposed it was the season, that people must not have come back yet for Spring, but it didn’t discourage you. Actually, you preferred the quiet. It gave you the freedom you’d been longing for since your brother had moved in.

You set down your towel on the sand and walked towards the edge of the water. The sea was still and you dipped your feet in, expecting the cool tide to pull at your ankles. You ignored the shivers building on your skin and trudged forward. The only way you were going to enjoy the water was if you dunked yourself in and accustomed your body to the temperature, so you pushed in until your waist was inundated then you dove under.

The water wasn’t perfectly clear because the waves had turned out the sand and seaweed. You swam further in, until it became difficult to distinguish the seafloor, then stopped, reaching up for air and taking a moment to assess how far you were from the shore.

It shocked you when you saw how close the house seemed from where you were. You imagined there must have been a drop somewhere in the sea floor. It explained why there were no people on that part of the beach.

The discovery didn’t frighten you; you’d been swimming since you could remember and the ocean had never quite intimidated you like it had your brother.

Still, you thought, you should warn the girls about the drop and tell them they should find a shallower part of the beach. As you turned to dive back under, you caught a glimpse of something and stopped.

For a moment, it was a boy. You saw a sweet, tanned, boy deeper in the water than he should’ve been. He looked about your age, though his wide eyes made him seem younger. The boy held your gaze for a second, just long enough for you to make out the curious set of his brows and the slight parting in his lips, then he dove under.

Then you panicked. Maybe it was the seawater flooding your head or maybe it was the fact that you hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, but you could’ve sworn you saw a tail. A brilliant blue and green thing with scales that caught the sunlight and glimmered as he flipped his body under the surf and disappeared.

You froze. He didn’t have a tail. There’s no way he had a tail. Maybe it was a fake tail. Maybe he was just some weird kid with a mermaid fetish, so he bought a really realistic latex tail to swim in.

The thought comforted you, if only a little, and you swam back quickly, determined not to let your bizarre experience ruin your weekend. So there was some weirdo who liked mermaids in the neighborhood, that didn’t mean you had to give up the beach and spend the whole time thinking about it.

It was what you told yourself as you replayed the moment in your head on your way back to the house. You covered yourself with your towel, vaguely concerned that he might’ve been some pervert.

But no, that didn’t make sense. He swam away when he saw you.

You shook your head, hating yourself for getting so wound up over something so stupid. It would’ve helped if you hadn’t seen his face. But you’d seen his sharp jaw, his tousled hair dampened by the water, the sweetness in his eyes that you couldn’t understand. He was cute, a boy that you would’ve fretted over for months if he’d gone to your university, but he had a tail.

A fake tail, but still.

Inside the house, Jina was blasting some indie song you’d never heard and Hana was whining that no one ever let her choose the music. Jina stuck her tongue out at her and danced back to the stove where it looked like she was frying something and Hana chopped vegetables at the table, looking like a wounded dog.

“What are we making?” You asked, darting past Hana’s sad pile of veggies to Jina. She held out her pan to you and you took an appreciative sniff of the sausage she was sautéing.

“Lunch-slash-dinner. How was the beach?” Jina asked and pointed you to a pot where she had water boiling for ramen.

You opened the packets and dumped them into the pot, your mouth watering as you realized how hungry you actually were. “Okay, I guess,” you jumped, remembering the tail guy, “oh, we should find a different part of the beach to hang out at though. It’s too foamy here and the bottom drops out suddenly.”

Jina nodded. “We asked at the grocery store and the cashier said everyone uses the one near the restaurant.”

“The restaurant?” You furrowed your brow and pushed the ramen down into the water with a spoon.

“There’s only one.” Hana walked over and offered up the vegetables to Jina. “Apparently it’s supposed to be good and that’s where the nice part of the beach is.”

“We’ll go there tomorrow then.” You sighed. At least you wouldn’t have to run into the boy again.

“What time?” Hana asked.

“At dawn,” you offered.

Jina gave you a look. “Not a chance.”

---

The day was clear when you went back to the beach the next day with Jina and Hana. The three of you opted to walk the extra mile down the sand to the public beach and found it to be packed, even at the ridiculous hour you’d dragged your friends out of bed.

They were still bemoaning their luck that they had to be your friend when you found a spot on the crowded sand. You offered to take them out to eat at the good steak restaurant when you got back home and they huffed a reluctant thank you as you stripped off your dress and readied yourself for the water.

You swam deep, treading past the rambunctious kids splashing each other on their floating tubes and the couples “discreetly” making out in the water. You neared the point where the floor beneath you was uncertain and well out of your reach and you paused to let your body rest before you dove down.

Then you did. The water was murky at first but your eyes adjusted and you glanced around and—

You saw it. The boy. He was far from you and deeper in the water than you, but you could make him out clearly: the tumult of his brown hair, the slender lines of his torso sloping down into his tail.

The tail. You strained to see a seam or a marker or plasticity like the glitter in a little girl’s bathing suit, but it looked remarkably real.

