#scribbled down the last few words of an essay in panic

[origami-butterfly]

One of the only things I like about mocks is the desk graffiti.

[moonsandmobilityaids-inactive]

Breathe

Pairings: James Potter x disabled!reader (Part of my poly!marauders x disabled!reader universe) Summary: You have another atonic seizure. Warnings: Chronic illness, seizures Series Masterlist

The common room is hushed, the usual bustle replaced with a late-night tranquillity that settles over the space like a blanket. Curfew has long since passed, and those Gryffindors who aren't already asleep have found their own corners of quiet, leaving you and James almost alone. You lie on your stomach by the crackling fire, textbooks open yet mostly ignored as the conversation between you flows more freely than the ink from your quills.

James sits across from you, his body folded into an easy cross-legged position. His knee brushes against yours every so often, an unconscious motion that sends warmth spreading through your veins. He's intent on the parchment before him, scribbling down last-minute thoughts for a Transfiguration essay due the next day. You watch the way his brow furrows in concentration, the soft glow of the fire catching in his tousled hair as it falls forward to shield his eyes.

You've been here for nearly an hour now—but while James continues with his work, you abandoned your own essay after the first ten minutes. The lure of the plush rug beneath you was too inviting, the heat of the fire too comforting to resist. You let out a contented sigh, closing your eyes as you sink further into the rug, the tension in your shoulders unravelling with every breath.

His gaze lifts from the pages, meeting your eyes. A shadow of a smile plays on his lips, recognising your silent admiration. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asks, setting aside the papers.

"Nothing much," you reply, a familiar warmth spreading through your chest. "Just enjoying the view."

James chuckles, a low rumble that sends vibrations through the bed. He stretches out beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. His body is a solid presence, grounding and comforting, and you fit against him as if moulded from the same clay.

"Can't blame you," he teases, confidence lacing his words. "I am pretty amazing."

You nudge him playfully, a laugh bubbling up from your chest. But it dies in your throat, replaced by a sudden tightness.

Your body goes slack, a marionette with its strings cut. You slump against James, your world tilting dangerously. The seizure lasts only a few seconds—five, maybe ten—but when it ends, you're still pressed against James, his arm now a vice around your waist. He's looking down at you, his expression unreadable. But when he speaks, his voice is calm, steady.

"Are you with me?" His voice is a steady anchor, drawing you back from the edge of panic. His thumb brushes your shoulder in a soothing rhythm. "You're safe. Just breathe."

Your eyes flutter open, taking in the familiar surroundings. The scent of wood smoke and worn leather fills the air as you listen to the crackle of fire nearby. Everything's as it should be, yet a knot of unease tightens in your chest—embarrassment, frustration, both.

You nod, swallowing against the dryness in your throat. "I'm fine," you manage to say, but the words are barely a whisper, a frail protest against the tremors still coursing through your body.

James doesn't let go. If anything, his hold on you strengthens, pulling you closer. The arm around your waist shifts so that he cradles you, a silent promise to guard against whatever unseen danger has shaken you so.

"You don't have to be fine," he murmurs, his breath warm against your hair. "Just be here. That's enough for now."

You want to argue, to insist it's nothing, that these episodes are a part of you, as familiar as the lines etched in your palms. They've been happening for years—brief, disorienting, but rarely dangerous. Yet every time they occur in the presence of another, it's like peeling back a layer of skin, revealing a raw vulnerability you'd rather keep hidden.

But James doesn’t let you hide. He doesn't look away or pretend it didn't happen, and something about his steady gaze makes it harder to hold back the swell of emotion in your chest.

"I hate this," you admit, the words a hushed confession. "I hate that you have to see it."

James's touch is gentle as he lifts your chin, insisting on eye contact. His gaze holds none of the pity you've seen in others' eyes—only understanding, and a quiet kind of resilience. "You know I don't care about that, right?" His voice is soft, a balm against the raw edges of your fear. "There's nothing to be ashamed of. Not with me. Not ever."

You bite down on your lower lip, fighting back the sting of unshed tears. "I don't want you to worry."

"Sweetheart," he says, voice gentle as a lullaby, "I'm always going to worry about you." The words are simple, straightforward, but they carry the weight of the world with them.

"Not because I think you're weak or because of your seizures. It's because I love you."

The sentiment is so unexpected, so sincere, that your breath catches in your throat. Your heart swells, threatening to burst from the sheer force of emotion that sweeps through you. You've heard those words before, but never like this—never without a hidden agenda or an unspoken expectation. His love isn't a burden; it's a lifeline, a promise.

James leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm, steady—a lighthouse guiding you back to reality. You draw on its rhythm, letting it ground you, anchoring you in the here and now.

"You don't have to do this alone," he whispers, close enough that you can feel the vibrations of his voice against your skin. "I'm here. We all are."

You draw in a tremulous breath, and before you can stop yourself, you're leaning towards him, your forehead coming to rest against the solid warmth of his chest. His heartbeat is a steady thrum beneath your ear, a grounding rhythm in a world that's suddenly spinning out of control.

James's arm curls around your shoulders, drawing you closer. His touch is light, almost tentative, as if he's afraid you'll shatter at a stronger contact. But there's an undeniable strength there—a promise of protection—that makes you want to trust him, to believe in the safety he offers.

"I-I'm sorry," you stutter, though why you apologise, you don't know.

"For what?" His voice is soft but laced with confusion. "You've done nothing wrong."

You close your eyes, letting his words wash over you. He's right. You haven't done anything to apologise for. You're not some broken thing, damaged beyond repair. You're just... you. And for some reason, that seems to be enough for James.

The two of you remain like this for what feels like hours, your body curled against his, the steady rhythm of his breathing a comforting lullaby. The fire crackles softly in the background, casting a warm glow over the room, but it can't compare to the warmth emanating from James—the man who sees you, really sees you, and still chooses to stay.

Eventually, your breathing evens out, matching the cadence of his heartbeat. Your voice is barely a whisper when you finally speak again, the walls around your heart crumbling piece by piece. "Thank you."

James' response is almost immediate, his fingers brushing tenderly against your skin as he places a soft kiss on your temple. "Always, love."

You don't need to say anything else—no apologies, no justifications. For now, this is enough: the silence between you filled with unspoken understanding, the strength of his arms around you promising to hold you together when you can't do it yourself.

[blu-joons]

You Have Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

Chan:

You were confused when you saw Chan’s name pop up on your phone, convinced that he was supposed to be in the middle of a meeting for the group. Regardless, you picked up, hearing him sigh as soon as you did.

Your heart pounded with worry as you heard him clear his throat, “I’ve been outside for half an hour now waiting for you at the restaurant, did you not remember I took a half day?”

Your eyes darted up to look at the clock on the wall, and then the date on the calendar, quickly realising what today was.

“Chan,” you whispered, letting go of a shaky breath. “I completely forgot, if you just wait ten minutes, I’ll be able to get there and we can still eat together, do we still have the reservation?”

“No, don’t worry yourself, I’ll grab takeout, I’d prefer to eat at home with you anyway,” he tried to comfort you, “just get some bits sorted at home and I’ll be there soon.”

“I promise that I’ll find a way to make this up to you Chan, I’m so sorry.”

Minho:

He couldn’t help but let go of a sigh as he read through the essay, you’d been writing that you’d left out on your desk. He knew there were times when you struggled, but the mistakes that you made certainly caught his attention.

He was so concentrated, that he failed to notice you walking back up into your room. “I know what you’re looking for, you don’t need to tell me that there’s mistakes in there.”

His head shook, encouraging you to take a seat beside him. He knew that you wanted it to be perfect, so that was what he was going to do to help.

“Just don’t panic,” he quickly assured you, “the essay itself is really good, but I know you’ll hate me if I don’t tell you that there are a couple of things that could do with improving.”

“I’d rather you tell me,” you responded, as hard as it was for you to hear. “You’re right, I do want this to be perfect, so as much as it sucks, I guess I’m going to have to listen to you.”

“I’m helping you, just remember that when you want to punch me over this.”

Changbin:

Any time when there was silence at the studio, it confused you. The boys were usually so loud, that when the room was peaceful, you never quite knew what to do, silently wishing for someone to make some noise again.

Changbin quickly caught onto how uncomfortable the new atmosphere made you. “Talk to me if you want a bit of noise Y/N.”

As soon as he spoke, you began to talk to him about anything that came to mind, just so that the room was completely silent anymore.

“Why don’t we talk about what we can get up to once I finish work for the day?” He suggested as soon as he noticed that you were running out of things to say. “Shall we try the Thai place?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking around at the rest of the boys who were all lost in their phones, “it feels weird to see them all being so quiet, I’m not used to it.”

“Make the most of it, once the phones go down, the noise will go up.”

Hyunjin:

To begin with, Hyunjin tried to ignore it, but the sound of your pen tapping against the paper as you thought eventually became too much, causing him to eventually snap at you and make you jump at his voice.

Instantly, he felt bad, noticing you trying to write a list of things to pack. “I’m sorry, the noise was just getting a little bit irritating to listen to you.”

Your head nodded, trying to refrain yourself from being any more disturbing than you were for Hyunjin as he tried to concentrate.

“Let me help,” he spoke up again, coming to your side. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you; I know that you’re trying to think. Why don’t we go through the things that you need together?”

“I know there’s a few things I’ve forgotten,” you sighed, sliding your list across for him to have a look at. “But nothing is coming to mind for what else I might need for the trip.”

“I reckon a good start might be to at least write down your toothbrush jagi.”

Han:

His heart sunk when he watched you tear yet another piece of paper out of your notepad, he already knew exactly why you’d thrown it away, just like you did with most of the things that you scribbled in the pad of paper.

Jisung walked straight across to you as you did so. “Why don’t you let me help you if you’re worried about getting it wrong? You’re putting too much pressure on yourself.”

You didn’t respond, but Jisung knew that deep down you were desperate for his help to try and get your letter spot on.

“Just take it slowly,” he encouraged, helping you with every word, stopping you before you made a mistake. “If you’re not sure, just ask me, I’m here to help you after all Y/N.”

“These are simple errors,” you frowned, “I should be able to spot these the first time without looking back over it and realising mistake after mistake that I’m making,” you groaned loudly.

“We all make mistakes sometimes, let’s just try and fix them instead.”

Felix:

Another groan came from you as the two of you continued to wait at the airport to check in and get on your flight to Australia. Felix could quickly tell you were getting agitated as you bounced up and down on your toes.

His eyes stared across at you, “there shouldn’t be that much longer to wait, just don’t get yourself stressed or anything jagi.”

Your eyes rolled, with each passing second, your impatient grew as you desperately wanted to get moving again.

“We can’t jump the queue,” Felix pointed out to you as you groaned yet again. “Just think, the longer that we queue now, the less time we’ll have to queue once we’re in the departure lounge.”

“Queuing sucks,” you sighed, resting against his shoulder. “I just want to get moving again, I’m fed up with being made to stand still, why are they all taking so long to get a move on?”

“They’re working as fast as they can, I promise we’ll get moving soon.”

Seungmin:

Your mind was absent as the two of you walked side by side, Seungmin knew that you were pretty distant beside him, but the grip that he had on your hand was enough for him to know that you were still beside him.

However, as an elderly couple came from the opposite direction, Seungmin had to pull you last minute to get out of the way as you failed to notice them. “What are you doing? You could have hurt them.”

It was only once you’d passed the couple, did you realise they were there. Glancing back to look at them stare back at you.

“Don’t panic, they’re alright,” Seungmin assured you, noticing that the incident had shook you up. “You just weren’t concentrating, that’s all, but no one got hurt, did they?”

“But they could have done,” you whispered, resting your free hand against your forehead. “If you hadn’t have pulled me out of the way I could have been responsible for hurting them.”

“But you didn’t hurt them, just concentrate a little more next time.”

I.N:

As soon as you got to the checkout, you handed the new shirt that you wanted to purchase across to the cashier. You reached into your pocket, unable to feel your purse, peering into your handbag to see that your purse wasn’t there either.

Your eyes darted back to Jeongin behind you, “I’ve left my purse at the dorm again, I’m just going to have to hand the shirt back, I can’t pay for it now.”

Before you even finished speaking, Jeongin stepped forwards and covered the cost, saving you from any further embarrassment.

“Sometimes I think I should glue your wallet to you,” he teased, “we all forget things from time to time, there’s no need to get upset with yourself, you’ve still got your shirt.”

“I’ll pay you back,” you quickly informed him, but his head shook. “If you hadn’t had been there, do you have any idea how embarrassing that could have been for me Jeongin.”

“But I was there, so you don’t need to worry about what if.”

---

Masterlist

[talatomaz]

lockdown | jj x fem!teen!reader

a/n: i can’t believe that a year ago today, the last ever episode of criminal minds aired. i miss jj so much 🤧

this is sort of in line with my own experiences (to a certain extent). and there’s not as much jj x d!r as i’d intended but I hope you still like it.

(feedback/positive comments are appreciated)

requested by @ouat2017 : “could you do a jj x daughter where the daughter’s school is on lockdown and jj is worried or something like that?”

warnings: gun violence. blood

word count: 2.6k

masterlist | request list | request rules

r is jj’s 18 year old adopted daughter and suddenly finds herself on lockdown after someone brings a gun into her school

i do not give you permission to repost or translate my fics on any platform - likes/reblogs are okay and are much appreciated

“Look, you’re the one that needs to be tutored so can you please focus?”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance.

You were currently in the tutoring centre trying to help a self-absorbed jock pass English so he could remain on the school’s football team.

Looking around you, you saw a handful of students giving both you and Cameron - the man-child you were tutoring - disparaging looks.

“You’re not supposed to be yelling at me. You’re meant to be telling me the answers.”

The aforementioned narcissist leaned against his chair, smirking at you in a way that made you fight to hide a shudder.

You could have easily wiped the grin off his face by mentioning who your mother was and who she worked for but instead, you decided to just continue ignoring his advances and carry on teaching him.

“That’s not how this works, Cameron. Now either you listen to me or you fail and get kicked off the team. And quite frankly, I’d rather the latter happen.”

You watched as his brows furrowed in confusion. Sighing, you answered, “latter means the second thing of two things mentioned in a sentence. Now, for the love of God, just finish writing your paragraph on Heller's satire of capitalism in Catch-22.”

You let out a breath of relief when he finally relented and started to scribble on his sheet of paper. You glanced over at one of your friends, who was also tutoring for extra credit, and smiled when she rolled her eyes at Cameron’s actions.

Leaning against the large desk that stood at the front of the room, you relished in the long-awaited silence aside from hushed whispers that came from other students asking for help.

Taking out your phone, you glanced at the screen to see that it was only midday and soon the lunch bell would be ringing.

You smiled softly at your lock screen.

It was a photo of you and JJ, your adoptive mother.

It was taken a few weeks prior at your 18th birthday party. You’d been living with JJ for almost 5 years now; her having fostered you before later adopting you when you were 14.

You still didn’t know what she saw in you on that day you’d first met her - you’d lost your family in a home invasion, barely surviving yourself - but whatever it was, you were grateful because you’d gotten a second chance at life.

Several minutes passed and you’d only broken from your train of thought when you heard someone clearing their throat beside you.

Looking over your shoulder, you saw your friend, the one who’d rolled her eyes earlier at Cameron, standing beside you.

“I see you finally got him to do his work.” She whispered, loud enough for your ears only.

“Barely. He still has an essay to write and hasn’t even finished a paragraph yet.”

“I would have smacked his sorry ass by now.”

You laughed before clamping your hand over your mouth, her comment having caught you off guard.

“Ally!” You whisper-shouted, playfully hitting her arm.

She looked at you with a raised eyebrow causing you to smirk, “Trust me, I’ve thought about it but-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a large bang rang out, shattering the silence the room had once held.

With wide eyes, your head whipped to the door where the gunshot had presumably come from and you listened as the hallways were filled with panicked screams.

Running to the door, ignoring the gasps and shouts from the other students behind you, you turned the lock on the door, pulled down the blinds, switched off the lights and jammed a chair under the handle.

Looking up, you saw everyone had the same look of panic in their eyes; a few were crying, including Ally, and others were pale with shock, Cameron was one of them.

“Guys, we’re gonna be okay but we have to be quiet.” You whispered harshly, constantly looking over your shoulder at the door, listening for any indication of the shooter coming your way.

Everyone stared at you, as if you were the leader of a camp and they were small children awaiting for further instruction.

You supposed it wasn’t far off.

By taking charge, you were the one who’d been unwillingly given the role of protector.

“First things first,” you walked over to the group of 10 students, “I need you all to make sure your phones are on silent. We can’t risk being caught.”

You watched as everyone followed your instructions.

“I know you all want to call your parents but that’s going to attract attention to us so for right now, we need to be quiet.”

Your heart was beating out of your chest and as you spoke, one thought repeated in your head. JJ.

Taking out your phone, you scrolled to find your mother’s name in your contacts. You watched as your thumb hovered over her name.

Just breathe, y/n. Breathe.

Tapping your mother’s name, you brought the phone to your ear.

“I thought you said we couldn’t call anyone.”

Your eyes locked onto Cameron’s, his face pale and his eyes filled with terror and a hint of anger.

“My Mum works for the FBI.” You whispered as the phone rang out.

Any other time and you probably would have laughed at the way his face grew paler, if that was even possible. But, in a situation this tense, it was going to be difficult to find any levity.

Your Mum picked up on the second ring and you let out a shaky breath when you heard her voice.

“Hi baby. A bit early for your lunch, isn’t it?”

You closed your eyes at her soft tone, as if you were trying to engrave the way she spoke into your mind lest you would never hear it again.

From your lack of response, the blonde sensed there was something up, “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

A single tear dropped down your cheek as you struggled to maintain a steady tone. Catching a glimpse of Ally staring at you, you steeled yourself and spoke.

“Mum, you need to come quick. Someone’s brought a gun into school.”

“Oh my-AARON.”

You winced when you heard her shout for her boss, listening as you could hear her run up stairs. You held your breath as she filled Hotch in on what was happening before telling Garcia to hack into your school’s security system.

“Are you okay? Stupid question. But are you hurt?”

“Mum,” you interrupted her rambling, “I’m fine. I’m in the tutoring centre with 10 other people. I don’t know how many people are injured. It just all happened so fast.”

“It’s okay, baby. You’re gonna be okay.”

Though you could hear the clear panic in her voice, her words did bring some form of reassurance to you.

“Penelope’s hacking into the system so hopefully she can have eyes soon.”

As she spoke, you could hear the clacking of keys in the background of the call; presumably Garcia doing exactly what JJ said.

“Mum?” You questioned when you heard Garcia swear.

Instead of JJ answering, the usually peppy tech analyst replied, her voice shaky and wet, as if she was crying.

“Y/N, thank God you’re okay.”

“What’s wrong, Garcia?”

“Someone’s disabled the cameras remotely. I can only get them back online if someone reprograms them from the inside.”

Grasping what she was explaining, you nodded, “I’ll fix them.”

“What? No!”

Your mother had taken the phone off of Garcia.

“You are not leaving that room, y/n. We’ll find another way in.”

“Mum, someone needs to fix the system from inside the school. I need to do it.”

Ignoring your mother’s worried shouts, you continued to speak, “Mum, I have to. I love you.”

You disconnected the phone and switched it off, preventing her from being able to call you back.

“Y/N, you are not leaving this room.”

You’d only just realised that everyone had been watching you intently during that entire interaction.

“Yes, I am.”

Moving away from the huddle, you rose to your feet and replied to your friend.

Cameron rose to his feet and towered over you as he challenged you, “No, you are not. You’re going to put us in danger.”

“Do you know how to hack into our school’s security system and then reconnect the transformer and enter the Mastercode?”

His face contorted to a look of confusion making you reply,

“Exactly.”

Turning to leave, you felt a large hand enclose around your arm.

“I said, you’re not leaving.”

Your eyes flickered from Cameron’s hand up to his face that dared you to take another step.

“Remove your hand from my arm before I remove your hand from your body. You may letter in football but I’ve been trained by some of the best FBI agents there are and unless you want to end up in a sleeper hold, I suggest you shut up and do what I say for once.”

His harsh grip almost immediately lessened as his hand returned to his side.

“Good. Now, have any of you been shot? No? I didn’t think so. Well, I have and whoever did get shot is probably bleeding out in the hallway. I can’t not do anything.”

No one dared to respond and instead, shook their head ‘no’ at your asking if anyone else would try to stop you.

Content that you weren’t going to deal with any more unnecessary distractions, you made your way to the door and gently removed the chair that was beneath the handle.

“Ally, you’re in charge. Lock the door when I leave. By my count, the FBI will be here soon. And Cameron, you do anything stupid and I’ll shoot you myself.”

Unlocking the door, you stepped out into the empty hallway and hastily made your way to where the main security hub was located.

Just a couple of hours ago, all you had wished for was silence but now that your wish had been granted, all you wanted was to hear the playful shouts and conversations between your friends and fellow students.

The silence that currently fell on your school was unnerving and unbearable. And with each step you took, you flinched at the sound your shoes made against the marble floor. Each noise practically acting as a beacon for the shooter to come find you.

You let out a sigh of relief when you found the Hub and you quickly worked to reconnect the security system. Typing on the laptop that rested atop one of the servers, you couldn’t help the smile that formed when all the cameras re-engaged.

Tapping on one of the keys, you navigated through the various cameras, looking for any indication of the shooter or of any injured people. You stopped when you caught a glimpse of someone.

Squinting at the screen, you saw, what appeared to be a freshman - since you didn’t recognise him as being a part of your year - laying on the ground, a hand clutching his stomach as blood coated his clothing.

Immediately knowing where he was, you cautiously made your way to the east hallway before running when you noticed him laying on the ground, his blood coating the once-white marble floor.

Falling to your knees, you pressed your hands against his wound, trying to stop the steady flow. He groaned out in pain, tears staining his face.

“H-Help me.” He choked out.

“What’s your name?”

“Jackson. But everyone c-calls me J-Jack.”

“Jack, you’re going to be okay. I just need you stay with me, okay? I’m-”

“Y/N.”

You failed to hide the surprise from your face making the younger teen smile despite his predicament.

“You’re t-tutoring Cameron. Everyone knows who you are. Y-You’re the one who doesn’t take any of his shit. I think h-he likes you.”

“Well, tough shit for him. I may be bi but he’s definitely not my type.”

Jack’s laugh quickly turned into another groan of pain.

Unzipping your jacket with one hand, you used the other to keep pressure on his wound. After removing the jacket, you harshly pressed it against his torso and watched as it barely absorbed the blood.

“I’m gonna die, aren’t I?”

“No, you’re not. I won’t let you.” You said, tears filling in your eyes as memories rushed back of when you tried to save your brother after he’d been shot.

“You’re going to be okay. I just need you to-”

You stilled when you heard footsteps come up behind you.

“Well, what do we have here?”

You didn’t recognise the voice and couldn’t bring yourself to turn around to face the person who’d caused all this pain.

You opened your mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say.

Closing your eyes, you readied yourself for your inevitable death when a shot rang out and a body slumped to the ground beside you.

Jumping at the action, you turned around and almost collapsed in relief at what you saw. Your Mum and her team stood behind you with several SWAT members flanking them.

The tears that had once filled your eyes now spilled shamelessly down your cheeks.

Without saying a word, JJ holstered her gun and ran to your side, hugging you as best she could since your hands were still pressed against Jack’s wound.

Paramedics soon followed and after that it was all a blur. It was as if you were floating outside of your body. Logically, you knew it was the effects of an adrenaline crash but you felt so disconnected from your body.

You barely took note as your mother gently lifted you to your feet, allowing you to be briefly looked over by the paramedics. Nor as your mother escorted you to one of the school bathrooms where she rinsed the blood off your hands.

You didn’t even say a word until you’d arrived back at the BAU where a worried Penelope wrapped you in a tight hug which you returned.

“I’m gonna take her up to my old office, Hotch.”

The Unit Chief simply nodded as he and the rest of the team watched as JJ led you to the abandoned office that was still filled with random case files.

Closing the door, she sat you down on her sofa and stared at you, not touching you in fear that even a simple caress would cause you to shatter.

You exhaled a long breath before finally speaking, “I’m sorry.”

Her brows narrowed, “Sorry? Sweetheart, why?”

You looked at your hands that had been coated in blood less than an hour before and then up at your mother; her blue eyes filled with nothing but concern, love and confusion.

“You told me not to leave and I did. I’m sorry.”

And with that, you started to cry heart-wrenching sobs that made your shoulders shake.

JJ gathered you in her arms, gently rocking you as her long blonde hair draped over you.

“It’s okay, y/n. I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

Her arms wrapped tightly around you as she laid soft kisses on your head, her hand stroking your back.

That only served to make you burrow into her even more, seeking comfort in her motherly embrace.

You muttered your apologies as she continued to reassure you that you were okay.

JJ was afraid that if she stopped, you wouldn’t be here, safe in her arms.

Still rocking you in her arms, she whispered in your ear,

“I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

[chloelucia13]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

Pairing: Steve Harrington x platonic!Henderson!reader, Jonathan Byers x reader (mentioned)

Prompt: After Jonathan had abandoned you so he could go god-knows-where with Nancy, you found comfort in the boy who had also been ditched and a beautiful friendship began to bloom.

Warnings: this is some nice comforting fluff, maybe a tiny bit of angst, some language, pretty chill

A/N: So this is a sort of deleted scene that I couldn’t fit into the Stranger Things rewrite, but I felt like it was still important to the character development with the reader and Steve, so I’m deciding to post it separately. You don’t need to read the whole rewrite in order to understand the plot (it’s based in season 2, so if you haven’t watched it then there will be some spoilers), but I would appreciate it a lot if you did read my rewrite! As always, requests and tag lists and my inbox are all open!

“Y/N, hey!” a voice shouted to your right, prompting you to turn your head and look at who was speaking.

Steve rushed over to you, his backpack hanging on one shoulder and a couple of crinkled papers held in his hand.

You furrowed your brows slightly in confusion, stopping at the side of the hallway and waiting for him to catch up. “Hey, Steve,” you drawled out, slightly confused by his presence.

Steve had sat at the bleachers with you that day after both of you had been ditched. Steve was ditched by Nancy and you by Jonathan, both of whom were now attached at the hip.

It was nice to talk to Steve about everything that was going on and, frankly, it was nice just to have someone there. You two seemed to have more in common than you once thought, and though some of that common ground was the fact that you both were abandoned by the person you loved, it was still something.

However, you thought that lunch was it. It was surprising that Steve Harrington, the former King of Hawkins himself, wanted to spend time with you.

"What’s your next class?” he asked, nervously shifting from one foot to the next. 

“It’s, uh, English. Why?” You tugged on the strap of your backpack.

“I was wondering if you maybe wanted to help me with something?”

A look of hesitation washed across your face for a moment. “I don’t know, Steve. I really can’t miss class-”

“Please? I just need help on this essay for my college applications and I have no one else woh can help me. I just... Please?”

You let out a sigh, glancing around as you mulled it over in your mind. “I... I guess. Should we just go to the library and rent out a study room?”

He let out a sigh of relief, all of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you so much. And I already did.”

“Oh, so you were planning on me saying yes?” You squinted at him and tilted your head.

Panic crossed over his features. “No-no, I didn’t mean it like that-”

“Steve, I’m kidding. Chill out.” 

He let out a chuckle, nodding as the two of you began to walk to the library. His actions were clearly fueled by anxiety, with his shifting gaze and his hands constantly going in and out of his pockets.

“Why are you so nervous around me?” you asked, glancing up at him as the two of you stepped through the entryway to the library.

“What do you mean?” he scoffed. “I’m not nervous.”

You arched an eyebrow at his response, falling behind his step so he could lead you to the study room he reserved. “You’re fidgeting and you won’t look me in the eye. You weren’t acting like this earlier at lunch.”

He pushed the door open and waited for you to step inside before he also entered the room, closing the door behind him. A small sigh left his lips as he set the papers down on the table. “I don’t know, maybe... I guess I’m just not used to spending time with anyone other than Nancy. Especially when other people see me.”

You gave him a sympathetic look and nodded, sitting down at one of the chairs and taking the papers in your hand. “Well, there’s no need to be nervous around me. You know that. I’m not exactly some cool person that you have to act perfect around.”

Once again, he scoffed. “You are a cool person.”

You let out a laugh, shaking your head as you searched in your bag for a pen. “Come on, Steve. I’m already helping you with your essay, you don’t need to butter me up.”

He sat in the chair next to you. “But you are cool. You don’t give a fuck what people think about you, and I think that’s pretty damn cool.”

You sighed, beginning to scribble a few notes on the paper. “If only you knew, Steve.”

“What do you mean?”

“God, I care so much about what people think about me all the time. It’s exhausting.”

He was silent for a moment, watching you mark the paper as he thought. “Do you care about what other people think about you, or do you care what Jonathan thinks about you?”

You were about to argue with him, but once you realized that he was right, your mouth shut. Instead, you lifted your pen from the paper. “Did someone else edit this already? There’s pen all over it.”

He stiffened awkwardly in his chair, his lips pursing into a fine line. “Nancy was, uh... She was helping me out with it. Until, ya know, everything happened.”

You nodded slowly, slipping the cap on the pen before setting it down on the table. “But why are you having me check the draft that Nancy already checked?”

He let out a sigh, a hand combing through his hair as he stared at all of the markings on the paper. “I think Nancy wasn’t being honest with me about it. I thought that you would be more blunt about what you think about it.”

You searched his expression, leaning back in your chair and taking the papers in your hands. “You want me to be honest about it?”

He gave you a nod. “Please.”

A heavy breath fell past your lips. “Steve, it’s awful.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Geez, at least sugarcoat it a little!”

“You told me you wanted me to be honest!”

His mouth opened so he could retaliate, but no words came out. Instead, he huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “What-What’s wrong with it?”

“It... It just seems very disingenuous. Shallow.”

“What’s shallow about it?”

“You wrote about a basketball game for one of your biggest struggles that you’ve overcome.”

“And then I said it was like how my Grandpa fought in the war! That’s genuine and powerful!”

You stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. “At least you’re pretty, Steve.”

“Okay, fine. What should I have done instead?”

“Steve, we’ve fought literal monsters. There has to be more to talk about than a basketball game.”

“But I can’t write about that. Can you imagine how crazy they’ll think I am?”

“That’s just an example. We’ve gone through a lot this past year. There has to be something from that time that you can write about.”

He nodded, silently thinking over what had happened in the past 12 months. “Do you think that leaving your bad friends and becoming a better person is a good example of overcoming a struggle?”

You gave him a kind smile. “Absolutely.” You crumpled up the papers you had in your hands and tossed them in the trash can before pulling out a few clean pieces of looseleaf paper and sliding them over to him. “Let’s get an outline going. What made you realize that you should change?”

He thought for a moment, a sad look settling on his features. “Last year. I uh... I did something really mean to Nancy.”

Your head tilted in confusion. “What do you mean? What happened?”

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes flashing from left to right as if he was reading from a script, when in reality he was trying to find the right words to say. “After Nancy had ditched me for Jonathan, Tommy and Carol thought that it would be funny if I spray painted ‘Nancy the slut Wheeler’ on the marquee sign at the theater. So I did it.” He risked a glance over at you, noticing the look of disappointment on your face that you failed to disguise. “Nancy and Jonathan saw it, and it escalated.”

His words slowly sank in, and your eyes widened in realization after a few moments of silence. “That’s why you were all beat up? Because Jonathan fought you?”

Steve nodded, his lips pursing closed as he didn’t know what else to say.

“Well, I can’t say you didn’t deserve it.” Again, he nodded. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. “But I can say that you’ve gotten a lot better. And ditching Tommy and Carol definitely helped a lot.”

“So should I write about that?”

It was your turn to nod, a kind smile on your face. “Absolutely. Should we get started?”

He mirrored your smile, leaning forward and pulling a pencil from his backpack. “Let’s do it.”

[ddaehyeon]

selcouth; kim junseo + reader

— unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful.

pairing: kim junseo + reader

genre: mix of fluff and angst (this is so light for me), reincarnation au, soulmate au

word count: 1.2k

warnings: implied death

a/n: first one-shot for wei yaaay. this is short as this was actually meant to be a drabble only but kind of turned out twice longer than it should be. i’ve missed writing this kind of fic ๑•̥﹏•̥๑ anw, enjoy!

requested!  ☆  wei masterlist

“if we’re not meant to be together in this lifetime, maybe in another, we’ll be.” 

the words played in your mind like a song on repeat, each syllable was a broken melody you found some sort of comfort on. it wasn’t the first time such a sentence came to plague your head. regardless of how frequent the occurrence of the dream was, you never failed to reminisce about each scene afterward. 

it was odd. the way you’d recall each dream ever so vividly as if it was a fragment of memory you were meant to relive.

a snap of fingers in front of you pulled you out of your daze. seokhwa’s gaze was locked on you, a hint of concern painted on his visage. “are you okay?”

the soft noises in the library finally began to set through your ears— hushed talks, book pages being flipped, and scribbling sounds. you blinked your eyes, facing seokhwa with what seemed to be an equally confused look.

“ah,” you began, unable to get many words out of your lips. “i am.”

seokhwa simply frowned and sighed, easily catching the reason as to why you were so deep in your thoughts earlier. “you dreamt of him again?”

staring at your still unanswered worksheet, a chuckle left your lips. “well, yes. same dream, different place.” 

“maybe he’s your soulmate,” seokhwa said before he flipped his worksheet to another page and started to write down the answer for an essay question. 

you hunched your shoulder up at your friend’s remark. it was the usual thing he’d tell you. something you declined to buy right away. what were the chances of meeting the person in your dreams anyway? you had already decided that it was simply best to put it in a way that whoever he was, he was just a passerby your subconscious was able to capture ever so vividly that up until now he appeared in your dreams.

it was an odd thing for you though. to be kept on the same spiral of dreams. however your dream starts, wherever it occurs, there is only one end. lonely eyes and a gloomy smile. along with a gentle, yet tight hold of your hand as if not wanting to let you go. as if wishing you’ll stay in the dream. the same line would be heard, which would wake you up easily.

“i’m going to get myself a drink,” you uttered, letting go of your pen. the dream would most of the time cross your mind like a fleeting thought for a short escape, but today it was rather strong. it had been inhabiting your mind for good hours. and the deadline for your worksheet settled to happen tomorrow didn’t help at all. 

seokhwa glanced at your material. if only he didn’t know about your procrastinating abilities, he’d say it will be a hopeless case. he turned to look at you then back to his own paper. “buy me banana milk as well.”

“sure.” you stood, carrying your purse with you. 

the vending machine was located on the far corner of the study area in the library. fortunately, there weren’t many people there either. it was class hours for most anyway, so students in the library had inflated down in a great number. 

you inserted your money and typed in the code first for seokhwa’s drink, followed by yours. the banana milk came down effortlessly, but your own drink didn’t. you stared at it for a moment, thinking whether it would be nice to give the machine a tap or something. however, the stillness in the establishment kept you from doing so.

“do you need help?” someone asked you from behind. you knew for sure a voice should only be heard, but his mellow tone went all the way to your stomach and freed a cage of butterflies that had set fluttery chaos. you moved to your side and watched the other slide his own money and press a drink that was on the top of yours. 

the sound of two drinks falling down simultaneously was the last thing you heard before everything went completely silent once again. he crouched to retrieve all the drinks and handed them to you. eyes locked on him, the very moment he turned to face you.

...this couldn’t be, you initially thought. a cold shiver ran down your spine, which was opposite to how you felt a warm sensation on your cheeks. it was a strange feeling. it was the first time you saw him, yet he already had a good clutch in your heart.

“it’s coming to an end again.” he did nothing to cover the desolation that mingled well with the curve on his lips. the last ray of sunlight highlighted his visage, making it seem like he was glowing. his hand was holding yours as both of you stood at the top of the valley. 

if it wasn’t for the fact that the two of you were standing near the cliff, you’d think it was a romantic setup, but no. 

you mirrored the same smile, looking at the horizon. the sun was gradually sinking, the noise coming from an angry crowd growing stronger and stronger. “we’ll see each other again, right?”

“of course.” hesitantly, he let go of your hand. his gaze trailing down to depths of ground he knew for sure would crush his body in not less than a minute. “if we’re not meant to be together in this lifetime, maybe in another, we’ll be.” 

both of your eyes widened in panic as you desperately tried to reach for his hand. the roaring crowd not even serving you an ample amount of distraction. you were a few seconds late to react, he was no longer standing next to you. his feet had already brought him to the end. the end the two of you were supposed to take together.

this time. this time it will not happen.

a wave of ache washed over your chest. the memory dwindling, yet it felt so real. as if it happened just a few days ago. maybe it was real. the male standing in front of you had the same expression.

“you…” it was uttered in sync, the realization hitting you and the other synchronously.

“kim junseo,” he said, a mix of shyness and relief was packed on the smile that appeared on his countenance. it was as if he had been searching for you.

the warmth it provided made a soft smile appear on yours. “i’m y/n. it’s nice knowing you.”

junseo let go of a breath. “in this lifetime?”

it was unusual for you to talk to a stranger in this manner, but it was him. the guy that kept on appearing in your dreams.

you nodded your head, solace embracing your heart as if freeing you from a terrible loop. “in this lifetime.”

[stones-x-bones]

Where Is Your Mind? ||Kyle and Bex (ft. Morgan and Mina)

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @darkh0wl @inbextween @mor-beck-more-problems @drowningisinevitable SUMMARY: The culmination of having each other’s thoughts in their heads for so long brings Bex and Kyle together in a fateful encounter. CONTENT: Domestic abuse mentions (very brief), Blood, Violence, Medical blood (stitches)

He just needed a second to breathe; he just needed to clear his head. Except he couldn’t. Kyle couldn’t still the tightness in his chest or the feeling that he was falling both into and out of himself. Maybe it was a little bit of an overreaction. But he worked nights at the bar and tried to sleep in the day. Bex was awake in the day and had a bad sleeping schedule. There wasn’t a moment, not even in his dreams, where he truly had privacy. It was Mina this and Frank that and bubbling anxiety and classes and worrying about what his--no, what Bex’s--parents thought. To call him irrationally irritated would be an understatement. He was exhausted of Bex’s thoughts and her quiet judgments on his own thoughts. The wolf disrespect was just uncalled for. “I want out of your head, Bex,” he growled, more to himself than her. His head throbbed dully and he pinched the bridge of his nose. Just get through your shift, Kyle. Just finish this work day. He checked the clock for the tenth time in 20 minutes and sighed deeply. He could get through this. 

Just get through your shift rang again in Bex’s head and she pinched the bridge of her nose. How was she supposed to concentrate on this essay with Kyle in her head, thinking about keeping his cool and not overreacting and how he had to be careful the rest of the week for some reason or another. Something else about wolves. She was so tired of hearing about wolves. If she never had to think about them again, it would be too soon. Her pencil was clicking wildly against the paper as she fidgeted with it. The ticking of the clock was increasing her anxiety with each second. This essay was due tomorrow and she only had 3 pages of scribbled rough draft. She’d already missed so much school, she couldn’t afford to flop on this assignment, too. And if she got anything less than an A in this class, her parents would be livid. Not that she’d talked to them at all in the past three weeks. Which also was not good. Just like the last time, the longer she waited, the worse it got. She knew this. She dreaded it. She hated it. She could feel the panic beginning to pump in her chest. No, no, not now, please not now! Hands shaking. Memories trying to force their way into her head. Raised fists, angry nails. The pain in her ribs. Bex squeezed her eyes shut and tried to breathe, just like Morgan taught her. In for three, out for five.

But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t working.

The pain in her ribs. Kyle let a glass drop into the full sink, and soaked the hem of his t-shirt. He braced himself on the edge of the sink, screwing his eyes tightly shut. These weren’t his memories, but they clutched at his chest anyway. He could feel his heartbeat quicken, feel the sweat collect at his collar. In for three, out for five. He needed to step outside, he needed to sit down, he needed to breathe— Kyle’s feet were moving before he had fully registered the motion. He brushed past a few coworkers who no doubt said something to him. All he could hear was the ringing in his ears. He pushed out the back door of the bar and walked out into the poorly lit alley. Once outside, Kyle leaned against the wall, urging himself (or maybe Bex) to calm down. His stomach flipped as he squatted down, trying to ground himself.

Calm down. As if she could just do that on command, as if she didn’t wish she could just do that herself. Bex would have given anything to be able to just calm down. Kyle’s thoughts were echoing in her head, but his thoughts were just her own, mirrored back to her. A perpetuating cycle of panic as she listened to him plea desperately to relax, to calm down, to not change. Not change into what? Bex leapt up from her chair, pacing the room. Her hands were shaking. She could feel her heart beating in her chest, her throat. It felt suffocating. She shook her hands out, paced. The room was too small, it was getting stuffy. She burst from the room and raced down the hallway to the sink. Splashed water on her face. Knuckles white as she gripped the edges of the sink. “It’s okay,” she said out loud and in her head, “it’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry, it’s okay. Please, don’t--” whatever was happening, it started with a thought of pain. Kyle what’s happening? She asked, expecting an answer.

It’s okay, it’s okay. Kyle felt water on his face. He reached up to brush it away and realized he was crying. If this weren’t so scary, he could almost laugh at how absurd it was; crying in an alleyway through a panic attack that may or may not have been his. His throat was tight, constricting his breathing to the point that Kyle coughed raggedly, and the pain in his chest doubled. He felt like he was splitting in half right down the middle. What’s happening? How does one even begin to explain the feeling of shifting? If Kyle had words for what was happening—the total unbecoming of himself, only to let out the true self within—he was at a loss now. His nails dug into the detritus lining the alleyway and he snarled. Deep and guttural; a proper snarl. Panting, the only thought that wasn’t about the pain consuming him was I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

Sorry? Why was he sorry? What did he mean? The pain he was experiencing-- Bex couldn’t feel it herself, but she didn’t need to. His thoughts were enough for her to make a guess. Kill. Bex’s heart pounded. Hunt. Her head swirled. Blood. She burst from the bathroom and ran out the front door. She’d left her phone behind. It didn’t matter. She knew where he was. Something was wrong. Either someone was going to hurt Kyle or he was going to hurt someone. Either way, she had to stop him. She was the only one that could. This was her fault, after all. She’d connected their minds through her stupid, uncontrollable magic. She’d had a panic attack in the middle of a homework assignment. She had to be the one to protect people this time. She hoped Mina would forgive her for being so stupid.

Her feet pounded the pavement. It was chilling out, having just freshly rained. The streets were wet. The bar was up ahead, and Bex made a bee-line for it. But she didn’t need to get far. Kyle was nearby. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she did. He smelled her. What did that mean? She spun in a circle, looking for the boy. “Kyle!?” she called out. No one answered. Something in the alleyway snarled. “K-Kyle?”

Pain. Kyle pushed himself to his feet, all four of them, and groaned with the effort it took. His nose was overwhelmed by the scents in the alleyway; garbage, booze, cigarette butts, and… Kill. There was someone here. Kyle’s head snapped up as a figure stepped into the mouth of the alley. He breathed in deeper, smelling the figure fully. Blood. He was salivating at the mere thought of sinking his teeth into flesh and ripping them apart. Something within him quivered with anticipation. Hunt. Slowly, Kyle turned to face them. He lowered his head and, step by step, stalked towards them. If they made any sudden moves, it would be over; he would pounce. The figure spoke, but it made no difference. It didn’t slow him. Bite.

Bex stumbled in the alleyway. A wolf. A giant wolf. A giant disfigured wolf. Kyle. It made sense. Suddenly, it all made sense. But she didn’t have time to think on it. The wolf-- no, Kyle-- was pouncing. He was running straight at her. “Kyle!” she cried. “It’s me! Wait! Stop!” But he didn’t. Bex’s eyes grew wide. She ducked behind a dumpster, heard it crash. Kill. A shiver ran through her. Hunt. She scrambled away from the trash can, grabbed whatever her hands could find purchase on and threw it at the wolf. “Kyle, stop! Kyle, it’s me!” Bite. She didn’t know anything about werewolves, she only knew what movies had taught her. She remembered what Dani said. Sometimes they got things right. Don’t get bit. Don’t get bit. Bex tried to remember what Nell had been teaching her. Focus, concentrate. But how was she supposed to do that with a wild animal in her head? It wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill her. 

She sprinted from the alley. She needed to get somewhere safe. The bar. If she just went in-- no, there were people in there. Innocent people. She needed to stop him, but what use was her magic when all she did was mess up like this? The wolf was still coming. She couldn’t stop him.

She couldn’t stop him.

He wanted to kill her. The collision with the dumpster sent Kyle reeling. A fresh wave of pain surged through his shoulder and ribs. Stiffly, he stood again and shook it off, regaining his composure. Wheeling around, he looked for Bex behind the dumpster. Not finding her there, he whipped his head back and forth looking for her. Prey. The sound of her running away finally registered. Kyle spun towards the sound and darted after her; four legs carrying him faster than two could. Momentarily, he skittered to a stop outside the bar, locking Bex in his sights. The streetlight in front of the bar flickered. Kyle’s eyes caught the flickering light and reflected it back. His fur stood on end--his hackles raised. His breath came in deep pants; the night was just cold enough that steam rolled from his mouth. He took one step towards Bex, then another. That low growl was once again coming from deep within his chest. She couldn’t stop him. Kyle broke into a sprint, closing the gap, and leapt towards Bex paws first. 

Prey. Bex was frozen. That’s all she was to him. Prey. Food. Blood. Her heart seized. Hadn’t she told Mina that next time she’d just run? She wouldn’t try and be stupid, she’d just run? So why wasn’t she running? Why couldn’t she run? Heavy paws hit her chest. Her back hit the ground and the world went blank for a moment. Ringing in her ears. Nails dug into her chest. She screamed. Threw up her arms. Heard the cloth of her sweater tearing. Tears clouded her eyes, and even though she could see now, it was all blurry. It hurt. It hurt a lot. The cool air stung the cuts. She was sobbing now. “Kyle, please!” she begged. “Stop it!” Panic shrouded her head, her chest, her throat. He wanted to kill her. Her words turned to gurgles as she sobbed. She didn’t wanna die. She wished she’d said bye to Morgan before she left. She wished she’d gone to sit by the pool one more time with Mina. She wished she’d told Nell how happy she was they met. She wished she’d told her parents she hated them. 

Her heart beat so fast, she wondered if it had just burst from her chest already. Dying certainly felt like a new type of anxiety. She wished someone had told her that first.

If Bex said anything Kyle understood, he didn’t react to it. Claws in her chest, he knew this hurt her. He could almost taste how close he was. This was it. Kyle had caught his prey. Yet, his heart pounded in his chest faster and faster; he could hear his pulse whooshing in his ears. 

Kyle fully intended on killing her, but his mind was ablaze with fear. Fear of death, of dying, of loss—his eyes squeezed shut. The panic that gripped him now was just as intense as what had set him off before, but this time it ground him to a halt. He was a predator, hearing—feeling—all the panicked thoughts of his prey. Like an ouroboros, attacking Bex was attacking himself; the snake eating its own tail. Kyle’s ears flattened against his head, and his tail was tucked. He let up off of Bex, shuffling away from her with a whine. Recognition finally clicked to some extent as the thought of their library interaction crossed Kyle’s mind. Pretty girl. He took another few steps back, then turned to run. He frantically glanced over his shoulder at her, eyes wide.

Bex knew, instantly, that she wasn’t dead. Because there was no way being dead hurt this much. She looked down at her shirt and saw the bloody, torn threads jutting up from her chest. Her tears were mixing with the blood that had splashed onto her face. But the wolf was gone. Retreating. Pretty girl. Bex’s eyes snapped up to where the hulking figure was, hunched over, cowering. She could see his entire body shaking, like a scared puppy. Her fear was his fear. His fear was her fear. Their minds had connected them. Their connection had saved her life. Bex fell back onto the ground, breathing heavily. Her chest hurt so much. So much. She couldn’t ever remember being in this much pain. Maybe she could. But bruises faded, broken bones healed. 

She was still crying when she lifted herself up off the ground. Kyle was still shrinking away, tail between his legs. If he left, he might hurt someone else. What would Mina do? She needed to get help. She was way out of her depth. She needed a safe place to bring Kyle. Please come back. She begged through swirling thoughts. Please, I want to help you. She scrabbled through her pockets for her phone, but it wasn’t there. She’d left it at home. 

Stiffly, she pushed herself to her knees. She had nothing to offer him except her blood and her words. Please. Reached a hand out for him. She needed him, too. She couldn’t walk, her chest hurt too much. Pretty girl, remember? I’ve got beef jerky. If you come with me. It was her last ditch effort. No wolf could deny beef jerky, right?

Kyle wasn’t afraid of Bex. Not really. He was afraid of hurting her or, more specifically, he was hearing all of her thoughts about how much his claws had already hurt her. Her panic attack, or maybe both of their panic attacks, had launched him into fight or flight and he had hurt her. Bex’s thoughts were still too loud in Kyle’s head for him to calm himself enough to hear himself think. He shuddered and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to shut her out. Except she kept asking him to come with her, and that was off the table. What if he clawed her again? Or worse, what if he bit her? Kyle was proud to be a wolf, but could he justify putting this on someone else? He remembered his first full moon—how scared he was, how he had almost hurt his family, the look in their eyes. If you come with me. Kyle’s thoughts were still a whirlwind of anxiety. He had to get away. He had to get away.

Kyle started running before he fully considered where he was going. He veered sharply into the road, just trying to go anywhere that wasn’t by the bar and Bex. The headlights were almost on top of him before he could fully register the sudden blinding light. The crunch of metal against his body made his ears ring. He was sent careening sideways with a yelp; he slammed into a parked car on the side of the road and slumped against it. Kyle’s chest heaved as he panted. He whined in pain and started to struggle to his feet before slumping against the car again with a groan. Fuck.

Fuck. Kyle was running away and there was nothing Bex could do about it. “No…” she groaned, coughing. Pain ripped through her chest again and she fell back to her knees, her hands, toppled over, clutching her stomach. She was so scared. He was so scared. They were both spiraling. She couldn’t help him, she couldn’t help herself. Tears pooled on the ground beneath her, mixing with her blood. Oh, she needed to do something about that. She didn’t know what to do about it. “Come back,” she croaked at him, but he had already bolted. She heard the crunch of metal, the loud yelp. Someone was shouting. A person. They could help. Please, she thought desperately, please help. But all she heard was a man shouting, a car door slamming, tires screeching away. The night was quiet again. 

Kyle wasn’t moving. Kyle wasn’t thinking. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. “Kyle!?” she croaked again, but nothing. Kyle!? But nothing. But nothing. She had to do something. She had to do something or they would both die right here. Her eyes screwed shut. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but she had to do something. She pooled all of her energy into the pit of her stomach, just like Nell had taught her. She concentrated on one thought-- get help-- just like Nell had taught her. And then she released it all, in one fell swoop, and hoped for the best.