You told yourself it was the saltwater and the way that it burned your eyes that messed with your vision, made you believe that the tail was realistic, but you never got to confirm your thoughts either way because as soon as you blinked out the image before you, he disappeared.

There was a chill creeping up your spine about the boy so you swam back, determined to spend the rest of the day with your friends near the shore.

Jina was suntanning when you returned while Hana had found some kids making a sandcastle near the water and was helping them, giggly and content with the children. It’d make sense that Hana, who spent every day working part-time at a daycare center, would gravitate towards the kids even on vacation.

“I asked her if she wanted to go in the water but she wanted to do that instead,” Jina told you, lifting her head from the towel only long enough to speak.

You laughed but it was weak and troubled, your mind still thinking about the boy. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m starving,” she said, lifting herself up from the ground and digging through her purse. “I’m gonna buy something, do you want anything?”

You shook your head. “I’ll wait until dinner.”

After she’d left, you closed your eyes to the sunshine. You’d never been much for suntanning, but the thought of playing with a bunch of hyper children in sludgy sand didn’t appeal to you, so you figured you’d give yourself a mental break before going back in the water with Jina or Hana.

Eventually Jina made her way back and, after tearing her way through a quick snack, she walked with you to the shallow water, somewhere past a couple that was beginning to make a mom nearby uncomfortable. Jina struck up conversation, telling you about the restaurant and the host she’d spoken to. She told you about his sweet-looking dimples and his wide shy smile and the way he ducked his head when he spoke to her and you struggled to stay interested while the rest of you looked to the deep, waiting to spot the boy again.

The hours passed by slowly and the ache to go swimming again wouldn’t disappear no matter how freaked out you were by the boy. At some point the kids Hana had been semi-babysitting had to go back home for a nap and she ditched the sandcastle to join you and Jina. The three of you sat in the water until the pruning of your fingers and toes was nearing painful and you left the water to dry out for a while.

When the sun began to set, Jina packed up your things and you trailed after her and Hana back to the house. The boy was still on your mind, but so was food so you hurried your friends into changing and trudged back to the restaurant.

The restaurant was packed, the majority of the people opting to sit outside where they could see the water, and you knew if you wanted to eat now you’d have to sit inside.

Jina fluttered her eyelashes at the host and you knew this was the boy she’d told you about. “Hi, a table for three,” she said, her voice oozing sweetness.

He smiled and it was all dimples. “Outside or inside?”

You stepped forward. “Whichever’s faster.”

He nodded and looked for something on his podium. Grabbing three menus from his stack, he gestured for the three of you to follow him. He put you at a table in the center of the restaurant and gave you another shy smile before walking back to his podium.

The menu was extensive and as you looked around you at everyone eating, you could tell the food not only looked good but smelled good too. “Should we get a bunch of stuff and pig out or save our money so we can buy groceries when we get back home?” You asked.

Hana glanced down at her purse. “All I have in my fridge is leftover soup from the takeout I ordered last week. I have to buy groceries or I’ll starve.”

Jina worried at her bottom lip with her teeth. “I think it’s cheap enough that we can spring it. We haven’t spent all that much.”

Hana shut her eyes. “Fine, let’s do it. But I’m coming over to eat every night this week, Y/N.”

Jina pinched her arm. “And mine. Don’t impose on Y/N.”

“Thank you,” Hana responded, blowing her a kiss.

“Hi there, I’m Taehyung,” you looked up at the stranger’s voice and your breath caught in your throat. He was wearing an apron and a t-shirt with the restaurant’s name on it but it was him. The boy with the tail. Except he had no tail, “and I’ll be your waiter this evening.”

Jina spoke, ordering alcohol for the table, but you were busy staring. It was his face, but up close. You could see the curve of his cupid’s bow and how big his eyes were and the tiny mole on the edge of his nose.

“…and what do you want?” Jina nudged you and you came back to your senses. Taehyung looked at you and his expression changed for a split second then returned to normal. You ordered and tried to stop yourself from looking at his hips, hoping to spot the part of him where his tail should’ve started. You wanted to see gills or scales or something that would tell you you weren’t going crazy.

He left and you worked through what you’d seen at the beach. Had it really been a tail? Even as realistic as it was, makeup has come a long way and technology is capable of so much, so was it really a tail or just some bizarre swimming gadget?

When he returned with your drinks, you stopped him. “Hey, do you swim in the deep at all?”

He eyed you then nodded. “Sometimes.”

You forced a small smile. “I thought I saw you yesterday and earlier today.”

“I think I saw you too.” His returning smile was about as genuine as yours.

“You have an interesting swimsuit.” It wasn’t subtle, but you figured with the way he was looking at you, you were past subtlety.

His smile lost whatever kindness it had left. “One-of-a-kind.”

He left and you had plans to continue talking to him when he brought your food but another waiter came, a small one with light blonde hair and full cheeks. You expected him to come when it was time to clear your plates, but a busboy came instead, this one tall and muscular with earrings and a strangely infantile face. Not even when you were ready to pay the check did he return, the blond waiter giving you change and a sweet eye-crinkling smile as you walked out.