And then she was falling through the sky. No, she was being pulled along the road. No, she was flying towards a house. Everything was going so fast. She blinked and suddenly she was in a room. No-- her room, at Morgan’s. The pain was gone. She looked down at her shirt. It was still torn to shreds, there was still blood, but it didn’t hurt. Why didn’t it hurt? That didn’t matter. She needed to get help. “Morgan!?” she called out, her voice strained. She coughed. Went to take a step-- but instead in another blink she was standing in front of the TV. Grey’s Anatomy was playing. She swerved on her heels. Faced a mortified looking Morgan. “Help me!” she said, rushing forward, stepping through the coffee table. “Morgan! I-- Kyle, and he-he-- I panicked. I’m sorry, I panicked! I went to find him. He got-- hit by a--” By a what? By a what!? Her head hurt. “Car. He got-- and I--” Her head hurt so much. She groaned and put her head in her hands. Sank to her knees, still inside the coffee table. “Help,” she said again. “Please help!”

“What the fuck!” Morgan screamed when she saw the vision of Bex, blood spattered and torn up. She didn’t look like a ghost, and ghosts usually didn’t hold conversations with invisible people. And whoever the hell this Kyle was had to be invisible, or something, because if he was a ghost she would be able to see him too. Which meant this was a whole other kind of supernatural fuckery, and Bex was really in trouble somewhere. “Bex? H-help you with what? Why are you bleeding! How are you even doing this, Bex! And who the hell is Kyle? Is he the one who hurt you? Are you in active danger right--” She stopped. Pinched the bridge of her nose. Too many questions. “I need to know where you are,” she said, getting to her feet and digging up a jacket to put over her house sweats. “Mina!” she called. “Get dressed, we have a situation!”

Bex was trying really hard to concentrate, but something felt like it was pulling at her, yanking her away from where she was. She flickered, like bad TV reception. “He didn’t-- he didn’t mean to. I didn’t know! I didn’t mean to make him change!” she said finally, memories coming back to her head in a jumbled mess. “I had to-- I tried to--” Her chest hurt. She shuddered again, pressing hands against it. They came away red stained. “Blood,” she said. A sign flickered into view behind Morgan’s head. “Stake.” She blinked, concentrating. She needed to concentrate. They were both going to die if she didn’t concentrate. “Amity Road. The Bloody Stake.” She finally managed, turning her gaze back to Morgan. Someone came running down the stairs and Bex turned to look at them. If she’d been in any other way, her face would have lit up. “Mina,” she said, neither surprised nor worried. More pain in her chest made her cry out. She fell back to her knees. Only this time, when she fell, she landed back in the alley. Her face was pressed against the gravel of the sidewalk. She was cold, so cold. Shivering. Her hands felt numb. “Kyle?” she tried again. But no answer. “Morgan? M-Mina?” But no answer. 

She hoped they would come. Hoped they would come soon. She wasn’t sure she could hang on much longer. But maybe just to see them. Just one more time. 

Get dressed, we have a situation were officially Mina’s least favorite words as she’d stumbled down the stairs, pulling shoes on as she went. She wouldn’t have been called to if it wasn’t serious, so that meant it was serious, and she got just a glimpse of how serious as she watched Bex or some version of Bex, covered in blood, fall to her knees and fade out of existence in the middle of the living room. So, it was the worst kind of situation, then. It was the kind of situation that was going to haunt her for forever, then. Mina grabbed the keys and barely waited to see if Morgan was behind her before heading to her car. Morgan’s was bigger, but Mina’s was more equipped to handle things that caused claw marks on people’s skin. So she drove and forgot how to obey traffic laws and gripped the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white, and she just kept repeating the address over and over in her head until she pulled up to the damn bar with the worst name possible (if this was another vampire, then Mina was about to take up a profession in slaying). 

Throwing the door open and jumping out of the car, Mina immediately began looking around frantically for the younger girl. “Bex? Bex!” She didn’t know where she was supposed to be looking, didn’t know what she was supposed to expect. Her chest felt tight, and her heart was stuck somewhere in her throat. “Morgan, do you see-- What’s-- Bex?!”

Morgan didn’t have it in her to snark at Mina for driving so recklessly. Any place that called itself The Bloody Stake couldn’t be good. And what was Bex even doing by a bar? What had this Kyle person changed into? Morgan wasn’t even sure if she should believe Bex that it was her fault. Bex was the sort of person who’d apologize for someone stepping on her. As she followed Mina into the night, she couldn’t help but feel her insides crawl with dread. She could spot some very real fanged faces and shadowy antlers through the windows. They shouldn’t be here. They absolutely, absolutely should not be here. She gripped Mina’s hand tight. “We aren’t going to find them or be any help by freaking out--”

And then her eyes caught the dark sheen of blood under the street lamps, and a trail that led to Bex and a large sleeping wolf. A werewolf. “No,” she whispered, “No-no-no, shit!” She pulled on Mina’s hand and ran toward them. “What happened!” She let go and fell to her knees in front of the girl, gaping with horror at all the blood. “Did he bite you? I need you to be honest, this is important, did he bite you?” But before the girl could answer, Morgan pulled her against her chest in a strong, desperate hug. “We’ve got you. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

Kyle could hear voices somewhere. They sounded distant, like they were coming from the end of a long hallway and he was standing at the opposite end. He didn’t recognize who was talking. It would be so easy to go to sleep now, especially now that his head was quiet. For a moment, he was lulled by the quiet talking and the silence in his head before he jolted out of it, realizing he couldn’t hear Bex. Kyle opened his eyes with some effort, and looked around frantically. Why was he lying in the road? He’d worry about that later. He struggled to get to his feet, fighting against the pain that coursed through his entire left side. He managed to halfway sit up and turned enough to see Bex being cradled by someone he vaguely recognized as Morgan. Was she dead? Had he killed her? He couldn’t quite make out what was being said over the pounding in his head or the ringing in his ears. With a whine, Kyle laid back down, telling himself that he didn’t deserve to shift again--didn’t deserve the wolf connection--if he was going to kill. 

Voices. Noises. Not in her head. Bex felt a pressure on her body, like gloves in warm water. There but not feeling it. Her body lifted from the ground, someone was holding her. She blinked heavily, opened her eyes. Bit. Did he bite you? “Kyle…” Bex managed to mumble, her voice gurgled by the blood in her mouth. She spit it out, looking up at the figure that was holding her. Morgan. “You came…” Her face pulled into one of stress, worry, confusion. “Where’s--” she tried to move, but the pain in her chest was too great and she cried out. “What h-happened? Where is--” breaths coming up in heaves, she reached out, grappling around. “Kyle-- he--” she needed to answer the question. She couldn’t remember. Had he bit her? Had he stopped? Did it matter? “Is he okay? Where is-- no. He didn’t, I d-don’t--” Just claws. She remembered claws. Digging into her chest. That was why it hurt. She managed to move enough to look around. Her eyes fell on another figure crouched next to her. Mina. “No, no-- you shouldn’t-- you can’t--” Bloody hands smeared the ground. “Please help him. Please. It’s my fault. He’s-- because of me.”

Sometimes, Mina still saw her dad in a pool of his own blood. It was only in her dreams, but it was there. His chest was shredded, his throat ripped. He bled out right in front of her. Bex looked like she was bleeding out in front of her. And, actually, it was because of the wolf lying in the road, so, so, close, and Mina saw red. It was baffling, really, how instantaneously furious she was over this as opposed to how she’d felt when she saw her dad. She hadn’t been able to do anything then. Now, she could have killed. She looked down at Bex, not quite seeing her face as she spoke. Can’t. She was going to kill a werewolf. Can’t. She was going to kill a werewolf. Can’t. Mina looked at Morgan and got to her feet. She said, “I have a first aid kit. I’m going to grab it.” She stumbled to her car and got in, opening the boot of the car from the driver’s side. There was a bag with medical supplies, enough for quick fixes or on-the-go medical treatment while out in the middle of nowhere. There was a silver knife, long and wicked. Swallowing, Mina grabbed the medical supplies. She headed back over to Morgan and Bex. She couldn’t go near the wolf. She was trying very, very hard not to kill a werewolf. Her hands were shaking. She looked at Morgan, not knowing what to do.

“Of course I came,” Morgan said, squeezing Bex tighter. “There is nothing you could ever do that would keep me from coming if you asked. We’ll take a look at him, but right now, we need to take care of you first, honey, alright? You’re not okay, and I can’t let you bleed out on the street.” While Mina went for her kit, Morgan took off her jacket and started sopping up as much of the blood on Bex as she could. “You still haven’t told me what happened,” she said softly. “Can you take a few breaths and try?”

Mina returned and Morgan shifted, unfurling her arms to let Mina in. “We’ll work faster doing this together,” she said, giving Mina a meaningful look she hoped would be deciphered as, be thorough, don’t let her get away with leaving anything unattended. “Lucky for you, we are both really good at this. Mina, check on her bones and limbs?” The nix looked panicked, no longer a hunter but a very frightened girl half in a memory. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Take a few breaths. Explain. How could she explain? There was too much to explain. Bex didn’t know where to start. She opened her mouth, but found her voice gone. She was worried. Her head was so quiet. Was Kyle okay? Was he alive? He needed to be okay. She needed to know that he was okay. That she hadn’t gotten him killed. That her stupid magic hadn’t hurt yet another person. “P-please,” she stuttered again, trying to push away from Morgan, “I n-need to know. I need to know i-if he’s a-alive, please.” Her body shook with ragged breath. She needed to know. “I can’t-- I did this. I panicked and I didn’t mean to.” She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but she couldn’t make any sense of her thoughts, either. She wheezed with breath. The world was growing darker. “I did this,” she muttered, sinking back into Morgan’s arms. She looked up at Mina, haloed in streetlight. Her face was so worried, so scared. She’d never seen Mina so scared. Not even when they’d almost toppled off the waterfall, or when the cockatrice had attacked, or when Frank had pointed a knife at her. “I’m s-sorry,” she stuttered, “I t-tried.” 

“He’s alive,” Mina said, not even sparing the wolf a second glance as she managed to focus on unpacking the medkit. He was probably alive. He didn’t deserve to be alive. She looked at him and saw a three legged wolf, snarling and fangs dripping with saliva. She couldn’t understand why Bex was so concerned about the monster that attacked her. She didn’t have time to worry about that, and she pushed her hair out of her eyes and started to check Bex over. Her limbs were fine; as fine as they could be, at least, with all the cuts and bruises.“I don’t think broken bones are the main problem right now, Morgan.” Mina was more worried about the gaping wound in Bex’s chest, and she kept reaching to help before holding herself back, reaching out again. To hell with it. She started helping Morgan clean up the blood. When had iron-rich blood ever stopped her before? “You don’t have to apologize,” she told Bex quietly. She didn’t want her to talk. That wasted air, wasted energy, wasted precious heartbeats, and, if Mina thought about any of that for too long, she might cry. They needed to fix this.

“Shh…” Morgan urged, cupping Bex’s face. “Don’t try to talk too much, honey. Please. Just lean against me and try to keep breathing. Cough if you need to, don’t swallow the blood, just keep breathing…” She pulled her hand away to inspect her head for injuries and her hand came away red. Morgan shivered and looked at the mess dribbling down Bex’s chin, the heavy stains on her shirt, so thick they looked brown, almost black, and bright rivulets coming down the sides. Had she looked like this when she died? Was this what Deirdre had seen? The blood that wouldn’t stop, the holes that went impossibly deep, and a sad, stubborn voice that wouldn’t stop long enough to make anything better? 

Morgan went stiff and trembled at the sight, then she bunched up her jacket and pressed it down over her chest while she felt around her hair. It was clumped together toward the back, which meant a gash somewhere. Morgan couldn’t quite tell where exactly, but she didn’t feel any holes, so maybe her skull was still intact. “Mina, do you have supplies for stitches in there? I think her...I think we need them. I can do it, if you can’t but she needs more than just pressure, i-it’s--I don’t know how deep it is--” She closed her eyes and she was pinned to the street. Her back was so soaked, she felt glued down until Deirdre came and lifted her as far as the pole would let her. She opened her eyes. Bex wasn’t bleeding from both ends. They could save her. “She needs it. Please.”

Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing. Just keep breathing. Bex coughed, spit out more blood, felt it gathering in her throat. Her head throbbed. Her chest throbbed. Everything hurt. She hated this. She didn’t like this at all. She wanted to go home. He’s alive. She felt herself sob with relief. He’s alive. He was alive. She couldn’t hear him anymore-- had she grown used to it? His voice in the back of her mind?-- but he was alive. Mina wouldn’t lie to her. He was alive. “Thank you,” she sobbed, “thank you.” She knew Mina hated those words but she didn’t know what else to say. She wanted to sleep. Took in a shuddering breath, coughed, sputtered. Each breath wheezed on the intake, shaky on the exhale. “I-I’m s-sorry,” she repeated again, looking up at Morgan. Both of them were looking at her with mortified, paled faces. She wanted to stay awake for them, but it was so hard. “Please...don’t l-leave him. P-please.” Managed to sputter a last few words. She looked directly into Mina’s eyes. “Please,” before her arms sagged and she went limp in Morgan’s arms. It was time to sleep now. She just wanted to sleep now.

Pay me back by not dying, Mina thought. Thank me by not dying. Instead of saying that, she reached into her medkit and got out the supplies to start cleaning the wounds, doing sutures. She could see Morgan go stiff out of the corner of her eye. Both of them weren’t doing well with this, were they? “It’s fine. It’s fine. I can do it. It’s fine.” How many times had she given stitches, anyway? She could do this. “Make sure she doesn’t choke. She lost a lot of blood. Do you-- Would the Fae doctor help her? Do you know someone else who can help? Because I can do the stitches, and I can--” Her fingers were growing more and more irritated as she worked, and she really just didn’t care. She needed to stay focused. She would have been grateful that Bex had passed out if she wasn’t so damn worried. She looked Morgan in the eyes. “She needs more than just stitches.” And apparently they needed to do something about the bloody werewolf, as well. Because of course Bex wanted to help the wolf.

“Have you met fae doctors?” Morgan scoffed, her voice rising. “We--no. I don’t even know if she’d understand human anatomy! But we can’t take her to a hospital, they’ll identify her, they’ll know who she is and they’ll call her parents and we’ll never get her back, we can…” Breathe. Her voice was getting stuck in the back of her throat. She needed to breathe. She needed to think. “Nell! Nell knows some healing, and I can coerce someone stronger with her, if we have to. We’ll call Nell and she can meet us and take care of things at the house.” She gripped Bex a little tighter, watched her chest rise and fall and rise. “Take her to the car, stay with her, make sure she’s on her side, don’t let her choke on her blood, she shouldn’t have to do that. I’ll get the wolf and drive us back and we can put him in the basement until he wakes up as himself.” Her hands held onto Bex even after she passed her into Mina’s arms. When they were on their way, trudging up the alley toward the car, she got to her feet and approached the wolf. It was dark, but she could tell from the sheen on his fur that he had some injuries too. She took some gauze and cotton from the abandoned med kit and wrapped it around the animal where he looked the most matted and damp. Then she hauled him over her shoulders, med kit in tow, and followed Mina into the night.

The first thing Kyle became aware of was someone touching his side. It hurt and it startled him. He bared his teeth weakly in the direction of his medic as his eyes cracked open. It took his eyes a moment to adjust, but he relaxed slightly when he recognized Morgan. He’d seen her before through Bex’s thoughts. He knew she could be trusted; not that he had any other options. The rest of the journey, he remembered in flashes. It felt like he would just blink and lose a chunk of time. Kyle wasn’t sure if he was losing consciousness or if this was what dying was like. The thought gripped him with a sudden panic and he whined softly. 

He blinked. Suddenly, he was being hoisted onto Morgan’s shoulders unceremoniously. He let out a groan that tapered off into a low growl. This wasn’t Morgan’s fault; it was the best way to move him, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. His side was on fire and his head was splitting open, he was sure of it. That was the only logical way to justify the pain. 

Kyle closed his eyes. Now, he was being loaded into a vehicle. The transfer into the car was less than smooth and his eyes shot open again, this time in pain. He didn’t recognize this car, but it smelled like Mina. Beyond that, he could smell the old penny scent of Bex’s blood. Bex? Was she alive? Or were they simply transporting her corpse? Again, he whimpered quietly. He did his best to just breathe through the pain and stay awake long enough to make sure Bex was okay. She needed to be okay. There were people who were counting on her--people who loved her. Kyle couldn’t even say the same for himself. He had a handful of friends and his parents, but he wasn’t important to somebody in the same way. Bex had to survive.

Kyle closed his eyes. When he next opened them, they were moving. The car was speeding through the streets; the road raced along beneath them. Kyle’s eyes were glazed over and he stared at the road as it zipped away. He had to close his eyes this time. The movement was making him lose his grip on which way was up and which was down. It flipped his stomach and he figured Mina would appreciate it if he didn’t make even more of a mess of the car. 

The next time he opened his eyes, he was being unloaded from the car. Again, he became acutely aware of the pain. He yelped and struggled briefly against Morgan’s grip. It wasn’t her fault he was hurt. It was… Kyle couldn’t clearly remember what had happened. There was a bright light, then there was pain. What had he done?

Kyle closed his eyes. When he opened them he was...indoors? He wasn’t familiar with this house, but it smelled like Morgan and Mina and… Bex. Kyle’s eyes widened and he began to push himself up onto his feet. The effort was wasted as he slid back down onto his side with a wet thump. Where was Bex? Was she here? Was she alive? His eyes darted around the room, landing on another familiar face. Nell Vural. If Nell was here, surely Bex was alive. Nell, Morgan, and Mina didn’t owe him anything. They could’ve left him bleeding out in the street. They could have left him to die. If being in Bex’s head taught Kyle anything, though, it was that she wouldn’t let that happen. Kyle focused on the silence in his head again. She had to be alive, right? She had to.

Kyle closed his eyes.

[itsyourchoice-hp]

Year 2: Intruder in the Castle

The sound of a door being closed very suddenly caused Cath to wake up with a start. For a moment she was very confused as she realized she was wearing her school robes.

“Cath!” Ginny said urgently stood over her bed, panting.

As she rolled over, she saw a textbook lying open beside her and the crumpling of parchment under her. Cath sat up, remembering that she had stayed up until around 2:30 trying to finish a Charms essay that was due the next morning. Then panic hit her like a jolt of electricity.

“What time is it?” she asked, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep.

“You’re late!” Ginny replied.

“Bollocks!” Cath cursed, leaping out of bed. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Well, I thought you were just going to sleep past breakfast! When you didn’t come to class, I realized you probably hadn’t set an alarm or heard the bell… I told Professor Flitwick that I left my wand in the dorm so I could come to wake you up,” she explained as Cath threw on a spare school blouse and her shoes.

“I can’t believe I slept in!” Cath moaned, gathering her bag and collecting the crumpled papers on her bed. “Ugh, my essay is probably ruined.”

“As long as you’ve got all the papers, let’s go! You can sort it out once we’re in the classroom,” Ginny said.

Cath tried to comb through her hair as they hurried down the staircase. She groaned in misery, and her stomach groaned right back. All the work she had put into her essay last night was certainly not paying off.

Luckily, the Charms class was the closest to the Gryffindor Common Room, and just before they arrived at the closed door of the classroom Ginny stopped her.

“Go in a minute after me, or else we’ll look suspicious,” Ginny instructed in a whisper. Cath nodded, and watched from around the corner as Ginny opened the door and entered the classroom.

“Welcome back Ms. Granger,” Professor Flitwick said in his squeaky voice. “Did you manage to find your wand?”

“Ah — well, I think it actually might be in my bag after all,” Ginny replied. A few classmates snickered. “Silly me.”

“Well, anyhow, please take your seat so that I may continue the lesson,” he told her.

Cath heard the scraping of a chair on the ground and then Professor Flitwick continued the lecture. She waited for a few beats, dreading walking into the classroom and interrupting him. She hadn’t even gotten a chance to look in the mirror before she left, or even brush her teeth.

Drawing in a deep breath and trying to muster as much confidence as she could, Cath opened the door. All heads turned to her. She quickly took the nearest empty seat, beside a Hufflepuff boy named Winston McCarthy.

“Ms. Malfoy,” Professor Flitwick addressed her from atop his stack of books, looking slightly put off that he had to pause his lesson once again. “I see you’ve decided to join us this morning.”

“I’m so sorry, Professor,” Cath began. “I was up so late finishing my essay, and I—”

“I don’t need an excuse, Ms. Malfoy, but I do need your essay,” he interrupted, gesturing to the stack of completed essays on his desk.

Cath, feeling quite embarrassed, opened her school bag and pulled out her wrinkled essay, trying to quickly put them in order. Her face went very red as she felt the student’s eyes on her.

“We’ll sort this out after class,” Professor Flitwick said. “Now, where were we?”

Cath sighed, pulling her textbook and wand out of her bag as he resumed the lecture. She made eyes with Ginny, who gave her a sympathetic smile.

“At least it’s not Potions class,” Winston whispered to her with a wry smile.

She nodded in reply. Winston had a point; if she had shown up late to Professor Snape’s class with a crumpled-up essay she would have been embarrassed in front of the class and most likely given detention.

After the class was over, Cath stayed behind, smoothing out her essay and putting it in order. There were a few splats of smudged ink on the last page and an unfinished concluding paragraph, presumably where she had fallen asleep.

“Here’s my essay,” she said to Professor Flitwick, handing him the parchment. She could see him flip through it and pause at the last page where the ink smudges were. “Again, I’m… really sorry.”

“Did you complete it?” he asked her.

“No, Professor,” she replied, picking nervously at a loose thread on the sleeve of her white blouse. She noticed as she looked down that she had a run in her stockings. Could this day get any worse? she thought, groaning inwardly.

“Well, if you spent so much time on it, I’m sure it will be an excellent essay,” he said, placing it on the stack on his desk. “Now I suggest you don’t be late for your next class.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she said gratefully before collecting her things and leaving the classroom. Ginny was waiting for her outside.

“Cheer up,” she said to Cath. “At least we’ve got Defence next. And you won’t believe what happened at breakfast.”

“What?” Cath asked, perking up as she remembered that they were about to see Professor Lupin.

“Harry got a Firebolt in the mail!” she replied.

Cath’s eyes widened. The Firebolt was the newest and fastest racing broom in the world. Draco had been begging their father all summer for one who had in return told him that his only chance of getting one was if Draco could get top marks in their year.

“Who sent it to him?” she asked Ginny eagerly. “Has he tried it yet?”

“That’s the thing — there was no letter, or tag, or anything! We’ve got no idea who could have sent it to him,” Ginny said.

“That’s odd,” Cath frowned.

“Hermione insisted he turn it in to get it tested for curses or hexes,” Ginny continued. “But he obviously wasn’t too keen on that.”

“But who would want to curse Harry?” Cath asked.

“Besides You-Know-Who?” Ginny pointed out in a low voice.

“You don’t think he’s back, do you? I mean I thought after what happened last year…” Cath trailed off, noticing that Ginny was beginning to look a bit uncomfortable.

Both entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, expecting to see Professor Lupin smiling at them. Instead, they were faced with the sour glare of Professor Snape who loomed over them as they took the remaining seats, conveniently at the very front of the classroom.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny blurted out.

Cath elbowed her in the side.

“Take your seat, Weasley,” Snape replied sharply.

Ginny obliged, not bothering to hide her unhappy expression. Cath sat down beside her, feeling thoroughly disappointed that their lesson wouldn’t be taught by Professor Lupin.

“Where’s Professor Lupin?” asked Colin Creevey from the back of the classroom.

“Professor Lupin is… ill for the time being,” Professor Snape replied. Cath thought she saw his lips curl in what looked like a sneer. “Take out your textbooks.”

The sound of students shuffling around in their schoolbags filled the classroom, which was thick with disappointment and dismay.

“Wonder what’s wrong with him,” Cath heard Penelope Dawson whisper to Dan Hadfield from behind her.

“I sure hope he gets better soon,” Dan muttered in reply.

The whack of Snape’s measuring stick against the blackboard caused everyone to jump. “Silence,” he snapped. “I don’t know what kind of a classroom Professor Lupin keeps, but I do not tolerate students talking out of turn when I’m about to begin a lesson.”

Nobody made a sound.

“I see that your content for the year is very… simple,” he continued. “The curses you are to learn about this year are ones that I would teach first year students. Were it up to me, you would be studying more advanced things, such as dark creatures. Vampires, werewolves… the like. But since Professor Lupin seems to have such low expectations of you, we will pick up today on chapter 4.”

As the words Chapter 4: Basic Curses and Countercurses appeared on the blackboard, Cath and Ginny exchanged grim looks.

For the remainder of the class, Cath was distracted both by the thought that the lesson would be far more interesting if Professor Lupin were teaching it, and by Ginny drawing rather rude doodles of Professor Snape on the corners of her parchment paper when he had his back turned to them and then quickly scribbling over them before he noticed.

***

Cath and Ginny were studying in the Great Hall, trying to get a head start on the essay that Professor Snape had assigned to them. Ginny, who had become bored quite quickly, had made a paper airplane out of a spare piece of parchment and had levitated it into the air, making it fly in circles around Cath’s head.

Cath heard the sound of running coming towards them and saw Hermione approaching them, her wild hair bouncing at her shoulders.

“Cath,” she said, looking concerned. “Draco is in the hospital wing.”

Cath frowned. “Is he alright? What happened?”

“He’s fine… he was injured in Care of Magical Creatures. Class was dismissed early. I just thought you’d want to know,” she explained.

“Thanks,” Cath replied. “I suppose I’ll go check on him. We weren’t getting that much done anyway.”

“It’s just so boring,” Ginny complained. “I know Snape’s been after the Defence position for years, but he’d be horrible at it.”

“Our lesson was strange too,” Hermione replied. “He skipped past what Professor Lupin was teaching us and went way ahead to our second term curriculum. He taught us about werewolves today…”

“He must have an obsession with them,” Ginny snickered. “because he mentioned them in our class, too.”

“I hope Professor Lupin gets well soon,” Cath said, standing up from the table.

“So do I,” Hermione replied, though she was frowning slightly as if in thought. “Anyways, I’ve got to get started on my essay. See you both later.”

Cath saw her pull an astronomy textbook out of her bag and flip to a diagram of the moon cycle as she walked away. “Well,” she said to Ginny. “I suppose I should visit my brother and see what happened to him. I’m sure he’s making quite a fuss about whatever it is.”

“I’ll be here,” Ginny sighed, sending the paper airplane zooming around the Great Hall.

Cath walked over to the Hospital Wing. It was empty, save for the bed where Draco lay. His arm was bandaged up and in a sling. “Draco,” she called, hurrying over.

He looked over and gave a wave with his other hand. “I guess you heard then news,” he said weakly, as though he were quite sick.

Cath raised an eyebrow. “They’re amputating your arm?” she asked sarcastically. Draco was known to be overdramatic about nearly everything, especially injuries. Cath suspected it was how he got attention from their parents.

“Hope not,” Draco replied, looking mournfully out the window.

“Well? What happened, then?” she prompted.

“That stupid oaf Hagrid,” Draco said. “He thought it would be a good idea to bring Hippogriffs to our first class.”

“Hippogriffs?” Cath said in surprise.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Harry made a big show of how easy it was for him to gain its respect. I thought I could do it too. But when I approached it, it just attacked me!”

Cath suspected that Draco wasn’t telling her the full truth, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that it would be extremely painful to be attacked by the razor-sharp claws of a Hippogriff. “Well, it could have been a lot worse.”

“It nearly killed me!” Draco snapped.

“I’m glad your alive,” Cath said, feeling frustration and annoyance toward her brother. She didn’t understand how they could be so different.

“I’ve already written a letter to Father and Mother,” he said. “He’ll be furious when he finds out that Dumbledore let that giant teach at Hogwarts.”

Cath felt slightly defensive. Although she didn’t know Hagrid very well, she could tell from their one visit that he had a heart of gold and extensive knowledge about magical creatures.

“I’m sure it wasn’t Hagrid’s fault that the Hippogriff scratched you,” she said reasonably. “It’s not like he set it on you or anything.”

“Who’s side are you on?” he snapped.

“Well, if you weren’t constantly trying to one-up Harry maybe you wouldn’t have been scratched at all. You know it could have been a lot worse,” she replied angrily.

“I see,” he said coldly. “You’re taking his side. You just want the Chosen One to notice you, don’t you?”

“Draco,” she said. Part of her felt embarrassed, but most of all she was angry at Draco for being so selfish. It seemed that every year he found some reason to let his jealousy of Harry get in the way.

“Pathetic,” he shook his head.

“Why are you so jealous of him?” Cath asked. “You’re his friend.”

“Did you come here to visit me or to rub it in your face that you like Harry more than me?” he asked.

“For Merlin’s sake, Draco! That’s not what any of this is about,” Cath was almost at a loss for words.

“Get out,” he said.

“Come on—”

“Leave!” Draco nearly yelled.

Cath sighed in frustration. Draco turned his head away and refused to look at him. She knew he’d come around, as always, but she wished that he didn’t have to be so jealous all the time. Knowing that there was no chance of Draco speaking to her, she turned around to leave without a single feeling of sympathy towards him.

Merlin’s beard, he can be stubborn, Cath thought angrily. Draco could sulk all he wanted, but Cath knew that if she didn’t give him the reaction he wanted, he would come around and act as if nothing had happened. Draco loved being the center of attention, and he loved to be able to influence people who listened to him. If he wasn’t, he acted out like he’d just done to Cath.

As she walked through the doors of the Great Hall, she scanned the table for where she’d left Ginny. She had moved a little further down the table and seemed to be talking to Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. Ginny saw Cath approaching them and waved.

“Well?” she asked as Cath sat down next to her. “How is he?”

Seamus and Dean, sitting on the other side of the table, exchanged looks as Cath heaved a frustrated sigh. “He’s fine,” she replied. “It’s not as bad as he made it look.”

“Gave everyone a right scare, that’s for sure,” Seamus commented. “Hagrid tried to warn everyone to be careful around Hippogriffs.”

“He just went right for it,” Dean said.

“I guess he underestimated how dangerous they are,” Cath said, firmer than she intended. As soon as she said it, she wondered why she was defending her brother when she was so upset with him.

Seamus and Dean became very quiet, and Ginny awkwardly cleared her throat. “Well… at least he’ll be okay, I suppose,” she said, clearly trying to help diffuse the tension.

“Yeah,” Cath replied. “I think I’m going to go back to the dorm. I need my Transfiguration textbook.” Before anyone could reply, she stood up and collected the homework that she had left a few seats down. 

Cath had always assumed from what Draco had said in his first year that he was well-liked and popular. She’d never considered the fact that some people might think poorly of him, or dislike him. She’d certainly never had to come to his defence, or feel that she needed to prove him to other people. For what felt like the hundredth time, Cath wondered why her and Draco were so different, and why she was the only Gryffindor in her family when the rest were Slytherins in every sense of the word.

***

The Great Hall was lined with thick, plush sleeping bags, and without the long tables and chairs, it suddenly looked so cavernous and empty. Cath and Ginny huddled close together, as the murmuring students made their way to where their House usually sat at meals. There seemed to be a collective sense of fear and worry, for what had happened earlier that day had nearly sent the school into a panic. 

From what Cath had pieced together from different students, the portrait of the Fat Lady had been slashed to bits earlier that evening. When she was found, she had claimed that Sirius Black had attacked her when she had refused him entry into the Gryffindor Common Room.

“You don’t think he’s really here, do you?” Ginny whispered uncomfortably.

“I don’t know… but I think we have a good reason to think so, if we’re all sleeping in here,” Cath replied. She felt nervous, despite the fact that teachers were keeping watch over them. “What I want to know is why he tried to get into our Common Room.”

“It’s strange, you know,” Ginny said slowly as if putting pieces together. “Dumbledore ordered Dementors, of all creatures, to protect Hogwarts. The same creatures that guard Azkaban. And then Sirius Black breaks into the castle… How did Dumbledore know that he would come here?”

“Maybe there’s something inside the castle that he wants,” Cath suggested.

Both fell silent. Thinking about it would only frighten Cath more, so she turned her focus to the ceiling of the Great Hall, reflecting the dark, swirling skies outside. Now that it was mid-October, the sun set much earlier and although it was only eight o’clock, it was pitch dark out. Cath stared up at the stars, and the nearly-full moon as she drifted off to sleep.

She slept rather restlessly, partly because she wasn’t used to sleeping on the hard ground of the Great Hall with the entire student body around her, and partly because she didn’t want to be caught unaware by a mass murderer.

Cath felt as though she had only just closed her eyes when she awoke to the chatter of students and the rustling of sleeping bags. She had to blink for a moment as she looked up at the sunlight streaming through the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. Students were beginning to wake up and gather with their houses.

“Gryffindor students, please gather around me!” Percy Weasley called loud and clear, waving his hand in the air.

“Shut up Perce,” Ginny muttered from beside Cath, sitting up and yawning widely. She looked at Cath. “How’d you sleep?”

“Not great,” Cath replied. “I feel like I hardly got a wink.”

“Me too,” Ginny said.

They both got out of their sleeping bags and made their way over to the group of Gryffindor students. Chelsea Bingsley, the Gryffindor Prefect, waved them over.

“Morning girls,” she said with a bright smile. The blue smudges under her eyes betrayed her bright attitude; it looked as though she had hardly slept either. “Breakfast is in the Common Room today. Classes have been canceled.”

“Brilliant!” Ginny said.

Cath heard Ron a little ways off. “I’m starving.”

“How is it that you’re always hungry?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Cath and Ginny both made their way over to the three of them as the Gryffindor students began to exit the Great Hall.

“Have you heard anything?” Cath asked them.

Harry shook his head no. “Nothing.”

“I suspect the teachers are trying to keep things under wraps,” Hermione said in a low voice. “Just imagine how poorly it would affect their image if the whole school was in chaos. I don’t think we’ll be hearing any details.”

“I imagine Dumbledore’s under a lot of pressure to keep everything under control,” Ron speculated. “I don’t envy him, that’s for sure.”

“Do you think he was actually in the castle?” Ginny asked. “How could he have gotten past all the security measures and the Dementors?"

Cath realized the gravity of what Ginny had just said. If it was true that Sirius Black had entered the castle, gotten through the enchantments on the perimeter of the castle, and survived the Dementors, he had to be one of the most powerful wizards alive.

“You should have seen the Fat Lady,” Ron said. “We were there right after it happened. She was hysterical. I’ve never seen anyone so frightened.”

“That’s enough,” Percy interjected, appearing beside them. “I won’t have you spreading fear among the students.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Lay off, Percy. I’m only telling them what happened yesterday.”

“What happened is none of your concern,” said Percy sternly.

Ron muttered something very rude under his breath as Percy pushed past them to get to the front of the group. They had arrived at the entrance to the Common Room. Cath and the others were too far back to see the portrait, but they could hear what was going on.

“Greetings, brave comrades!” came a voice from the portrait.

“Good morning, Sir Cadogan,” Percy said. “Everyone, we have decided to appoint Sir Cadogan to… guard the Fat Lady’s post while she is taking a much-needed rest.”

“It is my duty to serve and protect Gryffindor House until death,” the voice said again.

Cath craned her neck to see what was going on. She caught a glimpse of the new portrait and saw a knight in full armor, brandishing a sword and sitting on a very fat and tired-looking pony.

“If you wish entrance, you must present the password,” he said as though it were some sort of dangerous quest.

“Yes, we know,” Percy said shortly. “Oddsbodkins.”

“Bless you!” Fred said, handing Percy a handkerchief.

“The password is oddsbodkins,” Percy repeated.

“I grant you entrance, brave soldiers,” Sir Cadogan said, bowing and swinging open.

“They must have gotten him from the loony bin,” Ron muttered.

One by one, the students crawled through the portrait hole and into the warm Common Room. It was nice to be back in such a familiar place. The fire was roaring, and against one wall was a table full of food.

“Please form an orderly queue!” Percy instructed. He was unsuccessful in his attempts to form a line, as hungry students nearly knocked him over trying to get to the table.

Hermione shook her head in disappointment, giving disapproving looks to students who were trying to budge past each other.

“Cath, would you do me a favour?” Ginny asked. “I’m so tired I can hardly keep my eyes open. Do you think you could save me some food while I go take a nap?”

Cath nodded and Ginny thanked her before heading up the staircase towards the girl's dormitory.

Ron pushed through the crowd, holding his plate piled with food above his head so it didn’t get knocked over. When he saw Cath he walked over to her.

“I’m so glad classes are canceled,” he remarked. “I’ve got this stupid Divination assignment due today that I haven’t started on yet.”

“I was really dreading Potions today,” Cath agreed.

“Gryffindor is having a practice for the match tomorrow. Fancy coming to watch with Hermione and I?” he asked before taking a huge bite of toast and marmalade.

Cath nodded. “I’d love to.”

Despite last night’s events, the students seemed to be in good spirits. Having the day off of classes put nearly everyone in a pleasant mood, and much of the day was spent in the Common Room playing games, studying, and talking excitedly about the Quidditch match a few days away.

[gtseven7]

My Seven Idols

this is the picture mentioned in the story

Summary:

Got7 as highschoolers as they deal with graduation and college at the same time starting up their own Youtube channel as idols. 

A/N:

So this is chapter 1. Really, I wasnt supposed to write this thing but it has been bugging me for months and I just cant shake it off okay? I tried resisting thinking, dude you're on your way to the juicy parts of Seven Princes. But whelp I lost a battle within myself and wrote this anyway. I hope you guys like it!

masterlist

//prev

1

The click-clacking of the keyboard echoed in the room as Y/N furiously typed the remaining subtitle of the video she had been editing the last few nights. Hitting the export button, the brunette could finally exhale and relax. The beach aesthetic video she had been working on was now in the process of being complete. She just has to wait till it loads to a hundred and her hard work will pay off. Smiling to herself, she minimized the editing software and opened up her InstaBook. She scrolled leisurely, seeing the pictures of her peers and some from her photographer idols. Y/N was examining an aesthetic cityscape picture from one of her favorite photo blogs, Def, when her notification alerted her of a great news. Ding! And the words that popped up from the right corner of her screen made her screech. As it was almost midnight, she had to restrain herself and not wake her parents. But she can’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. She quickly clicked the pop up. It said: pjy_01 updated his profile picture. When the picture loaded, Y/N's jaw almost unhinged. Park Jinyoung a.k.a. Mr. Student Council President rarely posts a picture of himself. His feed was usually just books, food and random sceneries. He did have few self-taken pictures and Y/N was happy with it (some of them are really just bad quality but she’ll take it) but this one? This one’s just beautiful, amazing, gift from the heavens. He was sitting on a comfy white couch, staring directly at the camera with puppy eyes. His white button up was slightly unbuttoned(!!) as he wore an innocent face and a cute peace sign as a cherry on top. Y/N was just about to scream and jump around. But before that, she made sure to save the picture in her Jinyoung Stash folder. “Woah. What is this Jinyoung? You should always post things like this. I’ll be a happy woman.” She sighed dreamily, staring at her screen but missed the notification of her software that finished exporting her video. 

Y/N was rudely interrupted when her phone suddenly rang. Not even looking at the caller id, she answered the call with an annoyed tone. “What?” No one would be phoning her at this time other than her best friend. “Yo chill out Y/N.” Youngjae laughed at the other end, knowing he most likely disturbed her from her hobby. Which isn’t entirely false, he just didn’t know that the hobby at the moment was staring at their president and not videography. ”It’s midnight Youngjae, what do you need?” She elicited another hearty laugh from the guy. Any other circumstance, she’ll laugh along since his laugh is contagious but this time was not it. “Well?”

“Geez, aren’t you such a joy tonight. I’m just gonna ask if you already finished the essay homework due tomorrow.” 

Blank silence. It was then that Y/N laughed at the ridiculing situation. Homework? Was there ever one? And she voiced it out, still half cheerful and half threatening. Youngjae might be pranking her once again. “The essay homework Mr. Kwon asked us to do. The one about Romeo and Juliet. Don’t tell me you don’t remember?” Youngjae chuckled a little too, thinking that his friend was making fun of him. When the only sound he heard was the bark of his cute dog Coco beside him, Youngjae started to sweat. “You haven’t done a single thing didn’t you?!”

“I think I’m gonna puke. Youngjae-ahh~ What do I do?!” 

Y/N's eyes bugged out, realizing that yes, there is indeed an essay due tomorrow. And it is for Mr. Kwon’s subject, her most feared teacher. Oh how that teacher terrifies her whole being. How could she be so stupid?! “Youngjae!!! What do I do? What do I do?!” Panic was starting to rise from her gut, her heart beating too fast that even midnight coffee can’t do. Add the obvious panic in her bestfriend’s voice on the other end, it made things worse for her. “I don’t know! Uh… I can lend you mine? Just modify some parts. Paraphrase things…”  

“Oh my God Youngjae I love you. You’re the best!!” 

“You owe me one Y/N.” 

“I do, I do. Thanks so much.” 

They bid goodnight to each other, Youngjae promising to pick her up from her house so she won’t be late; she once again praised his goodness before hanging up. And as promised, he sent her his homework, Jinyoung’s picture on her screen forgotten. Y/N once again typed relentlessly through the night. 

“I bet Jinyoung never had a problem like this. Y/N you must do better!”

That motivation fueled her to write the essay about Romeo and Juliet even if she didn’t understand what it was about aside from it being a romance story. Little did the sophomore videographer know, her high pedestaled president sat on his chair under the dim light of his study desk at the same time as her. He was hunched in concentration on the essay he stalled on doing days before it was to be submitted. 

No words flowed, his pen stuck mid-air. “Argh. What the heck is this shit about anyway?” Jinyoung huffed as he crumpled his nth paper and tossed it in the bin beside him. His brain was not cooperating with him that night and it’s just frustrating. Why does he have to explain why the economy of their country is not thriving as it used to? It’s just plain bullshit to be honest. He had mountains of council work the past few days and he wasn’t able to attend few classes including the class he was supposed to write this essay for. This is why he hates skipping, when things like this essay arrive, he doesn’t know what to do. He didn’t have time to read up everything that’s why he just went straight to bluffing his way out of the conclusion of the paper. The distracting noise of the instrument app on Jaebeom’s phone didn’t help him much either. “You have your own room, your own bed. Why are you always here?” His housemate just shrugged and continued his melody making. It was sounding good to be honest, not that his friend ever made a bad song but the other’s process was just making the writing too difficult for him. “How can I even finish when you distract me like this?”

“One, Jinyoung, it was your fault for not doing it earlier. Two, you are not distracted by my music. You just don’t want to do that stupid paper.” 

And it hit him too well. He’s right. Most times, Jaebeom’s music calms him but this time his brain just straight up refuses to do a thing. His long haired companion exited the app after saving his work. Jaebeom laid down on Jinyoung’s bed. He patted the space beside him, encouraging the other to lie down with him and sleep. “Don’t push yourself too hard. Get some sleep first, you’ve had a harsh week.” 

“Get out of my bed.”

“Hmm…”

And with that, Jaebeom closed his eyes to sleep. He’s not a fast sleeper per se, he’s just waiting for Jinyoung to join him but he didn’t. He opened his eyes just a slit saw the student body president scribbling again with a determined face. 

Few hours after, it was almost three in the morning. Jinyoung has to get up at six to prepare for their eight o’clock class. He doesn’t like not sleeping properly but for the sake of that damned paper, he had to sacrifice. He sighed once again and turned off the lamp. Looking to his right, he saw his friend sleeping peacefully, facing him from the farther half of the bed. Jinyoung shook his head in exasperation. He sat on the unoccupied side and stared at his friend of ten years. His face lax and serene. The nose ring glints under the soft glow of the stars from the window. Jinyoung’s hand inched towards the other’s face, stopping midway. He clenched his fist and brought it back to himself. ‘Ah, I really wanna remove that nose ring so badly.’

Morning came and the sunlight was harsh on Y/N’s face. She finished her essay in time, luckily. She trudged along the hallways of their small house, the only thing that woke her up completely was the smell of fresh bacon being cooked. She quickly ate her breakfast, showered and said goodbye to her parents with a tired smile. The sound of the bell announced the arrival of Youngjae by their door. She opened it and her friend almost screamed bloody murder. “I thought a zombie came out to eat me.” 

“Shut up.”

Youngjae laughed and slung an arm on her shoulders. He ruffled her already messy hair further. “Did you finish the write up?” She gave a gloomy thumb’s up while yawning, earning a giggle from the boy. “Ah seriously, you should take care of your studies more Y/N.” 

“Says you. You were up all night long playing. I can see it on the bags under your eyes.”

“At least I finished my work before doing so, unlike someone I know…”

Y/N clicked her tongue in disapproval but she knows he’s right though. “I got carried away with the good shots I had when me and Yeji went to the beach last week. Aah, I made such a good video last night.” Youngjae smiled at her friend as he watched her walk half asleep. 

Y/N and Youngjae were friends since they were toddlers. With their mothers practically sisters because of their closeness, and their houses are just one backyard away from each other, the two developed a close friendship. Oftentimes they’d be hanging out in their places, playing video games or reading comics. Although when they started to grow up more, they drifted away slightly, having different circles of friends. That didn’t bother the two of them though. They thought that it’s better to have their friendship outside school so that they won’t get sick seeing each other’s faces all the time. With this, they rarely go to school together anymore. Their classmates are in the dark about their closeness as well.  

Youngjae pulled out his phone and scrolled his pictures. He suddenly got excited about showing his bestfriend about his dog’s new outfit he bought recently. “Y/N, Y/N, look at Coco. I bought a new shirt. It’s so cute.” He practically shoved the phone on her eyes but it didn’t matter much to her as she was as excited as him. They practically raised that cute dog together. “Omo! Coco’s so adorable!” They were both bouncing on their steps as they look at the dog’s pictures posing differently with each new clothing. The two of them were cooing. “Ah, Coco is such a joy.” 

"Y/N!” 

They both stopped on their tracks when they heard a familiar voice. It was Yeji, Y/Ns other bestfriend outside Youngjae (he’s still the bestest but Yeji doesn’t know that). She happily waved at her two classmates, a teasing smile forming on her face already. ‘Youngjae and Y/N walking together eh? How interesting!’

Yeji’s appearance was their cue to head apart so Y/N smiled at Youngjae and said goodbye. “See ya later in class!” He just hummed in agreement, seeing as his peers are also in sight. He waved at Yeji and parted with Y/N He walked towards his other friends and greeted them. 

"So Youngjae huh?”

“What about him?”

“Nothing…” Which wasn’t true because now she is sporting a silly smile on her face. Probably imagining things outside of this world and conjuring up different ways how her friend and Youngjae fall in love. Yeji is a fangirl at heart and she just ships everybody. She never imposes it to everyone though, she’s just happy to think about it and keep it to herself. Amazingly enough though, the people she secretly shipped usually ends up together at some point. But Y/N knows her too well and she knows the outlandish things going in her mind right now. “We just happened to meet along the way Yeji.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

The school entrance as it always is, was full of commotion. More so today than usual. Y/N saw a hoard of students lining up the gate with annoyed expressions. ‘Ah, it’s probably President Jinyoung.’ She giggled to herself, happy to see him early in the morning. She’s still a little bit over the moon with his latest picture. “Do I look okay?”, that question snapped Y/N out of her daydream (the picture still lingering at the back of her mind). Yeji took out a small mirror and checked herself out. She combed her hair with her fingers, checked her uniform, straightened everything that doesn’t look ironed out. “You know he just nags at those who violate badly. We’ll never get reprimanded.” Yeji breathed deeply as she puts her mirror back to her bag. “I’m just making sure you know. I don’t want those cold eyes stare at me. It’s scary.” Y/N wanted to protest, ‘Jinyoung’s not scary! It’s a part of his charm!’ but a whine stopped her from doing so. While they were talking, they have pushed inside the crowd to get in and not be late for class. They reached the front where Jinyoung was standing sternly, his mouth thinned in disapproval. “Bhuwakul. How many times do I have to confiscate that earrings of yours?!”

“Why are you so keen on getting these anyway? Would I do better in my tests if I don’t wear them?” The boy, with his id lace yellow (which means he’s a *freshie), was so close to stomping his feet. But Jinyoung was not fazed and just stared at the boy with a piercing stare. “If you wear them, would you do better? No right? So hand them to me. You violated the school dress code. Come get it at my office after school.” 

The people around them were murmuring, Y/N even caught what the others are saying. They think that Jinyoung was being unreasonable and harsh for no reason. ‘Which isn’t true! He just cares about what the students of this school looks like.'  The sophomore turned to glare at the onlookers that defamed their president. ‘Ungrateful fools.’ But she was startled when the tall boy (oh my he’s tall) beside the one named Bhuwakul spoke innocently. “Let him be, he probably just wants to wear your earrings.” Even Yuna, the student council secretary, was shocked at the carefree manner of his dialogue. The president just raised his right eyebrow, “Kim Yugyeom, button up your uniform and tie your necktie properly.” and reprimanded the other freshie without hesitation. Yugyeom grimaced a bit but did what he was told. ‘You should be the one buttoning your clothes last night President huhu’

Despite the commotion at the front gate (which happens almost everyday as Jinyoung loves to greet the student body with “Rule # 5 under the clause of the dress code law….), Y/N and the students of their campus managed to get to their class safely. When they entered their homeroom, Y/N and Yeji was greeted by Ga Young, another friend of theirs. It seemed that she had only arrived a few minutes before them. “Yo! Entrance was pretty hectic today.” 

Yeji made a face and flipped her brow wavy hair away from her face as if she was hassled on their way over. “Ugh, don’t tell us. We had to push our way out earlier.” They both giggled and chattered mindlessly about the events that morning. 

“Don’t you think the foreigner freshie earlier was kind of cute?” Ga Young said dreamily, looking at the ceiling as if he could see his face there. “Oh, that one with the earrings?”

“Yep. We’re blessed with another foreigner beauty.” That’s true, the videographer thought. He’d look good on camera. 

“Yeon Seo isn’t a foreigner.” Y/N countered, debating that her friend’s crush wasn’t exactly from another country. He grew up in their city just like everyone else is. 

“He’s a half-half though.” 

“The tall freshie had a face too.” 

Yeji and Ga Young started to talk about the new eye candy they found. Those two are fans of idols, especially the amateur ones they have in their school. Y/N absentmindedly listened to the two’s gossip. Sometimes she thinks she’s in a webtoon or something. These kinds of things exist on books and comics even dramas that she consumes. Y/N still can’t believe such things are in her reality. Aren’t groups of popular boys with a cheesy group name only in fiction? She wondered if it’s possible that this is not a real world. 

“But you know, I heard rumors that Bhuwakul's gay.” 

That piqued Y/N's interest. Not that there’s any problem with being gay, the rumor just caught her interest. Not many people are brave enough to admit their sexuality in their community so it was pretty interesting. 

“Eh? Who told you?”

“My freshie cousin told me. He said that he’s close with girls and gives fashion advice. He’s on the softer side as well.”