You returned to the house with an empty feeling in your gut, like something unfinished. At night you tossed and turned, annoying the living hell out of Jina beside you in the corresponding twin bed, but eventually exhaustion dragged you down and you fell asleep.

---

Jina was up before you, shoving things in her bag and packing up her toiletries from the bathroom. She had a glare lined up for you when you opened your eyes. “I couldn’t sleep because of you.”

“Sorry.” You hauled yourself up and tried to bully your hair back into a ponytail. “If it helps, I couldn’t sleep either.”

She shot you another glare and you left her, making your way out of the room toward the smell of coffee in the living room.

Hana was sitting at the kitchen table, practically sunk into her coffee cup. “Why do we have to leave so early?”

“Because otherwise we won’t make it back by sundown and I have class tomorrow.” You ruffled her hair and grabbed a cup to sit beside her.

She sighed. “We could’ve at least done lunch at that restaurant.” She bit her lip. “I wanted to see that boy with the dimples again.”

“He’s mine.” Jina strode out of the room and gave Hana a serious look. “You can have the pretty small one with the blonde hair.”

“Mean.” Hana pouted.

You’d begun to shut them out, the thought of seeing the boy one more time was appealing to you, in spite of his behavior at the restaurant. Maybe you’d overreacted. You needed to apologize—at least that’s what you told yourself.

“I’m gonna go out for a second, I’ll be right back.” You went out the back door before they could stop you and didn’t hesitate at the sound of their protests. You knew the most likely place to find him would be the restaurant so you headed in that direction. The beach was empty even as you neared the restaurant and you wished you weren’t heading out so you could take a swim without running into a child peeing themselves.

He was wiping down a table on the outdoor patio when you found him. Part of you thought he must’ve sensed you by the way he tensed up when you walked up but he didn’t look up from his task.

“Hey,” you called out and hated the harshness in your voice.

He looked up and you noted the closed off expression on his face. You must’ve been right before—he had sensed you.

“I just,” you took a breath and came closer, standing on the edge of the patio without fully approaching the table, “wanted to apologize for how I was prying yesterday. I think my eyes were playing tricks on me and I thought I saw a tail,” you shook out your head, hating how ridiculous the words were now that you’d said them out loud, “so I was just being weird. I’m sorry, seriously.”

He looked at you for a long time, feeling you out. “Where are you from?” He finally asked you.

“The city,” you told him. You told him about the college you went to, how you’d come here with your friends, how long the drive had been, how you wished you could stay longer. He hadn’t asked you any of those questions, but you volunteered it anyway, the words coming out of you like a spell.

When you finished, he grinned. It was more mischief than you’d expected. “Will you come back?”

“I hope so.”

“Good.” His smile spread, reaching his eyes and softening.

You found yourself smiling back and before you could stop yourself, you spoke. “Can I see you again? When I come back I mean.”

He hesitated, giving you another questioning look but with more amusement than before, then nodded. “I’ll be here.”

You stared, realizing you had to leave before you told him more things you weren’t prepared to tell him and before Jina and Hana came to look for you. “Good,” you said and waved goodbye, “I’ll see you then.”

He stared at you as you walked off, you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away and as much as you wanted to believe he was checking you out, you thought he might be intrigued by you, by your bizarre honesty, by the fact that you kept popping up everywhere he went. He was probably freaked out by you, but for now he still wanted you around.

Jina and Hana were all packed when you returned and they had already loaded your things in the car. Jina held out the keys to you, a smirk on her face, “We loaded everything up so you get to drive.”

“Damn,” you muttered.

She gave you a wide grin, pulling open the passenger door. “And this time I’m DJ.”

---

Taehyung was distracted all morning at the restaurant. He should’ve been working, he’d gotten the morning shift to open for breakfast with Seokjin but…she’d seen him. The girl had seen him in the water. He wanted to tell Namjoon but he was afraid of what he’d say. What if they did something to her? What if they told him to stay away from her?

And why was that such a bad thing? Something tugged at his chest when he thought about it. She’d come all that way just to apologize and then ended up talking to him for nearly an hour.

And strangely enough, he didn’t feel worried that she knew about him. He wanted to feel the panic in the back of his throat that was critical for his survival, but even when she’d told him about seeing his tail, he couldn’t find it in him to be concerned. It was the lack of concern that had worried him, so he’d avoided her for the rest of the night in an attempt to make himself gain the anger he was missing. Maybe it was stupidity or naivete, but he felt like he could trust her.

And she wanted to see him again. Why did that excite him? She would come back, she said. For him. He told himself he was being ridiculous, that he didn’t know her well enough to care about her, but the words didn’t reach his heart.

#btssunshinenet #kim taehyung #taehyung #v #bts #taehyung fluff #v fluff #bts fluff #taehyung imagines #taehyung scenarios #v imagines #v scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenarios

102 notes · View notes