Huh… Y/N thought it was a baseless rumor after all. “That doesn’t mean he’s gay though.”

“That’s true.”

When the talk about the foreign freshie Bhuwakul ended, the other two started to talk about their favorite topic once again. The Five Roses. Y/N was just done with that subject and had heard enough to last her a lifetime. She couldn’t even understand why the girls in their school seemed to be under their spell. In Y/N’s opinion, they aren’t that good looking. Heck, even Mr. Cold Eyes Jinyoung was much more handsome. ‘Especially if they saw last night’s picture. How come they don’t talk about it?!’ 

“Ji Woo looked handsome today too!” 

‘Oh come on, even Youngjae looks better than that guy.’ At the thought of her bestfriend, she turned to glance at him. He seemed to have caught her and gave him those warm sunny smiles that made her heart beat a bit faster. Even if she doesn’t consider her childhood friend as a man, she’s sure that he’s a good looking guy. 

//next

[opheliaoblonskya]

hello hello hello everyone! i’m coco, this is my baby ophelia, and we’re both extremely happy to be part of the group!!! this is ophelia’s official intro post so feel free to check under the cut for more info on them! @westmerestarters​

MAJOR TW FOR DEPRESSION AND SUICIDE

agender, goes by they/them pronouns, first discovered non binary identities a few years ago and went from “huh, that’s neat” to “it me” within a few months lmao

their father was originally from the soviet union, grew up poor, immigrated to the states, and made it big as a writer. poetry, essays, plays, short stories, and even full on novels, anton oblonsky was a literary darling, and married cleo harris, a celebrity stylist, rather young. after barely two years of marriage, ophelia was born. they were to be anton’s only child.

while both of ophelia’s parents doted on them, they were the apple of their father’s eye in particular. he spoiled ophelia rotten, showering them with things he could’ve never dreamed of having as a child, but now with his lucrative writing career at his side, he was able to fully provide for his family, so much so that cleo was able to quit her job.

naturally, ophelia adored their father for how much he spoiled and openly adored them, and never feared hearing the word ‘no’ from anton. cleo often had to step in to be the disciplinarian in the family, which created some tension between her and her overly indulged child, but for the most part, the oblonsky family home was a happy one.

this would fall apart when ophelia was only five.

understandably, cleo was growing tired of having to be the ‘bad guy parent’, and had grown to resent how easy going and frivolous anton was. this of course caused arguments, and whenever ophelia stepped in and it was clear that they had heard it, anton would try to remedy the situation by showering them with more gifts, which in turn lead to more arguments. it was like a cycle, and cleo was determined to put an end to it. she filed for divorce.

during the proceedings, the two agreed on shared custody of ophelia. they would spend one week with anton, and the other with cleo. of course, ophelia much preferred being with their father, who’s spoiling had gone into maximum overdrive as a way to make up for the divorce. cleo was nowhere near as indulgent, and the young ophelia grew to resent their mother, blaming her for the falling apart of the family and their father’s misery.

just months after ophelia’s sixth birthday, which had of course been a truly lavish affair, the divorce was finalized. by then ophelia was getting therapy, to help cope with the change, and despite the therapist’s best efforts, ophelia still laid the blame squarely at their mother’s feet. but the worst was still yet to come.

when ophelia was seven, during the week they were with anton, he woke them up, told them they had the day off school because he had called in, and that they were going to do whatever ophelia wanted. of course, they were utterly ecstatic, and the day was spent devouring ice cream and candy of all kinds, watching cartoons, and playing games. it truly was the best day of ophelia’s life.

but it would quickly become the worst.

anton told ophelia to play outside for a bit, while he cleaned up. still bouncing off the walls from the massive amount of sugar consumption, ophelia happily ran around in the yard, playing on the brand new play set that anton had bought just for that day. they were so preoccupied, that they almost didn’t hear the loud bang that came from inside.

they tried to get inside, but all of the doors were locked, and no matter how loudly they yelled, they were getting no response from anton. confused, and getting a little scared, ophelia went to the neighbor’s, and asked them for help. the neighbor’s called, but when they got response they called the police instead.

the rest of the day is a blur, perhaps an attempt of ophelia’s mind to shield them from it all. but one thing they remember clear as day is the body of their father, lying in a pool of his own blood, in the middle of the living room. they had managed to sneak past the police, wanting to see what was happening. and of course, they got their wish.

the death was ruled a suicide, thanks to the presence of a long letter that anton had left behind in his study. cleo was contacted immediately and rushed to her child’s side, weeping profusely. the last year of her marriage to anton had been tense, but she never doubted for a second that he was a good man who loved her and ophelia. and now he was gone.

ophelia was different after that. now in their mother’s care, they had become quiet, withdrawn, and despite how tense and strained their relationship with their mother had been before, they were now terrified of being separated from cleo. they got another therapist, one that specialized in helping grieving children, but it was very slow going. at the reading of the will, it had been revealed that anton had left everything, his wealth, his properties, even the rights to his numerous literary works, which at the time of his death was just shy of a hundred, to ophelia. it turned out that he had made the change the day before his death, and that half of his fortune, which included ongoing royalties, would be used for ophelia’s education and other parts of their care, a type of posthumous child support, while the rest would be put in a trust fund.

of the things that had been left to ophelia, what caught their attention the most, was their father’s journals. he would spend hours scribbling away in them, and no one, not even his precious ophelia, had been permitted to read them. they desperately wanted to do so now, but cleo got to them first, and had them placed in a safety deposit box, away from ophelia. this resulted in a screaming match, a tearful ophelia demanding to have what remained of their father’s essence, and cleo insisting that they were too young to see what was in those books, and that when they were older they could read them, but not now.

as time wore on, ophelia remained ever devoted to their father and his memory, lashing out at anyone who would dare besmirch his name and/or work. when cleo remarried, to anton’s lawyer no less, ophelia reacted very negatively, threatening to sabotage the wedding if they were made to go. they were made to go, but were under heavy surveillance by the bridesmaids (ophelia had been made the maid of honor, which made their stomach roil), and aside from having a generally negative attitude, did no harm to the event.

when ophelia’s first half sibling was born, they were determined to remain indifferent, if not totally icy and aloof, towards the child. it wasnt until after they had laid eyes on the newborn, that they felt their heart soften. in a hospital bathroom, ophelia cried for the first time since their father’s funeral. they were 12 years old.

with extensive therapy and family counselling, ophelia found themself able to let go of their previous animosity towards their mother. they began to see and understand why cleo was so frustrated with anton, and wrote an immense letter of apology to their mother. they were also fiercely protective of their half siblings, and thoroughly adored them.

but of course, there was still a hole that had been left behind by anton’s death. and part of the way they chose to cope was by consuming all of their father’s work. they would pour over his writing, studying it all endlessly. if there was an english assignment of some sort, then you can be sure that ophelia would write about something their father wrote. it wasn’t long before they too started to dream of becoming a writer.

after ophelia graduated, they were finally permitted to read the journals that their father wrote in and kept. after talking extensively with ophelia’s therapists, cleo finally opened that old safety deposit box, and gave ophelia everything they had dreamed of. they devoted every waking moment to reading those journals, desperate to further understand their father. and one of the first steps they took was going to russia.

they had of course heard many stories from their father about russia, and most of anton’s work was either set in russia, featured russian characters, or at least had russia in the background in some way. but of course the russia he had been most familiar with was the one of the soviet era, and even after a number of trips back, the shadow of the soviet union still clung to him and his work, and ophelia was determined to see modern day russia for themself.

they followed their father’s steps, hunting down every place mentioned or alluded to in his writings, trying to understand and feel what their father understood and felt about the place. it also inspired them to start journaling, chronicling their time in russia and the steps they were taking to understand the man their father was.

while in russia, they came up to the part in the journals where anton started to talk about his divorce and depression. he waxed lyrical about the intense, deep, gut wrenching misery that plagued him, and how the only way he could keep it at bay was by caring for ophelia. but as they started to grow up, he started to panic and worry more and more. his own father took his life when he was very young, and his mother never remarried. how was he supposed to know how to be a father from that point on? he had tried to give ophelia everything she could ever want, materially and emotionally, but there was still a part of him that felt that it would never be enough, because he had never seen what he was supposed to do next. the anxiety strangled him to the point where sometimes he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

his last entry was on the day before he died. “if nothing else, ophelia will know how much i love her.”

ophelia spent a week indoors, grieving their father all over again, and finally seeing why their mother had been so adamant in keeping these journals away from them. no child would be equipped to deal with everything that had been written in those notebooks, least of all one that had been as vulnerable as ophelia had been at the time.

when they returned home, they hugged their mother and cried.

another thing they did after they returned was go to college. despite his literary success, ophelia’s father never went to college, with his formal education stopping when he was 14 so that he could work and support his ailing mother. he would go on to teach himself, but the world of academia always gripped his imagination, and ophelia was determined to do what their father couldnt.

double majoring in english lit and russian lit, minoring in journalism, and applying with their mother’s new married name to avoid any awkwardness, ophelia dedicated themself to studying and writing, wanting to create the ‘perfect debut novel’. during this time they remained secretive about their father’s identity, particularly after they started to study his work in class. they would go on to get a masters in all of their subjects, and get a job at the new york times.

while in new york, ophelia was contacted by an established, and well-respected broadway producer and director, who wanted to adapt one of their father’s plays for broadway, but needed ophelia’s permission to do so. intrigued, ophelia agreed, provided that they be involved every step of the way. they were going to make sure that their father’s work was going to be well represented.

after countless long days going from the office to broadway then home, ophelia saw their father’s first ever play, which also happened to be the one that was the least adapted and staged for whatever reason, on broadway. it was set in a town called westmere, a place that ophelia’s father had mentioned in his journals, but that they had never gotten around to visiting. but after opening night, they knew that would change. once the play had it’s full run, ophelia resigned from their job, packed up, and went to westmere, to see what it was about the town that had so entranced their father.

and there you have it! didnt expect to write that much but oh well dfjignfdifjnfdij feel free to dm if you want to plot something!!!

[mssjynx]

13. ohmtoonz? for the abo prompts? love your work btw

alpha / beta / omega au

ohmtoonz drabble

13. I’m sitting at the other end of the table in this library and I don’t think you’re realising it but your heat/rut is starting and I can smell it from here.

-

Luke wasn’t a study kind of guy. 

He cruised through college, fluking decent marks in tests and assignments and bribing his roommate to write essays for him on topics he didn’t take interest to. He had a lot of other things going on and prioritised his social life and football working over English and Maths. 

Except it was exam week and he was going to be in a lot of shit with his parents if he failed a single exam. So he gathered his courage and, for the first time ever, stepped into the campus library with the intent to educate himself. 

He took ten minutes organising himself, getting his pens out and placing them in colour order, tagging all the important pages of his three science textbooks and exercising his fingers and hand to avoid future hand cramps. He then spent five minutes staring at his blank page, another five minutes slowly, carefully writing out a nice looking header before he decided it wasn’t good enough and ripped the page out. 

It wasn’t until at least thirty minutes after he sat down that he smacked his face several times and forced his attention onto his Physics book, flipping open to the first section of work they’d learnt at the beginning of the year. A quick scan of the page left his heart in his throat as he failed to recognise a single formula. There were too many long words and too many combinations of numbers and letters that he had to memorise. 

He’d chosen a nice space at the back of the library where the chairs were more comfy and the books were a lot lamer; no one bothered with them and therefore, no one walked past him and disturbed him. He wasn’t really surprised that someone eventually joined him, taking a seat at the opposite end of the table and setting up his study gear. 

Luke watched tentatively, following the comfortable way that the guy placed his books down. Within one minute from sitting down, he was alternating between scribbling down notes and reading from the textbook; completely oblivious to Luke’s shock and mild envy. 

When, after an awkwardly long amount of time, the guy glanced up and met Luke’s eyes, the alpha snapped his head down and pretended he hadn’t been staring at the guy. He knew he’d been caught and very determinedly kept his eyes on his page despite being unable to understand a single word. 

The other student looked down and Luke let his shoulders relax. His face was pink and he was busy trying to shake himself out of his embarrassment. There wasn’t many things that could make the alpha blush but he was humiliated at being caught staring. 

Alright, Luke. Study. He told himself, rolling his shoulders in an effort to regather himself. The other student was studying well, he could do the same! Within five minutes or writing down notes on different equations and theorums, Luke found himself routinely glancing up at the boy at the other end of the table. 

His hair was messy in a way that made the alpha question how long ago he’d woken up, and he couldn’t help but find the look cute on the boy. His face remained in a little pout as he worked, lips twisted and brows furrowed as he focused on the school work before him. His concentration seemed unbreakable and several times, Luke had to pinch himself to force his attention back to his half-written notes. 

Eventually, he got the hang of it. He’d powered through several pages of notes and found pride blooming in his chest at his progress. He, too, was focused. No one interrupted them. No one walked by. Neither of them distracted each other. 

Well… for the most part, they didn’t. 

It had been just over an hour that the two had shared a table and studied privately when the scent slipped into Luke’s awareness and brushed at his senses. It took a few minutes until he realised that the other student was the source of the scent. It was a tangy scent; tasting briefly like coffee but holding the undertones of something sweet and foreign to the alpha’s nose. 

Yet when he looked to the other student, there was no different. He didn’t move, he didn’t look any different; he continued studying like there was no difference. The last thing Luke wanted was to offend the guy, so he shrugged it off and tried to focus only on his work. 

Which was hard enough when omega pheromones weren’t clouding his mind. 

Heat. That’s what he could smell. Preheat to be specific; he could taste the fire that acted almost alike a warning, floating among the coffee that stained the insides of his nose and mouth. And it only seemed to get stronger by the second. 

There was no chance he’d be studying with that scent. He hung his head and clenched his fists. Self control was something he was good at and it wasn’t like he was about to pounce on the poor guy, but it didn’t mean the scent of the omega’s preheat wasn’t messing with his head. 

He glanced up when he heard a soft curse uttered beneath the boy’s breath, watching where he sat bolt upright. “Fuck,” he murmured, digging around in his backpack. Luke picked up on his pink cheeks, a fresh wave of preheat flushing his senses as the omega became aware of his situation. “Oh, no, no, no.” Panic mingled with the scent of lust as the boy pulled out a container, flicking it open to find no pills inside. No suppressants. 

“Hey, are you-?” 

“Found ya!” Luke’s words didn’t even make it out before another voice covered them, far too loud and blunt for their little private corner. The other student turned and both boys landed their attention on the two boys who had rounded the corner. 

Luke’s spine curled immediately. An alpha and a beta. He could see the dilated pupils, the snarling grin, the look of hunger and the offending scent of possession. 

“I knew I could smell an omega in here somewhere,” was what the alpha purred as he prowled closer. The omega was out of his seat in seconds, putting the table in between himself and the two newcomers. 

“Leave me alone,” he demanded but Luke could hear the racing of his heart. It seemed he was invisible to all three of the other students as the omega stumbled around the back of his chair. When the alpha rounded the table to follow him, Luke stood, stepping in front of him and meeting those sharp blue eyes. 

The alpha immediately rose to his full height, pulling his shoulders back and puffing out his chest. Luke’s bared teeth showed no fear. “Don’t touch him,” he growled and the bark of laughter that followed had him snarling louder.

“Why not?” the alpha snapped, shoving to hands to Luke’s chest. He took a step back but caught himself. 

“Fuck off, he doesn’t want you near him,” he said, stepping forward and shoving back. “Leave him alone.” 

The alpha snarled but there was a clear difference between his scrawny height and Luke’s football build. “Asshole,” he snapped, gnashing his teeth. “Learn to share your toys.” And had he not turned and left then, Luke would’ve punched him out. 

He waiited until both boys slinked their way out of their area, and waited still until he could no longer taste their unkind scents, before turning to where the omega was pretty much pressed back against the bookshelf. His eyes were wide and full of fear, trained on Luke, and when Luke took a step forward, he cowered down. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said, stumbling back and raising his hands. He waited until the boy lifted his head, shyly peaking back at him. “I’m not like that, I wouldn’t- I wanna help you get out of here. Let me drop you home?” he asked. He didn’t step forward. 

“I don’t- I haven’t had many good experiences with alphas,” was the reasoning that the boy returned, words falling to Luke’s feet in fear of the response they might evoke. 

Luke sighed, shaking his head. “I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. “I’m Luke. My sister’s an omega,” he said and the omega lifted his head further in surprise. 

“I’m Ryan,” he murmured, and Luke felt relieved as he stopped trying to merge himself back into the bookcase behind him. “Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked, and Luke smiled gently. 

“Of course. I know how this school can be. C’mon, I promise I won’t hurt you but you’re gonna need to hide your scent under mine.” He lifted an arm but made no movement towards the omega. 

He let Ryan come to him, treading silently and slowly before he was stopping just out of reach of Luke. “Let me just… get my stuff.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Gather your things and I’ll walk you to my car.” 

As the two collected their belongings, Luke made sure to give the anxious omega a wide berth. It was bad enough smelling like a walking orgasm and Luke knew that preheats and heats were far from comfortable to experience. When Ryan was ready, he allowed the boy to tuck up against his side, wrapping a careful arm around him and resisting the urge to bury his nose in the mess of brown hair. 

“Thank you,” Ryan murmured and they didn’t receive anything other than a few interested stares as they walked through the campus to where Luke had parked his car. They drove with all the windows down and when Ryan jumped out of the car, he flicked a piece of paper at Luke with red cheeks, uttering, “Text me and I’ll call you when I’m off my heat.” 

Luke’s smile didn’t fade until he was back in his apartment, sitting at his desk and trying impossibly to continue his study. 

So what if he failed his exam. He was busy planning a date with a pretty omega.

[wildflowerrambles]

Flare

Author’s Note: I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. I am a Luke girl. But apparently I decided to take the scenic route that belongs to Calum Hood SO

This idea popped into my head & I mean, who doesn’t enjoy the thought of Calum as a firefighter? Yes please. Also, I’ve apparently been watching too much Grey’s Anatomy lately.

I would love to hear your feedback and I really hope you enjoy! Happy reading! <3

Pairing: Firefighter!Calum Hood x Reader

Word Count: 6,149

Warnings: mentions of death, alcohol

I trudged my way across the grassy surface of the park, ignoring the ‘Please Do Not Walk on Grass’ signs. I shoved my keys into the front pocket of my pale green scrubs. The morning had been rather hectic, starting around 5am when my pager went off. Thankfully, it led to an opportunity to scrub in on a procedure in the OR.

I would be even more thankful when this surgical internship was over and I could hopefully move forward into residency. With the test coming up in a few weeks, it’s all I could think about.

Calum waved at me from the picnic table where he sat with a few of his coworkers, laughing as he realized I was avoiding the sidewalks. He and the others were dressed identically in black pants and tshirts with the fire departments logo across them.

I was just grateful to even get a lunch break and I imagine he was, too. Which was another reason I chose to ignore to silly signs littering the park.

I plopped down next to the brunette as the rest of the crew greeted me. Dumping the content of my lunchbox onto the table, I felt a little like I was back in elementary school, which was when I met Calum.

My older brother and I played soccer at the same sportsplex that Calum did. During the majority of my brother’s games, I found myself running around kicking the ball with the boys my age rather than braiding hair on the bleachers with the girls. I only knew him as one of the dudes who kept stealing the ball away from me back then.

As I entered high school, my brother was deployed overseas and my world continued to somersault after that. My parents picked us up and relocated across town before dropping me into a new school. I remember seeing Calum’s familiar face during lunch and was relieved when he didn’t shoo me away. We bonded over our mutual passion for soccer and common disdain for literary essays.

Since then, we had graduated high school and were dropped into adulthood. Calum honed in on his soccer skills for a while before choosing to pursue a different avenue. He had been volunteering with the local fire and rescue team and decided to do it full time.

I, on the other hand, pursued medical school - surgery, to be more specific. Science had always been my niche in school and something about human anatomy fascinated me. I wanted to cut things open, mend the broken; I wanted to be a surgeon.

I wrinkled my nose as I sniffed Calum’s shirt a second time.

“You smell like.. Is that kerosene?”

“And you smell like hospital,” he retorted. I nudged his elbow with mine as he cracked a smile. “We’ve been running drills in the warehouse this morning.”

I hummed, taking another bite of my sandwich.

“Why do you smell so hospital?” he asked.

“I got to help with an aortic valve replacement this morning.” I sat my sandwich down, knowing I was about to go all out talking with my hands. “I got to watch a heart beat right in front of me, okay. Not from the gallery. Not from a cadaver. But with my own two naked eyes. Do you know how cool that is? I-”

“Mm,” one of the guys across the table waved his hand, “Not at lunch.”

I chuckled, rolling my eyes a little. It amused me that these big, burly men could rush into burning buildings and be first responders but couldn’t handle a little anatomy talk. I suddenly heard the pager clipped to my waistband begin to beep. Pushing my top out of the way, I checked it.

“Sorry. I have to go.” I said, stuffing my food back into my bag. “Oh, and don’t forget - it’s another night of Shark Week, so I’ll see you after work.”

Calum gave me a thumbs up as his mouth was too full to speak. I jogged a few steps before turning back to the table to yell one last thing.

“And the boys are welcome to come!”

-

There was a knock on the door at a quarter until seven. I skipped away from the kitchen where I was making dinner, opening the door to find Calum standing on the other side. I apparently made a face which was his cue for explanation.

“Ashton’s family is in town. Michael is deep into a video game. And Luke-”

“Is running a little behind,” Luke chimed in as he appeared from the apartment stairs, “but brought a bottle of wine.”

I laughed, “Fitting.”

-

I bolted upright from sleep when I heard the familiar beeping going off somewhere in the distance. I untangled my legs from Calum’s lengthy ones from where he had fallen asleep opposite me on the couch. Stumbling through my slumber, I found my pager at the bottom of my purse. As soon as I stopped it from beeping, I heard Calum’s begin to go off in the living room followed by the creaking of the couch cushions.

I stepped into the laundry room to grab a clean pair of scrubs, tugging them on as Luke groaned from where he lay stretched out on the rug.

“You people need to get better jobs.”

“You’re welcome to go sleep in my bed,” I replied, looking up to see him already halfway there as I pulled on my tennis shoes.

Calum snatched his keys off the counter and headed out the door ahead of me. It was still dark outside. I glanced down at my watch then to realize it was 4:22am. Opening the door to my car, Calum did the same a few spaces over from me.

“Have a great day!” he yelled.

“You have a great day, too!”

-

Pacing down the hall, I watched as several gurneys wheeled past.  

“Multi-car pile up,” one of the nurses said, shoving a clipboard in my hands, “Go find Dr. Bridges. I think she has some scans for you to look at.”

-

Clicking through the slides again on the computer, there were no signs for concern. Dr. Bridges had been paged back to the ER and left me with Alison, a fellow intern like myself. She told us to notify her if there were any concerns and thankfully, we couldn’t pinpoint any.

“Why do you smell like a boy?” Alison asked, snickering a little under her breath.

I raised a brow and shrugged. My clothes were clean.

“Oh,” I paused, “Calum fell asleep on my couch last night. His scent always seems to linger for some reason.”

She grinned at that.

“Wipe that look off your face before I smack it off.”

“Rude,” she laughed, “He’s at your house a lot. That’s all I’m saying.”

“He lives with three other guys. I would want to get away sometimes too if I were him,” I took the clipboard from Alison’s hands, scribbling down some notes in the patient’s chart. “Luke was there last night too. He’s probably still asleep at my house.”

I sprung up from my chair, heading to give the chart back to be signed off for release. Alison fell in beside me.

“I wasn’t implying anything. Just, given the history between you two-”

“Which was months ago,” I interjected.

“I was simply checking, that’s all. You can calm down.”

I shook my head at her as I tried to ignore the flush feeling in my cheeks.

Calum and I had kissed after a party several months ago. Liquid courage was my nemesis, and it seemed as if every time it entered my system after that night, the kissing kept happening. Things had gotten hot and heavy several times, but we drew the line at sleeping together.

After avoiding it for a while, we finally talked about it and hadn’t kissed each other since. He was my best friend, but the feelings that needed to correspond with such actions just weren’t really there.

I leaned against the nurses’ station, passing the clipboard to the nurse behind the desk and grabbing another one.

“She’s all good.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” the nurse smiled.

I flipped through the pages at hand as another round of gurneys burst through the double doors. I whipped my head around to the commotion. Dr. Bridges was already at the side of one stretcher as it wheeled past.

“Alison, go ahead and book an OR. You,” she nodded to me, “Catch Dr. Oliver when he comes in.”

I nodded as I heard the paramedics coming through the doors talking.

“Another round of the first responders were called in for backup and there was a collision on the way to the scene of the pile up. An engine and two police cars.”

My ears perked up at the man’s words. “Excuse me, did you say that a fire engine was involved in the accident?”

The man nodded.

“Do you happen to know which one? Uh, a name or number or something?”

He stuttered for a second before the guy next to him spoke up.

“I thought I overheard someone say Tabasco maybe,” he shrugged.

I felt my heart begin to beat faster.

“That’s Cal’s,” I mumbled, tossing my clipboard to the counter and taking off past the double doors. I made it outside as another ambulance had just pulled up and was opening its doors. I saw Calum sitting to the side as they pulled down the stretcher that I was relieved he wasn’t on, but my concern grew.

“Cal!”

His shirt was streaked with blood, a gash on his bicep oozing crimson.

“Calum!” I bounced to his side as someone handed a gauze to press against his wound.

“I’m okay,” he reassured, “The blood isn’t mine and I just need a few stitches. But that’s Cameron in there. That’s Cam.”

It was then that I noticed the tears in his eyes as he pointed in the direction of his friend and continued to ramble out of panic.

“Y/N!”

I turned to the source of yelling, seeing Dr. Oliver waving me in his direction.

“The patient’s spleen has already ruptured. We need to get him to surgery now. You’re scrubbing in.”

I glanced back to Calum who squeezed my hand.

“He’s one of my best friends. Please take care of him.”

I nodded, tightening my grip on his hand before darting off with Dr. Oliver.

-

I stood, holding the instruments in hands steady as Dr. Oliver worked across from me. Once inside, there had been much more damage than we initially suspected. The monitor began to beep frantically.

“His bp is dropping,” the doctor called out. There were people rushing around, supplies being passed back and forth, a whirlwind of things taking place around me in the crowded operating room.

-

I took a deep breath as I followed Dr. Oliver to the waiting area. I saw Calum sitting in the far corner, his arm freshly stitched and bandaged. He was surrounded by a few other guys from the station. He was the first to look up, locking eyes with me almost immediately.

His brows furrowed and I shook my head the slightest amount. His eyes fell and I stayed behind to allow Dr. Oliver to deliver the devastating news. I watched as their heads fell into their hands and tears began to run down my best friend’s face.

-

Calum gave up on fidgeting with his tie and walked over to where I was applying lipstick in the mirror. I pushed the black fabric into place, straightening his collar to lay flat.

Cam had started at the station the same day that Calum did. They had been placed on the same team since day one and had fought many fires together, ran into many smoldering building alongside one another. A few day ago, Cameron had been laughing at our lunch table and then I had to hear someone call his time of death.

There was no way I wasn’t going to be by my friend’s side and let him squeeze my hand so tight I thought it might break.

I looked up as Calum’s heavy lidded eyes stared down at my concentration. His eyes always reminded me of a fresh cup of coffee. The kind you would drink on a cool morning while the wind blew through your hair, peaceful and pleasant. But today they were filled with sadness.

“Ready to go?” I asked softly.

He nodded, grabbing his coat.

-

Calum was making small talk by the time we made it back to my apartment, which let me know that he was going to be okay. He had been incredibly quiet the past few days which was beginning to worry me, but little pieces of himself were starting to show again.

I had taken the morning off to be with him. Once he had fallen asleep on the couch, I decided to go on in for the evening shift. I covered him with a blanket and tip toed out the door.

I was still wearing my black dress and heels when I got to the hospital. Alison was waiting for me when I entered the locker room, sitting on one of the benches.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“Hard,” I sighed, unzipping my dress and pulling my top over my head, “But Cal’s gonna be okay.”

I slipped into the bottoms, lacing my tennis shoes before shoving my belongings into the open locker.

“Why didn’t you just change before you got here?” she asked, handing me my badge as I worked my hair into a ponytail.

“He fell asleep on my couch,” I waved a finger in her face when I saw a smirk begin to tug at the corners of her mouth, “Don’t even start.”

-

I tread lightly into my house a little after midnight, startled by the noise. Ashton and Michael sat on the couch, yelling at the video game on the tv screen. Calum balanced on the arm of the couch, screaming along with the other two.

“Um, hi?”

I kicked my shoes off at the door and tossed my keys next to my purse on the ground. They paused the game briefly to say hello as Calum pushed himself up and followed me into the kitchen.

“Where’s Luke?”

“He was in one of his moods where he plays music too loud and sits in the shower,” Michael answered bluntly, “We had to get out.”

I laughed as they went back to playing. Grabbing a water from the refrigerator, I turned to Calum who was leaning against the counter.

“Have you been drinking?” I asked.

He grinned, “What gave it away?”

“My house smells like popcorn. You only eat popcorn when you’ve discovered the stash of beer in the back of the refrigerator.”

“Guilty,” he shrugged with a grin, “How was work?”

I turned my back to him, reaching for an apple from the basket of fruit. I began cutting it into bite sized slices.

“Not too bad actually. I got to scrub in on an appendectomy and a cholecystectomy.”

As I continued slicing and rambling on about my evening, a pair of arms found their way around me, hands resting against the bar. I noted the familiar initials inked on them and before long felt Calum’s chest against my back. His lips ghosted over my neck, leaving a delicate trail behind. I bit away the tug of pleasure on my lips as I laid the knife I was cutting with down.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled under my breath. He reached for the ponytail holding my hair in place and tugged it loose. I spun on my heels, taking the stretchy band from his fingers and sliding it onto my wrist.

“You’ve had a long day,” I took the apple slices and wrapped them in a paper towels, “And I have rounds first thing in the morning, so I’m gonna head to bed. You guys are welcome to stay up. Just be sure to turn everything off before you go to sleep.”

Calum nodded before I headed to my room, shutting the door behind me.

-

I looked over at the time again before returning my eyes to the ceiling. I had been laying in bed for almost an hour and had yet to fall asleep. I could hear the boys still playing video games in the living room, but that wasn’t why. I could fall asleep just about anywhere. Noise didn’t bother me.

I kept thinking back through all the times Calum and I had locked lips over the past few months. And then to the conversation we had about keeping the recreational smooches to a bare minimum. We knew we weren’t trying to send each other mixed signals; it was best if we just cut out that bit so our friendship didn’t stand the chance of getting weird.

So why was I so put off by his advances tonight? It wasn’t the drinking. We’d been tipsy in every other occasion. I didn’t want to blame it on the fact that he’d just lost a friend. Typically in emotional situations, he’s light a cigarette and get back to business, which I’d seen him do lately.

Was it because the other boys were in the next room?

I turned on my side, burying my face in the pillow with a groan. I desperately needed to fall asleep, like an hour ago.

-

Life was back to being fast paced.

I sat across the table from Calum outside at a local coffee shop. It was well past 10pm and I was trying not to choke on my food from laughing so hard. There were very few people out at this hour, most of them like us with jobs that had chaotic schedules.

“I can’t believe he did that,” I wiped my hand on a napkin, shaking my head, “Actually, yes I can. It totally sounds like something he would do.”

Calum let out an audible sigh as laughter died in the back of his throat. He rubbed his thumb over the glass of his cup that was accumulating moisture. I pulled my knee into my seat, resting my chin against it.

“Gotta stay at the station tonight?”

“Yep. I’m on call.” Calum checked his watch before scooting his chair back and gathering his trash. “I should probably head that way.”

I followed suit in cleaning up my area, stalking next to the tall boy as he walked me to my car. Like the gentleman Mrs. Joy and Mr. David raised him to be, he opened my door and motioned me inside. He paused to lean against the open door.

“I think we’re planning to meet Mali for drinks tomorrow night if you want to come.”

“Heck yeah,” I grinned lazily, “Just let me know when you get off work.”

“I will,” he nodded as he forced himself to stand straight. “Drive safe.”

-

The buzzing atmosphere of the bar smothered me the moment I stepped inside. I managed my way through the sea of people over to the corner where I saw the boys standing around.

“Hey,” I cooed excitedly as I tugged on the arm of Calum’s leather jacket. He greeted me with a beaming grin as he turned around, drinking sloshing in his hand. His eyes wasted no time scanned the length of my figure.

“Well, don’t you look extra nice tonight,” he noted.

I bit my lip, running my fingertips along the fabric of the tee he wore underneath, pinching the material lightly.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, mister fireman.”

I spotted Mali walking back up from getting a drink at the bar and waved. Wiggling my way through to give her a hug, I noticed Calum place his hand in the small of my back to allow me past him. It lingered a little longer than I felt necessary, and I caught him doing it randomly throughout the night. It was a small gesture, one that felt foreign yet familiar all at once.

As the night drew to a close, we each caught an Uber in groups to head back to our respective homes. My face tingled from the alcohol in my system as I peered out the window. Mali was still talking animatedly with her brother next to me.

Her place was the first stop. The two of us waved goodbye and promised to meet up again with her soon. Next was Calum’s house. From the looks of it, the other three boys had already made it back, several lights being turned on throughout the place.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight,” I said, leaning into his side.

“Anytime,” he smiled, “Let me know you make it home safely, okay?”

I nodded, his brown eyes staring down at me. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to my cheek before scooting out the door.

Turning my gaze forward, I noticed the driver looking at me in the rear view mirror.

“What?”

He shrugged, his voice pleasant, “You guys are cute.”

Instead of arguing the fact, I allowed myself to not fight the heat rising in my cheeks, a grin daring to creep up with it.

“Thanks.”

-

I met Luke on the sidewalk as I made my way to their front door, Petunia’s nails clicking as she walked happily next to him.

“Cal should be clothed but I make no promises about the others,” he said. Always reassuring, I thought. “But fair warning - he’s not in the greatest of moods.”

Upon entering, I could hear piano chords being played from the back of the house but no voices. The other boys must be upstairs. Dropping my keys in a nearby chair, Calum’s dog rounded the corner and made a b-line to me, wagging his tail enthusiastically around my ankles.

“Hey there buddy.”

Duke always did bring out the soft side of me, causing me to talk to him in my baby voice. It was a little embarrassing at times. After satisfying him with pets, he trailed along beside me as I made my way through the downstairs.

Calum sat at the piano, still dressed simply in black shorts and a white tee with a black cap over his messy hair. They must have drilled today at the station.

Sneaking up behind him, I poked him gently in the side. His body flinched slightly before he turned his head to find it was just me. I leaned against the edge of the piano as his fingers continued to roam across the black and white keys until he finally came to a stop.

“Not a great day, huh?” I asked softly.

He rubbed his eyes as he let out a single chuckle; he shook his head.

“It was the new guy’s first day.” he paused as I took a seat on the piano bench beside him. “I remember what it was like to be new and not really know what I was getting into. And I know he’s coming in under unfortunate circumstances, but.. He’s not Cameron.”

Calum let his index finger hit a key lazily at random. I could tell he was still deep in his thoughts.

“What’s the first thing I do when I meet a patient for the first time? Or when I’m reporting to an attending?”

He looked down at me, his brows knitting together.

“Their name,” I answered, “I say their name. It helps us to establish a sense of relationship with the patient. What’s the new guy’s name?”

“Uh.. Graham.”

“Greet him that way,” I let me fingertips tuck themselves away underneath his arm, his hand gripping the seat. I leaned a little closer. “You said you remember what it was like, and he probably feels out of place. But he will never take the place of Cameron. You know that.”

He nodded subtly as his gaze fell to my finger tracing the horseshoe inked on his forearm. I stared at his solemn expression, his weary eyes.

“Go get your cleats,” I stated. He looked up at me with confusion.

“What?”

“Go get your cleats.”

“Why?”

“Just go grab your cleats!” My tone was more demanding than either of us expected, but he stood up and headed for the stairs. “And meet me at my car.”

-

“Is this considered breaking and entering?” Calum asked as I fumbled with the lock on the gate. There was a large enclosed field a few blocks from the hospital. It was dark now and the stadium lights had automatically switched on.

“I know the lock combination. We use this place all the time for events, and I work at the hospital so I’m taking my chances.”

He chuckled, tossing the soccer ball back and forth between his hands. Pushing the gate open, he darted around me, dropping the ball to the ground and kicked it forward. I dropped my belonging to the grass as I heard a low rumble of thunder in the distance.

I rolled my eyes as Calum showed off some of the many tricks he still had.

“Are you gonna pass me the ball or not?” I yelled.

About that time, the ball zoomed past me. My mouth fell open. Calum laughed.

“You have to be ready at all times!”

I shook my head and turned to chase the ball. I stared down at the purple and turquoise cleats I’d gotten back when I first started college as I passed the ball between them.

Calum had always been so good at soccer. I remember envying him in high school and thinking he was absolutely insane when he gave it up. But he was also an insanely good fireman so I guess I couldn't give him too much grief for it.

-

Calum bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. I took advantage of the moment, kicking the ball past him and snatching the hat off his head along the way. He threw his hands up; I grinned, pulling it on over my head, the end of my ponytail hanging rather loose around my neck. I did a little dance as I kicked the ball into our makeshift goals.

“You have to be ready at all times!” I mocked. He placed a hand on his hip before pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe sweat from his forehead. The dark curls he had concealed were now on full display.

I felt a bit of moisture run down my arm. Thinking it was sweat, I ignored it until I felt it again. And again.

Calum and I both turned our faces to the sky as raindrops began to pour. I noticed the droplets begin to drench his already sweaty tshirt. He’d chosen a great day to wear white.

I wasn’t phased by a little rain and darted down the field while my friend was still distracted. He snapped out of it pretty quick, sprinting in my direction. He managed to snatch the ball from underneath me.

Quick to act, I stuck myself in front of him. I managed to steal the ball back but he immediately intersected and got it again. I snarled lightheartedly, sticking my arms out as he tried to get around me.

“Hey, that is not fair,” he said in my ear. I giggled as he continued to struggle, watching mud that had begun to form  hit my socks. “Y’know what?”

I felt Calum wrap his arms around my midsection and lift me up. He kicked the ball as hard as he could to send it out of my reach before spinning us in a circle; chuckles fell from our mouths.

My feet finally planted the ground as Calum’s became tangled with mine, sending us tumbling to the soggy grass. Another wave of laughter escaped us as I sat up and looked over to Calum who was laying on his back, letting the raindrops continue to cover him.

My breathing began to steady as he peered up at me. Sitting up, he plucked the black cap off my head that I’d stolen earlier, pulling it over his saturated locks. He flashed me a grin as I shoved his shoulder.

We took the opportunity to race for the building just outside the wire fencing that provided an awning to escape the rain. I plopped down on the cement, stripping free of my cleats and dirty socks. Cal hung his hat on his knee and ran a hand through his hair. I listened to the rain fall, peaceful and steady; it had picked up a little now.

“Cam was planning to propose to his girlfriend,” Cal mumbled after being quiet for a while. “He had a ring and everything.”

I scooted back to lean against the wall next to him, sadness washing over me.

“Tragedy makes you question a lot of things. I know we stare death in the face almost daily, but it’s different when it hits so close to home,” he paused and I nodded in agreement. “I like you.”

His statement caused me to stop rubbing at the dirt on my hands and look at him. I saw his jaw flex before he continued to speak.

“And not in the ‘it’s 2am and I’m stuck trying to fall asleep in an uncomfortable bunk bed by myself at the station’ sense. But the.. ‘2 in the afternoon when I have to run errands after an early morning call’ kind. I find myself wondering if you were able to finish your breakfast before rounds, or if you skipped lunch and settled for a cup of coffee so you could scrub in on some awesome surgery.”

He finally looked me in the eyes, “I like you, and I’ve only ever kissed you when I was drinking because at least I’d have something to blame it on if things went wrong. And I am strangely sober right now.”

I stifled a laugh as he smirked. His gaze went back to his feet, playing with a loose string on the hemming of his shorts. I took a moment to admire him. I was also strangely sober, and he apparently didn’t know I had been fighting the same feelings.

As my eyes flickered down to his lips, my hand reached over and took his chin. I leaned over and pressed our lips together. After a moment, I felt him relax into the unexpected action. His hand found my waist and gently drew me closer.

It wasn’t like the kisses we shared before that were sloppy and erratic. It was purposeful, filled with intent and emotion. He nipped at my bottom lip a little which caused me to smirk a bit.

Another roar of thunder is what pulled us apart, the sound closer than it had been before. Calum bit at his lower lip, trying hard not to grin so wide.

“We should probably get going,” he muttered, his forehead resting against mine.

I pushed myself off the ground as he did the same, bending over to pick up my things. He stepped out into the rain to head back to the field to grab the soccer ball we’d left behind. I noted the amount of mud covering the back of his shirt from when we’d fallen earlier.

“Hey,” I called. He paused just inside the gate to turn my way. “You better not get the inside of my car muddy!”

He smirked with his tongue between his teeth before reaching over his head and pulling off his shirt, tossing it for me to catch. I shook my head as I caught it, warmth rising in my cheeks as I watched him jog off shirtless.

-

The hospital had been insane as of late with long demanding shifts and people competing for surgeries. But I still smiled a little when I thought about the fact that I had passed my exam and was finally a first year resident.

I dropped onto the couch the second I made it home. I probably hadn’t slept in about 40+ hours; my feet were killing me and I was beyond exhausted.

Nearly asleep, I heard the knob of my front door being turned followed my heavy footsteps. Calum’s scent hit me before he ever did. I groaned when I felt his body weight press down on me, his arms on either side of my body as he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

“I was almost asleep,” I whined.

“I’m sorry,” he answered, giving my cheek another peck. He sat up and began to strip off his jacket, laying it on the coffee table. Next, he moved to his shoes, kicking them off. He took an extra second to pull my own shoes off because I’d been too lazy to do so before he settled back on the couch with me. I snuggled my back closer to his chest as he brushed my hair away from my face.

“Are you going to be free Friday night?” he asked low in my ear. I nodded, eyes still closed. “We’re having a banquet in memory of Cameron, and I would love for you to come with me.”

“Of course I will,” I rested my hand on top of his, “But for now - snuggles and sleeps.”

He let out a low chuckle in my ear and I felt chill bumps forming on my skin.

“Yes ma’am,” he said, pressing his lips to the base of my neck.

-

Calum stuck his arm out and I happily looped mine through his. As we made our way to the front of the venue, he caught me checking him out again. He looked so handsome in his button up tucked neatly in his black trousers. I couldn’t help myself.

I placed a quick kiss on his lips before rounding the corner with him to the entrance. After greeting the chief and finding our table, he slipped off to speak to a few colleagues. I wandered over to the refreshments to grab each of us a drink. I got in line behind a lady who looked to be around my age. She looked familiar but I couldn’t put a name with the face.

“Hi, I’m Amelia,” she said sweetly, offering her hand to shake, “I was Cameron’s girlfriend.”

Was. That’s why I recognized her. I introduced myself and I could tell she was trying to place me as well.

“I’m Calum’s girlfriend,” I added. That was the first time I’d really said those words aloud to someone and I couldn’t contain the extra bit of enthusiasm. I just hated that she happened to be the recipient of it.

She laughed, “Ah, yes. It’s about time. The few times Calum and Cam hung out, he would mention you. Cam always tried to get him to make a move. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the young lady he spoke so highly of.”

“Well thank you,” I was flattered. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.”

We got our drinks and went our separate ways back to our seats. Calum had already made it back and glanced up as I sat his drink in front of him. He gave a grateful smile before taking a sip. He caught me staring again, but this time it wasn’t just because of his dashing looks.

“Are you checking me out again?” he asked, taking another sip. I snickered, lacing our fingers together.

“I adore you, y’know that?”

His features lit up gradually, a smile reaching all the way to his eyes. He squeezed my hand and brought the back of it to his lips.

“I adore you, too.”

We turned our attention to the stage as the lights began to dim and the chief began to speak.

“Thank you so much to each of you for coming out tonight in memory of someone very special to us. I’ve actually asked a close friend of Cameron’s to come speak a few words. Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Calum Hood.”

I joined in applause with the other guests. Calum  hadn’t told me he’d been asked to speak, which was probably to ease his nerves a bit. I watched as he took the stage and began to recap certain moments in his friendship with Cameron.

Unfortunately, tragedy often does make us rethink our own lives. It puts things in perspective.

I realized that my life was now filled with pagers and surgeries and schedules that screwed up my sleep. Before long I’d be taking on a fresh set of interns that had the same high hopes as me, and I’d get to come home to Calum in a way I hadn’t before.

I realized that this was my life, and that was my man.

And I couldn’t be more grateful.

[hbwbyniall]

"Wanna go out sometime?" i'm in need of some narry fluff

Niall isnot a fan of coffee, he prefers tea too be honest. But when you only had fourhours of sleep before a very important midterm for his Economy class, he neededsomething to recharge and act like a person and be able to write the answers onthe paper.

So heenters the only coffee shop in his campus, ready to ask for a strong blackcoffee and leave immediately after so that he could read his notes for one lasttime. But all that goes to trash when he sees the new barista.

He is oneof the most – if not the most –beautiful man Niall has ever seen. He can already feel his heartbeat rising andhis hands getting sweaty, which is ridiculous because Niall is not sixteenanymore and he knows how to behave like an adult. Well, maybe not this early inthe morning and the fact that this guy is smiling so big that his dimples were being shown off madeit worse. And when hewelcomes him into the store, it makes everything ten times harder.

Niall waslost in his green eyes for way too long because the barista clears his throatand asked for his order, again. Niallmumbles ‘something with coffee’ making the barista laugh and it’s like Niall isnot tired anymore. It’s like he has all the energy in the world to climb theEverest up and down. He feels like a smile starts growing on his face too.

“What’syour name?” the barista asks.

Niall readshis name on the little plaque pinned to his shirt. Harry. Of course that’s his name. It goes perfectly with the curlsstarting to grow in his hair, those pink lips and that chiseled jaw. But for noapparent reason, Niall starts to panic.

“Adam Smith,”After the name came out of his mouth and everything related with the Wealth of Nations starts to pile up inhis head starting to cause him a migraine, he feels his face heating up andhe’s sure he’s turning red.

Niall endsup holding a caramel macchiato, wondering what the hell is wrong with him.

*

Besides thefact that Niall doesn’t really like coffee, what he dislikes the most is coldcoffee. It’s like tea, they’re meant be to drunk hot, that’s a thing. But sincethe  disastrousfirst attempt to talkto this Harry guy, he started to go  to the coffee shop three times a week. Even if it was only to orderdrinks he will be giving to Eleanor later and mumbling names that aren’t his.So far he’s been James – which was pretty close the second time he went butHarry said he didn’t look like aJames –, John, Ashton, Will, René, Steve, Mike, Francis or even Bobby.

Louisrealized the situation shortly after the fourth free drink he gave to Eleanor,so he decided to go with him next time, because what could possibly go wrong? It’s Louis! The guy is just asdiscreet as a pink dress in a funeral.

It doesn’tmatter how many times Niall has begged, or promised to do the laundry, clean upLouis’ part of the apartment, cook Saturdays and Sundays or even write hisessays. Louis won’t give up and Niall can’t escape when Louis grabbed by hisjacket.

The doorbellrings when they step into the coffee shop and Harry is already smiling and lookinggorgeous. Niall tries to turn around and leave the place but Louis forces himto walk, smiling just as big as Harry. Deathwould be kinder.

“Hey you!What would you have today?” Harrychirps, standing behind the register.

“Ehm” Niallpretends to look at the board over Harry’s head but he doesn’t really wantanything. “Just a cappuccino, please.”

Harry nodsand takes a cup, pen poised ready to scribble a name. “Name?” He raises hiseyebrow, already trying to bite his smile back.

Niall wantsto disappear because Louis is also looking at him, waiting. Niall panics,again. So he does the only thing he thinks that could save him, he looks down athis shirt. “Bruce.”

And nowLouis is laughing, really loudly andNiall is sure his right ear is permanently damaged from it. Harry smiles, but there’ssomething in his eyes that Niall can’t place, maybe disappointment?

“And whatis your favorite song, Mr. Springsteen?” Harry says writing the name in thecup.

It almostfeels like he’s flirting with him, but Niall has noticed these past few weeksthat Harry is charming by nature. He’s always smiling and giving complimentswhich gives him the best tips, and Niall understands. It makes him a little jealousbut he gets it. It’s just the way he is, it’s the way he talks to him, the wayhe looks at him. And there are times he thinks he catches him looking at hislips, or blushing or laughing at something that Niall said, but he can never besure.

So Niallopens his mouth to answer because this is something he can do, talk aboutmusic. But before he can pour his heart to Harry and talk about how he just sawhim in concert two months ago, or the afternoons with his dad listen to hisvinyls when he was six or how sick is this vintage store he found last week iswith all these band shirts, Louis starts talking so fast that he didn’t see itcoming, “Oh, he does a killer Dancing InThe Dark in karaoke, with the moves and all.”

Niall knowshe’s blushing, and he hates it.

“Well, Ithink I need to see that,” Harry is looking at him, smiling before he goes tomake his drink.

Niall turnsto Louis, whose eyebrows are raised and that arrogant expression is all overhis face, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Oh shutup! The guy is totally into you, he’s been smiling the whole time since youwalk in!”

Niall biteshis bottom lip, but when he looks where Harry is standing making the coffee, agirl is next to him, a beautiful co-worker who’s dragging his finger in hisarm, laughing at something he says.

“Yeah,totally into me.” Niall grumbles.

When Harrycomes back with the coffee, Niall takes the cup with a mumbled thanks before leaving Louis to pay for the drink. It’s theleast thing he can do after giving his girlfriend three months of free drinks.

*

Niall knowshe’s been childish. And he’s punishing no one but himself this last week, buthe can’t seem to go back to the coffee shop after that. Maybe it was the factthat he made a fool of himself in front of Louis or how he hatesthe feeling of hisheart dropping to his stomach. However, he can’t hide anymore. Not when his study group wants to gothe damn coffee shop to talk about the final project instead of the library.

Maybe he’llget lucky, maybe Harry called in sick this morning or today is his day off sohe won’t have to see his beautiful face and become a mumbling mess again. Butthe truth is, he kind of misses Harry. Especially when he’s been the only thingon his mind for the last week.

He sighswhen he walks in, and of course Harry’s there, wearing that white shirt and hisred apron with a smile on his face that slowly vanishes the moment he sees Niall.

“Hey, it’sbeen a while,” Harry says, trying to look him in the eyes.

Niall nods,pressing his lips into a tight line, looking around the coffee shop andnoticing there’s no one from his study group there yet. He takes out his phoneto text them, trying to distract himself by doing something with his handsinstead of looking at Harry.

“What can Iget you?,” Harry tries again, getting his face a little closer to Niall and usingthat inviting tone he has to make Niall look at him.

“A blackcoffee, please.” Nialldoesn’t look up from the phone when he answers Harry.

Harry nods and clear his throat, and he’sabout to take the cup when he looks at Niall. “Louis was here the other day.”

Harry’s words make Niall takes his eyesoff his phone and look at him. The look on Niall’s face must be really funnybecause Harry starts laughing as he speaks, “Asked me if I had a girlfriend.”

He’s gonnakill him, he’s gonna murder his best friend in his sleep.

“I told himI don’t, I already like this cute boy who comes in every Monday, Wednesday and Friday who won’t give me hisname,” he says shyly.

Now Niallunderstands the reason no one is here. His dumb study group with Liam in it,the only guy in the world who would jump out of a bridge if Louis tells him to.Niall opens his mouth, not knowing what to say because he can’t get his mind tocatch up because of how fast his heartbeat is beating.

“Name?” Harry poises thesharpie over the cup.

“Wanna go out sometime?” the words split out of Niall’s mouthwithout giving it a second though.

Harrysmiles, really big, showing those dimples and biting his lips. He writes on thecup and then goes to make the drink like nothing happen, leaving Niall standingthere like an idiot with his mouth open as he is asking himself if it was toolate.

Haryreturns short after and places the cup in front of him with just a word writtenon it.

Yes.

Niallsmiles.

“I’m Niall”

“Nice tofinally meet you Niall, I’m Harry”

Special thanks to @jamesniallar and @addictingnarry as always

[irrevocably-delicious]

Hey you guys wanna preview of that soulmate au I’m working on?

Anyway here’s the first ~3000 words. This is gonna be a long fic.

Hope you guys enjoy the direction this is going

Keith feels his eyes blink awake as he’s suddenly aware of how uncomfortably warm it is in his bedroom and how the skin of his thighs stick together. He rolls over and groans. His knees pop. He reaches for his phone to check the time.

 11:12 am

 He sighs feeling disappointed in himself. He used to get up and run 10km before 7am, but his night classes are now taking their toll. He tosses his phone to the side and that’s when he sees it. Written in what looks like blue pen, in fine, scratchy, writing, three words are written across the back of his left hand.

 Eggs

Milk

Rice

 He squints at the words. Was I supposed to buy these? He thinks. They’re clearly a shopping list of some sort, a kind of reminder, but Keith has no memory of writing down the list. He also has no memory of needing any of these ingredients. He had always been a restless sleeper, perhaps he had written it in the middle of the night in a bout of sleepy inspiration?

 Keith pays it no mind and decides to finally begin his day. He hops into the shower and relishes the feeling of shedding his layer of night sweat. He feels even better when he takes a handful of body wash and begins lathering up his body. This is when he notices the second peculiar thing about the note on his hand.

 It doesn’t come off. Not only does it not come off, but it doesn’t fade or bleed or even smudge. The note looks exactly like a plain blue ballpoint pen, but it behaves like its tattooed onto Keith’s skin.

 Keith rubs at the note more aggressively. His nails scratch at his skin, hoping it’ll lift up, when he pauses. His eyes narrow on the note as realization hits.

“I’m fucking lactose intolerant.” He scoffs.

 The note haunts Keith for the rest of the day. He wishes he could let it go, but upon further investigation things just start to get odder.

 He has no memory of writing the note. He’s lactose intolerant, so there would never be a need to buy milk, and now Keith is pretty sure that the handwriting isn’t even his. He’s sitting at the dining room table rewriting the words “eggs milk rice” over and over again, trying to compare them to the one on his hand. He supposes he could have possibly written this? Maybe if he was half asleep and his motor skills were off? But the g’s look dramatically different and the lowercase k is all wrong. He groans.

 “Studying?” Shiro walks in and seems impressed at the image of his little brother surrounded by paper with what looks like notes on them.

“Shiro, do I sleep walk?” Keith blurts. Shiro blinks at the odd outburst. He pauses for a moment until he registers the question he has just been asked.

“Ah I mean…” He scratches the side of his cheek in thought. “Maybe? I dunno. You’ve always been a pretty light sleeper. Generally once you’re awake, you’re fully awake.”

Keith pouts and Shiro sees that this is not the answer he was looking for.

“But sleeping habits change all the time, so you never know. Like it’s common for people who maybe slept really heavy as kids to get more sensitive when they’re older.”

 Keith nods, but the wrinkle between his brows does not go away.

 He manages to pull his focus from his hand for the rest of the night. His night classes are tiring, but they work wonders in distracting him. Keith collapses in bed at the end of the night and doesn’t remember his hand until he’s in the shower again. He breathes a sigh of relief when he notices that it has faded. It still doesn’t smudge in the shower, but at least it looks like it will not be permanent.

 The note is almost completely gone by evening. Only shreds of letters remain in faint blue. Keith lounges on the couch, judging Shiro as he plays his video game and his character falls off another ledge.

“You can jump on your hat remember.”

“Fuck, no, I always forget that.”

“Or you know, just get better at hitting x. That’s literally all this is.” Keith smirks. Shiro elbows him in the ribs. Keith pushes him back.

 “Next time you die I…” But Keith can’t finish his thought. Because there, written on his hand in fresh ink, on top of the last note that has not quite completely gone away, are new words.

 Piano recital 6:30

 “Next time I what?” Shiro asks. Keith can barely hear over the pulse in his ears.

“I gotta pee.” He slurs out. His footsteps betray his panic in how quickly they rush across the floor. Shiro stares after him with concern.

 Keith crashes into the bathroom with labored breathing. He stares at the note. His head is full of screaming questions.

I’ve been awake this whole time, how did this happen? I didn’t write this… did I?! No! I would remember! Also I DON’T KNOW ANYONE WHO PLAYS THE PIANO!

 He shoves his hand underneath the tap and begins to scrub. Hard. He scrubs until his skin is raw and dry, but the blue words remain as fresh as ever. He stares at the note in defeat, his gut growing cold.

 Keith is scared.

 Over the next few weeks more notes appear. All of them are in that same scratchy writing. All of them impossible to remove, but seem to fade of their own accord. Most appear on his hand, but several appear on his forearm and palm. Sometimes it looks like ink stains his fingers.

 Remember permission slip

Cake pan 4 Hunk

Pick up Lisa

Get Tony’s cake

Uniform money

 Each note references an event or even a person that Keith does not know. He doesn’t have a uniform, and definitely no permission slips since he was expelled. Who the hell is Lisa? These words start to make Keith less afraid, but they being to feel otherworldly. Like something is trying to reach out to him. He sees glimpses into a life that is not his.

 Children’s drawings appear on his arm. Or at least he hopes it was drawn by a child. The classic square house with a triangle roof. Several crude looking human figures. A scribble that could be a dog. These make Keith the most nervous and curious.

 Keith rolls out of bed one morning and holds his arm above his eyes to survey what damage may have been done during the night. It’s become a habit by now. Wake up, look at arm, stare in frustration at any new notes, contemplate their meaning, wonder if he’s crazy, acceptance.

 This morning Keith gasps. His eyes roam over his arm to see that it is completely covered. Any bare skin that was left has now been marked with fresh notes and doodles, while old notes on his hand and wrist are just beginning to fade. His entire arm is a smattering of marker and pen, and some drawings have even made their way over to his other arm. Some are just swirls, while others are flowers or what looks to be a coding language. There’s a particularly large cupcake on his bicep with the words “Hunky cakes” written underneath it.

 Keith is horrified. He dresses in a long sleeved shirt even though it’s a particularly warm spring morning. Keith curses global warming as he tries to make himself a chilly breakfast smoothie. He goes about his day, running to the grocery store and working on some readings for his classes, whilst trying to keep his core temperature from climbing dangerously high. He wears shorts and ties his hair up, before he starfishes on the ground.

 When Shiro comes home from a long day of running tutorials he crashes on the couch next to Keith.

“Long day?”

“They’re so stupid.” Shiro whines. It’s one of his more common phrases these days. It’s not unusual for him to burst into Keith’s room late at night, brandishing some student’s essay that he’s marking, and start screeching “What the fuck?! What the fuck?! They’re so stupid! I told them so many times…. How do they…?! How do they not swallow their tongues in their sleep?!”.

 “Sorry,” Keith chuckles at his brother slumped next to him. “At least you don’t have any first years next semester.”

“I guess. But then I get angry at my students because they should know better.”

Shiro picks himself up by leaning on Keith, but visibly grimaces when he makes contact.

 “Ugh, bro you’re so hot.” He wipes his hand on his pants. Now that he’s close to Keith he can feel the heat coming off of him in waves. It’s making him uncomfortable, so he can’t imagine how Keith feels.

 “Jesus, why are you wearing this shirt? You should get changed.”

“I’m fine.” Keith shrugs. Shiro had felt that Keith’s shirt was damp with sweat. Hardly fine.

“At least push up your sleeves…” Shiro touches the cuffs of Keith’s sleeve, but Keith’s hand snaps down on top of his. He snatches his arm away.

“I said I’m fine.” He snaps.

 Shiro’s eyebrows rise in concern. Keith knows he’s fucked up now.

“Roll up your sleeves.” Shiro says. It’s not a request anymore.

“I don’t want to. I’m not hot.”

“Yes you are. Now roll up your sleeves and show me your arms.” Shiro shifts his body in a way that shows his brother that he is prepared to use force. He plants both feet firmly on the ground.

 Keith, troubled younger brother with a history of abandonment and anxiety problems understands Shiro’s concern. He knows what Shiro is thinking. Lord knows he displays the symptoms, but he can’t tell him the truth.

 “I’m not hurting myself.” Keith replies weakly.

“Then show me.”

Keith’s mouth hardens into a scowl.

 He holds up his hands to push back, but Shiro is too fast. His larger hand wraps easily around Keiths slender wrist, and even though Keith scratches at his hands and protests, he still feels his sleeve easily wrenched upwards. Shiro stills.

“What the…?” His eyes roam over the markings on Keith’s arms.

 They’re confusing, but harmless. He tries to read the notes, but doesn’t seem to understand the references to people or events that have no place in Keith’s life.

“What is this?” His tone is gentle. He releases Keith’s arm with an apologetic look.

“I don’t know!” Keith snaps. The stress and fear that had been simmering underneath his surface for weeks bursts forth. He’s terrified, but there’s a weird sense of relief that someone else knows now. That maybe someone else might believe him.

 “They just started appearing. Sometimes during the night, sometimes during the day. I can’t wash them off no matter what I do, but over time they do seem to fade.” Keith’s words are erratic.

“I don’t know who… who any of these people are!” He points at a note on his elbow. This one is in different handwriting that reads Katie was here.

Shiro pulls his arm close and inspects the notes closer. He also doesn’t recognize the names. His eyes ghost over one note that makes him gasp. It’s more faded but the words are unmistakable.

Get Dad’s dry-cleaning.

 “Keith… you definitely didn’t write these.” He admits.

“Yes thank you, I know that. My handwriting isn’t even the same. Believe me I’ve tested it.” With his secret out, Keith tears off his shirt in a huff. The fresh air against his sweaty body immediately makes him feel better.

“No I mean… I think someone else is writing these…” Shiro goes on. Keith continues to scowl.

 “I think this might be your soul link, Keith.”

Keith lets out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Fuck.” He slumps forward. “I was afraid of that.”

“What? No Keith this is great! This is exciting!” Shiro grabs the smaller boy’s shoulders and shakes him. Keith flops apathetically.

“Shiro, I just…”

“Have you written anything back?” Shiro beams. At least someone is thrilled.

“God no.” Keith scoffs. He pulls himself away from Shiro’s touch. Shiro sits with a shocked expression.

 “What?! Why not?!”

“Shiro!” Keith shouts. “You don’t understand. Like, I’ve gotten children’s drawings on here before! What if he’s old and has kids already? What if he’s…” He deflates.

“What if he’s already married?”

Shiro smirks.

“What if it’s not even a he?”

“Oh my god why would you even say that!?” Keith hisses and shoves his brother as he cackles into the couch cushions. Shiro lets him get in a couple of good hits. He deserves it.

 …

 Weeks pass and the notes on his arm continue to come in, but thankfully he is no longer covered. It’s back to the odd reminder on his hand, or a doodle on his wrist. Keith is thankful that he no longer has to hide them. For the first few days when Shiro would spy them he would get this know it all “You’re being unreasonable” look on his face, but now he has completely dropped it.

 Life goes on. Keith spends his days at the gym and his nights at the community college down the road trying to build up credits. He chips away at homework and punching bags, his days passing in the quiet way they always had. Shiro teaches during the day, and when their paths cross, they play video games together or go window-shopping with Matt.

 Matt crashes into their flat unannounced one night. He balances a box of a dozen donuts in one hand and a bag of ciders, soft drink and rum in the other. There’s a tube of pringles in the pocket of his jacket.

 “I just handed in the first draft of my thesis and now I need to get FUUUUCKED up!” He announces.

 Shiro and Keith stare from where they hover in the kitchen. Shiro is the first to move as he smirks. His hand reaches into the top drawer and he spins a bottle opener around on his finger.

“Right on, man.”

 After the initial congratulations, the three fall into a familiar pattern. Matt pulls out his laptop and they crowd around the coffee table, fingers greasy with pizza, and hop from vine compilation to some niche video Matt has found.

“Look at this premium content.” Matt whispers as his fingers excitedly enter new search terms.

 When they grow tired of what weirdness the internet has to offer, Shiro pulls out the videogames. They play mariokart (Matt yelling “dibs on waluigi”) but it’s around the time Shiro is playing Breath of the Wild with Matt helping him to solve a shrine puzzle, that Keith feels himself drifting off. He shouldn’t be surprised. Night school was really starting to wreak havoc with his sleep schedule. His head hits the armrest with a heavy thud and he doesn’t move for 10 minutes.

 “Dude, hey…” Matt whispers. Shiro hums in acknowledgement.

“Is Keith asleep?”

Shiro looks over his shoulder. Keith’s breathing is heavy and regular. His chest rises and crashes in a steady rhythm. Shiro chuckles.

“Aw poor little guy. He hit the wall.”

Matt starts to giggle gleefully to himself. He shuffles over to his back and pulls out a black marker.

“Punishment, punishment…” He chants under his breath. He uncaps the marker and gets close to Keith.

“Aw no, dude, no.” Shiro weakly protests, but he’s still laughing when Matt tip toes in close.

“He knows the rules! First one to fall asleep…” His hand hovers over Keith’s forehead.

“No! Dude, dude! Not the face! I’m serious, don’t.” Shiro hisses. Matt pouts a bit but understands.

“Ok ok, I’ll put it somewhere he can hide it.” He sighs.

 …

 “Morning,” Matt blearily greets Shiro as he pads to the fridge. He pulls out a gallon of orange juice and downs it straight from the bottle.

“Matt,” Shiro scowls over his coffee.

“What?” Matt wipes away his orange juice moustache. “I’m boosting your immune system. You should thank me.” He smirks.

 He starts to prepare his toast and he and Shiro fall into a comfortable silence. The room is quiet but for the quiet tinkle of Matt’s knife occasionally hitting his plate.  There’s a light breeze through the window and no one has anywhere to be for several hours.

 “WHAT THE…?!” The silence is broken. Both Matt and Shiro begin to laugh at Keith’s distant shout.

 It takes three seconds for him to come screeching in, brandishing his forearm in front of him. Matt’s crudely drawn dick covers most of the skin there.

“WHO THE FUCK DREW THIS?!” Keith is livid. His face is red.

Matt’s face matches, but it’s because he’s trying to keep in his laughter. He weakly raises his hand. Keith’s eyes are blazing.

 “MATT I WILL FUCKING-!”

“Hey, Keith, bud come on. You know the rules-“ Then Shiro’s eyes go wide. He claps a hand over his mouth and guilt rises in his throat.

“OH MY GOD I FORGOT!” He cries. “Keith, I’m so sorry! I let him-!”

“YOU FORGOT???!!” Keith’s voice pitches dangerously high.

“Just go wash it off! He may not have seen it yet!” Shiro tries to find some silver lining. Keith sprints towards the bathroom.

“IT’S NOON!” He cries behind him.

[singulari-taee]

The Danger in Duality | 04

COLLEGE! AU  |  ASSASSIN! AU  |  ANGST  | SMUT  | COMEDY | 5.5k

BTS X Reader

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

      “Do you know what stoichiometry is?” Jungkook asked, “Or a colloid?”

     Taehyung shrugged, “Beats me.”

      “Fuck,” he huffed, slamming his chemistry textbook closed, “I’m going to fail this quiz.”

      He was sitting on his bed, the sheets covered with hastily scribbled notes and flashcards. He had been trying to study for hours, but understood none of it. Jungkook was used to everything coming so naturally to him; strength, shooting, fighting--who knew chemistry would be the thing to kick his ass the hardest?

      “You’ll do fine, just try your best!” Taehyung said.

       Jungkook climbed off his bed. A part of himself wondered if it was too late in the semester to get Jimin to sleep with his professor to get his grade up. Jimin already owed him, he figured this was the least he could do.

      “Hey, before you leave could you pass me that oil over there?” Taehyung asked. He was sitting at his desk with his entire case of artillery open, cleaning the weapons.

       Jungkook grabbed the bottle and tossed it across the dorm room, “Don’t forget, we have a room check today. The RA should be coming by in a couple hours, so be sure to hide everything like usual.”

      Taehyung plucked it form the air, “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry, I’ve got it.”

      Jungkook stuffed his books into his backpack and threw it over his shoulder, “Tae, I’m serious. Don’t forget,” he said from the doorway.

         “I said I’ve got it! Geez, I haven’t forgotten yet since we’ve been here.”

        “I know, but I’m just making sure,” Jungkook said.

       “Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of everything. Go take your quiz.”

       Jungkook sighed. Sparing one last look at Taehyung he closed the door behind him and walked down the hall.

       Taehyung continued to stick the rod down the barrel of the rifle. He knew he wasn’t the most reliable in the squad, but the constant reminders still irked him. He couldn’t help it that details slipped his mind sometimes. Taehyung wasn’t stupid by any means, he was just...spacey.

       Time seemed to escape him as he sat in the empty room. There was something about cleaning the weapons that sent him into a trance-like state. The minutes passed by quickly, as the cold metal of the guns in his palms cleared his mind. Though, from all the gun parts he had spread across his desk, he knew clean-up would be a pain in the ass later.

       In the distance he heard the ring of the bell tower. It only rang at the beginning of every hour, which meant--

      “Shit!” he said as he jumped up. That was his signal that class had just started, and he was still across campus. He scoured the room for clean pants, throwing on a random pair of sweats and a hoodie. With shoes halfway on his feet, he grabbed his bag and bolted out the door, not even sparing a look back into the room.

____________________

      Taehyung took a sip from his warm cup. He had gotten his coffee just before the lunchtime rush, and had secured a table in the corner of the cafe. He took in the buzz of busy students on their daily commute through the window. He had gotten in the habit of people-watching in this very spot after a long day of classes. It was a routine that seemed to give his sometimes too hectic life some peace and stability.

       Taehyung saw a flash of bright blue lights as a police car flashed past the window and down the street. It was a bit out of the ordinary, but he continued to down the coffee until the cup was empty. He picked up his things and went to throw his trash away, walking out of the shop and down the sidewalk back towards his dorm.

     There was the sudden blaring of sirens coming from behind him. He looked back to see four more police cars zip past, and disappear around the corner.

      He rounded the corner to find that all of the police cars had gathered in front of his dormitory. There was a small crowd that had collected outside, confused murmurs filling the air. As he squeezed his way past to go to the entrance, the officers flooded from their cars and ran inside the building.

       Standing in front of the building, he noticed one officer speaking with a small curly haired girl. Taehyung recognized her as the RA for his floor. They never really spoke much, but he always thought she was really cute.

       “So you have no idea where he is?” he could hear the officer ask.

        “No, sir. I haven’t seen him all day,” she replied nervously.

        “We’re still going to have to take you in for questioning,’” he said,  “And just for clarification, what was the resident’s name again?”

        “Kim Taehyung.”

        He froze. He took in the flashing lights, the swarm of officers, the RA....

       No. He couldn’t have. He couldn’t have possibly forgotten.

       There was a buzzing in his pocket. He grabbed his phone to see a new message.

       Jungkook: I’M BEING TAKEN INTO POLICE CUSTODY FOR QUESTIONING. WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO???

       Taehyung felt his stomach drop. He immediately pulled up the hood on his jacket and  sank back into the growing crowd of people. He moved slowly, inconspicuous with his head bowed, and when he was free he all but ran until the building was out of sight.

_________________

       It was one of the more “normal” afternoons at the boys’ apartment.

       You and Namjoon were sitting at the kitchen bar while Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin were busy watching television on the sofa. The show went to commercial break, and you heard footsteps coming up behind you as your eyes were trained on your books. Given how close they were, you didn’t have to guess who it was.

       “What are you up to?” Jimin asked, chin on your shoulder.

        “Doing homework,” you replied.

       “For what class?” he grabbed the front of your textbook to get a look, “Anatomy? Hey baby, if you needed a lesson on the human body I can always teach you some things.”

       You turned around and twisted his nipples. He jumped back holding his chest.  He looked as if he were both offended and turned on at the same time. Nothing worked on him.

         Yoongi grunted, a slew of curse words coming out under his breath.

        “What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked.

         “I need another source for this psychology essay and I don’t have any.”

        “Psychology? I have a book at my place that might help,” Jimin said, as he massaged his chest.

       “Can I stop by your house later and get it?”

     “Yeah sure,” he said absentmindedly.

       There was a sudden pounding at the door. Jimin walked over and pulled it open.

      “Hey, Tae,” he said. He took in the look of sheer panic and distress on his face.

       Taehyung pushed past his squad mate and marched inside the apartment. He headed straight for the sofa and fell onto the cushions.

         He was breathing hard, sweat coating his face.

        “Tae, are you okay ?” you asked.

       “Where’s Jungkook? You two always come over together,” Seokjin said.

       Taehyung took his hoodie down, “Well you see...um...we have a bit of a problem.”

       “What are you talking about?” Namjoon said.

       “Well, Jungkook and I had a room check today...and I kind of forgot…to clean up...”

       “Kind of? What’s that even mean?” Hoseok asked.

      “Hey, stop with the riddles, Tae, tell us what the hell happened,” Yoongi said.

      He took a deep breath before spitting the words out, “IforgottoputallthethegunsawaybeforeourroomchecktodayandmyRAfoundthemandcalledthecopsandnowthey’reoutlookingformeI’msorrydon’tkillmeplease!”

       The room was quiet as the squad processed his words. You all looked around at each other before erupting.

       “TAEHYUNG WHAT THE FUCK?!”

       “I know! I know I messed up! I’m so sorry!”

      “Oh my god,” Namjoon said, walking away to grab onto a nearby wall.

       “We’re done for. We’re done. It’s over,” Jimin said.

      “How did this happen?!” Seokjin asked.

      “I was cleaning the guns before class, and forgot to pack them all up and hide them before I left! I was rushing out the door and I just forgot! Then when I went back, there were a bunch of police cars in front of my down, and I heard them say they were looking for me.”

      “How many guns did you have out? Two? Three?” asked Namjoon.

      Taehyung held his head, “Six.”

      The entire room groaned.  

      “But how does Jungkook play into all this?” you asked, “Where’s he now?”

      “He texted me a few minutes ago saying he just got taken into custody and was going to be interrogated,” Taehyung said.

       “So what the hell can we do now? They’re going to grill Jungkook for answers,” Jimin said.

     “I know he won’t say anything, he’s smart,” Taehyung said.

     You knew Jungkook was okay with keeping secrets. You just weren’t so sure his temper would be able to hold up for long.

     “We need to call grandfather,” Namjoon announced.

      “No! Are you crazy?!”

“He’s the only one that can get us out of this situation!”

     If Taehyung was scared before, he was mortified now. He began rocking back and forth. He felt nauseous.

       Namjoon pulled out his phone to find the number.

      He walked over to Taehyung with his hand outstretched. He looked up at his brother in confusion.

      “Go on, tell him,” Namjoon said.

      “M-me? Why me? You’re the leader!”

      “Because I’m not the one that left guns out in my dorm room!” he said in a heated whisper, “Take it, it’s ringing.”

       “Come on, please? I can’t do this, I really can’t!”

      “Tae.”

      “Joon!”

       “Namjoon what a surprise it is hearing from you today,” a deep voice said through the phone.

       Taehyung’s shoulders hunched and he snatched the phone from Namjoon’s hands.

      “Hi, grandfather, it’s actually me, Taehyung,” he got up from the sofa and began walking towards the back hallway of the apartment, “No, but I have a bit of a situation that I really need your help with as soon as possible. It’s kind of urgent. No everything is fine! I mean...”

       He walked into one of the boys’ bedrooms and shut the door, leaving you all to struggle to hear the rest of the conversation.

______________________

        Jungkook traced random doodles on the dusty table before him. He sat alone in the tiny room, surrounded by tinted glass that he was surely being watched through. The space was lit with a strangely glowing lamp dangling overhead, and the room smelled faintly of cigarettes.

        The door suddenly burst open, and in walked a man carrying a notepad and a manila folder.  He had a earpiece, similar to what you and the squad used when you needed to communicate on missions.

    “Jeon Jungkook, right?” he asked.

    “That’s correct.”

      He opened the folder, sifting through some of the pages as he sat down, “So, it says here that you’re the suspect’s roommate.”

      “Yes.”

      “How long have you known the suspect?”

     “I met him this school year, a couple months ago.”

       “Ah, so I take it that you two are close, hmm? Sharing a small space like that is hard when you don’t like someone.”

      “We weren’t that close, he has his life, I have mine,” Jungkook said, simply.

       “Interesting, because other residents of your dormitory have said that you two seem extremely close. Someone is quoted as saying it's like you two are, ‘attached at the hip’.”

        Jungkook maintained a straight face, but shrugged, “Perceptions are different I guess.”

      The investigator scoffed, looking through more documents. Jungkook took notice of the camera in the corner of the room.

      “Jungkook, do you like guns?”

       His face scrunched up, “Gosh no, hate them. They scare me honestly, just the thought of them make my palms sweaty.”

      “So you didn’t know your roommate had a half a dozen guns in your shared room?”

       ”No clue.”

      “Okay, kid. I don’t want to waste your time and I don’t want you to waste mine, so let’s get to the point,” he said. “How can you live in the same room as someone that had half a dozen military grade automatic weapons, and not know it? A few of them were even banned in this country.”

      “I don’t know,” Jungkook said simply. He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms.

       “Something like that is hard to hide, son. You really expect me to believe that?”

        The smug look on the man’s face didn’t sit right with him. He felt something bubble up inside him, and he had to hold himself back from knocking the expression off himself. One thing he learned from The Academy was that if you’re ever backed into a corner, stay calm and don’t crack under pressure.

     “I don’t know.”

       “What did he have planned? No one just has a collection like that sitting around for the hell of it.”

       “I don’t know.”

      “I’m not stupid, boy!” the man said, slamming his hand down on the table, “Your friend had something planned for those weapons and you’re covering for him! Now cut the shit! If you have nothing to do with this there’s nothing to hide.”

       He was now standing up, looking down on Jungkook. The assassin stared up at him, getting more annoyed by the second. He swallowed, taking in a deep breath to calm himself down. Everyone that knew Jungkook knew better than to ever talk to him like that. But that was the problem. The investigator didn’t know him, or what he was capable of. But a part of him wanted to show him.

       “I said….I. Don’t. Know,” he said through clenched teeth, “Now please get out of my face, sir.”

       “Or what?” he taunted.

        Jungkook said nothing. He broke the stare to look down at the table. He needed to calm down, or who knew what he’d do. Then he’d be in even more trouble than he already was. He began counting to ten in his mind to soothe his nerves.

        1….2....3….4….

        The investigator suddenly perked up. His headset beeped, and a voice came through as one of his co-workers delivered a message, “Mmhm...Oh,” he laughed, “Oh really? Okay good to know, thanks for sharing.”

         He turned back to Jungkook with a look full of self-satisfaction.

         “Turns out that after turning your room upside down, officers just found even more weapons on your side. So,” he drawled, “what were you and Taehyung planning to do with all of those guns?”

        Jungkook gulped.

______________________

                  The minutes rolled on.

         You were still sitting in the living room of the apartment, watching the hands of the clock tick, just waiting. Taehyung had hung up from his call with Mr. Kim about 20 minutes ago, and when he came out of the room everyone bombarded him with questions. He looked deflated, and couldn’t give you all a definite answer as to what The Academy was going to do, but Mr. Kim had said he would handle it. The man had never given you all a reason to doubt him before, so all you could do was trust him and see.

        There was a knock at the door, making everyone jump.

         Cautiously, Namjoon walked over. He looked through the peephole and immediately flung the door open.

        Jungkook walked inside.

       “What happened?!” Seokjin asked.

       “What’d they ask you?!” you said.

       “Are we in trouble?!” Taehyung asked.

       “I don’t know, but it was weird as hell,” Jungkook began, “I was in the room being interrogated, and I was sure I was done for. When all of a sudden these other men came in. They pulled the guy that was talking to me out, and when he came back in a few minutes later he said I was free to go. I still don’t know what happened.”

      “That was it?” Yoongi asked.

        “Yeah. Whatever they said must have freaked him out though, I’ve never seen someone’s attitude change that fast. He even offered to give me a ride home.”

      Everyone let out a collective sigh of relief.

      “Mr. Kim never ceases to amaze me,” Hoseok said.

       “You told him?! Ah hell, that explains it,” Jungkook groaned, “We’ll never hear the end of this one.”

         “Well it was fun being terrified about my imminent demise with you all, but I need to go and take care of some unfinished business,” Jimin said as he grabbed his things and headed to the door.

       You had more work to do at home, and Yoongi had an extra credit lecture to go to, so the three of you left the apartment and headed outside into the darkening afternoon and went your separate ways.

        When Jimin made it to the frat house, he trekked up the stairs and dropped his back off in the living room. The house was unusually quiet, just as he had expected. He heard rattling in the kitchen, and went in to see Haneul making a sandwich. He tried his best, slathering on mayo with his good arm while his other was wrapped in a sling. The sound of footsteps made him turn around, only to see Jimin standing in the doorway.

       “Oh hey, Jimin,” Haneul said.

       “How’d that happen?” Jimin asked, nodding to Haneul’s arm.

       “Oh, I fell and dislocated it at our last party,” he said.

      “Really?” Jimin asked, “How?”

       “I don’t remember, I got fucking hammered,” he said.

        Jimin steadily walked into the kitchen, moving closer behind Haneul. He was too busy to notice Jimin’s near silent movement, and how intently he stared daggers into the back of his head.

        “By the way how did you get that girl at the party with the big tits to talk to you? I’ve been trying to get her attention since the semester started and she just blows me off. I mean you can have her, but can you pass her over after you’re done? Or better we could have her at the same time, she looks like she’d be into that--”

      Jimin grabbed a fistfull of Haneul’s hair, and slammed his head down onto the counter, making him sink down onto the floor and fall unconscious.

_______________________

        He awoke later to a bright light hanging over him. Haneul blinked rapidly, groaning at the sudden searing headache. His vision started to clear, and he tried to look around, only to realize that he couldn’t move his head. He tried to move other parts of his body, but found them to be bound and held in place.

        “Hello!” he called, “Hello!”

       He heard footsteps nearing. Jimin suddenly stepped into his line of vision, hovering over him.

      “Jimin, what’s going on?” Haneul laughed.

      Jimin said nothing.

     “Come on, man, this is funny. You’re fucking hilarious, now let me go.”

     Jimin’s expression was cold, unreadable. His sharp eyes sliced through the emotionless mask he wore, like a predator zeroing in on its prey. Haneul’s heart rate skyrocketed.

      He had been strapped onto their dining room table with belts. His head, arms, torso, and legs were bound and immobile. He felt oddly cold, and he realized he was almost completely naked save for his thin boxers.

     Jimin stalked closer, and Haneul cringed back.

      “I don’t know what this is about, but please cut it out man,” he said through a forced smile, “You’re starting to freak me out.”

       Jimin cocked his head to the side, “So you thought you could force yourself on ____, right?”

      “What?”

       “You don’t remember? Our last party? You need me to refresh your memory for you?” Jimin moved closer.

        “NO!! No...our last party...oh you’re talking about that? I was drunk off my ass, you know how things are,” he chuckled.

        Despite Jimin being much smaller than him, the look in his eyes was next-level terrifying. It was intentful, and from the intricacy of the set up, he got the feeling that he had done something like this before.

       “No drunkenness in the world could justify what you were trying to do,” Jimin seethed.

        “I wasn’t going to do anything! I swear! We were just talking, you know? She was in my room so I asked her why and she started getting defensive, and attacked me! After that I blacked out!”

        “Don’t play the victim here,” Jimin said. He was calm, and it was even more unnerving.

        “I’m not! I’m just saying I obviously got the worst of it.”

       Jimin stared at him for a moment, then suddenly walked out of sight. Haneul heard him moving things around in the drawers of the kitchen.

     “Jimin just let me go and stop playing around, please.”

       No answer.

      “I’m sorry for whatever you said I did!”

      Silence.

      “You can have my whole stash! All my weed, all my xans, all the dope! Take it, just let me go!”

       Nothing.

       “The boys will be back soon! I don’t know what you’re planning but you won’t get away with this shit!”

     Jimin’s face suddenly appeared back. Haneul hadn’t even heard him walk over.

      “Everyone is out for drinks and won’t be back home for a couple hours. I made sure of it,” he said, “So it’s just you and me. But don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

      Haneul felt something cold trace down his chest and stomach. It was pointy and sharp, and he strained his eyes down to see a butcher knife held lazily in Jimin’s hand.

     Haneul’s breath hitched. He felt light-headed.

     “I could have used one of my own knives for this, but honestly you aren’t even worth it,” Jimin said.

     “What are you going to do to me?” he breathed.

     “Make you repent.”

      In that moment, Jimin was particularly glad the houses in the neighborhood were far apart. Because then, he was sure none of the neighbors could hear Haneul’s screams.

_________________

       Yoongi’s pace quickened when he noticed the thick clouds above him in the night sky. He was glad to have left the lecture a few minutes early, but felt foolish for not checking the weather before leaving his apartment. All he needed was to get caught in the rain without a jacket or umbrella.

      He made it to the frat house minutes later. He rang the doorbell, hearing the sounds of thunder in the distance. Yoongi stood on the porch for a few moments before he heard a scramble on the other side.

     Jimin cracked open the door.

     Yoongi saw a familiar look on his squad member’s face. A look completed by a clenched jaw, alert eyes, and flushed skin  It was similar to the look he had on missions after he had just done something awful.

      Yoongi shook it off.

     “What are you doing here?” Jimin asked, confused.

      “I said I was coming to get that psychology book, remember?”

      “Shit. Yeah I forgot. Hold on.”

      He disappeared for a moment. It wasn’t like Jimin to seem so frenzied, like his mind was in a million places at once. Yoongi swore he heard muffled whimpering coming from inside the house.

      Jimin came back to the door, holding out a book and and a jacket.

        “What’s this for?”

        “______ left this here at the party. Can you give this to her tonight before you go back home? You’ll be passing by her place, anyways.”

        Yoongi rolled his eyes. He heard the daunting thunder, the last thing he wanted to do was to make another stop, “Yeah I guess.”

        He heard the low whimpering again. It had intensified, just quiet enough to go unnoticed by normal ears. But Yoongi noticed even the smallest things, they were trained to.

        “I’ll...see you later,” he said, walking off the porch. Jimin quickly shut himself inside the house.

       Yoongi shrugged and walked down the sidewalk. The winds had picked up, and the thunder seemed to be nearing. All he wanted to do was go straight home and curl into bed, not drop off things for forgetful squad members. He felt a droplet hit his forehead and walked faster.

       Yoongi pulled out his cellphone.

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

      Yoongi: I’m almost at your place hurry and open the door

      _______: Wtf why are you coming to my place??

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

       By the time Yoongi had made it to the apartment, the rain was beyond a drizzle. It had picked up, and was now falling like hard pellets down to earth. Yoongi ran to the door, cursing his luck.

      He banged on the barrier until you finally pulled it open. You took in his soaked clothes and bag, the small droplets falling from his dark tresses. He was clearly unamused.

       “I told you to open the door,” he grumbled as he walked in.

       “And I asked you why you were coming over,” you replied, “You’re drenched.”

        “You don’t say,” he held out the jacket to you, “Apparently you left this at the party.”

        “Oh I forgot all about this. Thanks for dropping it off.”

       The thoughtful action caught you by surprise. It was a reminder that Yoongi could be civil sometimes.

      “Trust me this is the last place I want to be right now, but you’re welcome.”

       Your face fell.

       “Okay, get out,” you said, pushing him to the door.

       “Gladly,” he stepped outside, but saw the downpour before him. He bit his lip, obvious contemplation crossing his features.

     You rolled your eyes, “Fine, you can stay until the rain stops, I guess.”

       You went into the kitchen to finish dinner, and Yoongi followed you. He sat at the table and watched you move around.

        “What’re you making?”

        “Pasta,” you said as you dumped it into your bowl, “Why, do you want some?”

         “Depends. Is it the same kind you made when we were on that mission in Montreal? Then no.”

        “First of all, you know that wasn’t my fault. Jungkook was helping me, he can barely make cereal.”

        “Sounds like an excuse.”

        “Fuck you,” you said.

      You put the bowl in front of him and sat down.

         “Where’s the psycho?” he asked through the food.

        “Luna?” you said, “I don’t know, she left earlier today and I haven’t seen her since.”

        “Maybe she’s out planning your demise,” he said casually, “or getting some.”

      You snorted, “If she is good for her, at least someone around here is.”

       “What do you mean?”

         “You know, casual hookups don’t come easily with our lifestyle,” you said, “Unless you’re Jimin.”

         You job was to complete missions, and now with school, you had even more obligations. In between killing and homework, your need to get laid was put on the back-burner.

       “True. I didn’t know I would be sacrificing my dick when I signed up for this.”

        “Yeah this is the only part of the job I actually hate.”

        “Just ask Jimin to help you out. He's the only one desperate enough to sleep with you for free.”

    “You’re one to talk. The only action you're ever gonna get is from your right hand.”

      “Oh yeah? When was the last time you got some?”

       The question took you off guard, but what baffled you even more was that it was so hard to remember, “Two years?” You barely even counted that since everything was over the clothes, but he didn’t have to know that, ”What about you?”

        Yoongi pursed his lips, “Five years.”

      “Five years?! We were still in training back then... it was somebody back in The Academy wasn’t it?”

        He continued to chew, nodding.

       “Who was it?”

      “Remember the girl in our knife-work class with the bangs?”

       “The arsonist?” your mouth hung open, and from his silence you knew you were right, “Wow, I didn’t know that was your type.”

      “When you’re a horny teenage boy, there’s no such thing as a type.”

       “You know, people used to say we looked alike,” you joked.

        He snorted, “Not at all. You’re way prettier.”

       You both paused for a beat. He looked like he wanted to correct his statement, but stared down into his bowl instead.

         The only sound was the tapping of the rain against your windows.

        You cleared your throat.

        None of the boys in the squad were unattractive, and you sure weren’t blind. If you were being honest with yourself, Yoongi was actually decent looking sometimes--when he didn’t make you want to kill him.

       Across the table, he pushed up the sleeves on his black t-shirt, exposing his toned forearms, littered with faded scars. His jaw clenched as he chewed. His adams apple rose and fell in his milky throat, and he pushed his wet hair back with his thick hands.

       You almost laughed out loud. You were really checking out Min Yoongi-- training nemesis and squad member.  

     This was a new low. You needed to get laid soon.

______________________

       As the night went on, the rain never let up. It was late then, past your usual bedtime and Yoongi’s as well. The both of you were sitting at the kitchen table on your phones in silence.

     You yawned, “It doesn’t look like it’s going to stop anytime soon. You might as well just sleep over.”

     “Do I have to?”

     “I mean you can go into that monsoon if you want. You know I won’t stop you.”

       You got up from the table and walked back into your room. You heard a chair move and footsteps follow you. You pulled out an extra pillow and blanket from your closet, and laid them on the floor next to your bed. Even though Luna wasn’t there that night, you figured she would have a heart attack if she saw a random guy sleeping on your sofa whenever she came back.

     Yoongi took off his shirt, leaving him in only his large sweatpants. It hung off his hips loosely as he got onto the floor. You turned the lights out and climbed into bed.

        At first you were able to ignore it, but as time went on your nerves thinned. You could hear Yoongi tossing and turning on your floor, flipping over the pillow until he found a good spot.

      “Can you stop moving?”

      “I would but your floor feels like concrete.”

     “It’s a floor, what did you expect?” you muttered.

     He never stopped, flipping and turning for minutes at a time. It sounded like he was punching the pillow now, and you were convinced he was just doing it to annoy you. You stared up at your ceiling, debating dragging him out into the storm yourself.

      “Yoongi, if it’s that bad just come sleep up here!” you erupted.

      In the past, you’ve been on missions where you and the boys have slept crammed together with even less space, so you weren’t repulsed by the idea.

     He sighed, and you saw his silhouette stand. The bed dipped as he pulled the covers over himself. The bed was just large enough for there to be space in between your bodies. The time rolled on.

      You turned over and stopped. You were much closer than you thought you were. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and his skin seemed to glow in the night. He looked back at you, wordlessly scanning your face. You felt his light breaths feather over your skin.

      Your throat felt dry.

      No one said a thing.

      You slowly rolled back over, your back to him.

      You looked at your wall, the sound of the rain lulling you into a state of fatigue.

      Mixed with the downpour, eventually came the sound of deep, rhythmic breathing. The light snore behind you was relaxing, and you were on the verge of unconsciousness when a sudden warmth wrapped around your waist. Yoongi’s grip was relaxed, his arm unknowingly thrown over you as his fingertips lingered on your stomach.

        Everything in you wanted to fling him off in disgust, wake him from his sleep and kick him off the bed. It would have been the right thing to do, the sane thing. But for some reason your body remained rigid under his touch. He shifted closer, his nose buried into your back. There was no logical explanation for why you reveled in the touch, his touch.Your breathing was shallow.

       You tried to close your eyes, but all you could do was stare at your wall and listen to the rain.

Previous Next 

[toglidethroughlife]

Borrowed Pens and Promises (A Choices Fanfic)

Pairing: Grayson x F!MC (Lena)

Summary: A memory from their university days replays in Lena’s head on the day of Silas’ takeover.

A/N: Hey! So this is just a little something I wrote to ease myself into writing my MC for my Grayson playthrough... and I had a little too much fun with the banter? LOL. Also, I wrote this in parts so I’m not actually sure how cohesive this is, but anyway, it’s here and I’ll probs just edit later. Hopefully it’s not too bad lol

Shit.

Lena scrambles through her bag, fingers digging through countless notes, packets of gum, and one too many tubes of chapstick -- but not a single pen in sight.

"You have 45 minutes," the professor announces. "Good luck."

Her midterm exam booklet stares at her hauntingly, the minutes ticking away.

Shit, she curses repeatedly in her head, her hand running through her hair.

The professor is busy typing away on his laptop, the rest of the class busy with their exams, heads hunched over their tables.

Can she really be that girl, she thinks -- the stupid one who forgets to bring a pen to her midterm and asks the professor if she can borrow one.

God, this is embarrassing.

She panics when she realizes she's eaten up 15 minutes of her time debating over whether or not to stand and decides to just go for it -- when she hears something hitting the floor beside her, the professor glancing up her way.

She looks down to find a pen by her feet.

"Dropped my pen," she mouths to the professor with a sheepish smile, crouching down to pick it up.

The professor goes back to ignoring her.

She examines the pen for a quick second, not recognizing it as hers. She steals a glance at the people beside her -- and they're all busy and stressed-looking, as they should be -- all except one.

He was sitting two seats down her right, smirking casually as he answers his exam, the slight crinkle around his eyes showing his amusement.

She makes a mental note to catch him after the exam, turning immediately to her booklet when she notices the time.

25 minutes. Shit.

---

The professor signals the end of the session and people begin to stand to submit their booklets.

Lena's still finishing the last few sentences of her essay when she catches her blond haired friend standing from the corner of her eye, and she immediately scribbles the rest of her closing argument, hopeful that it still made sense.

She's almost running as she walks down the classroom to submit her paper, her eyes trained on the back of his head.

"Hey!" she calls out when she reaches the doorway, grateful that he comes to a stop.

The light from the window hits him just right as he turns around, his eyes locked on hers.

Wow, those eyes are blue, she thinks, mesmerized.

She mentally slaps herself before she stares too much -- she feels like she already has -- and pulls out the pen from her pocket.

"This is yours, I believe."

The statement comes out as more of a question though, her eyes gaging his reaction.

He smiles.

"Yes," he says, taking the pen from her hand. "Were you able to finish the exam?"

Something about his easy tone and friendly demeanor made her want to smile as well.

"Barely," she chuckles, unsure why she was doing so, "but yes. Thank you, you are a lifesaver."

And she didn't think it was possible for his smile to grow bigger, but there he was, beaming at her.

"I'm glad." He shifts around nervously before meeting her eyes again. "Well, I'll see you around."

And he's already walked a few steps away when something in her gut kicks in, her feet taking her forward.

"Hey!" she calls again, catching up to his side. "Are you doing anything right now? I feel obligated to thank my knight in shining armor with a cup of coffee. I mean, if he'd like one, that is."

He chuckles softly, considering her offer. 

"Obligated?" he asks, his tone tentative.

"I want to," Lena affirms, grinning.

He seems to relax after that, returning her smile.

"Okay. Sure."

"Great!" She extends her hand out to him. "I'm Lena, by the way."

His hand is warm as they touch. "Grayson."

---

It becomes a thing that they share more often when finals approach — coffee sessions turned study dates.

Lena's scribbling furiously with another pen she’s borrowed from Grayson — she swears Poppy stole the one she keeps in her bag. They were answering the mock exam together with the intention of comparing notes after.

Lena runs a hand through her hair, flipping her part as she grows more frustrated at the equations in front of her.

"I hate this!" she groans, crossing out her answer with decided pressure, the paper almost tearing under her pen. She leans back on her seat to find Grayson jotting down notes across her, the beginnings of a smile on his lips.

Lena bites back the urge to roll her eyes.

“Okay,” she sings. “You were right, I was wrong. I should’ve studied more before doing the mock exam.” Taking another glance at her now messed up pad paper, she adds, “this stuff is hard!”

Grayson smiles, looking up from his notes. “I never said you couldn’t do it… but, you know, it never hurts to actually study before taking the mock exam.”

He throws her a knowing look and they laugh good-naturedly, her mind not missing how easy this feels, how easy being around him always feels.

They settle into a productive pace right after, exchanging notes, sharing thoughts. It’s not long before Lena’s finished going through the mock exam, a triumphant grin on her lips.

“I. Am. Done!” she announces, stretching her arms over her head.

Grayson gives her a quick smile before looking back at his paper, his hand busy at work.

He's always so calm, she thinks. It’s almost relaxing just watching him.

She loves little moments like these — when Grayson’s too engrossed in what he’s doing to give her the time of day — and she knows she sounds crazy thinking that, but she just enjoys watching him so passionate about his work, and she knows, she just knows — he’s going to do something spectacular someday.

In the meantime though, she would really like her friend to give her some attention.

“What are you even working on?” she asks, her hand already slipping across to steal the notepad he was writing on.

Grayson opens his mouth to protest but no words come out and he resigns onto his seat.

“Uh… I know you like to put in extra work, Gray,” Lena begins, brows furrowed in confusion as she reads the contents of his note. “But this topic is like... two semesters ago — AKA not gonna be on this week's final?"

Grayson can't help but laugh as he throws her an accusatory look, taking the notepad from her hands. "I know that. But the poor guy who borrowed this book from the library needs to know how to get the price at equilibrium and I figured it wouldn't hurt to help."

She watches him tuck his answer between the sheets of the borrowed textbook, placing it right beside the large question marks and "WTF"s the last person who had borrowed the book had inconsiderably left.

She smiles.

"Always gotta be the hero, huh, blue?"

He lifts an eyebrow in question — whether at the nickname or the comment she's not entirely sure. 

Recognition hits him when she raises his pen to eye level — the one he lent her.

The one he keeps lending her.

They laugh.

"I really should just give that pen to you at this point," he tells her.

Lena beams in agreement. "You really should."

Their laughter fades comfortably, their eyes locked on each other.

"But really, Gray. Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being you."

Grayson's gaze holds hers as a smile slowly grows on his lips.

Lena reaches over to touch his hand.

"Thank you for being incredibly kind and generous. And for helping strangers who might not always deserve it."

Grayson leans in from his seat and flips his hand to give hers a gentle squeeze. "You're welcome."

She squeezes his hand back.

"Besides, you haven't given me reason to regret it yet. I mean, I do kind of like you."

Lena bites her lip to contain her smile.

"You kind of like me?"

Grayson looks like he's about to say more, but she isn't sure she's ready to hear it, so she deflects, adding to her statement with an easy smile. "I better not do anything to make you hate me then. We've still got finals after all. I might still need a pen."

He lets out a dejected laugh but a patient smile still paints his lips. "I don't think I could ever hate you."

Her heart warms at the sincerity in his voice.

"But that doesn't mean I'm always going to lend you my pen!"

He pulls the pen from her grasp and she gasps at him mockingly.

"How dare you, Grayson Prescott! Give that back!"

The rest of the afternoon is filled with more coffee, mathematical equations, and easy laughter.

And she doesn't know why this memory replays in her mind as she watches Silas Prescott walk onto the stage at the mayor's assembly years later, her team — Talos and Minuet — ready to fight by her side.

Everything that happens after goes by in a flash, her superhero instincts kicking in, sentimental thought thrown to the side.

It isn't until she catches him in the crowd again — sees the pained expression on his face, the confusion in his eyes — that she remembers, years of friendship weighing on her heart.

"Grayson," she calls him out of instinct, not caring for much else at the moment. "Look I know this is crazy, but I need your help."

"Anything!" he immediately offers, his eyes worried. "I... I have to make up for what my father’s—“

"I know," she cuts in, her voice a gentle plea for him not to blame himself. “Go help DA Katsaros get these civilians to safety. Can you do that for me?"

And you, she thinks. Stay safe too.

The determination in his eyes doesn't surprise her, her faith in him strong.

"I'm on it," he tells her. "I won't let you down!"

Lena's about to fly off when he speaks again, his voice coming out softer. "And... I'm sorry."

But she doesn't let him elaborate any further, understanding him completely.

"I'm sorry, too."

A reluctant smile plays on her lips. 

"See you around, blue."

And moments pass before she hears his voice again, her body already meters up in the air.

"Lena?! Lena!"

But she can't turn back now, her heart holding onto a promise he made her in that quaint coffee shop a few years back, between textbooks and equations, borrowed pens and promises of tomorrows. 

Please. Don't hate me just yet.